The members of Freddy's band were of two minds, the more naïve musicians thinking Merv was having an affair with Jean, the other players suspecting that he might be a homosexual. “A few of us were birds of a feather,” one of Freddy's band members later said. “We suspected that Merv might be one of us. After all, musicians are the hippest people in America. We smoked pot decades before it caught on, and we were using the word gay when the rest of the world thought it meant happily excited.”
Studio Spin: Debbie Reynolds
“fake dating” with Tab Hunter
“One night, three of us were in a hotel room playing poker when one of the guys asked, ‘Don't you think Merv is gay?’ I thought for a minute and said, ‘By God, I think you're right.’ In those days, we got our rocks off wherever we could going from town to town.”
“We agreed that night that one of us should test the waters, and I was selected because the guys said I was the best looking. After I showered the following night, I knocked on Merv's door wearing only a towel. I made up some excuse that I wanted to borrow something. I brought along a couple of cold beers. One thing led to another, and in a couple of hours Merv was bobbing up and down between my legs. He was pretty good at it, too, and I knew he'd done this before. Perhaps many times before.”
“When I left the room that morning, I told the guys, ‘He's up for grabs, but remember I saw him first.’ Throughout the rest of the tour, Merv kept me happy, and he also kept some of the boys walking around with smiles on their faces. I don't think Freddy ever found out what was going on. Maybe he did. Knowing Freddy, I don't think he would have given a damn.”
In what Merv would later refer to as “one of the most memorable moments of my life,” he was able to see what was keeping the audiences away from ballrooms and night-clubs. That momentous event took place backstage at the Riverside Theater in Milwaukee.
An RCA television dealer brought in “a funny little box” (Merv's words) to demonstrate to Freddy Martin's band what their competition was. “I remember Milton Berle was appearing in drag of all things,” Merv said. “The picture was fuzzy. For a person who grew up watching Judy Garland in Technicolor on the big screen, I was very disdainful of this new invention. I thought TV was a novelty. How could I have known back then that it would dominate most of my life—and also be the key to my fortune?”
After what seemed like endless weeks on the road, Freddy Martin's bus approached the skyline of New York City as dawn was coming up. Merv was in awe. “Even though I was from San Francisco, I'd never seen anything like it. It was like a mirage to me. The tall buildings. I spent my first day just wandering around with my mouth open. I must have looked really dumb.”
“San Francisco has beauty but in those days it didn't have the hustle-bustle of New York,” he recalled. “Every person I encountered looked fired up and in a hurry to get somewhere like they had some important mission to perform. After that first day of rubber-necking, I knew I'd found my city. I also knew that someday I'd live in New York and establish my roots here. Yes, I knew it was in New York that I'd become famous … and rich.”
After all those one-nighters, Merv was happy to be booked for ten nights at the swanky Waldorf-Astoria. “I'd seen Week-end at the Waldorf with Lana Turner, and I was impressed. I even got to stay at the hotel, although I was assigned the maid's room. It must have been the maid's closet. Lana fared better in the movie.”
After closing at the Waldorf, Freddy told Merv that their next booking was the Strand Theater where the orchestra would entertain between showings of Johnny Belinda, a film that would bring its star, Jane Wyman (Mrs. Ronald Reagan), an Oscar.
Merv remembered “shaking all over” as he made his first big appearance at a New York theater. The Waldorf debut had been in a relatively intimate nightclub, like the Mural Room in San Francisco, and he felt comfortable there. “I feared I'd forget the words to even my familiar songs. But when I led off with ‘Because,’ I knew I'd hit my stride.”
“At the end of the number, I expected deafening applause since I'd never played to such a big audience before,” he said. “Silence. I mean dead. You could hear a pin drop. I felt like I was going to have a stroke. Freddy and the band were also stunned. But they were pros and they continued on as I did.”
“I did all my hits,” he said. “Again nothing but silence. Even my novelty song, ‘Pecos Bill,’ didn't go over, and all the audiences went for it. I bombed with my popular ‘Miserlou,’ as well. Nothing but silence. I wanted to die. I'd bombed in a New York theater. I figured then and there that New Yorkers were the toughest audiences in the world.”
It was only when the curtain went down that both Freddy and Merv understood the deafening silence. The theater manager, as a publicity gimmick, had invited members of an organization of the deaf to see Wyman as a deaf mute. On screen they read the lips of Wyman and her co-star, Lew Ayres, but could not hear Merv's singing voice.
Benny Stillman, a music critic, covered the performance, writing the next day: “Merv Griffin has a compelling baritone voice. But I feel he is destined to enter the ranks as a second-rate Dennis Morgan since he doesn't have the range to take on Bing Crosby or Frank Sinatra. Yet Griffin sings as well as Fred Astaire if that is a compliment. There was something about him that made me think he would have done better singing with a Big Band in the 1930s. I think it highly unlikely that he will carve out much of a career as a crooner in post-war America.”
A few weeks later in Los Angeles when he would actually meet the star of Johnny Belinda, Jane Wyman herself, he'd relate the story of singing to a deaf audience. She did not seem amused, but her companion and her co-star in the picture, Lew Ayres, laughed.
As a kid growing up in San Mateo, Merv had read in all the fan magazines that Jane and her husband, Ronald Reagan, were the ideal American couple— he in uniform serving the country and she waiting at home for him with freshly baked cookies.
After meeting her, Merv understood a different reality. Jane appeared obviously in love with Lew Ayres. “The way she was holding onto Lew told me that the gal had gone bonkers over this handsome fella,” Merv said. “I was shocked to see her carrying on this way in public, as I hadn't read about her separation from Reagan. I was nervous and blurted out something stupid. ‘Where's Ronald Reagan? You should be with him—not this guy.’Needless to say, I wasn't asked to join them at the table.”
“In time Jane forgave me for my insensitivity,” Merv recalled. “Over the years we never became friends but acquaintances who nodded politely at parties. I think she resented my close bond with Reagan's new wife, Nancy. But Jane and I did have one great moment together in Los Angeles. One night when I was singing, she got up from her table and joined me in a duet. After hearing ‘In the Cool Cool Cool of the Evening,’ the audience applauded wildly.”
***
While still appearing at the Strand in New York, Merv used to go out into the alleyway beside the theater for a breath of fresh air between performances. The alley opened onto the stage door of the Ethel Barrymore Theater, which had a hit play, A Streetcar Named Desire by Tennessee Williams, starring Marlon Brando as Stanley Kowalski and Jessica Tandy as Blanche Du Bois.
Every night Merv would encounter a young actor in the play, who was always polishing and checking out his motorcycle, which he'd parked in the alley. Even when he introduced himself to Merv as Marlon Brando, Merv didn't realize that the actor was the star of the play. “I thought he was an extra,” Merv said. “I'd never heard of Tennessee Williams either, and I just assumed that Streetcar was a musical, no doubt set in my native San Francisco, which is known for its streetcars, of course.”
At one point Merv asked Marlon if he sang any solos in the show. The actor burst into laughter and offered Merv one of his house seats for the Saturday matinee.
Marlon seemed less inclined to talk about Streetcar and pumped Merv for all the information he could about Freddy's band. “I'm a jazz musician myself. Just wait until you hear me play my bongo drums
.”
Marlon was perhaps the most natural and uninhibited man Merv had ever met. “When he wanted to take a piss in the alleyway, he pulled it out in front of me and let it rain,” Merv recalled. “He made no attempt to conceal himself. For some reason, he liked me. I don't know why. He was so hip and I was so square.”
Years later, Merv recalled that he was shocked by Marlon's brutal but brilliant portrayal on stage. “The first shock came when I realized that he was the star of the show—not an extra. The second shock came when I saw that Streetcar wasn't a musical. In my naïve mind, I thought Broadway was nothing but musicals. At any moment, I expected to see Ethel Merman emerge to belt out a song, or at least Mary Martin. I was mesmerized and glued to my seat watching Marlon tangle with Jessica Tandy. In my future I'd see dozens of plays, but Streetcar, the first play I ever saw on Broadway, has remained my greatest moment in the theater. How could I have known that I'd become friends with not only its star but with Tennessee Williams, its author?”
Meeting Marlon that night in the alleyway between the theaters, Merv had nothing but effusive compliments for Marlon's performance. The actor seemed immune to praise and brushed off Merv's comments. “You seem to have a schoolgirl crush on me,” Marlon said. “Maybe we'd better do something about that. After we both get off tonight, meet me here in the alleyway, and we'll go for a ride on my motorcycle.”
Midnight found Merv holding onto the muscled chest of the wild, sexy rebel, Marlon Brando, as they sped through the nearly deserted streets of New York City. At 2am, they ended up at Marlon's apartment on 57th Street.
Marlon woke up his roommate, the comedian Wally Cox. The men had been childhood friends when growing up in Nebraska. Naïve though he may have been, Merv soon realized that Wally and Marlon were lovers. The clue came when Marlon, in front of Merv, gave Wally a long, sloppy wet kiss with tongue.
Wally brought out a bottle of cheap red wine, and the men shared its contents in dirty, chipped glasses. The apartment smelled of feces and urine and was littered with garbage. Wally explained that Marlon kept a pet raccoon but that it had escaped that day. “It'll come back,” Marlon predicted. “It always does.”
To Merv's surprise, Marlon stripped completely nude and began to play his bongo drums, even though Wally warned him that the neighbors had been complaining about the noise.
“God damn it, Wally, don't be such a fussy old lady,” Marlon chastised him. “I want to show Merv here what a great jazz musician I am. If this acting thing doesn't work out, maybe Freddy Martin will hire me for his band.”
Marvelous Marlon
At 4am, Marlon finally abandoned the drums and rose to his feet. Merv could hardly miss the actor's erection. “Come on, Merv,” he said to his new friend. “I want you to join Wally and me in bed. He looks like just a little guy, but he's got a big surprise waiting for you.”
Although the details are missing, Merv later confided in Johnny Riley that he'd had a three-way that morning with Marlon and Wally. “They were lovers,” Merv said, “but hardly faithful to each other. Apparently, I wasn't the only guy they'd invited into their love nest. There had been many others.”
According to Johnny, Merv never had sex with either man again, although he became friends with both of them. “Marlon Brando loomed in my future,” Merv said. “When I left that dingy apartment about nine that morning, I didn't know I'd be taking over that rat-hole from them on a sublet. What an adventure that would be for me.”
Further New York adventures for Merv were put on hold when he reported to the Strand that night. In Merv's dressing room, Freddy informed him that the boys would soon be back on the bus heading for Los Angeles after a string of one-nighters in hick towns across America. He'd just booked the boys in his band into the legendary Cocoanut Grove at the Ambassador Hotel in Los Angeles.
After the engagement came to an end at the Strand, Merv had only one free night, during which he attended a performance of Damon Runyon's Guys and Dolls. Unlike Streetcar, Guys and Dolls was what Broadway symbolized for him. It was a musical, even though he didn't understand most of the street talk delivered by the actors with their New York accents.
Years later, Marlon would star in the movie version of the musical. After seeing the film, he called Marlon. “And you laughed at me when I asked if you had any numbers in Streetcar,” Merv said. “Well, I've seen you in a musical after all, and you can sing. Sort of … not as good as me, of course.”
“I may not have sounded as good as you,” Marlon countered, “but I sure beat out that rat fink, Frank Sinatra. What an asshole! Okay, so I've done a musical. Now it's your turn. Let me see you play Stanley Kowalski.”
***
Heading west on Freddy Martin's tour bus, Merv became bored with the series of one-night stands. After the excitement of New York, the American Heartland held little promise for him. “If you're an American, it makes sense to live only in New York or California,” he said.
Looming before him was a four-month engagement at the Cocoanut Grove. All the movie stars went there every night, and Merv was determined to meet all of them.
“Merv was a star-struck kid,” Freddy later recalled. “When we weren't playing, I retired to my dressing room, but Merv worked the room. He was a charming fellow, and nearly all the stars invited him to join their table. He got to know everybody who was anybody, and he had his radar out as to which table was the most important. He also formed friendships with some of the younger stars—Jane Powell, Elizabeth Taylor, Roddy McDowall, and especially Peter Lawford. Roddy in particular took to Merv right away and introduced him to an insider Hollywood that I had only heard about. I knew stars casually, but not intimately the way Roddy did, the way Merv would come to know them.”
One night Merv was invited to join Clark Gable's table. “The King” introduced Merv to a young brunette starlet, Nancy Davis. Merv found her charming, and as the future Mrs. Ronald Reagan she would in time become his best female friend. When Nancy got up to “go powder my nose,” Clark whispered to Merv, “You can have her if you want her. I'm dumping her. Go for it! She gives the best blow-job in Hollywood.” Merv turned down the offer.
Still seated at Clark's table, Merv stood up to welcome Nancy back from the powder room. He couldn't believe that Clark had made such a disgusting remark about her. Nancy looked so prim and proper. He finally concluded that Clark was drunk and just making a vulgar joke.
He was stunned when Spencer Tracy and a companion walked up to Clark's table and was invited to sit down. Spencer and Clark had been friends since the 1930s, although it was clear to Merv that there was a sharp rivalry between them. At first Merv thought Spencer was dating a boy that night. After all, he'd heard all those homosexual rumors. It turned out to be Katharine Hepburn wearing pants, a hat pulled down over her face, and sunglasses. When she shook his hand and spoke to him, he immediately recognized her distinctive voice.
Katharine and Nancy had nothing to say to each other. At this point, Merv's new friend, Roddy, kept him abreast of all the Hollywood gossip. He already knew that Nancy had been a former lover of Spencer's, so the two women were not overly fond of each other.
On the Town: Clark (“The King”) Gable with
starlet Nancy Davis (Reagan)
“Clark, you made a big mistake when you turned down The Philadelphia Story,” Katharine said. “You would have been great in it.”
“Correction,” Clark said. “That was your picture. With you on the screen with me, I would have been no more than a prop.”
“Spencer here was supposed to play the other male lead,” Katharine said, turning to him. “Too bad, old man. You, too, missed out on doing a classic with me. “Could you imagine? Starring Katharine Hepburn, Clark Gable, and Spencer Tracy.”
“Watch it, kiddo!” Spencer cautioned. “I don't like the billing.”
Since Merv was left out of the banter, he drifted off to the next table of celebrities where he was welcomed by Joan Crawford, who remembered him from Pebble Beach. S
he, too, had been the lover of both Clark and Spencer. She introduced him to the handsomest man Merv had ever met in Hollywood. Rock Hudson, a young actor fresh out of the Navy. He was appearing in a small role as a pilot in Fighter Squadron at Warners. “He's new in town,” Joan said. “I'm showing him the ropes.”
“I like your singing,” Rock said. “Very romantic, and I'm a romantic kind of guy.”
Did Merv detect a wink? Even though Rock was dating a woman, Merv suspected that he was a homosexual. He became certain of it when Rock slipped him his phone number when Joan got up to greet Henry Fonda, who had costarred with her in Daisy Kenyon. During the filming, and again according to Roddy, Joan and Henry had had a brief, unsuccessful affair.
Hours before he actually appeared at the club that night, rumors spread that Frank Sinatra had booked the best table in the house. Merv knew that as a singer he wasn't in the same league as Frank and was “already shaking all over with nervousness at the prospect of singing before ‘The Voice.’”
“Sinatra can take a song and wrap his soul around it before one word comes out of his lips,” Merv said to Freddy. “His crooning makes girls swoon. But look at me. Chopped liver.”
“You'll do just fine,” Freddy assured him. “In fact, I want you to sing ‘I'll Never Smile Again’ and dedicate it to Frank.”
“I'd rather die!” Merv said.
“You're not going to get out of life that easy,” Freddy said.
Two hours later, at Freddy's command, Merv was indeed singing “I'll Never Smile Again.”
“I thought I heard my knees knocking,” he later said to Freddy. He feared that Frank would be rude during his number and perhaps talk loudly to a companion while Merv sang. He'd been known to do that when faced with performers he didn't like.
Merv Griffin- A Life in the Closet Page 7
