Paul met me after my performance at the Stork and we went to El Morocco. As usual it was mobbed, but owner John Perona greeted Paul effusively and immediately found us a table. I noticed that our entrance had caused quite a stir. Heads were turning—we were being watched and talked about. I don’t think Paul noticed; he seemed to be only looking at me.
When we were seated and the waiter had finished clearing the table, suddenly Paul said, “Tell me about him!”
“Who?” I asked.
“That someone who broke your heart, hurt you, so that now you’re afraid to ever fall in love again. True, isn’t it?” He was watching me.
“True,” I managed to say, “but then, he wasn’t honest.”
“Don’t you think sometimes people are afraid to tell each other the truth about themselves because they might lose that person?” Paul asked.
“I suppose so, but in my case, I told him all about myself before we became lovers, then when we were about to marry, he said he couldn’t because of what I had told him.”
“What did you tell him?”
“What I would tell any man I was in love with or hoped to marry.”
“Is it that important?”
“Yes, I think so.”
“So tell me.”
I looked at him. “Why?”
“Because I care for you very much. I see in your eyes a certain sadness, even when you smile, and I find myself wanting you to be happy. Whatever it is, Teddy, dear, it can’t be that bad . . . besides, I’m older and wiser than you.” He smiled. “And perhaps, if you tell me, I’ll know you better and can help.”
And so, looking straight ahead, not daring to meet his eyes, I told him what my stepdad had done to me when I was a little girl, the shock of being treated in such a horrendous way. His saying that somehow “I deserved it because I was a dirty little Jew, like my father.” It was still painful in the retelling, all these years later. “And I didn’t want to be a Jew, because I’d been told they killed Jesus. I couldn’t tell Mom what he did, because she loved him. And anyway, he’d warned me that she would believe him, not me.”
Turning to Paul, I then told him about Bailey and Nassau. “I fell in love and told him everything. We became lovers, talked of marrying—we even told my mother. Then one afternoon he said, ‘I love you, Teddy, but I can’t marry you because you have Jewish blood, and I don’t want a Jewish baby, but I don’t want to lose you, either.’ ‘Well,’ I said, ‘you just did!’ And then I threw a carafe of water at him. I cried when he left, not for him, but for our world!”
For a minute, Paul didn’t speak, then he reached for my hand. “Teddy, dear, thank you for telling me, but don’t be sad anymore. I wish you hadn’t had that experience as a child and, as for Bailey, he doesn’t know what he’s missed. You were already way beyond him when you met. He could never have caught up. Just think”—he paused as our eyes met—“I would never have known you. As for being part Jewish, be proud. They’re great people. Whoever your ancestors were, I’m sure they were refined, intelligent, gifted. I would like sometime to meet your father. Does he live here?”
“No, Chicago. But my grandfather, Henry Charles Lytton, is here. He has an apartment on Fifth at Seventy-Seventh, and a home out on the island. He is ninety years old, a remarkable human being. He owns the Hub in Chicago.”
“That big store on State Street? I’ve shopped there. Can we call him, Teddy? I’d like to meet him.”
“Why, Paul?”
“Because he’s your grandfather, that’s why. And I want to meet your mother, too.”
“The Christian side?” I said, laughing.
“Yes, Teddy.”
“She’s beautiful, and so are my sisters, Nancy and Bobby.”
“I’m sure they are. Who else is there?”
“Henry, my oldest brother. Yale graduate, very serious, lives in Chicago. Doesn’t approve of my singing in nightclubs.”
“Well, Ware does, and I like him. He is very protective of you.”
“I know, we’re very close. But why are you asking me so many questions?”
“Because of my feelings for you. You’re so young and full of expectations . . . and you have a right to be. Every woman does . . . to love, to be loved, to be married, to have children. I don’t want to hurt you, ever—so I need to tell you how I feel, and you need to know about me.”
“What is it that I need to know, Paul?”
“I’ve been married four times, divorced four times. I have four sons and, because of my bad record as a husband, I don’t believe I should ever marry again. It just wouldn’t be fair. Strange, isn’t it? Here I am, wanting you in my life, and at the same time telling you I’m a poor candidate for a husband. Long before we met, I swore that, no matter if I fell in love with the most beautiful woman in the world, I’d never marry again.”
For the longest moment, I was stunned. I looked at Paul. He looked uncomfortable, but he had at least told me the truth about how he felt, and I was glad of that. But what was I to say in reply? I took a deep breath. “Thanks, Paul, for telling me,” I said finally, “and thanks for the encouragement about my singing. But I guess we shouldn’t see each other anymore. I’ve never been married, never had a baby, and I’ve not even reached anything near the top in my career. But . . . you’ve done it all”—I hesitated—“four times already. So it’s absolutely insane for us to be together, because I do want all those things you said every woman has a right to—all those things you’ve already had.”
I got up quickly. As I left the table, I looked back at him. “Besides,” I said, “I’m a very beautiful woman, too.” And then I ran out of El Morocco.
Paul caught up with me at the door. I was crying. We got into a cab. He held me in his arms, and I couldn’t resist his kisses. I was in love. We drove through Central Park for what seemed like hours. Somewhere between the Fifth Avenue/72nd Street entrance to the park and the exit at the Central Park Zoo, Paul’s face lit up. “Darling, I’ve got it!” he exclaimed. “We can get engaged. I’ve never been engaged before . . . and I love you, Teddy. Will you?”
“Would I? How do you say yes in a hundred ways?” I was in heaven.
To say I adored the man would be an understatement. I really loved him, wanted to please him, to learn from him, to catch up with his brilliant mind, but how could I? One thing we had in common, though, was our love of work. Paul used to say he never saw anyone try as hard as I did to accomplish whatever I set out to do.
“You work as if your next meal depended on it,” he would say. It did, for I supported myself!
Paul surprised me one afternoon by saying, “Let’s go pick out a ring!”
It was exciting. We stopped at Tiffany’s, then Cartier, before ending up at Paul Flato’s, the “jeweler to the stars.” Flato was the first designer whose work was considered comparable to European masters. We were both captivated by a particularly beautiful square-cut diamond, about six or seven karats.
Knowing you are loved by the one you love is the sweetest thing in one’s life. The weeks following that crazy cab ride through Central Park are filled with the happiest and most exciting memories. He loved me, that was for sure. I loved him, too, and gave myself to him completely, with no regrets.
Of course I told Betzi, Ware, and Jeannie, but no one else, not even Paul’s mother. Understandably, she would have had a stroke on learning he was engaged and planning to marry yet again, for the fifth time. I did put a call in to my mother, who immediately invited us both to come visit her on Martha’s Vineyard, where she and my little sisters were spending the summer.
We planned to go as soon as I closed at the Stork Club, but until then, for the next few weeks, Paul and I began to see New York together. Everything seemed so new, so much more exciting than it did before I’d met him!
We bought matching little stuffed Donald Duck dolls together, one for him, one for me. He took me to the opera, to Broadway openings, horse shows, prizefights, political rallies, and the Botanical Garden and the Aquarium in the Bronx. Being with Paul was like being in a whole new world. At night it was his custom to meet me after my last show, or we’d meet for lunch at places like Armando’s, Le Coq Rouge, Mon Paris, or 21.
One afternoon, we drove out to Ridgefield, Connecticut, about a two-hour trip from Manhattan, to Rully and Sunny’s spectacular home for dinner. Sunny gaily showed us around their enormous colonial estate in the foothills of the Berkshires and, after a delightful evening, we left.
Driving through the countryside, we stopped for a moment, off the road overlooking the Hudson River. It was nightfall and the fragrance of flowers surrounded us. Paul turned and said, “Teddy, dear—you seem to be in another world, like a fairy princess, enchanting and beautiful. I’m afraid I have fallen in love with you.”
“Don’t you be afraid, Paul. I am.”
He took me in his arms.