We were asked by the BBC to tape a show in London. Harvey, Lyle, Vicki, and I flew over in April 1970, along with key members of our staff and our guest star, Juliet Prowse.
One of the questions I got was “Why did it take you so long to come to London?”
“I swam.”
It was all pretty exciting, and we had a good time. (Unfortunately, it wasn’t one of our best efforts. I don’t remember how many of our shows were aired in England after that, but they weren’t as successful as we had hoped.)
After our week in London, several of us had made plans to travel to other parts of Europe. Harvey, his wife, and some of our staff members opted for Rome. Joe and I had a very different and detailed itinerary: For four days, we would stay at the historic Dromoland Castle Hotel (built in the sixteenth century) in County Clare, Ireland. Then we would go to Scotland for another few days and stay at another historic hotel (the name of which I can’t remember), where Joe would play golf.
We flew into Shannon (a very tiny airport) and were met by a driver, Derry O’Keefe (how Irish can you get?). We piled into his Mercedes-Benz, where he proceeded to put the pedal to the floor, speeding like crazy down country lanes, slowing only for cows, who happened to be crossing the dirt roads every so often. Looking out the window, I realized why Ireland is called the Emerald Isle. Green has never been so green. The countryside was breathtaking. We arrived at the majestic Dromoland Castle and were escorted to the registration desk. The carpet had to be a foot high. “Plush” was the word for the furnishings and draperies. Our large, comfortable room was awash in brightly colored wallpaper and bedding. We unpacked and took a walk on the grounds. Everywhere you looked there was eye candy.
Gorgeous, simply gorgeous.
And quiet, simply quiet.
We got the feeling that we were the only guests. We had arranged with Derry O’Keefe to pick us up in an hour and take us to the “best department store in Limerick.” Once again, Derry could’ve set a record at the Indy. The best department store, which happened to be the only department store, reminded me of the dime store in Hollywood where my grandmother used to shop when I was a kid, or today’s version of a Kmart. I’m sure it’s a different story now, but there wasn’t much to choose from in the way of souvenirs that day. We drove back to the castle, and around 5:00 p.m. Joe and I went into the hotel pub for a drink.
Quiet, simply quiet.
Again, we saw no other guests. After a few minutes, Joe and l looked at each other and, without saying a word, went up to our room, packed our bags, and had the concierge book us on the next flight to Rome (which was in about an hour and a half!). We called Derry to drive us to the Shannon Airport, saying that an emergency had come up and we had to leave right away. A helicopter couldn’t have gotten us there any faster than good old Derry O’Keefe behind the wheel.
We landed in Rome after midnight…with no place to go. What were we thinking? We had no hotel reservation, nothing. While Joe was getting our luggage, I was making frantic calls to various hotels. The first one I called was the Hassler, where Harvey and the rest of our gang were staying. Everything was solidly booked. I made a weak joke to Joe saying we might have to sleep in a stable. After about another hour of trying, we finally booked a room at a hotel outside of the city. When we registered, we were informed that we could only stay overnight as the room was going to be occupied the next day. The room was so small…how small was it? “If you dropped a Kleenex, you’d have wall-to-wall carpeting!” (Forgive me.) In order to get to the bathroom, you had to walk on the bed. We didn’t care. Exhausted, we passed out and woke up to a telephone call from the manager telling us we had to vacate before noon. We called Harvey at the Hassler Hotel.
Harvey answered and said, “I thought you guys were in Ireland and Scotland!?”
US: “It’s a long story. Can you see if you can get us a room there?”
HARVEY: “I’ll see what I can do. It’s pretty full. I’ll introduce myself to the manager. Nobody knows who we are over here. I can’t promise anything! Where are you?”
We gave him our number and sat on the bed waiting for Harvey to call back, keeping our fingers crossed that he could come up with a miracle. At about 11:45 a.m., the phone rang.
HARVEY: “I told the manager that you had your own TV show in America, and needed a room. He doesn’t know you, so he said they could put you up for two nights only. Get on over here!”
We checked into the Hassler and happily unpacked, trying to forget that our time there would run out in forty-eight hours.
It was great having dinner with the gang that night and laughing about our aborted trip, but we realized that in order to stay longer, I would have to impress the manager somehow…
It is not in my nature to call attention to myself—except when I’m on stage, that is—but desperate times call for desperate measures…The next morning, I took root in the hotel lobby. The intention was to make myself highly visible to any and all American tourists who would (hopefully) ask for my autograph in front of our Italian hotel manager. Nothing was happening. People were passing in and out of the lobby, not looking in my direction. I began toying with the idea of doing the Tarzan yell to get attention. Thinking better of that idea, I moved away from the corner chair I was sitting in and plopped myself down on a pouf in the middle of the lobby. It worked! A family (Mom, Dad, and four kids) from Kansas City was checking in and spotted me. I smiled and said, “Hi there! First trip to Rome?” They couldn’t have been more beautiful. They not only had me sign several autographs, but I posed for pictures with all six of them, with flashbulbs popping all over the place. Other American tourists took notice, and I wound up signing and posing and signing and posing…AND the hotel manager saw it all!
Our stay at the beautiful Hassler was extended, and Joe and I and our gang had a wonderful Roman week together. Oh, yes, and we took the Kansas City family to dinner. Bless them.