By far the most exciting thing that happened in the Sinatra house occurred when Mr S wasn't there. He would readily lend his house to anyone, even if he barely knew the object of his largesse. The case in point here was Minna Wallis, sister of producer Hal Wallis. Because of her brother's success, Minna was A-list and someone Mr S, who was a social climber, wanted to cultivate.
He sent me down to Palm Springs to prepare the house for her and whomever she happened to bring. Boy, was I unprepared when Marlene Dietrich and Greta Garbo showed up. Both women were in their fifties, and the two superstars couldn't have been more natural, no make-up, no airs, no frills. Garbo had some weird dietary requests, no dairy, no animal protein, just a diet now known as vegan.
I had to make a mad run back to LA, which had everything to keep the ladies happy. When I returned that evening, they couldn't have been happier. They were oblivious of me. I slipped into the house and into my room so as not to spoil their party, though I couldn't resist peeping through the blinds. What mortal could?
I rarely heard Garbo talk, but I did hear her laugh. She was having a wonderful time, giggling, splashing Minna, dunking Marlene under water. They got out of the pool, but didn't dress. They savoured the privacy, the freedom, the night-time desert warmth.
Marlene lit up a cigarette, which she passed to Greta. They each took long drags, intercut with long, pregnant looks at each other. And then a coyote began to howl.
The ladies jumped in fright and retreated into the house, and the best I could do was to serve them yogurt, oatmeal, and organic honey for breakfast. At this point, even before Mr S made the cover of Time a few months hence, I had no doubt that I had the coolest job in the world.
Thanks to RubyRed
