SEVEN
Frank Junior put on a hell of a show the next night.
And he did it without singing more than two or three of his father’s songs. He wanted to stand on his own two feet; I gave him credit for that.
After the show I was granted backstage access and found myself awash in celebrities. Not only Hope, Crosby and Dino, but Jack Benny, George Burns, Keely Smith and Louis Prima, Alan King.
‘Hey, Eddie, how ya doin’?’ Somebody grabbed my arm. There was no mistaking that voice. I turned and looked into the cock-eyed face of Buddy Hackett, who was grinning at me.
‘Hey, Buddy!’ He shook my hand enthusiastically. ‘Boy, Frank pulled out all the stops tonight, huh? Got all his friends to show up here.’
‘Most of ’em,’ Buddy said. ‘The ones that aren’t workin’ somewhere themselves tonight. Like Sammy.’
‘What about Joey?’
‘He’s in this mess, somewhere,’ Buddy said. ‘You meet the kid yet?’
‘No,’ I said, ‘and Frank asked me to look after him while he’s in town.’
‘Well, if anybody can do that, it’s you,’ Buddy said. ‘Come on, let’s find ’im.’
Buddy forged into the crowd, which parted for him, and I followed. With an unerring sense of direction he made his way right to Frank Junior, who looked for all the world like a young Frank Sinatra. Same shock of hair, same thin frame, same big smile. Not identical, but you could sure see the resemblance.
I met the young man quickly, but he was in demand, so we agreed to meet the next day and see what kind of trouble I could get him into.
He was carried away into the crowd and when I turned I was face-to-face with Joey Bishop.
‘Hey, Joe!’
‘Eddie!’
We shook hands, slapped each other’s backs.
‘Been a while,’ I said.
‘I’m still busy with my show,’ he said, ‘but I couldn’t miss this. I wouldn’t want Frank putting a hit out on me.’
Only Joey Bishop could get away with making a remark like that.
‘I gotta find Buddy,’ he said.
‘He’s in here someplace,’ I told him. ‘He just introduced me to Junior.’
‘He’s a good kid. You gonna keep an eye on ’im?’
‘Best I can,’ I said. ‘I’ll show him Vegas.’
‘Frank’ll appreciate it,’ Joey said. ‘And he’ll be here in a few days. Closing night, as a matter of fact.’
‘Yeah, I heard that from Dino,’ I said. ‘That’ll be a big night for Frank Junior.’
‘Maybe bigger than tonight,’ Joey said.
I slapped Joey on the shoulder and sent him into the crowd to find Buddy.
‘Eddie!’
I turned to see who was calling me this time. It was Bing Crosby, with Kathryn alongside. She was stunning in a low-cut gown, showing smooth, pale cleavage, making Bing the envy of the room.
‘I’ve been wanting to talk to you, Eddie,’ Bing said, ‘but it’s too noisy here. Can we get together later? At the Sands?’
‘Sure, Bing,’ I said. ‘How about the Silver Queen lounge?’
‘Great? In an hour?’
‘In an hour you’ll be in bed, darling,’ Kathryn told him.
‘Don’t ever marry a younger woman, Eddie,’ Bing told me. ‘She’s always tryin’ to get you to go to bed early. Even in Vegas!’
She slid her hand through his arm and he put his hand over hers.
‘Can we make it half an hour, Eddie?’ he asked.
‘Sure, Bing,’ I said. ‘I’m headin’ back to the Sands now.’
‘Just let me take this lovely lady to our suite and I’ll join you at the bar, post-haste.’
‘See you there.’
Bing and Kathryn melted into the crowd and I headed for the exit, wondering what was on Bing Crosby’s mind.
I thought Dean might be able to fill me in, but I wasn’t able to get close to him backstage at the Flamingo. So I went directly to the Silver Queen Lounge when I got to the Sands.
The bartenders in the lounge came and went like they were in a revolving door. This one’s name was Ted. The same went for the waitresses, but I happened to know the one working the floor. She was a nifty little redhead named Didi, and she waved when she saw me and came trotting over. She had a taut little body, but trotting still made her breasts do interesting things.
‘Hi, Eddie.’
‘Hello, Didi. How’re you doin’?’
‘I’m fine. What brings you in?’
‘I need a beer. Tryin’ to get the new guy’s attention.’
‘I’ll get it for you,’ she said, then lowered her voice. ‘He’s a little slow.’
She went down the bar, spoke to the bartender, who drew a beer and set it on her tray. Then she carried it back to me.
‘I clued him in who you are,’ she said. ‘He’ll take better care of you, now.’
‘Maybe he’ll take good care of me when my friend gets here,’ I said.
‘Who’s your friend?’
‘Bing Crosby.’
‘Really?’ she asked. ‘You know Bing Crosby?’
‘I do.’
‘And he’s comin’ here tonight?’
‘In about ten minutes.’
‘Wow.’
‘Do you want to meet him?’
‘I wanna see him,’ she said, ‘but I’d be too nervous to meet him.’
‘Come on, Didi,’ I said, ‘everybody likes to meet stars. And stars like to meet pretty girls.’
‘Well, maybe,’ she said.
‘You better make up your mind,’ I said, ‘because he just walked in.’