Live on TV3 Palm Springs

by Bill Evans

  “I need to talk to John about your interest in the position. I also need to talk to Jack. I wanted to let you know that I now have a position available.”

  Lisa didn’t react.

  “Are we good?” Ross’s voice almost cracked. He was, without a doubt, out of his league. All he really cared about was that he was able to protect himself, at least for now. He hoped this would take care of his problem with Lisa. He would come to understand that Lisa was not going away.

  ***

  The hotel ballroom was transformed into a television studio. Each candidate received twenty seats for supporters. There would be over two hundred people in the room to watch the live television debate. Ed Kibbey, the moderator, had prepared his notes on each candidate. Two of ABC’s reporters and two from The Desert Sun were on the panel to ask the questions. The Palm Springs Women’s Voter Group worked with everyone involved to set up the ground rules for the candidates. The debate would start at seven and go two hours.

  It was very unusual for a local TV station to give so much time to a local election. This was why the ABC station was so dominant in the market. They always pushed the envelope and did things that most stations didn’t. Besides, as the general manager would say on several occasions, “The ABC lineup on Thursday nights sucks.”

  Ed Kibbey received a call from Mary’s hospital room.

  “Ed, this is Sonny.”

  “Yes, Sonny, how is Mary doing?”

  “She’s doing better. Thank you for asking. I wanted to call to make sure you were going to explain to everyone why I’m not able to be at the debate.”

  “Not a problem, Sonny. I plan to explain to the audience at the very beginning of the show why you are absent. Please give Mary our best.”

  Ed hung up and concentrated totally on the task at hand. He had to moderate a live two-hour debate. No more distractions from Sonny or anyone else. Steve Draper had done his job as executive producer. Everything was in place and it was now out of his hands. Once the show began, it became the director’s show to run.

  The first half hour was for introductions and candidate statements. Each candidate had two minutes, and there were eight of them without Sonny in the ninth spot. What the audience didn’t know, and what Ed Kibbey didn’t know, was that Sonny Bono was calling every five minutes asking for Ed to keep informing the audience why Sonny was not present at the debate. Ed mentioned Sonny’s absence at the top of the show and even wished Mary Bono everyone’s best wishes, which was exactly what he told Sonny he would do. But that was the only time he mentioned the missing celebrity candidate, and that wasn’t sitting well with Sonny’s ego.

  “Sonny, you have to relax and just sit back and watch the debate. Let it go. This is our best strategy. Don’t worry about what anyone says on the debate. It’s not going to matter.”

  Greg MacDonald knew how to promote; after all, he had learned from the best—the Colonel.

  “Greg, this is a huge mistake. Ed Kibbey is burying me by not reminding the audience why I’m not there.”

  “He said something. Sonny, you need to understand he can’t repeat it every ten minutes. There would be no time for the debate.” Greg tried to rationalize with Sonny.

  “This is crazy. I’m going over to the hotel.” Sonny paced Mary’s private hospital room. Mary, on the other hand, was just lying in bed watching the debate and trying to keep Sonny from doing something crazy.

  “We’re going. Who is coming with me?” stated the mayoral candidate.

  Sonny grabbed his coat and headed out the hospital room’s door. There were at least twenty-five people with him, and they all left the hospital and headed to the downtown hotel. The debate was an hour and fifteen minutes into the show when the doors flew open at one end of the ballroom. The doors opening stunned some, but most in the room didn’t realize what was happening. Then Sonny burst into the room.

  “Ed, I need to say something to the people of Palm Springs. Let me talk to the people. Ed, I want to talk to the people,” Sonny screamed.

  The debate came to a halt. The room was silent. Everyone tried to figure out what was going on. There were now twenty-five or thirty new people walking around the room. The moderator heard the commotion but still wasn’t sure what was happening. Steve Draper approached Sonny as the candidate made his way to the front of the room.

  “Sonny, let me put a mic on you so people can hear what you have to say. Do you want to speak to the people?”

  “Yes. Put the mic on me.”

  Steve could barely contain his excitement as he put the wireless mic on Sonny Bono’s lapel. This was the best thing to happen to any live television event coming out of Palm Springs. This was going to make the debate huge.

  Kibbey tried to regain control of the room.

  “Sonny, if you want to participate, please take a seat at the table.” The moderator pleaded again, “Sonny, please take a seat.”

  Then Sonny spoke a line that would live on in Palm Springs media history.

  “Ed Kibbey, shut up. You are not my mother.”

  No one knew what Sonny meant by that, but everyone knew it wasn’t a good thing. Sonny made his way to the front. The television cameras captured everything. Sonny went on a ten-minute rampage, blasting the debate and Kibbey’s lack of explanation for why Sonny Bono wasn’t participating. On the surface, it looked like a political disaster for Sonny. Once the tirade was over, Sonny and his group left as quickly as they entered. The candidates, the moderator, and the studio audience were stunned. What just happened?

  It was live television at its best. The rest of the show went off without a hitch, but Sonny Bono, the one candidate who chose not to participate, had captivated the entire two hours with only ten minutes. Those ten minutes were put up on the satellite, and the images went around the world.

  The actual debate didn’t matter. All anyone could talk about was the ten minutes that Sonny Bono took over the room. The political consensus was that Sonny Bono had sunk himself and his political ambition before he ever got started.

  ***

  “Good morning, this is Steve Draper.”

  Steve didn’t know who would be calling him at seven in the morning. It was Friday, the day after the debate.

  “Steve, this is Sonny Bono.”

  “Yes sir. What can I do for you, Sonny?”

  Steve had no idea why Sony Bono was calling him, or where he got his direct line number from. It must have come from Greg McDonald.

  “I’m going to sue you and the station. What you did to me last night was careless and damaging.”

  “Sonny, what are you talking about? You busted in our live event.” Steve thought he recognized the sound that a phone made when someone was recording a conversation. The sound of an intermittent sound of a beep prompted Steve to ask, “Sonny, are you recording this conversation?” It was illegal to secretly record any phone conversations.

  Sonny never answered the question. “You shouldn’t have put the microphone on me.”

  “Sonny, you told me to do that. Otherwise no one would have been able to hear what you had to say.”

  “I’m suing you and the station. You will be hearing from my attorney.” Sony hung up.

  Steve Draper immediately headed down the hall to John Miller’s office. The general manager was in early as well, and his door was open.

  “John, I just got a call from Sonny Bono. He told me he was suing the station and me. I think he was recording the conversation as well.”

  “What? Sue us for what?”

  “He told me I shouldn’t have put the microphone on him last night. I asked him before I gave him the mic if he wanted it or not. He said yes. I can’t believe this.”

  “I wouldn’t worry about it,” said the general manager. “He must be very worried if he’s threatening to sue us. He might be second-guessing his actions and now he’s trying to backpedal.”

  “I’ll call Greg McDonald and see what is going on.”

  Back in his office, Steve
dialed the manager’s phone number.

  “Greg, it’s Steve. Sonny just called me this morning and told me he’s suing me and the station.”

  Greg started laughing. “Jesus. He went nuts last night after his fiasco. Everyone feels that he ruined his chances of any political career with his outburst. They’re probably right. What did you think?”

  “I think it was great live television. I do think Sonny probably self-destructed his political career. We’ve gotten calls from people in New York who saw the footage from last night. Canada called as well. Look, I’ll talk to you later.”

  The election was days away. Sonny’s tirade was fodder for every media outlet. Sonny had certainly given Palm Springs the national spotlight.

  ***

  Lisa wasted no time meeting with Jack Router in the news director’s office. “I want to move into sales, Jack.”

  The news reporter had come a long way over the past couple of years since she first addressed her boss as Mr. Router. “I think I’d be good at it, and let’s face it, that is where the money is.”

  She was right on all accounts.

  “Lisa, I’ll support the move. I’ve already heard that you talked to Ross Mitchell about it. I hate losing you in news, but this could put you on a more lucrative career path, for sure.”

  “Ross told me a spot just opened up. He offered me the job as long as everything could be worked out with you. Of course, John has to sign off, too.”

  This was the next step in Lisa’s career game plan. A business plan structured with help from Stewart Simpson, the owner of the station. He had big plans for his young “scholarship” protégé, and she was determined to follow his advice.

  “So, you’ll accept my two-weeks’ to leave news for the sales department?”

  “Let me run this by John first, but yes, I’ll accept your notice. You know if it doesn’t work out in sales you can come back to news?”

  “Thank you, Jack, that is very nice, but I won’t be back in news as a reporter.” Jack could tell by Lisa’s confidence and conviction that she was right.

  “One last thing before you walk away from this department. I need you to do a great body of work for us on election night. I’m putting you with the Bono campaign, so don’t let us down.”

  “I won’t. Thank you. Thank you.” Lisa left her boss’s office on a high.

  ***

  Election night was always big in newsrooms around the country. In small and medium-size TV markets, the newsrooms were always buzzing and trying to outdo their competitors across the street. Election night in Palm Springs in 1988 was a little different because Sonny Bono had managed to capture the attention of the country. It turned out to not even be a race. Sonny Bono crushed his opponents with huge margins. Sonny had not just entered into the political arena—he catapulted himself into politics.

  The landslide victory was enough for him to not file the threatened lawsuit against the station or the sales manager. Not that Sonny had a case, but, for the national sales manager who had arranged the debate, it was nice to know that he wasn’t going to cause a problem for the station.

  That night at his victory party, he gave Lisa a ten-minute, exclusive interview.

  13

  LISA PARKED AT the private jet terminal next to the Palm Springs airport—the same terminal she watched her former roommate enter when Kristen boarded what Lisa believed was Stewart Simpson’s jet. Now she was doing the same thing. Dugan greeted her inside the terminal and escorted her onto the tarmac and up the stairs of the G-4. Lisa had agreed to meet Stewart in New York for a four-day weekend. She had to be back on Sunday night to start her new job Monday morning in the sales department.

  “Dugan, how are you? It’s good to see you again.” Lisa always tried to find a common bond with Dugan.

  “I’m good, Miss Addelson. Are you ready for a quick flight to New York? The pilot tells me we should have a smooth ride.”

  “Then let’s go.” Lisa still couldn’t believe that she was flying in a private jet to New York. She would meet Stewart at the Waldorf, and for the next three days she would live in a fantasy world that she was beginning to appreciate and enjoy.

  Even with a fuel stop in St. Louis, the entire trip took only a little over five and a half hours. Lisa slept most of the way. Dugan was good company but really didn’t say much unless she prompted a response. The limousine met the plane, and within forty-five minutes of touchdown Lisa was entering the suite that Stewart booked for the two of them. Dugan had an adjoining room and as usual was never far away from his boss.

  The tone for the weekend was set as soon as Lisa entered the room. Stewart greeted her with a glass of chardonnay. There was a bubble bath ready, Sinatra music playing in the background, and the biggest bed that Lisa had ever seen, with the covers already pulled back.

  Stewart kissed Lisa as she took the glass. She felt like a princess living the life that schoolgirls only dreamed about. There were no complications, no attitude. She knew her place and what was expected. No words were spoken. She walked with Stewart into the master bath, dropping her dress from her chiseled body, which she worked very hard to keep that way. Stewart removed his bathrobe and the two stepped into the warm bubbles.

  It had been almost a month since they last saw each other, but it was as if they had been together the entire time. Lisa didn’t date anyone for fear that it might upset Stewart. Stewart, on the other hand, continued to date several women—something he had always done and would probably always do. He didn’t abide by monogamy, but he expected it from his women. A double standard, absolutely, but that was what wealth gave you, at least in Stewart Simpson’s mind.

  The evening was filled with lovemaking, a wonderful selection of food, quiet music, and a second bath. The two finally fell asleep around three in the morning. Lisa was as happy as she had ever been.

  New York was considered by some to be the greatest city in the world. It was alive. The people moved with a different energy. Lisa found the city exhilarating. Walking down the streets of Manhattan and seeing all the shops was unlike anything she had ever experienced before. Macy’s, Nordstrom—there just weren’t enough hours in the day. Stewart surprised Lisa by staying with her the entire time. He bought her shoes, a few dresses, and they even made a stop at Tiffany’s. Lisa loved those turquoise boxes. By the end of the day, Stewart had spent close to fifteen thousand dollars on her.

  That night, dinner was ordered in the room; beef Wellington with a shrimp cocktail and a specially prepared salad decorated the table. Dessert was a chocolate soufflé with a taste of raspberry. The wine was handpicked by the sommelier to match the culinary selection. It was the perfect ending to Lisa’s first day in New York City. She wondered if every day could be like this one.

  “Where’s Dugan been all day?” Lisa asked as she and Stewart sat at the table in front of the fireplace. It wasn’t cold in the room—the fire was for atmosphere.

  “He’s probably running errands or doing work for me of some kind.”

  Lisa hesitated, but she wanted to know more about Dugan, the man that seemed to be Stewart’s right arm for everything he was involved in.

  “What’s his story? How did you meet Dugan?”

  Stewart thought about whether he wanted to answer Lisa’s question. He changed the subject.

  “Tell me about how you got the sales position.”

  Lisa didn’t say anything about the redirection but made a mental note to revisit the Dugan topic at some point. She wanted to know more about the man who took care of the man who captured her heart. There might be twenty-seven years separating them, but Lisa thought she might be falling in love for perhaps the first time, and she wanted to know everything about Stewart Simpson and the person closest to him.

  “I took a play out of your book. I went to Ross Mitchell, the local sales manager, and made him an offer he couldn’t refuse.” Lisa used the Godfather analogy. She knew this was one of Stewart’s favorite movies. He often talked about the Godfath
er and how the principles in the movie related to business.

  “An offer he couldn’t refuse?” questioned Stewart. “What, did you do offer to sleep with him?”

  “No, of course not. I simply told him that I would make sure people knew he sucked cock unless he put me on his sales team and give me a client list so I could be successful.” Lisa thought about what she was telling the owner of the station. She wanted Stewart to know that she would share her most intimate secrets. She also knew her language would get Stewart’s attention.

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “I am absolutely telling you the truth. I saw him sucking off the number one radio personality in Palm Springs. He didn’t see me, but I certainly saw him. I threatened him with divulging the information when he first rejected the idea of me being in sales.”

  Stewart didn’t say anything at first. He was impressed with his lady. He recognized that she could play hardball and she played to win. That impressed him above anything else. The fact that she was drop dead gorgeous, well educated, and totally open to his type of relationship was enough to make him think more seriously about her than the other women he had been with.

  “Are you sure you saw Ross blowing a guy?”

  Stewart Simpson was old school. He was born and raised in Texas and he hadn’t bought into the gay lifestyle. The idea that his local sales manager was a homosexual, or at the very least bisexual, disgusted Stewart, but he had only suspected before. Now he knew. He would deal with that privately, as he did all his business problems.

  “I saw what I saw. I wasn’t wrong, or he would have told me to go fuck myself when I threatened him.” Lisa surprised herself with the way she was talking to Stewart. She was relaxed to the point that using this tough language didn’t bother her with this man. She was beginning to trust their relationship.

  Later that night, Stewart knocked on the door that connected the suite to Dugan’s room. Dugan hadn’t gone to bed. He was up writing notes in his diary.

  “Mr. Simpson, is everything all right?”