This Is Your Captain Speaking: My Fantastic Voyage Through Hollywood, Faith & Life

by MacLeod, Gavin

  We stayed for a long time, mixing and mingling with people that night, until a guy came over and said, “You’re wanted downstairs.”

  “What did I do now?” I said.

  Patti and I went downstairs and it turned out that the head chef wanted to see me. He was Swedish and had worked on cruise ships, so he thought it would be fun to meet the Captain. He gave us cookies to take home from the White House. And they were delicious.

  I saw the president another time after that, too, during his second term. It was just as special, and I was in just as much awe. Years later I would see President George H. W. Bush down in Fort Lauderdale. They were taking a cruise, and they had security all over the place, and they wanted to meet me on the bridge. Mrs. Bush came in first: “They said you were here, and I didn’t believe it!” She gave me a big hug.

  This was just after he lost his bid for reelection. I said, “Mr. President.” And he said, “They didn’t want me. That’s the way it is.” He gave me a presidential tie clasp, which I later gave to my grandson.

  Mrs. Bush suffered a fall on that cruise. I remember that. It made headlines. Thankfully she was fine. I would see them again when I was doing a play at the Ogunquit Playhouse up in Maine, not far from the home they have in Kennebunkport, and they came to see me yet again in a production of Gigi down in Houston. They visited and took pictures at intermission—as if I was the famous one! It’s just astounding to me that this role of the Captain would garner the interest of presidents and First Ladies.

  Many years later, toward the very end of her life, my mother would suffer from dementia, just as Reagan’s mother did, and just as Reagan himself did before Alzheimer’s set in. I was invited up to Canada to help raise money to fight the disease, and people from all over Canada came to hear me speak. I used President Reagan’s farewell speech as part of my message. I’ve mentioned before that I tend to cry at the drop of a hat. Well, I sure cried at that podium. I thought of him. I thought of my mother. I remember looking out at that audience full of people who had been touched by this terrible affliction, and I said, “We’re all in this together.”

  I ran into Michael Reagan later on, and I told him I had used his father’s speech for that purpose. He responded by telling me a story I will never forget. He always used to hug his father whenever he would see him, he said. The last time he saw him, his father was lying down on a sofa, with a pillow, and Michael told me, “I could see that Dad didn’t know who I was, and I just said, ‘Good-bye. Thanks for being a great man and a great dad.’” I’m paraphrasing here, of course. It was so beautiful the way he told it. I don’t tell the story nearly as well, I’m sure, and I hope he’ll forgive me for not having his eloquence. But it touched me very deeply, so I want to share it. “I went out the front door,” he continued, “really feeling lousy, thinking I’ll never see my dad again, and all of a sudden the front door opens—and it was my father. He was standing there looking at me, with his arms open for a hug. He didn’t know who I was, but he knew I was the guy who hugged him. That was my last moment with my father.”

  What a story. It just showed the love of a son and a father, which—well . . . by now, you know what that means to me.

  Ronald Reagan was so good for this country, and so good for this world. He made us a strong power again, and that’s what we have to be. America can’t be second or third. What’s happening to us these days?

  I was a Democrat until he ran for president, and then I became a Republican. I’m an Independent now, and I won’t get into my political beliefs any more than that in these pages—mainly because I’m sure you don’t want to hear it. I just think it’s interesting the ways in which each of us can change our perspective through the years. I’ve certainly changed mine, in part because I was blessed to spend time with these incredibly influential and wonderful human beings.

  At the other end of my legendary celebrity experience spectrum, let me set it up in the form of a famous film title: Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner?

  Our friend Kaye Ballard, whom I’ve mentioned already—the fabulous actress, singer, and comedienne I had the great privilege of working onstage with in Gypsy in 1973, and with whom Patti and I are still dear, dear friends to this very day—called us up one day out of the blue. This was 1980, or maybe early 1981. Patti and I lived in a beautiful house on Burlingame in Brentwood at that time, and Kaye had become a very good friend since we had purchased a second home in Palm Springs. She lived close by.

  Anyway, Kaye said, “Gavin, I just ran into a friend, and I wonder if you might have her over for dinner.”

  It was an odd way to phrase a request. I said, “Um, Kaye—who is it?”

  She said, “Bette Davis.”

  I said, “The Bette Davis?”

  “Yes, the Bette Davis. She’s an old friend of mine.”

  “And you want her to come to our house for dinner?”

  “Yeah. I mentioned it to her and she went crazy,” Kaye said. “She said, ‘I can meet the Captain? When are we going to go?’”

  The thought that Bette Davis knew the Captain really knocked me over. Kaye said, “I ran into her at a function and said, ‘How’re you doing, Bette?’ and she said, ‘Oh, I’m very lonely. Nobody ever asks me out to dinner anymore.’ So I thought it would be nice for you and Patti to have her over. Patti could make her eggplant parmigiana!”

  Patti makes an amazing eggplant parmigiana. Dom DeLuise once said it was the best he’d ever had in his life. And Patti’s not even Italian! (Yes, we had Dom DeLuise over for dinner, too, one time. I’m dropping names like hot potatoes now!)

  I said, “Well, I can’t believe this. Sure. I’ll ask Patti.”

  The only other thing Kaye said was, “Be sure to have some Chivas Regal Scotch for her.”

  I said, “We can do that. All we have to do is feed her?”

  “Oh yeah,” Kaye said, “she just wants to meet you, and she’s so wonderful, and she’s so lonely.”

  I couldn’t believe it. Bette Davis! Patti of course said yes.

  We set it up for a Sunday. Kaye was going to bring a friend named Jerry Lang, a big-deal photographer from New York City, and one of his friends. And we invited Stephanie, Patti’s daughter (who I very much considered my daughter at this point too). And that was it. We wanted to keep it small. Simple.

  The night before, we could hardly sleep! Bette Davis is coming to our house for dinner!

  Sunday arrived. We got all set up. We didn’t even go to church. That house had never been so clean. We brought in a special kind of caviar from the store where we shopped. We had special crackers to put the caviar on. We had Chivas Regal all over the place, and wine. Patti prepped all the food so all she’d have to do was heat it up a little bit. We got dressed to the nines. Finally the doorbell rang, and who was standing there but Bette Davis. The Bette Davis!

  She was tiny! She came right over and gave me a big hug. I was struck that this giant of the screen was just about Patti’s height. “I’m so happy to meet you,” she said. “I love your work.”

  I almost choked.

  “Well, I love your work too!” I said.

  I had heard that she once worked as an usher at the Cape Playhouse on Cape Cod, and so I mentioned that. She said, “Yes! I started out there before I started acting.” I told her I was on the board of directors there now. It’s one of our country’s great regional theaters, a place I had performed and a place I longed to return to again and again.

  Kaye came in with Jerry and his friend, and we all went into the living room. There was one big sofa under the window, and two love seats, and tables, and Patti started putting out the hors d’oeuvres. I asked Miss Davis if she wanted a little Chivas Regal, and she said, “Thank you, yes.”

  She started drinking a little bit. Stephanie came in, and they were all sitting on that sofa while Bette sat over in a chair, all by herself. We had a little French poodle named Rose that kept jumping up, but the thing I remember most is that Bette Davis just kept eating. She was
dipping into this caviar as if she hadn’t eaten for days!

  We started talking about the business, and Jerry said, “I’ll never forget when you were doing Two’s Company,” which was a revue she did in New York. He said, “I went to see you after a matinee one day, to ask you for an autograph, but you weren’t there.”

  Bette got very serious for some reason. “I never left the theater after the matinee.”

  Jerry said, “Well, okay, but on this day you weren’t there.”

  She reiterated, very sternly, “I never left the theater after the matinee!”

  Jerry seemed confused. “Okay, but Miss Davis, I went there, and you—”

  Bette leaped to her feet. “Did you hear me? I never left the theater after the matinee!” She was belligerent!

  Jerry let it go, but I whispered to Patti, “I think you’d better get the food ready.”

  I fixed her another drink and asked if she’d like to see the house. “I’d loooove to!” she said, very dramatically.

  Our house was filled with antiques and vintage pieces. A friend had redecorated the entire place after we bought it. I had enough money to do that sort of thing for the first time in my life, so I indulged a bit. One of the pieces we had was an old, handmade sled from Paris, Maine. Bette saw it and said, “Well, look at that.”

  I told her where it came from and said, “Don’t you have a home near there?”

  She responded, “I own Cape Elizabeth.”

  “You own Cape Elizabeth?”

  “I own Cape Elizabeth!” she said.

  I don’t think it’s true that she actually owned an entire coastline in the state of Maine. But I didn’t argue, and I couldn’t understand why she was getting so angry. She said she wanted another drink, and this time she went and poured one for herself.

  We walked around some more, and eventually walked into the bedroom, where she said, “Oh! I love those lamps!”

  They were inexpensive lamps with a patchwork design. Patti and I were planning to throw them out and build something into the wall on either side of the bed instead. I said, “You really like them?”

  “I love them!” she said.

  I told her we were going to get rid of them and asked if she wanted them. She said, “Yes! You know where I live, up on Harper Avenue?” I said, “Yeah, I’ve heard about where you live.”

  “I think the food’s almost ready,” she said, and she headed toward the kitchen. It was all so strange!

  After dinner we all retired to this rustic room we had with a fireplace, with blue-and-white walls—it was very Cape Cod–ish. Everybody sat near the fire, but Bette Davis sat way, way across the room on a little bench by the door, all by herself. Then she looked at Patti and said, “Why do you have the fireplace on?”

  Patti said, “Well, I thought I’d give you a little taste of New England.”

  Bette looked her in the eye, and in the snarkiest voice said, “Well, you haven’t.”

  Kaye started laughing. She’s the type of person who laughs whenever somebody’s in trouble. I couldn’t take it anymore. I walked out of the room.

  The phone rang. It was my director, Allen Baron. He said, “I’ve got your new script. You want me to bring it over?”

  I said, “Allen, you’ll never guess who’s here. Bette Davis!”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “No! Bette Davis is here for dinner, and she’s a major pain in the tush!”

  Allen rushed right over just to see her. When he walked in, Bette was suddenly all friendly again. “Oh! You’re the director!” She turned on the charm for the director!

  Poor Patti was a basket case. She tried to do everything she could, and Bette Davis was just miserable. She got more and more miserable as the evening went on, and then she left. She just left! Patti was crushed.

  The whole thing turned into a case of, “Guess who came to dinner . . . and you wish she hadn’t!”

  Kaye called us later on that night just laughing and laughing. She thought it was hilarious! Patti sure didn’t. I was flabbergasted by the whole thing.

  Then it got worse.

  Sheila MacRae, the actress and former wife of actor Gordon MacRae, was a good friend of ours, and she called us two or three weeks later. She said, “What’s going on here? You had a party with Bette Davis at your house and you didn’t invite me?”

  Patti said, “Well, it was just with Kaye and the kids. It was small.”

  Sheila said, “I know. I just read about it in the paper!”

  Turns out, somebody did an interview with Bette Davis, and in that interview she said, “The new Hollywood is not like the old Hollywood. Gavin MacLeod, the Captain of The Love Boat, invited me to dinner and it was a disaster. They don’t know how to entertain anymore.”

  She ripped us!

  I couldn’t believe it. I called Kaye and said, “Kaye, remember you told me nobody invites her to dinner anymore? I think I know why now.” Who would want to be around that kind of a personality, no matter how big of a star she is?

  Oh well. We got a good story and a good laugh out of it. Patti eventually laughed too. It was just so ridiculous. I mean, come on: How many people ever have Bette Davis over to their house for dinner? We tried to make her happy, but nothing made her happy. I thought the Chivas Regal would make her happy, but it only made her angry. Maybe if Jerry didn’t say what he said about the matinee she would have been fine. Sometimes you have no idea what sets people off. But I was floored.

  By the way, we never sent her those bedroom lamps.

  You never know what you’re going to get with certain celebrities. There are a lot of nice people in the world—actors and actresses who stay grounded and keep smiles on their faces and never forget where they came from. Then there are others.

  I flew up to do the Donny & Marie show in Orem, Utah, one time, and I just love Donny and Marie Osmond. I love their whole family! They came on The Love Boat. Marie and I have made other appearances with each other through the years. I went to her wedding when she first got married, and went to Las Vegas to see them when they opened their show just recently. They’re fabulous, loving people. I’m not sure how many people remember, but they had the hottest show on television in their day. I wish everyone could be more like they are with all of that fame.

  I tried never to be demanding or belligerent, no matter how well-known I got. Grateful is my middle name. I was grateful to have the job. Any job. My managers or agents would do what they did, of course. They demanded a certain salary and everything like that. But for me? If somebody wanted me to come and do the stuff that I love doing, what more is there?

  Right after The Love Boat caught on, I got to cohost with Mike Douglas for a week. For a whole week he had me on his show! In fact, it was showing off my singing and dancing skills on The Mike Douglas Show that helped me land that emcee gig for the Reagans.

  His talk show was the greatest. He had so many guests from so many walks of life on that show. Old legends, new artists, cutting-edge comedians, sports figures, you name it! The greatest times were when he had ’em all on together—kind of like what we did on The Love Boat—and I was fortunate to be there for one of those perfect, unimaginable occasions. I got to sing with Ella Fitzgerald. I couldn’t believe it! It was Mike Douglas, Tommy Lasorda (from the Los Angeles Dodgers), Ella Fitzgerald, and yours truly, all singing “You Gotta Have Heart” from the musical Damn Yankees. We each took a verse, and then we harmonized all together. It was magic, man! Another time I was on the show, and Ray Charles was a guest. He said to me, “Maaaaaaan, I watch you every Saturday night.” I didn’t know blind people say, “I watch you.” But that’s what he said.

  Being the Captain opened so many doors for me. The reach I had, the notoriety I had, the ability to interact with so many legends of stage and screen. If I recounted every story, I’d fill this whole book!

  But let me share just one more from those early Love Boat years—a meeting I had with one of the greatest singers who ever lived: Frank
Sinatra.

  We were doing The Love Boat, and Patti had just gone away to do summer stock in Pennsylvania. I got to the set, and there was Frank Sinatra Jr. He was doing a guest role on our show. “Frank! Welcome. Nice to see you!”

  We spoke for a few minutes, and I just couldn’t resist. I said, “Can I tell you, I love your father, man. He’s been such a major part of our lives.”

  He said, “You really like him?”

  “Yeah!” I said.

  “You want to come see him? He’s recording tonight.”

  He told me that Billy May was going to be conducting the orchestra, and they were working on this new album called Trilogy. “Wow, what an honor, Frank.” Since Patti was gone, I said, “Can I bring my secretary?”

  He said sure, so I invited my longtime secretary, Judy Van Herpen—who was a big fan. She was thrilled!

  After work, before we headed to the studio, I called Patti. “How was your trip?”

  She said, “Oh it was all right . . .”

  “Well, you’ll never guess where I’m going. I’m going to see Frank Sinatra record a new album!”

  She squealed. “I can’t believe you! I only left a few hours ago and you’re going to see Frank Sinatra?”

  I told her that Frank Jr. set it up. She was jealous. Who wouldn’t be?

  We got there, and we walked in past that big, big orchestra and into the recording booth where we were out of the way in the back. And in came Frank Sinatra. I can hardly explain what it felt like just to sit there and watch him and his producer, Sonny Burke, talk. It was so exciting! He said, “We’ll start with ‘Surrey with the Fringe on Top.’”

  And then we watched him record that famous song. To see him in person, up close like that—it was breathtaking. Every phrase he sang just rang out. Every note was powerful, or subtle, or just what it needed to be. I’ve done my share of singing onstage, but I could never dream of having the gift that he has.