Hold the Roses (44 page)

Moe said, "Why not? She better be here."

Bill said, "She's in New York opening in a Broadway show. You can't
ask her to give that up."

Moe said, "I don't care... she's to open tomorrow night, here, and you
better make sure she's here."

Poor Bill, he thought for sure they were going to kill him, especially
that night when a car nearly missed hitting him. He said, "Moe, I've got a
girl who will do great for you, I promise. Her name is Polly Bergen. Don't
be upset with Rose Marie. It's a chance of a lifetime for her. This girl will be
great, I know she'll do well."

And Bill kept on talking and talking. Moe kept walking away from
Bill. Moe finally gave in, Polly Bergen opened, and she was wonderful... and
Bill is still alive, thank God.

I forgot to tell you about Noop's accident at a horse show. I almost
lost her. She was in a horse show at Los Alamitos. After this show, she and
I were going to Hawaii for a little vacation. She had asked me to be a
presenter for one of the horse show awards, so I drove down, got there
about noon, and the first thing I saw was a big commotion. All of a sudden
an ambulance came through, and I saw Bill Corey, her trainer, looking out
of the window. I knew something had happened to Noop. I stopped the
ambulance and saw Noop on a stretcher. Her face was bloody and dirty.

I screamed, "What happened?" Bill said she was sitting on the hood
of a car, in fact there were other kids on top of the car also. They were
going about five miles an hour, going from the ring to the stable. All of a
sudden, a truck pulled out and the girl driver put on the brakes. Everybody got off. Noop fell down and the car rode over her. Bill Corey rushed
to Noop and pulled her out from under the car. Thank God her jeans were
tight. Bill kept talking to her. She finally opened her eyes and they called
an ambulance. Thank God for Bill. He got her out, gave her mouth-tomouth and saved her life. I left my car wherever it was and rode to the
hospital with Noop and Bill.

We went to Long Beach Memorial Hospital. They took some x-rays.
She had a dislocated collarbone, a fractured pelvis on both sides and her
shoulder was dislocated. She was a mess. I called Dr. Levy-after Bobby
died, he became our family doctor.

He said, "How's her face?"

I said, "It's dirty with some blood."

He said, "Nothing wrong with her face, right?"

I said, "I don't think so."

He said, "Get an ambulance and get her into Mount Sinai. Take the
x-rays with you," which we did. When we got to Mount Sinai, they rushed
her upstairs and did another examination. The x-rays from Long Beach
were compared to the new x-rays. Her pelvis had started to heal and come
together. Dr. Levy was pleased. He said, "It's because she doesn't do drugs
or drink. She's a healthy girl, everything will be all right. Her face is fine"
(he always said how beautiful she was). So they put her in a room with
another patient who kept her up all night. I never left the hospital. The
next day I told Dr. Levy to put her in another room because Noop's roommate had kept her up all night. They moved her into another room: the
same room Bobby had when he passed away! Imagine how I felt! Bernice
came to the hospital and stayed with me all day. I couldn't cry, I couldn't
talk ...I just stared into space and prayed quietly.

When Dr. Levy came in at six o'clock, he said, "She will be fine, but
we have to operate on the collarbone and the shoulder. The pelvis is healing itself." They didn't even put a cast on, but she had to lie still. Dr. Levy
said to me, "Go home. We won't operate right away. I've got to call a few
orthopedic doctors." So Bernice took me home. I was almost in a coma. I
slept a little, but went to the hospital at nine o'clock and stayed with Noop.
All the horse people sent flowers, cards, and balloons. They came to see
her. Even people from the horse world she didn't know.

So now we had two orthopedic men come in to look at Noop. We
had Dr. Levy and Dr. Silverman, Levy's associate, who is now our family
doctor. The operation went well, but they told me that she would never
ride a horse again. I said, "Don't tell that to her-not yet anyway." She was
in the hospital about six weeks and came home in a wheelchair, barely able
to walk. She had to learn to get out of the wheelchair to go to the bathroom. It was rough, but she had the will to do it. We'd see Levy every week
and she was doing all right. She was walking, but we never mentioned
anything about riding. Finally there was a horse show in Rolling Hills
Estates in California, and she said she was going to enter, and if she won
she would give the trophy to her doctors.

I said, "You'd better check with Dr. Levy."

Levy told her, "Be careful, don't take any chances, and win that damn
trophy."

I couldn't believe what I heard. I said, "Is she all right to try and
ride?"

He said, "She's fine." She did a helluva job of healing all on her own.We
went to the horse show and damn if she didn't win! We went to see Dr.
Levy the next day. He said, "She's fine. Now go in and show those other
doctors that damn trophy," which she did. They were amazed and so was I.
They all had thought she would never walk again! But God bless her, she
has a strong mind and she was in no way going to give up riding
horses.. .which she never has.

Dr. Levy passed away in December of that year, on December 24. I
called Dr. Levy to wish him and his wife a Merry Christmas. His wife
answered the phone and I said, "Merry Christmas! It's Rose Marie, is Marv
there?"

She said, "Oh! You don't know! Marv died last night. He had a bad
heart."

I didn't know what to say, so I said, "I'm so very sorry. I'll call you

I hung up and started to cry. I truly loved that man for what he did to
help Bobby and how he took over when Noop had her accident. I went
into Noop's room to tell her that Dr. Levy had passed away.

She said, "That's odd, because I dreamt last night that he stopped by
my door and said, `Are you all right?' I said, `Yes.' I knew it was a dream,
but it seemed so real!" I just got goose pimples and walked away.

I forgot to tell you about the Guy Curse. If anybody does anything
against us, or tries to cheat us, or hurts us in any way, the Guy Curse
automatically goes to work. We don't do anything or say anything, it just
happens. An example: Peter. A mutual friend of ours would call me after
she received a letter from him. It seems that his girlfriend died, sold the
hotel, and left all of her money to her children, and left him a monthly
pittance if he stayed in Denmark. If he left the country, the money would
stop-so he's stuck there! Ah...the Guy Curse.

I forgot to tell you about the time I went to London to do two shows
on "the telly." It was a variety show and they didn't know me from a hill of
beans. I stayed at the Cumberland Hotel (veddy English.. .and lovely).
Buddy Freed went with me. We were to do two TV shows about two weeks
apart. Bobby couldn't come because of his shows at NBC, so Buddy and I
went. I loved every minute of it.

If there's anything true about "past lives," I must have once been English. I seemed to know my way around London better than Hollywood. I always knew which bus to take, which underground to take-it
was eerie. I would turn into a street and say, "There is a little house next to
a bakery," and sure enough, I would turn the corner and there was a little
house next to a bakery. I was there four weeks and really hated to leave.
The shows were very good. I was quite pleased. More so after the first show
was on the air and the doorman at the hotel said to me, "Saw you on the
telly last night, madam. You were a bit of all right!"

I forgot to tell you about making the movie Top Banana. Walter Scharf
was the musical conductor, so Bobby was on the recording date. We went
to work together. He went to the bandstand, and I went over to the rest of
the cast. We were recording all the songs from the show, which we would
lip-sync later while shooting the movie. We were going to do it just as in
the play and the director, Alfred Green, wanted to see our moves.

The chorus did the first number. Judy Lynn and Danny Scholl did
their duet and then I recorded "I Fought Every Step of the Way." My
number was made up of boxing terms, and of course, I moved on stage like
a boxer, jabbing and dancing around like a boxer would. I did one take and
they said, "Let's see how you move," so they played back the song and I
moved around like I did in the show. They stopped in the middle of a lyric
and I said, "Don't leave me in a position like this." Everyone laughedjoke over. We all took a five-minute break.

The producer walked over to me and very softly said, "If you're really
interested in some good positions, I'd be happy to show them to you."

I laughed and said, "Funny, very funny."

He said, "I mean it. This could be your picture. I'm the producer and
I can see to it that it's your movie, so let me know when you want to learn
the new positions."

Now I knew that he wasn't kidding. He meant it. It was the first time
anybody ever made that kind of a pass at me. I was embarrassed, insulted,
and then I got very angry-and I mean spittin' mad. In front of the whole
crew, singers, dancers, and orchestra, I said loudly, "Why, you stupid bastard, you couldn't get it up if the flag went by." Everybody laughed like
hell. Then the orchestra started to laugh, and it went like a wave... through
the fiddles, saxes, trumpets, and trombones. And my husband laughed the
loudest! I looked at Bobby and sneered at him. He couldn't stop laughing-which, to me, made it worse.

When we finished, Bobby and I walked to our car, neither of us say ing a word. We got into the car and I said, "How dare you laugh so hard?
Don't you know what he said to me?"

He smiled and said, "I can imagine. I feel sorry for anyone who tries
to make a pass at you."

I said, "Fine."

He said, "You know all your songs will be cut. It will be like you
weren't in the picture."

I said, "They can't do that, the duet with Phil is one of the best numbers."

He said, "You'll see." He was right-all my songs and the duet were cut!

About a year later, I was doing a movie at Universal. Bobby and I
were having lunch in the commissary and in walks that producer.

I looked at Bobby and said, "What will I do?"

He said, "Do nothing. If he says hello, you say hello and that's it.
You're a lady. If he's smart, he'll walk away."

Which is exactly what happened. He passed our table and said, "Hello,
Rose Marie."

I said, "Hello," and he walked away.

I forgot to tell you about Carmen Miranda. In 1945, I was to open at
the Copacabana in New York, one of the top clubs in the country. Martin
and Lewis had played there, Joe E. Lewis, Tony Bennett, all the big stars of
the day. So I was quite thrilled when asked to play there. I wanted to look
terrific. Lloyd Lambert, who was my costumer, made three new gowns for
me, all of which were knockouts. My act was in good shape, so I knew I
was ready.

Opening night was unbelievable. All the big stars came to opening
night: Sinatra, Sophie Tucker, Tony Bennett, and Milton Berle. Carmen
Miranda was a big star working in the Follies at the Winter Garden Theater. She was Broadway's biggest and newest star. Her wardrobe was outstanding, different and wild. She wore shoes that had a platform about five
inches high. Even though they looked awkward, they were beautiful and
all the rage at that time. To be in style, I went to Saks Fifth Avenue and
bought a pair of gold Carmen Miranda shoes. I paid plenty for them too.
I wore them in my act.

One night after the show, I was in my dressing room, and there was a
knock on the door.

I said, "Come in."

There stood Carmen Miranda in the doorway. I almost died.

I said, "Hello, Miss Miranda, please come in."

She said, "Your show was wonderful. I enjoyed it very much. Your
gowns are beautiful. I thought you were just great, but you don't know
how to work in my shoes."

I said, "What?"

She said, "Put them on."

So I did. She held me by the waist and made me walk around the
room, making my body go from side to side.

Then she said, "Now work like you have nothing on your feet, and
take small steps."

So I did what I was told, and she said "That's it, fine." Finally, she
said, "Now do it like that when you're on stage."

I thanked her and told her how much I appreciated her kindness and
how wonderful I thought she was. She said that she was very happy to
meet me and that I was very talented and she hoped I wouldn't be angry
with her for showing me how to "walk in her shoes."

I said, "I couldn't be angry, and no one can ever `walk in your shoes,'
Miss Miranda. You're a very special lady," and she was.

I forgot to tell you about Prince Charles. Once, when I was going
with Vince Miranda, we went to some big British charity affair. Prince
Charles was the guest of honor. There were many British stars there, as well
as American stars. They had a presentation line, and I got into it in time to
meet the Prince.

Vince said, "Are you going to bow?"

I said, "No, I'm an American. He doesn't run my country." (I was
feeling very patriotic.) When it was my turn in line to meet him, we shook
hands and his companion said, "This is Rose Marie from the Dick Van
Dyke television show."

He smiled and said, "We watch you on the telly all the time, and
you're always looking for a boyfriend. Why don't you come to England
and we'll find you a nice chap." We both laughed and shook hands again,
and then I left. My little brush with royalty.

I forgot to tell you about the night I danced with Fred Astaire. I was
asked to dinner at Betty White and Allen Ludden's house. We had been
friends for a while and we had worked together. They had been over to my
house for dinner, so I was looking forward to a nice dinner and lots of fun.
Richard Deacon was there, Fred Astaire and his daughter and her husband, and George Tibbles, who did Betty's shows and who had written
some material for me. It was a nice group.