The phone rang. Chi Chi reached for it. “Hello, Mama, yes, he’s here.”
She handed the phone to Tony. “It’s your mother.”
“Ciao, Mama . . . Yes . . . Yes. I’ll be there.” He hung up the phone.
“Everything all right?”
“My father died.”
Tony sat down in a kitchen chair, stunned. Tony had the sad countenance of someone who is lost, not of a person who had lost someone.
“Let’s go to Detroit,” Chi Chi said.
“What about the kids?”
“We’ll take them with us. Come upstairs. You rest. I’ll pack.” Chi Chi led her husband up the stairs and helped him back to bed. She walked down the hall to the nursery and lifted baby Leone out of his crib. She brought their son into the master bedroom and placed him next to her husband. Tony cradled the baby in their bed. “Leone,” he said. After he said his son’s name aloud, a tear fell, which Tony quickly wiped away.
* * *
Chi Chi and Tony slipped into their seats on the aisle in the auditorium of the Toluca Lake Elementary School. Rosie turned and waved to her parents from the sixth-grade section. Next to her, Sunny breathed a sigh of relief; she had been certain her parents would miss their baby brother’s stage debut. The auditorium was standing room only, packed with the parents and siblings of the stars of the school talent show.
The red velvet curtain raised on the auditorium stage. A girl of six, with blond braids plaited tightly, stepped forward. “Ladies and gentlemen,” she announced, “Leone Arma and his big brass band.”
Leone, age five, wore a bow tie, white shirt, and navy pants. He tilted his bugle toward heaven, sounding out a perfect sliding scale that blew the clouds out of the sky. Sunny and Rosie rose from their seats, rooting for their brother. The audience applauded. Chi Chi grabbed Tony’s arm.
“He’s got the gift,” Tony whispered proudly.
Chi Chi observed how Tony relished Leone in the spotlight. She leaned over and kissed her husband.
“What was that for?” Tony asked.
“I just love you. That’s all.”
Tony took her hand and kissed it. He held it tightly through the rest of the show. How funny, she thought. She had known Tony since she was young, married him, given him three children, and through all of it, she had never felt closer to him than she did in this moment.
* * *
Chi Chi sat with her feet in the swimming pool, reading the newspaper, when the phone rang.
“Cheech, I don’t want to be the one to tell you this,” Barbara began. “But you know Charlie stops at O’Hurley’s on B Street for a beer on the way home? There’s a fellow there who works as a reporter for the Newark Star-Ledger.”
“Yeah. So?” Chi Chi checked the clock. Her sister had gotten up in Jersey at dawn to call her. “Is this important, Barb?”
“Charlie said this reporter had one too many, and confided that it’s going to hit the paper tomorrow. Tony is going to ask you for a divorce.”
“It’s a press stunt,” Chi Chi assured her.
“I’m trying to help you save face.”
“Is it my face you’re worried about or your own? I’m okay. I’m in a good place.”
“Don’t be defensive. What good place? You walk around in a state of misery. Tony’s never home. You’re carrying the load. Don’t you see what’s happening? You’ve given Tony a life where he does whatever he wants. No one holds him accountable. He has permission to wander the world like a bachelor, while you’re home taking care of business and taking care of the family. It’s wrong. Where is Lee Bowman on all of this?”
“Lee sees what is going on.”
“What is she doing about it?”
“She’s his agent, not his priest.”
“Isn’t she your agent too? Who is taking care of you and your interests?” Barbara wanted to know.
It was true, Lee had been their agent; they’d signed on for her to represent them together as a duo. But as the children needed her more, the team got less of her attention, and Tony received more. It was all about Tony Arma, the singer, actor, and entertainer. Tony and Chi Chi was no longer the name of their act, but a phrase embossed in gold on their Christmas cards.
“He needs to see a priest,” Barbara continued. “Tony is terribly misguided when it comes to your welfare and what you need.”
“And what is it that I need, exactly?”
“Fidelity, for starters.”
“Who doesn’t?” Chi Chi said without irony.
“You have children. Think of them! They see what goes on. They hear every phone conversation. The kids at school fill in whatever blanks you don’t. And they don’t like what they’re finding out about their parents. It’s hurting them.”
“According to you, we had a weak father, and we turned out all right. So they will too.”
“Our dad was not practical, but his hobby wasn’t women.”
“I can’t keep the ladies away from my husband. It’s part of the job. He’s charismatic. He sings like a dream. And every day, all day, he is surrounded by beautiful women. When I was young, the women that went after him were older and experienced and sophisticated, and now that I’m older, they’re young and fresh and willing, and they’re still going after him. There’s not a lot I can do about it.”
“Tony could fix it.”
“I married a singer who has to sell records.”
“He doesn’t have to sell out his wife in the process. He forgets you every time he takes a role in one of those B movies or goes on the road.”
“Barbara, you are not helping me. I know all about life on the road. It is not what you think. It’s hard. And it’s lonely.”
“Why are you defending him, when he’s making a fool of you?”
“Is he? Or is he making a fool of you and Lucille and anyone else who is related to me, because we don’t live a life you can understand? Are you really worried about me, or are you worried about you and how this reflects on your image and the sanctity of whatever you hold precious? Do you look stupid once removed because you’re the sister of Tony Arma’s wife, who hasn’t got a clue?”
“I’m worried about you.” Barbara became emotional. “I’ve worried about you all of your life. You don’t think things through. You just barrel into things willy-nilly and hope for the best. Whatever you’re thinking now, think twice!”
“What is it about me that needs protection? I do all right.”
“I guess I have it all wrong.”
“It’s not about being wrong or right. It can’t be. It’s about coping. I will handle this distasteful situation with my husband my way. I will handle my children. I ask that you proceed as normally as you would if you didn’t know my husband was cavorting with a firecracker out of East Chicago, Indiana, on a Saturday night after two shows and three whiskeys. If he is going to divorce me, I’ll handle it.”
“Do you want to know her name?”
“Barbara, I’ll see you at the shore after we do the Sullivan Show. Goodbye.”
Chi Chi hung up the phone.
She didn’t need Barbara or anyone else to share the name of her husband’s lover. She knew plenty about Tammy Twiford, the sexy siren with the contralto voice. The chanteuse and dancer had set her cap for Tony Arma, and the gossip was, she had hooked him. Chi Chi knew all about the affair: when they first met, hotel rooms where they continued to meet, and the gifts he gave her to keep it going, including a pair of sapphire and diamond drop earrings, which would look fetching with her auburn hair. Always the auburn hair, what was it with the auburn hair? Tony was a slave to it!
It was time to talk to her husband. If the story had gotten as far as Barbara and as deep as Walter Winchell’s column, there was no getting past it. She could not hope it would eventually burn out like a candle at the shrine of Saint Teresa, where she stopped to light one, inside the Church of Perpetual Help, whenever she felt most deeply in despair.
Miss Twiford’s perfume was the typ
e that lingered: expensive, alluring, and French, the three ingredients that built the grenade to trigger Tony Arma’s midlife crisis—and designed, once it detonated, to blow up everything he had worked for, everything he and Chi Chi had built.
* * *
Chi Chi had called the movers in Toluca Lake before she had confirmed the rumors about Tammy Twiford. Her plan was to let Tony know that she was moving the children back home to New Jersey because she needed the family around her again. It was not good for the children to be away from their grandmother, aunts, uncles, and cousins. Besides, as they were getting bigger, Chi Chi was finding time to write songs again. She missed her creative life, and for her, that meant New York City, and all it had to offer.
Chi Chi had enjoyed the California house, and there was nothing wrong with the weather, but no matter how hard she tried, it never really felt like home. Tony had moved the family out west so they could be together as he worked in the movies. It was a wonderful idea that had never come to fruition. Tony’s roles were taking him away on location for longer periods of time. Tony and Chi Chi might go weeks without having any substantial conversations with one another, if he was on location in a remote venue. As time went by, it pained her to see what he was missing at home, but it hurt her more to know what her children were missing. This was not a life, it was a holding pattern. Chi Chi had demonstrated guts when she was a girl, but she would need to search deep within herself to find them now. She felt she had no choice. She had a family to support, and things had to change.
After Chi Chi dropped the children off at school, she returned home and paced in the Toluca Lake kitchen, waiting until the East Coast offices returned from lunch so she could make her calls. Her first was to Lee Bowman, the woman who made their work lives possible.
“I need a job, Lee.”
“There’s a variety show out there that’s looking for a writer. I could get you in for a meeting. They hired a girl writer on the last show, so they may again. They’re looking for someone young, but you’re so talented, I think we can fudge on the age issue.”
“I’m forty years old, Lee. I’m a mother and a wife. I can’t hide the facts. I’d like to get an office job. Something with regular hours.”
“Are you and Tony moving back east?”
“I’m moving back east with the children.” Chi Chi’s voice broke. “I don’t know about Tony.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You had to know.”
“I thought he’d straighten up,” Lee said softly.
“Maybe he will. In the meantime, I’ve got to think about the kids. I need to be close to my mother and my sisters.”
“Got it. Cheech, I was going to talk to you about this.” Lee lowered her voice. “I’m going to leave the agency and open up my own management firm. Put out my own shingle. I want to be my own boss. I want to work in a boutique instead of a conglomerate. I want to sign and manage my own client lists. Very select list. The Ray Coniff Singers almost put me in the hospital.”
“I know. How can I help you?”
“I’m not sure yet. Let me think about it.”
“Lee, I’m serious about this. I’m going to keep the apartment at the Melody for now. I mean, I have a place. And I could do lots of things. I could help in the studio when your clients make records.”
“I have a couple of orchestras on my roster. A few solo acts. And I have Tony. Do you want me to drop him as a client?”
“Oh heavens, no.”
“You’re still loyal to him?”
“He’s the father of my children. And the truth is, if you’re managing him, at least I can keep tight control on the business. He’s a disaster with all that. And if he leaves me and marries her—” Saying it out loud to Lee made it a real possibility to Chi Chi, which galvanized her to face the crisis head-on. “I have to be smart about this.”
“I understand. I’ve always liked this about you, Chi Chi. You’re an artist, but you’re practical. Tony may be an idiot when it comes to women, but you will be tied to him financially for the rest of your life. You cannot afford to fall apart.”
“I won’t. And, I can’t let the kids see anything but my affection for him.”
“Let’s meet when you return. Let me know how I can help the move.”
“I will.”
“You’re going be all right, Chi Chi. I’m sure of that. I knew that the day I saw you shake that jar of jelly beans.”
11
Teneramente
(Tenderly)
1957–1965
Snow fell in dizzy silver pinwheels over New York City on the Sunday before Christmas. Lee Bowman hustled Tony and Chi Chi through the crowds, out of the cold, and into the wings of the Ed Sullivan Theater in time for the run-through before the live broadcast of the 1957 holiday show on national television.
The Tony Arma Orchestra had come off the road after a long tour in the west, culminating with a month-long stint in Las Vegas. Chi Chi was looking forward to having her husband home for the holidays. She planned to talk to him about their future together, her prospects, and the children. But, as usual, show business came first, and Tony Arma had to take advantage of a lucky break.
The stage door of the theater was propped open, blowing gusts of cold wind into the hot studio. The air was filled with cigarette smoke, the scent of fresh coffee, and the scent of VapoRub. The roster of talent that would be featured on the Sullivan Show that night waited in the wings, warming up, making adjustments, and applying their makeup before the rehearsal. The acts went in order of appearance: singers, jugglers, dancers, comedians, and musicians vied for a moment with the maestro, Ed Sullivan, who stage-managed the show expertly, moving acts through like passengers through a turnstile in a train station during rush hour. He was the conductor, stone-faced but energetic and firm, driving the machine.
Onstage, the crew rolled in holiday set pieces, hoisting artificial Christmas trees flocked with snow. Stage flats painted with scenes of the North Pole flew in from the rafters. The lighting crew focused beams of gold, pink, and white light on the talent as the cameras rolled into their rehearsal positions on the stage floor.
Tony, Lee, and Chi Chi maneuvered through the talent backstage. The young, strapping men of the University of Notre Dame Glee Club, wearing black cutaway tuxedos, reeked of Vitalis, and stood calmly against the wall vocalizing. Nearby, the plate spinners from the Austrian National Circus balanced china dishes on long sticks, while their gymnasts flipped like human dolphins, their jugglers spinning bowling pins in midair. Through the stage curtain in the wings, Tony watched Bobby Darin and his band rehearse centerstage, oblivious to the frenzy around them.
“He’s so smooth,” Tony said with awe.
“We’ll take Mr. Arma from here,” the stage manager said. “Do you have charts?”
Chi Chi handed him the sheet music.
“Good luck, Sav.” Chi Chi gave her husband a quick kiss.
“This is a miracle,” Lee said as she watched Tony and the stage manager go behind the curtain. “Tony’s finally on Sullivan. I’ve been trying to get him on this show forever.”
“Where can we watch?” Chi Chi asked.
“I’ll check. Wait here.”
Tammy Twiford, a twenty-four-year-old beauty of the classic midwestern variety—small turned-up nose, light brown eyes, and hair the color of ripe cherries—walked by in a hot pink chiffon evening gown drizzled in dangling crystals. Chi Chi felt sandbagged, but she also knew that Tammy had joined the Tony Arma Orchestra as the lead girl singer before Vegas, and while he had not mentioned she would appear on the television show with him, Chi Chi should have realized it was a possibility. She took a good look at her rival, seizing the opportunity to study her up close. Chi Chi shoved her hands into the pockets of her black-velvet dress coat, which she wore with a matching headband anchored with a brooch, a spray of amethysts Tony had given her for Mother’s Day. Chi Chi felt confident. “Miss Twiford?”
“Yes?”
&
nbsp; “I’m Tony’s wife. I understand you’ve been touring with the band. Are you doing the southern leg this winter?”
A look of panic crossed the young woman’s face. “I’m excited about it.”
“Excited about the work, or excited about my husband?”
Tammy Twiford might have been fifteen years younger than Chi Chi, but she wasn’t lacking in experience or cunning. “Is there a wrong answer?” she said tersely.
“Of course there is, Tammy. Don’t be silly. What’s going on here?”
“Ask your husband.”
“What exactly shall I ask him?”
Tammy shrugged.
“I see.” Chi Chi took a deep breath. “It’s been going on that long, has it?”
“Over a year,” Tammy said.
Barbara had sent Chi Chi plenty of articles about Tony and Tammy she had torn out of the magazines found in beauty parlors, doctors’ offices, and other places where women had long waits. There had been mentions of Tony and Tammy at the tables of Hollywood producers, or out on the town in a nightclub in Vegas, or on the road in cities like Chicago in swank places like the Drake Hotel. Chi Chi had tormented herself enough with the facts. She had confronted her husband, who made the believable argument that it was all business, and that Chi Chi, above all women, should understand. But Tony wasn’t a woman; he didn’t understand the feelings involved; he probably didn’t understand Tammy. But Chi Chi did. She understood her all the way back to Gladys Overby.
“Are you in love with him?” Chi Chi wanted to know.
“Yes.”
“Well, Tammy, we will have to figure something out, won’t we?”
“What do you mean?”
“This can’t go on.”
Tammy pursed her lips. “No, it shouldn’t. Not this way.”
“Do you think you could give him up?”
Tammy looked down at her gloved hands. “Why should I?”
“He’s married.”
“But you’ve had him long enough,” Tammy said bluntly.
“This isn’t a ride at Coney Island. Everybody doesn’t get a turn just because they want one.”
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