Where Are They Buried? (13 page)

The Rat Pack even conquered celluloid in such films as the casino-heist caper
Ocean’s Eleven
, so everyone could share in their obvious fun. One of the Pack, Peter Lawford, was married to a woman whose brother happened to be named John F. Kennedy and, after the boys staged concerts to raise money for his 1960 presidential bid, the Oval Office got in on the gambol, initiating the trendy association of politics and celebrity.

But the carefree days didn’t last, and after a few glory years, the Rat Pack dissolved. Relations between Frank and Peter soured when the president frowned on their mob-associated fraternity, and Joey soon rightfully returned to his own lightweight gigs. By 1964, as the nation struggled with a presidential assassination, a looming war in Vietnam, and turbulence brought on by civil rights protests, the Rat Pack seemed hopelessly anachronous, and there was no longer room for their world without rules or consequences. The years of high living had taken their toll and the fun was done.

SEPTEMBER 7, 1923 – DECEMBER 24, 1984

Though he appeared in dozens of films, was the first to kiss Elizabeth Taylor on camera, and counted himself among Marilyn Monroe’s playmates, the debonair Peter Lawford was never a real Hollywood player. His membership in the Rat Pack was among the most tenuous and, in the first place, his ticket into Frank’s golden circle seems to have been predicated on his standing with the Kennedy family. In 1962, after a row over Kennedy’s objections to alleged Mafia connections, the two men never spoke again.

Peter peaked with the Rat Pack and after, in quick sequence, Frank snubbed him, Marilyn overdosed, and JFK was assassinated, Peter’s career went south. It was briefly rejuvenated when he teamed with Sammy Davis Jr. in 1968’s
Salt and Pepper
and its 1970
One More Time
sequel, but, by the end of his life, the jet-setting playboy was broke, divorced three times, and his health had been destroyed by years of vodka, painkillers, and cocaine.

Peter was reduced to selling his life story to the tabloids and, at 61, he died of cardiac arrest complicated by kidney and liver failure. He was cremated and his ashes entombed but, three years later, it was learned that nobody had ever paid for the crypt maintenance. His children and wife at the time, Patricia Seaton, couldn’t agree on who should pay the outstanding charges, so the tabloids were contacted again. In return for a photo spread of Peter’s ashes being scattered at sea,
The National Enquirer
settled the balance with the cemetery.

JUNE 7, 1917 – DECEMBER 25, 1995

Dino Paul Crocetti sweated in steel mills, boxed under the name Kid Crochet, and smuggled bootleg liquor before making a go as a crooner and mutating into Dean Martin. By 1946, he was kibitzing onstage with a nasal comedian named Jerry Lewis, and within two years, they had the industry in their hands. Thirteen hugely popular straight-man-Martin and manic-fool-Lewis comedy films followed, but while Jerry’s comedic ambitions ballooned, Dean’s musical spirit simmered, despite the 1953 hit “That’s Amore.” By 1956, tired of break-ups and make-ups prompted by
Jerry’s insecurities, Dean permanently dissolved the team. He never looked back and rarely even acknowledged Jerry’s existence.

No one thought Dean would make it on his own, and he didn’t. Instead the Rat Pack came calling and, in movies and Vegas nightclubs, Dean’s persona was elevated to that of a most lovable and lecherous lush. Dean, with highball and cigarette firmly in hand, serenely floated above the fray, projecting a sense of utter detachment while audiences flocked to breathe the same rarefied air.

In 1964, Dean’s deification was completed when “Everybody Loves Somebody” knocked the Beatles out of the number one spot. The next year saw the debut of the leering
Dean Martin Show
, but by the time of its cancellation nine seasons later, pop culture had inexorably shifted, and even Dean’s workaday records no longer quite had a place. When playboy nihilism was finally shelved in the late 1970s, Dean’s one-of-the-boys charisma made him seem absurdly passé and he loped through halfhearted singing gigs and celebrity roasts for the remainder of his life.

In 1987 his fighter-pilot son, Dino Jr., died in a plane crash and Dean completely removed himself from public life, spending his final quiet years haunting Hollywood restaurants alone. “I’m just waiting to die,” he told Paul Anka one night.

On Christmas Day 1995, Dean’s wait ended and he died of acute respiratory failure at 78.

He rests at Westwood Village Memorial Park in Los Angeles, California.

CEMETERY DIRECTIONS:
This little cemetery holds numerous celebrities and is peculiarly located behind the office complex at 10850 Wilshire Blvd., just about a half-mile east of I-405.

GRAVE DIRECTIONS:
As you stand in the cemetery yard and look toward the cemetery office, on your far left is a series of alcoves. Dean’s crypt is in the Sanctuary of Love alcove, third row from the bottom. His nameplate reminds us that “Everybody Loves Somebody Sometime.”

DECEMBER 8, 1925 – MAY 16, 1990

Sammy got his showbiz start at age three as Silent Sam, the Dancing Midget, alongside his father and uncle in vaudeville productions. Consequently, though it never seemed to matter, he
never
went to any kind of school. Sammy’s tap-dancing film debut
came in 1932 and, after serving during World War II, he returned to his father’s troupe. In 1946, at 21, he recorded “The Way You Look Tonight,” which was named Record of the Year.

By the mid-1950s Sammy was riding high as a mime, comedian, drummer, actor, singer, and dancer, but he faced a sudden setback in 1954 when he lost his left eye in a near-fatal auto accident. During his hospital recovery, he converted to Judaism, causing a press-sponsored hullabaloo. Undaunted, Sammy soon returned to the stage, wearing an eye patch until he could be fitted with a prosthetic, and within a year he enjoyed new hit singles, including “That Old Black Magic” and “Love Me or Leave Me.” The next year he made his Broadway debut in the musical “Mr. Wonderful,” which ran for some 400 performances.

A friendship that would last a lifetime ignited between Sammy and Frank Sinatra in 1949 and, ten years later, Sammy counted himself as a charter member of Frank’s Rat Pack. Barbed reproach was nothing new to Sammy and he was undaunted by criticism levied by many of his own race, who accused him of selling out as the token black in the white boys’ pack. Those idle heckles paled against the public outcry and death threats that would follow his 1960 interracial marriage to Swedish actress May Britt.

But though he also later came under fire for his compulsive carousing and reckless gambling, and even for an admitted love for pornography and his 1972 support of Nixon, Sammy stuck to his art and rose above it all. Bedecked in heavy jewelry and clad in a snug jumpsuit or tuxedo, the slight showman with the crooked smile energized audiences and became one of America’s most beloved entertainers.

By the late 1970s, though, after his chart-topping pop hit “Candy Man” and his own television variety show, Sammy’s popularity waned, and he was primarily relegated to the casino circuit and second-rate films. With many from the entertainment world at his side, Sammy, a lifelong smoker, died in 1990 of throat cancer.

Wearing a pair of trademark Bojangles cuff links and a watch given him on his deathbed by Sinatra, at 64 Sammy was buried at Forest Lawn Memorial Park in Los Angeles, California.

CEMETERY DIRECTIONS:
From Highway 2, take the San Fernando Road exit and turn northwest. After a mile, make a right onto Glendale Avenue. The park’s entrance is immediately on the right.

GRAVE DIRECTIONS:
Stop at the booth for a cemetery map, then drive to the Freedom Mausoleum. Walk into the courtyards in
front of the Freedom Mausoleum and you’ll see two closed sections, the Gardens of Honor. Within the Garden of Honor section closer to the Freedom Mausoleum, Sammy lies two rows in front of the white Davis family statue. However, these gardens are closed to the public and, “Admittance to these private gardens is restricted to those possessing a Golden Key of Memory, given to each owner at time of purchase.” But if you want to get in there badly enough, there’s always a way.

DECEMBER 12, 1915 – MAY 14, 1998

Believe it or not, Frank Sinatra once aspired to be a journalist. He was a copyboy at the
Jersey Observer
newspaper and, after enrolling in secretarial school where he studied English, typing, and shorthand, he was promoted to cub sports reporter. But as a self-taught singer, Frank was also working for $25 a week at a country roadhouse as a maitre d’, singer, and comedian. It was there that he was discovered by Harry James in 1939.

After touring with James’ band, Frank rose to prominence recording more than 90 songs with Tommy Dorsey’s orchestra. By 1943 he was a film star as well, debuting in
Higher and Higher
, and his live performances were disrupted by the hysterical commotion of “bobby soxer” fans. In 1949, though, Ol’ Blue Eyes hit a soft spot; record sales stalled, concerts flopped due to his vocal cord hemorrhages, he was released from his film contract, and, on the personal front, an affair with Ava Gardner was an open scandal. At 34, the Voice seemed washed up.

Down but not out, Frank pulled himself out of the slump. With help from Ava, who was now his wife, Frank landed the role of the tough Italian, Angelo Maggio, in
From Here to Eternity
and, in 1953, he won an Academy Award for his efforts. A natural actor, Frank turned in top-notch performances in many more films, most notably
The Man With the Golden Arm
two years later and
The Manchurian Candidate
in 1962.

After his Academy win, Frank took off running once again. He overcame his vocal-cord afflictions and, armed with a new recording contract, Frank turned out a string of hits including “Young at Heart,” “Hey Jealous Lover,” and “All the Way.” It was his own golden era. By the time he held court as chairman of the board over his Rat Pack brothers, Frank held all the cards and dealt them in inimitable style.

By the mid-1960s, a sea change came over Las Vegas and, as new money domesticated business, Frank had to make way for the newcomers. His popularity softened ever so slightly and, in 1971, as his famous voice began to waver, he announced his retirement. Over the next two decades Frank cut back on records and movies and only performed occasionally. His last public appearance came in 1994.

At 82, Frank died of heart failure and was buried at Desert Memorial Park Cemetery in Cathedral City, California.

CEMETERY DIRECTIONS:
From I-10, take the Ramon Road exit and proceed south for two miles to Da Vall Drive. Turn right and the cemetery entrance is immediately on the left.

GRAVE DIRECTIONS:
Enter the cemetery, turn left and follow the main drive around, but don’t bear left toward the office. Once you’ve turned around the right-hand hairpin and Ramon Road is directly behind you, begin counting the trees on your right. Stop between the third and fourth trees, and count four markers in from the curb on the right to find Frank’s grave.

FEBRUARY 3, 1918 – OCTOBER 17, 2007

In public opinion, the glum-faced comedian Joey Bishop seemed to barely fit in with the Rat Pack’s more flamboyant members, but Sinatra himself referred to Joey as “Hub of the Big Wheel” for his quick wit and capacity for coming up with some of the most-revered one-liners. The two met in 1952, teaming up for a series of gigs at New York’s Copacabana with Sinatra headlining (of course), and but for a brief spat between them in the early sixties that resulted in Joey getting booted from the cast of the Pack’s third film, they remained lifelong friends.

In 1961 Joey served as master of ceremonies at John F. Kennedy’s inaugural gala and, after the Rat Pack disintegrated, he became a TV talk show host. His 1967 program, appropriately titled
The Joey Bishop Show
, was launched specifically to compete against Johnny Carson’s
Tonight Show
juggernaut, but even the hilarious bantering between Joey and his sidekick (who was none other than TV newcomer Regis Philbin) couldn’t dent Carson’s ratings and Joey’s show was canceled after two seasons. Nonetheless, Carson held no grudges against his former competitor and Joey ended up guest-hosting
The Tonight Show
more times than anyone else—177 times to be exact.

Nearly ten years after every one of his Rat Pack pals expired, Joey succumbed to natural causes at 89. In passing he closed the door to the fabled Rat Pack era firmly and permanently behind him. Joey was cremated and his ashes scattered.

FEBRUARY 3, 1894 – NOVEMBER 8, 1978