It's So Hard To Type With A Gun In My Mouth (43 page)

I have radar for faces. I should have radar for car keys, shoes and important papers but I don't I have face radar. Since I cannot remember names, my brain has developed a scanning device, like at the airport, which sees a face and recognizes it immediately. I noticed Pat coming and the radar bell when off. She was seated in a tier above us. I watched as she and her group sat.   Everyone in her party put on construction hats and, in unison, turned on rotating red beacons that sat on the top of each hat. The entire Roxy audience burst into applause and I remember making a mental note... "Way to enter a crowded room. Red lights and sirens."  Maybe 25 or 30 years later I met Pat Carroll in Palm Springs at the Palms Springs Playwright Festival where my play was an entrant. I recalled that story to her and she said, "My mother had just died and I was so depressed I needed to do something to cheer myself up. So, I bought those hats and went to the Roxy."  And it was then I learned it's not always about making and entrance...sometimes it's about making yourself happy.

In any case, as we sat there Gary was acting like the cat that ate the canary. "What's up?" I said. And he said with glee, "You open at Caesar's Palace in three days."  I could not believe it. This was the big time; Caesar's Palace, on the strip, in Las Vegas. They were doing an all comedy bill, a cavalcade of comedy... Phyllis Diller, Pat Cooper and Me. The ex and I were over the moon. We really had something to celebrate. It was Gary's Christmas present to me. He had given me something I had wanted all my life and it's why I loved him like a brother.... and grieved so deeply when he passed. 

Three days later I was on a plane to Vegas with my manager Billy Sammeth. I'll never forget getting into a cab and driving from the airport to the strip. We pulled into Caesar's Palace driveway and there on the marquee, in letters 25 feet tall it said... PHYLLIS DILLER, PAT COOPER, STEVE BLUESTEIN.  100% billing. ME! First time in Vegas... Gary had made the deal of my career. My heart filled with pride as I looked at Billy. I'm just about to say something about finally making it when the cabbie says, "Who the hell is Steve Bluestein?" So much for my touching moment.

I had never met Phyllis but Pat I had met in 1968...  although we had never met. I was in an elevator at United Artists. There were two other people plus myself in that elevator.  We were going down and it stopped at a lower floor. The doors opened and Pat Cooper was standing there. Pat, in a thick put-on Italian accent, says, "Lem-me com-a in." And he pushes his way into the elevator like it was packed with people."Sukza-me, Sukza-me. Comin-a tru!"  He made a huge scene. It was funny but seemed so out of place at the time.  I remember thinking, "How can anyone be that uninhibited?"  And now I was working with him in Vegas... equal billing.

Phyllis was another story. I had heard that she was this elegant, warm, loving person... but I had no idea how the rumors had been understated. I met Phyllis Diller and she immediately made me feel accepted. It wasn't the new kid and the star, it was two comedians, equals and pals. She was this icon and yet she was the lady next door, the nice lady who baked cookies. Phyllis and I clicked immediately. She took me under her wing and gave me tips on how to work the "big room".  She watched my act and told me which jokes she loved and which ones she hated.  She hung out with me.  She made the first time in Vegas easier and more enjoyable. She was, what they call, a mench.

Pat Cooper was a surprise to me. On stage he is the loudest most obnoxious person I've ever met... and in person the warmest most caring person I've ever met. I remember watching him on stage and thinking, "Look at him. Caesar's Palace is his Comedy Store." He was  as comfortable on that stage as I was at the store. He would improvise; he would walk back and forth with ease, and he'd talk to the audience. He is truly one of the most underrated comedians of his time. But that attitude of anger... it's hard to take on stage and I guess that's what kept him back.  But as for heart, there is no one better. Years later when I opened in New York City, it was Pat Cooper who was in the audience opening night. It was Pat Cooper who would send me cards from the road and make me feel a part of.   And while others may have made more money and gone farther, it's Pat Cooper that I remember with fondness.

But as fondly as I remember Pat, Phyllis surpasses the memory with years of friendship. Phyllis adopted me on that gig; she took me under her wing. I remember one night she invited me up to her room. She had a limo and she was going to take me out to dinner. I knocked on the door and heard, "come in". I entered and said to the person standing there, "Is Phyllis here?" And the person said, "I'm Phyllis!"  She had on no wig or make up. She was unrecognizable.... until she opened her mouth. And then Phyllis Diller's voice came out of some strange being's body. It was like a real life Invasion of the Body Snatchers.  She told me it was the only way she could go out in public and have some peace and quiet.  And it worked like a charm. I did all the talking when we got to the restaurant, I ordered and she never said a word to anyone. We were left alone and had a great time. "See, it works." She told me with a smirk.

The Caesars gig went well. When it was all over I remember thinking that fame wasn't like in the movies... you don't go out there a nobody and come back a star. It's years of hard work and an accumulation of credits that brought you fame because although I had done well at the Caesar's, nothing monumental happened. I didn't get a contract or a movie deal... it was just something to add to my resume.  However, today on the strip ... Caesar's has a billboard that heralds the "HEADLINERS WHO HAVE WORKED CAESAR'S"... and if you stand there long enough, my name will scroll by. For me, it's one of the thrills of my career.

Now let me tell you how wonderful Phyllis Diller is. She's kept in contact with me for 30 years. Every Christmas a card comes, or a note or a letter. And when she told me she loved getting funny post cards I started sending them to her from all over the world. When I did my show in Sydney, I sent her a card a week for 3 months. The one that stands out in my mind was a picture of three Koalas in a tree looking right into the camera. My caption on the back... "OK, who farted?"  She screamed.  And just last year when Phyllis and I did an infomercial for THE COMPLETE COLLECTION OF NORM CROSBY'S COMEDY SHOP, she was still as funny and charming as ever. I just love this woman!

OH! Here's a little bit of interest. If you Google my name "Steve Bluestein" memorabilia, you will come across a site selling personal letters. They are selling a letter I wrote to Phyllis in 1978 and after being for sale for two weeks it sold for $200.00.  Go figure. And want to know the truth? I remember writing that letter like it was yesterday and can you imagine my surprise when I saw it for sale? It's like finding a long lost relative you thought was dead.

                             OCTOBER 13, 2006 –
POLIO

I was about eight years old and going to summer camp. It was mid 1950's and the height of the Polio scare.  The camp I was going to was a day camp very close to my home. I actually enjoyed going there and have friends from that period to this day. We had a daily routine at camp, sleep time, lunch, arts and crafts and play period. It all started when I was on the swings. Instead of holding on to the sides of the swing, the chain that goes from the horizontal pipe to the seat, I held on to the seat and when I pushed off I went flying backwards and smacked my head on the concrete. I had a huge lump on my head, the size of an orange. I remember them taking me to the office and trying to get the bump down with ice and a knife. They put the blade across the lump with the flat side down and tried to push it out. One counselor said, "Are you going to cut it off?" And the other said, "No, I'm trying to push it down." I'm just lucky they didn't' decide to throw a rattlesnake at the moon.  Nothing worked; I had a huge lump on my head.

The camp called my mother, she told them I would be alright and to keep me at camp and so they did. Later that day they took us to a public swimming pool. At the pool I began to get a headache. It was a horrible headache, one like I have never had before. I sat by myself as the other kids played. I got very tired, so tired they had to carry me back to the bus.   When we were back at camp I took matters into my own hands and walked to my parent's store.  (They owned a Ma and Pa Grocery Store at the time) My mother was working there and was shocked to see me. She put me in the car and brought me back to camp. "You're fine."

That afternoon, the camp took us to a local Boston kids TV show, Big Brother Bob Emery (http://www.bostonradio.org/essays/big-brother.html) and there I was on camera, my very first appearance... I threw up all over Big Brother. I remember his comforting words off camera "Get the little shit away from me."   They brought me home and called my mother, she came to get me this time.

At home I grew progressively worse. I was running a fever. My parents called the doctor and he wanted to see me at Children's Hospital in Boston. I remember lying on the sofa when my father came in with a family friend, Choc Glazer. They called him "Choc" because in the summer he got so tanned he was like Chocolate. "We're going to see the doctor now" is all he said and I started screaming.  I didn't want to go. They tried to pick me up but I wrapped my arms around the sofa cushions and they had a hell of a time separating me from the sofa as I kicked and screamed. But the two men were much stronger and soon we were in the car on the way to the hospital.

By this time I was lapsing in and out of a coma. I would be wide-awake and then just drop off. The doctors were not sure what it was but they thought it was a mild case of Polio.  In the summer, during that time period, I would tan extremely dark...so dark they couldn't find a blood vein in my arm. They stuck me repeatedly with the needle looking for that elusive vein. I screamed bloody hell. To this day I am petrified of needles.  The test results were inconclusive but they were going to do a spinal tap to see if that showed anything.  They did the spinal tap and that is why today I have a bad back, one that goes out with crippling pain from time to time.

I was becoming a very sick kid. They didn't keep me in the hospital but were going to watch me. That night at home I got even sicker. My parents were beside themselves. The next morning my mother piled me into the backseat of the car and drove me into Boston to Children's Hospital.  On the way there I got violently ill. She stopped the car and went into a bar to get me water. Funny but that's one of my fondest childhood memories, she stopped the car and got me water. Sad, huh?

The illness stayed for about a month. I was paralyzed from the neck down, very stiff. I could move my arms and legs but not my back or neck. During this whole period I was in and out of comas. I remember one time waking up on an examining table with my mother and a doctor over me. The doctor said, "Is he doing any coughing?" to which my mother said, "No, none at all."  And for some unknown reason I thought it would be a good idea to start coughing... which I did.  The doctor looked at my mother like, "you idiot" and my mother said something like, and "this is the first time." For some reason, even at that early age, I got a great deal of satisfaction from that moment. I can't tell you why I did it or what I thought it would do... all I know is, I thought it would be funny.

As the month progressed the illness seemed to just disappear and I was left with no side effects.... unless you call a worthless back no side effects.  Now here's the best, or worst, part of the story. I was scheduled for one more check up with the doctor. They told my parents that if all the tests were good this would be the last time they would see me, but if there was a problem I'd need to come back. My father couldn't go with us so my mother took me to that last appointment. The doctor gave me a clean bill of health and I would not be seeing him again. Happy? I was ecstatic.

Instead of going home after the appointment, we went to my parent's store. We pulled up in front of the store and my father came out to greet us. I can see this picture in my mind like it happened five minutes ago instead of 52 years ago. He was broadly grinning as he walked over to the car. As he approached my mother said to me, "When he asks what the doctor said, tell him we have to go back again."  And like a little puppet, I said, "I have to go back." My father's broad grin turned into panic, "WHY?"  "I don't know, Ma, told me to say that." My father looked at my mother and said something like, "You bitch." And they had a nice fight as I sat there celebrating my clean bill of health.

I never thought about moments like that growing up, but as an adult I know it takes a great deal of cruelty to use a child as a tool to hurt your spouse.  God, I wish there were some happy, funny memories I could share with you... but seriously, this is all I’ve got! However, the good news is... I'M NOT DEPRESSED TODAY! I'm actually smiling and feeling good. I wonder what's wrong.

OCTOBER 17, 2006 -
SHA NA NA

It always starts with an "until" doesn't it?  I had signed with new managers. They had connections with Sha Na Na and so the very first gig I had with this new management team was at The Sands Hotel in Las Vegas opening for Sha Na Na. The Sands was real Vegas history. This was the room that Totie Fields, Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Sammy Davis, Jr, Don Rickles and many more had worked and so to stand on that very stage was a dream come true. Only we weren't standing on that very stage. Sha Na Na had four walled the room. Four walling means they paid the hotel for use of the room, Sha Na Na would get the admissions and the hotel would get the money generated from drinks and food. The real money for the hotel is made when the crowd breaks after the show and they walk through the Casino gambling. That is why there is a clock in the floor of the stage so entertainers know when their 19 minutes are up. And you do 19...not 18 or 21... 19, or else the stage manager writes you up. Too many write-ups and you don't come back. It's strictly a business. Anyway we weren't in the main room, we were in the convention center that was set up with large round dining tables. I was overjoyed. NOT!