Lady Blue Eyes_ My Life With Frank - Barbara Sinatra [96]
With my own unhappy past and for a man like Frank, that was no mean feat. He could have had anyone he wanted. He could have left me at any point, but he never did; he never even came close. There were some who did their utmost to split us up, but that only made us more determined to stay together and prove them wrong. Ours was a deep love that would stand the test of time. I knew from the moment he kissed me on the terrace of his hotel suite in Monaco that I was the luckiest girl alive, and my luck—thank goodness—never ran out.
No matter how crazy our lives were and how much traveling we did, Frank made sure we spent a month in Monaco each summer reliving the first blissful days of our romance. It was his one guaranteed vacation a year, although he usually performed at Princess Grace’s Red Cross Gala, so it wasn’t entirely work-free.
He’d check us into the Churchill Suite of the Hôtel de Paris, where it all began, and we’d enjoy long days in the cabanas down on the beach just as we had when Bobby joined us from Switzerland. The hotel staff loved having Frank to stay and would do anything for him. When he complained about the low quality of the sound system in the bar, for example, they let him replace it—to his slight regret. The speakers that once played gently muted background piano morphed into some high-tech high-fidelity system that could really hurt your ears in the wrong hands.
We’d revisit our favorite clubs and restaurants, like New Jimmy’z and Le Pirate, with the Ittlesons and any other friends who were in town. Our most frequent companions were probably Greg and Vero Peck and Cary Grant. Frank flew us to Biarritz; he treated us to the finest dinners; he borrowed a yacht for a cruise to St.-Tropez.
One memorable summer Kirk Kerkorian leased Robert Maxwell’s fifty-five-meter superyacht Lady Ghislaine and sailed a group of us including Michael Caine, Roger Moore, and their wives to St.-Tropez for lunch and some retail therapy. We girls not only had the greatest fun shopping but then had the chance to dress up every night in clothes by our favorite designers, like Pucci and Armani, as well as our finest jewelry, including a few knuckle benders and the Holy Shit Necklace.
There were always a lot of laughs, especially when George Schlatter or “Bullethead” Rickles was around. One night Rickles and Frank and Jilly were in the bar at the Hôtel de Paris sheltering from the pouring rain. All of a sudden, there were some flashing lights and Frank scowled. “Get out there and tell those f***ers to stop taking photographs of me!” he said. “I’ve had enough paparazzi today. No more pictures.” Jilly and Rickles went outside, took a look around, saw nothing, and came back in, soaking wet. They ordered another drink, but a few minutes later there were more flashing lights, so they hurried outside again to try to find the photographers who were irritating Frank. This went on for some time until finally they realized what the problem was. They were in the middle of a thunderstorm, and it was only lightning. Realizing the storm had passed, they came back in and told Frank, “It’s okay, we took care of it. They’re gone.”
Rickles usually stayed in the Hôtel Hermitage, across the street from the Hôtel de Paris, so he and Jilly worked out a special arrangement. When the time came for him to come over and start a day’s carousing with Frank, Rickles would stand out on his balcony. If everything was going according to schedule and Frank was in a good mood, Jilly would stand on his balcony and wave a white napkin. If Jilly waved a red napkin, that meant Rickles should lock himself in his room and stay away until the coast was clear.
On one of his first visits to Monaco, Rickles came down to the Beach Club to meet us, but when he got to the gate, the guards wouldn’t let him in. He went to another gate, but it was the same story. He wasn’t a guest of the hotel and had no authorization to be there. “Hey, wait a minute!” he told the guards. “I’m friends with Frank Sinatra!” The French gorillas looked at him blankly, so