Lady Blue Eyes_ My Life With Frank - Barbara Sinatra [123]
Barbara Kaplan was clever, though. Soon after the auction, she arranged for me to meet some of those who’d benefit from the money we’d raised. Coming face-to-face with those innocent little children who had been so mistreated tore my heart out. That’s when I knew I had to get more involved. Those children needed some semblance of sanity in a purpose-built center of their own instead of having their therapy sessions scattered all over town. I knew of an empty building once used for cancer patients, and I approached the hospital that owned it, but sadly things didn’t work out with them. Then I formed a local board to help me get the project running, but we were quickly tied up in red tape. Several people warned me that Palm Springs had had a children’s center before that hadn’t succeeded. There seemed no way forward until our friend the businessman and racehorse owner Danny Schwartz, who was on our board, said, “Why don’t you ask Uncle Walter?”
I knew Walter Annenberg was closely involved with the Eisenhower Medical Center, so I made an appointment with Danny, went over to Sunnylands, and told Walter what I wanted to do. His response wasn’t what I’d hoped for. “I started something like this at the Desert Hospital and in London, but both projects died,” he told me. “I don’t want to go through all that again.”
“Okay, Walter. I understand,” I replied, trying to hide my disappointment. “You don’t have to give me any money, but would you at least help me find a suitable plot?” When he agreed to see if there was any land available within the Eisenhower Medical Center compound, I assured him that, once a site had been found, I’d sell the idea and raise the necessary funds myself. I’d hired an architect to work out how much space we’d need and had the costs broken down per room. In what I hoped would be a state-of-the art facility and outpatient therapy center, there’d be an auditorium and entry hall costing $100,000 each. The other rooms would be as little as $10,000 each, but overall we’d need to raise several million dollars just to get the center built, never mind staffed and operational.
Nelda Linsk, a friend I made when I first came to Palm Springs with Zeppo, in 1958, had recently sold a house to the architect and builder Don Knutson and told me he wanted to get involved in the community. “Great,” I said. “Let’s set up an appointment.” We invited Don to the Compound, and I made sure there was a surprise waiting for him. When he walked into the room and looked around to see Cary Grant, Jimmy Stewart, Gregory Peck, and Frank Sinatra all smiling up at him, his mouth fell open. He didn’t know where to look next. Later he asked Nelda, “What does Barbara want from me?” Nelda replied that I’d tell him when I was ready.
Once Walter had arranged for us to have a plot on the campus of the medical center, all I had to do was raise the money. Using all my charm, I persuaded the best in the business—Frank, Dean, Sammy, and Liza—to perform at a benefit. Each table was priced at ten thousand dollars, the cost of one small therapy room. Then I went to see Don Knutson. Just as I was walking out of his house with the plans for the center under my arm, he asked me, “Barbara, what would you rather I do? Buy a table for the concert or a room in the building?”
I paused before replying. “Well, I think you should buy the entry hall, because I know you’ll be going to the concert anyway.” He didn’t respond at first, but as I walked to my car, he cracked. “Okay, okay!” he said. “Then put me down for that.” I could hardly believe my ears. Don was the first person I’d asked, and he’d agreed to pay for one of the most expensive areas in the whole center! I was so proud of myself that I hurried home excitedly. I couldn’t wait to