Judy & Liza & Robert & Freddie & David & Sue & Me... Read Free Page B

men’s attention, and I liked it. I was a flirt. So sue me.
    My new job definition was “Help anyone who needs help.” Typing was the least of it. What I remember most is running off copies on the mimeograph machine and chatting a lot. You couldn’t just deliver a copy without having a little chat. For five minutes I thought this was the beginning of the rest of my life. Not so. But it’s worth two minutes of recollection.
    I was awkward as a young woman (not so terribly different now): a tangle of long arms and legs that found their way into a space slightly ahead of the rest of me, mixing it up with whatever was in their path. There were always offending inanimate objects, taking on lives of their own against my daily progress. One day in my second week as production assistant I was running across the stage on some momentous mission when the camera cable reached out and brought me down.
    Now I am lying spread-eagle in front of the entire TV audience while Johnny Carson is doing the warm-up. “There she is, ladies and gentlemen—I give you the Jewish Elizabeth Taylor!” Oh no, Johnny’s not talking about me ?! “Smile, Stevie, you’re on camera.” On big monitors no less, placed strategically around the audience of 499 giddy spectators laughing at my expense. Elizabeth Taylor had nothing to worry about, but then the audience could see that for themselves. I was still a natural brunette, and my green eyes—all that remains of that naive, young woman of twenty-three—were then, and still are, my best feature. Johnny could see they were not violet like her beautiful eyes. In fact he could see they weren’t violet even after he’d had a number of strong belts. I was always generously invited along for pre-warm-up drinks at Sardi’s bar next door.
    The way that guy knocked back two double shots showed me he’d had a lot of practice. Still, Johnny had no trouble standing up or doing stand-up, whereas I, on one simple, well-nursed glass of wine, would fall down. Sadly, when the show was canceled at the end of the season, so was I.
    This experience reinforced something I already knew, something that has been true since the beginning of time: Being attractive helps. I wasn’t totally dim. I always knew I could count on my appearance to some extent. But I also understood from the get-go that competence and intelligence matter more.

 
    CHAPTER FOUR
    Can I Tell You About “Menial”?
    How I wish my mom had hung around long enough to see how things worked out. She was, however, only there at the start, and it was a slow start. I didn’t actually get my foot on the first rung of the success ladder until I got a job at the hugely successful agency called MCA (Music Corporation of America). I wanted a permanent job there, and I had no idea if they were hiring when I popped in to Personnel to fill out an application. The reason I found MCA so appealing is that it was across the street from my husband’s first private office.
    As a young lawyer with his own practice, he couldn’t afford a secretary. I could type up his few letters on my lunch break and then again at night after work. As well, an agency represented another area of show business that I was curious about, one that I thought might lead to something. MCA hired me on the spot because I was a college graduate. Most of the other secretaries were not.
    I had no difficulty doing whatever jobs MCA gave me while also doing my husband’s work. And he was totally grateful. Our marriage projected the appearance of picture-book perfection, but it was a lie. All of it. I liked him, but when we had sex I lay in bed feeling nothing even though he was such a considerate lover, always eager to please me. Our lovemaking was not unpleasant but far from exciting, and I faked my responses. In that as in everything else, creating a great impression was always easy, and it saved me from embarrassing