Lady Blue Eyes_ My Life With Frank - Barbara Sinatra [84]
“How kind, Henry,” I said when he told me. “Thank you so much.”
But when I saw the guest list, my face fell. On it was the journalist Barbara Walters, and I knew that the minute Frank saw her name, he’d refuse to attend. He used to call her Barbara Wa-Wa because he said she had a speech impediment and she always made everyone she interviewed cry. During one of his acts, he called her “the ugliest broad on TV.” Sure enough, when Frank found out she’d be at the party, he said, “Cancel me.”
“Cancel you?” I repeated. “But Henry’s been planning this for weeks, and you’re his guest of honor!”
“I’m going to bed now,” Frank told me with a shrug. “If Henry calls, tell him I’m not available.”
So dear Henry Kissinger, the best negotiator in the world and a recipient of the Nobel Peace Prize, suddenly found himself negotiating with me—the dummy who knew nothing. “Barbara!” he pleaded. “You’ve got to talk to Fraank. I’ve been planning this party forever. He can’t just cancel on me.”
“Henry, Frank’s not going if Barbara Walters is there. You will have to disinvite her.”
“I can’t disinvite Barbara Walters!” Henry cried, appalled.
“Fine,” I told him. “Then have your party, enjoy yourself, and we’ll get together another time.”
“But, Barbara, we have to work this out! Maybe I could have her at one end of the room and Frank at the other? He’d never even have to speak to her.” There was desperation in his voice.
I sighed and told him, “You know Frank. There’s no working out to be done here.” They were not words Henry Kissinger heard very often, I shouldn’t think. He called back at least three more times and the following day even tracked me down to a restaurant where I was having lunch with some girlfriends. “Did you get a chance to talk to Fraank?” he asked.
“Yes I did, but Frank’s not going unless Barbara Walters isn’t there, and that’s that.” Poor Henry. He had no choice but to disinvite Miss Walters, although God knows how he managed it. Frank and I went to the party, and we both had a most enjoyable evening. I felt so bad for Barbara.
Several months later we were in Japan, and Henry called us. “Fraank,” he said, excitedly. “I pulled your line! Someone I didn’t want to be with was at a summit I was expected to attend, and I said I wouldn’t go if he was there. Guess what? It worked!”
I had my own taste of what Henry had gone through when we had the Agnews staying with us at the Compound and the Annenbergs wouldn’t invite them to come to a party they’d invited us to. I didn’t know why, and I didn’t want to get into the reasons, so we had no choice but to leave the Agnews at home. We were in New York on another occasion when President Nixon asked us out to a restaurant. The night before the dinner the Saudi businessman Adnan Khashoggi called to see what our plans were. We’d first met Adnan in Monaco when he invited us onto his yacht for dinner. I had been impressed that there was a gift from Bulgari for every woman at the table. He had a giant-size bed, which all the men were sniggering about, but I told him, “How nice, you can get all your family in there!” He laughed, and from then on, we hit it off. When he called to see what we were up to in New York, without thinking, I invited him along to the Nixon dinner. It was me; I would have loved for it to have been Frank who made the faux pas, but it was me. When I informed Nixon’s people that Adnan was coming, they told me they couldn’t have him there. Apparently, he was too controversial a figure. I’d had no idea and was mortified. I had to call Adnan and ask him to understand. Thank goodness, he did.
I liked Nixon and met him several times, usually at the White House. I always found him charming