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By Root 864 0

constant touring and performing, though, his body—and his mind—was finally able to relax. Some claimed that without his music he lost the will to live, but I don’t think that at all. It was more a case of admitting his age at last and allowing himself to act it. He stopped wearing his toupee. He grew a beard again; he slept more and didn’t exercise as much. His hearing, sight, and balance weren’t what they used to be, but his passion for reading and crosswords had never diminished, so he spent more and more time at home, curled up with a dog or three, his nose in a newspaper or book, and a cat on his shoulder. His occasional lazy mornings of slouching around in his pajamas became the norm, and sometimes he didn’t bother to get dressed at all.

Sadly, when he felt well enough to go out, the press hounded him with even more fervor than they had before. Whenever we left the house, we’d send out two or three cars in different directions first so that the press couldn’t be sure which one to follow. If they followed ours, I kept Frank’s head down on the backseat. But as soon as we arrived anywhere, restaurant staff knew there were big bucks to be made if they tipped off the newspapers. No matter how generous Frank had always been with waiters and valet drivers, most seemed unable to resist the chance to make themselves an even bigger tip by picking up the phone. Not surprisingly, perhaps, we chose to stay in rather than run the gauntlet of the media. Because we’d always enjoyed card games and I’d never stopped playing gin rummy with friends like Bee Korshak, Anne Douglas, and Quique Jourdan during the day, I decided to set up a weekly tournament.

Friends would arrive in time for cocktails and canapés, followed by a game of gin rummy or poker, and then dinner. We had eight players every week, including our regulars from the Beach Group, Jack and Felicia Lemmon, Greg and Veronique Peck, Angie Dickinson, Bob Newhart, Dick and Dolly Martin, Dick Van Dyke and his wife Michelle, R. J. Wagner, and Jill St. John. The guest list varied, depending on whether we were at the Foothill house or in Malibu and who was available. We didn’t play for big money, but that didn’t keep us from being competitive. I’d been able to hold my own in poker ever since Bob Oliver taught me back in Long Beach, but I was playing against a lot of actors whose faces were extremely difficult to read. Fortunately, after one of my potent Bloody Marys or a “Barbara martini,” their guard would soon drop.

Our card nights became regular fixtures and something we all looked forward to. They have never stopped to this day. The beauty of the arrangement was that, because we were home with friends, Frank could join us if he felt like it or he could stay in bed or on the couch watching TV in his den. People could take a break from the game and drop in to see him if they wanted, and he’d almost always join us for dinner. If he was having a bad day, we’d leave him be. He had Vine and nurses to help him get around and make sure he took his cocktail of pills. If he was in good form, he’d wander into where we were and say something like “You’re all under arrest!” Wearing his pajamas and dressing gown, he’d pull up a chair next to mine and I’d show him my hand. He was such a fine actor that his face would never once change expression; he was unbelievable like that.

Not that he was always well enough to join us. With alarming frequency, Frank was rushed to the hospital because of problems with his breathing, his heart, or high blood pressure. He beat off pneumonia once or twice in spite of the fact that he never stopped smoking; he developed bladder cancer and had ongoing problems with his colon. Each time he was admitted to the hospital, he created such a fuss with anyone who’d listen about wanting to “get the hell out of here” that he’d almost always be released prematurely. Despite his feistiness, in January 1997 he was hospitalized for the third time in eight months with pneumonia after a suspected heart attack. Putting on a brave face, I had to go in his place to launch a