Merv Griffin- A Life in the Closet

by Darwin Porter

  Backstage after the show, Merv lamented to Jonathan about how difficult it was for him to find a proper niche in show business. The comedian's response? “If your ship doesn't come in, swim out to meet it.”

  Merv's most anticipated moment came when he got to meet the gloriously lowbrow Three Stooges. He told the comedians that he'd gone to see all the movies made by the Stooges in the 1930s. “Later, with some local kids, I staged recreations of your films on my back porch in San Mateo and charged admission. I could face slap, pull hair, and yank noses with pliers with the best of them,” Merv said.

  The cranky, sourfaced Moe Howard told Merv, “You little fucker! We should have charged you royalties.” Merv didn't bond with the comedians the way he'd hoped, and they quickly went on their way.

  Merv seemed insulted by their dismissal of him. In the wake of Curly Howard's death in 1952, Merv told his producer that as far as he was concerned, “the group was never the same again. They're on their way out. Without Curly, they're nothing.” But for years, Merv imitated Curly's fabled “nyuk-nyuk-nyuk.”

  Arthur Veary Treacher, a celebrity guest hosted by Merv on Play Your Hunch, would have an enormous impact on Merv's subsequent television career. Born in England in 1894, he played an eccentric English valet better than virtually anyone had before or since. “She denies it,” Arthur said, “but Mae West and I are about the same age.”

  Standing six feet four, he towered over Merv, who had seen all three of the movies in which he'd appeared with Shirley Temple—Stowaway in 1936, Heidi in 1937, and The Little Princess in 1939.

  Before Arthur left the studio, Merv cornered him. “If I ever get the gig as host of The Tonight Show —or some other talk show—I want you to be my Jeeves.” He was referring to Arthur's creation of P.G. Wodehouse's perfect valet character of Jeeves in two movies—Thank You, Jeeves! in 1936 and Step Lively, Jeeves! in 1937. Arthur had also played the perfect valet or butler in several other films, including Curly Top in 1935.

  Obviously believing that such an offer would never come through, Arthur patted Merv's shoulder affectionately. “You dear little man,” he said before going on his way.

  It was while hosting Play Your Hunch that Merv had another chance encounter that would have an enormous impact on his career. At Radio City Studios, the audience participation show was broadcast live every morning. Later in the day, the set was altered for Jack Paar's latenight TV appearance.

  After a nightmare he'd had about falling to his death in an elevator, Paar refused to take one. His habit of reaching his office via a labyrinth of stairwells, corridors, and shortcuts had become virtually an obsession.

  He usually arrived at his office at noon. One morning he arrived early and followed his usual series of stairwells and shortcuts, unaware that Play Your Hunch was being broadcast.

  Thinking it was a planned appearance, Merv's audience went wild when Paar suddenly appeared from behind the curtains. Seizing the opportunity, Merv locked a vise grip on Paar's arm and lured him into a spontaneous interview. Paar already knew Merv, who had sung a few times on his Tonight Show. “So this is what you do in the daytime,” Paar quipped to Merv.

  Paar would later recall how Merv had cleverly “milked” the incident to its maximum effect. Later, when Paar was scouting around for a substitute host to fill in for him on The Tonight Show, he thought once again of Merv.

  Merv noted with a certain glee that his enemy, Robert Q. Lewis, had functioned as the host of Play Your Hunch during a low point in the show, just before it went off the air. “Lewis just wasn't Merv Griffin,” Merv himself said. “Four Eyes just didn't have what the public wanted. I did.”

  ***

  Merv kept an “official” apartment in New York City, as well as a “secret hideaway” in Greenwich Village where the rent payments were split among himself and his friends, Johnny, Bill, and Paul. In addition to those two apartments, he maintained a twentyacre farm in Califon, New Jersey, for his family. He retreated there whenever he could, although legitimate business and his continuation of a secret life kept him away from them for much of the time.

  The farmstead in New Jersey had been the setting for a famous murder, which later became the subject of a book. A former occupant, the pastor of a local church, had injected small dosages of arsenic into apples and fed them to his wife. “It was a twist on the Adam and Eve story,” Merv said. “Talk about forbidden fruit.” The minister was later tried and convicted on a murder charge, and became the last person in the history of New Jersey to be publicly hanged.

  Once, after a weekend on the farm and somewhat bored with his stalled career, Merv returned to New York to discover a surprise in the mail. An invitation to visit Liberace and a roundtrip ticket to Palm Springs awaited him. Liberace had enclosed a tantalizing note: “Come for the weekend. I want you to meet my mystery guest. Hint: he's the most famous man in America.”

  Johnny begged Merv to take him on the trip to Palm Springs. Merv turned him down, citing the fact that Liberace had sent only one ticket.

  In Palm Springs, Merv was dazzled by Liberace's estate, with its Valentino Suite, its Marie Antoinette room, and—for orgiastic fantasies—its Persian Tent Room. After a long trip, Merv had to visit the bathroom. In all his life, before or since, he would never see such a bathroom. The giant bathtub, big enough for eight, had mirrored walls and ceilings with shower curtains depicting gay porno scenes. Merv took it all in as he sat on a Louis XVI giltandmahogany commode. “What a place to take a shit,” Merv later told Liberace. “I felt like a queen on my throne.”

  “That you were, Fannie Mae,” Liberace said.

  A handsome, shirtless Paul Richardson emerged to greet Merv with a kiss. Paul had remained Liberace's lover and bartender. Merv embraced him warmly, with fond memories of their previous intimacies.

  Like all of Liberace's paid lovers, Paul would be no exception. His days with Liberace were numbered. But it is because of him that the details associated with this infamous weekend at Liberace's Palm Springs estate have not been lost.

  After Liberace released Paul with only one thousand dollars in cash, Paul went to publisher Robert Harrison of Confidential magazine with explicit details about this secret weekend. Harrison wanted to run the story, but the magazine's lawyers turned him down since Liberace might sue—and win once again—on a charge of libel.

  In London in 1957, “Cassandra” (actually journalist William Connor) wrote in The Daily Mirror that Liberace was “… the summit of sex—the pinnacle of masculine, feminine, and neuter. Everything that he, she, and it can ever want… a deadly, winking, sniggering, snuggling, chromiumplated, scentimpregnated, luminous, quivering, giggling, fruitflavored, mincing, icecovered heap of mother love.” Liberace sued for libel, claiming in a London court that he was not a homosexual—and had never taken part in any homosexual acts. Amazingly, he won the suit on the basis of the term “fruitflavored,” which was held to impute homosexuality. Liberace received eight thousand pounds in damages from The Daily Mirror.

  As Paul served drinks, Merv seated himself in a comfortable chair in a courtyard which contained a fountain in the shape of a wellendowed boy embracing a white swan.

  The courtyard also contained an Olympicsized pool. Liberace dazzled Merv with stories about the notorious pool parties that took place here. “It's the talk of Palm Springs,” Liberace said with a certain glee. “I invite all the big male stars, and you'd be surprised how many show up for these private allboy parties. Naturally, Tyrone Power and Errol Flynn wouldn't miss them. Even Gary Cooper shows up, and Clark Gable has become a regular.”

  “You don't mean Clark Gable as in Rhett Butler,” Merv said, totally shocked.

  “One and the same,” Liberace said. “He's one kind of man in Hollywood, quite another in Palm Springs. All the Palm Springs insiders are on to Gable's gay streak. Someday his biographers will write about his exploits which began in Hollywood back in the 20s. Of course, all the boys were putting out then, not just Gary Cooper, but guys
like John Wayne. John Ford sucked that one's dick on a regular basis.”

  Later Merv sat at Liberace's Louis Philippe rosewood piano, and the two of them sang their favorite duets. “The party favor's late tonight,” Liberace said. “You can wait around or else I can arrange a stud for hire. Or perhaps you want to sample my darling Paul again.”

  Liberace disappeared into an adjoining salon and emerged a minute later with a sixfoot stuffed male doll with an erect penis. “Or else I can give you my adorable Adonis—that's his name—to keep you company.”

  It was shortly before midnight that the guest of honor arrived. Merv was astonished when Liberace introduced him to Elvis Presley in person. Merv was used to meeting stars, and never seemed in awe of them. Elvis was different. Merv was so awed by his sudden presence that for the first time in his life he was at a loss for words.

  Elvis wore a pink shirt and a pair of simple blue jeans that were skin tight like Marilyn wore them. Merv couldn't help but notice Elvis's trademark blue suede shoes. He turned down a drink from Paul, who seemed dazzled by Elvis. The singer did ask Paul to prepare him a midnight snack. He told Liberace that he wanted to go for a midnight swim, and he emerged about fifteen minutes later in baggy white swimming trunks with a red stripe on each side. He joined Merv and Liberace in the courtyard, allowing both men to inspect his then thin body, before jumping in the pool to swim four laps.

  After the swim, Elvis emerged from the pool where Paul held up a white terrycloth robe for him to wrap around himself. He sat beside Merv as Paul handed him a peanut butter and banana sandwich with fried bacon.

  Paul sat nearby listening to every word, although ostensibly available for any drink orders. He got up to answer a telephone call, only to come back onto the patio. “It's urgent,” he said to Liberace, who heaved himself up from his chair and excused himself.

  With Paul back in attendance, Merv turned to Elvis. “I didn't know you and Sadie—that's my pet name for Lee—knew each other. In fact, I read in some gossip column only the other day that every time you see Sadie on TV, you throw something at the set.”

  “That's just for public show,” Elvis said. “Actually, we see a lot of each other, but we do it in private because of all that publicity we received when we first got together. We like to keep our friendship a secret.”

  “Personally, I like to keep my friendship with Sadie a secret too,” Merv confided.

  Elvis claimed that when he'd first opened in Las Vegas at the New Frontier in 1956, his show had bombed. “I was a teenage heartthrob, but my act didn't go over with more mature audiences. Read that drunken audiences.”

  Liberace returned to the patio and immediately picked up on their conversation. “It was actually Colonel Tom Parker who set up a meeting between Elvis and me,” Liberace said. He came backstage one night when I was appearing at the Riviera where I was making $50,000 a week, and poor Elvis was taking home only $7,500.”

  “‘My boy is appearing across the street and he's having some problems,’ the colonel told me. ‘I think you're the man to help him. He admires you so much. He thinks you're a great showman.’ I went over on my free night and caught Elvis's act. I loved his movements and his voice, but not his costumes. I advised him to put more glitz in his act.”

  “Lee here has been practically dressing me ever since,” Elvis claimed.

  “Or undressing as the case may be,” Liberace said. “Since he started dressing the way I told him to, Elvis became hot as a tamale fart!”

  “Could you put that more elegant?” Elvis asked, cracking a smile. “The first night I met Lee he gave me an autographed picture to take home to my mama in Memphis,” Elvis said. “She adores him and never misses one of his shows.”

  Since Liberace had attended Elvis's show at the New Frontier, Elvis returned the favor, appearing on November 14, 1956 at Liberace's opening night at The Riviera. In snowy white tails, Liberace welcomed Elvis, as the house lights went up to reveal Elvis in a widestriped jacket in the front row.

  Later that night Elvis went backstage to congratulate Liberace. Ever the showman, Liberace in front of cameramen suggested that they exchange jackets and entertain the press. Wearing Elvis's striped jacket, Liberace played Elvis's guitar, while Elvis himself sat at Liberace's piano wearing his gold sequined tux jacket. The odd couple sang duets for about twenty minutes. “I'll Be Seeing You.” “Deep in the Heart of Texas.” And, of course, “Hound Dog.” “Lee did a better ‘Hound Dog’ than mine,” Elvis said.

  “I told the press that Elvis and I may be characters—me with my gold jackets and him with those sideburns—but, as I said, ‘both of us can afford to be characters,’” Liberace chuckled.

  “I got really pissed off the next day by the press coverage,” Elvis said. “One jerk said that up against Lee I was ‘just a jug of corn liquor at a champagne party.’ Those photographers did all they could to make us look like the two biggest queens in show business. In one picture Lee looks like he's practically drooling over me.”

  “I was,” Liberace confessed.

  It was Liberace who first suggested that Elvis have his tailor, Nudie Cohen, famous for his rhinestonestudded Western gear, make a simple pair of black trousers to better show off Elvis's sparkling gold coat. In time, Liberace would be the inspiration behind several of Elvis's outfits, including a famous white Bill Belew extravaganza, an outfit encrusted with rhinestones with a matching thighlength cape that weighed an astonishing fortytwo pounds. The similarity between the wardrobes worn by Elvis and Liberace did not escape detection by the press.

  It was an exposé in the scandal magazine, On the QT, that led to Elvis and Liberace going underground with their friendship. The article, published in 1957, was about “Presley's Powder-Puff Pals.”

  left Fashion advice: Elvis and Liberace

  right Singing in public, stripping in private

  “The suggestion was clear that I'm a queer,” Elvis angrily said. “The article practically had Lee sucking my dick. They published photographs of us, calling Lee and me the most prominent bachelors in the entertainment business. The fucker who wrote the article suggested that Lee and I would never be able to find the right gals to settle down with because our interest lay elsewhere.”

  “It's better to be compared to Liberace than a comparison I recently read,” Merv said.

  “Yeah, I saw that piece of shit too,” Elvis said. “Some asshole compared my performance to an appearance of Zsa Zsa Gabor.”

  Liberace advised Elvis that he should sue On the QT.

  “Like hell I will,” Elvis said, “and have a court case airing charges of me being a fag.”

  “Well, I once sued and cried all the way to the bank,” Liberace said.

  It was three o'clock on a Palm Springs morning before a famous duet and a wellknown performer, Merv himself, began to break up their party. Paul had spent the night serving drinks. To cool off, Elvis wanted a final dip in the luxurious pool.

  It was Liberace who persuaded Elvis to remove his bathing trunks and put on a show for them. At first Elvis was reluctant. Finally, he said, “What the hell.” He pulled down his trunks, exposing himself, and jumped into the pool.

  Elvis was gone the following morning when Merv woke up. Over breakfast Liberace claimed that Elvis allowed him to give him a blowjob, “as he has several times in the past.”

  Merv didn't know if Liberace actually did that or was merely indulging in wishful thinking.

  “I did give the boy a special gift,” Liberace said. “A stunning and frightfully expensive gold watch studded with diamonds and rubies.”

  When Merv went to see Elvis's next live show, he saw him wearing just such a watch. Maybe, or so Merv thought, Liberace might not have been exaggerating about his conquest.

  One night when Merv was talking to Liberace on the phone, he said that he'd seen a picture of Graceland covered in snow with five Cadillacs parked in the driveway. “I went at once to Tiffany's and ordered a silverplated snow shovel for Elvis,” Lib
erace said. “Before I sent it to him in Memphis, I had Tiffany's gold plate it.”

  Liberace also revealed that during his latest opening in Las Vegas, Elvis sent him a guitar made of flowers. “He enclosed a note,” Liberace said. “It read: ‘I only send this special guitar to people I love.”

  When Elvis died on August 16, 1977, Liberace was among his chief mourners. Even so, he was very guarded in a statement to the press. “A lot of Elvis's troubles were selfinflicted,” Liberace claimed. “I knew him very well. He always felt somebody was after him. When you have that kind of fear, that kind of attitude, you attract people who want to do you harm.”

  In a private call to Merv, Liberace said, “to borrow a line from Noel Coward, I was mad about the boy right from the first time I met him. Of course, it was a completely onesided love affair. He had all those young girls. What would he want with an old queen like me? Yet on many a night he came to me and let me hold him in my arms. Sometimes he cried like a baby. He seemed to know how fucked up he was at the end. One thing I never told him, as it would have frightened him and made him run away. But he was the love of my life. And now he's gone.”

  ***

  Back in New York, Merv was invited to sing on The Arthur Murray Party, a popular TV series that stayed on the air for a decade, beginning in 1950. It was basically devoted to ballroom dancing, plus songs, comedy, and dance contests. Merv sang a song he'd written, “Eternally,” which was recorded with the Hugo Winterhalter Orchestra.

  Hugo and Merv had known each other for years, and the orchestra leader had scored countless hits with such stars as Perry Como, Eddie Fisher, Billy Eckstine, and Tony Martin. But “Eternally” was a bomb for Merv as was “Hot-Cha-Cha,” which he'd recorded with Mitch Miller and his orchestra.

  Frank Sinatra had warned Merv not to work with Miller. “He and he alone is to blame for my fall from the charts when I was recording for Columbia. He forced me to sing such shit as ‘Mama Will Bark’ and ‘The Hucklebuck.’”