Lady Blue Eyes_ My Life With Frank - Barbara Sinatra [77]
Real or not, ours felt like a fairy-tale wedding. Everything was fun and sentimental rolled into one. Bobby stood smilingly waiting for me a few steps away from Frank, whose eyes filled with tears of joy. Full of emotion, we took our places in front of the huge black marble fireplace under a famous Seurat painting, flanked by a Gauguin and a Van Gogh. Giant cloisonné cranes with flowers in their beaks perched on either side of us. The fireplace was dripping in gardenias as well as white roses, white chrysanthemums, and white orchids, all grown in the Annenberg greenhouses. Even though it was sweltering outside, it was a perfumed sixty-eight degrees in that room.
Many were surprised that Jilly Rizzo wasn’t Frank’s best man, but in truth Jilly wouldn’t have been comfortable having to stand up and speak in front of two hundred people, so he happily took a ringside seat and organized security. The man Frank chose instead was Freeman Gosden—the actor who’d played Amos in the popular radio comedy Amos ’n Andy and whom Frank had known for years. Freeman was a gentle man from the South, perfect for this role and for the speeches to be made later.
Judge Walsworth began the ceremony, and suddenly the whole event took on a serious note. This was it, then. We were really getting married. I looked at Frank and he looked at me and neither of us looked as if we were about to bolt. When the judge reached the part where I was asked to take Frank for richer or poorer, my husband-to-be interjected, “Richer, richer!” which made everyone crack up, even Dolly, who was there to give us her support. I’d told Frank before the wedding that he didn’t have to wear a ring, but he’d insisted, telling me he’d be “proud to.” During the repeating of our wedding vows, I slipped a plain Bulgari band on his ring finger, and he presented me with an eternity ring of tiny diamond baguettes, which perfectly complemented my killer engagement ring.
Declared husband and wife at last, Frank and I kissed and laughed and embraced and cried all at once. It was utterly wonderful. Champagne corks popped all around us, and we toasted each other beneath an exquisite Rodin statue of Eve. Lee had had a wedding cake made for us, similar to the one we had waiting at the Compound, and so with a knife decorated with gardenias and stephanotis, we cut into it. Someone called out, “Make a wish!” but Frank sweetly said that he couldn’t wish for anything more than his “beautiful bride.” Ronald Reagan, the Republican presidential contender, piped up, “If you can’t think of anything to ask for, I could make a suggestion!”
A fleet of air-conditioned buses ferried our guests back across the golf course for a buffet dinner at the Compound. The Grand Hall was decorated with white and yellow chrysanthemums, yellow roses, and carnations in Frank’s favorite color, orange, which always made him feel happy. After we’d formally greeted our guests, I changed into my evening dress and then wandered among the friends and family who’d traveled from afar to help us celebrate this momentous day. Our friends from Hollywood, New York, Palm Beach, Chicago, and Europe mingled with buddies from the old days. Everyone was there, from my aunts and uncles to Greg and Vero Peck, Cary Grant, Kirk and Anne Douglas, and the entire Nixon Kitchen Cabinet. Roz Russell was there, even though she would die of cancer two months later and kept having to give herself morphine shots.
My father was very happy that day, especially when I told him he wouldn’t have to make a speech. Once he’d gotten over his nerves and taken me to Frank’s side, he was able to enjoy the proceedings. I watched him and my mother being introduced to politicians, movie stars, and billionaires, and was quietly amazed. They chatted with our guests as if they’d always had that kind of life. During the reception, various guests stood up and spoke if they felt like it, which made everything even more fun and spontaneous. Walter Annenberg