For a matter of months, Bernie and I lived in Beverley Hills, not the hills part but the low ground. We worked for a service that supplied short developmental reading courses to private schools and colleges. It was fun, teaching 16 year-olds our helpful reading skills and increasing their reading speed.
We missed Gregory Peck when he came by to see the offices before signing one of his sons up for individual classes at our center. But I saw other movies stars: Natalie Wood and Robert Walker driving by in their open convertible looking unhappy, for instance. One day I was in a nice stationery store when Norma Shearer breezed in, making an entrance. “Hello, Miss Shearer,” .greeted the owner. I didn’t stare. In those days, people didn’t bother the stars if they came across them. I didn’t want to be seen staring.
One night when Bernie and I came out of a club where we’d gone to listen to Nino Tempo and his band, I saw a drunken Dan Dailey and a blonde come sweeping along and into the club as we left.
Who he? you ask. And you don’t know George Jessel, do you? A friend and I ran into him when we were crossing a hotel lobby. Why were we crossing the lobby? What hotel was it? The Bel Air? Don’t remember. I remember that he flirted with my friend.
Long ago (1958) and far away.