Don’t you understand we’re shooting out here and cant have that noise!
We’ve got six hundred cadets out here marching behind our actors, and you ruined the
shot!”
I told him who I was and he said, “Go to costume and makeup and get back here as soon
as you can.” I started the car up again and drove across the vast expanse of the field
again, noticing everyone behind me covering their ears and shaking their heads. I
somehow got through the two days I was shooting and was never asked to reappear on
The West Point Story
again.
However, Ziv had another series shooting in Florida, with Lloyd Bridges. It was called
Sea Hunt,
and a couple weeks later I went down there to do one show. Either they liked me or
there weren’t many actors who could scuba dive, because they kept me there for two
more shows. Lloyd was a wonderful man who had the patience to help aneophyte like me learn the ins and outs of working in front of a camera. I also remember
his two little boys were down there, Jeff and Beau, and both would become terrific
actors just like their dad.
I returned home to Connecticut, to the Peter Pan House, where Maj, Heidi, and Bebe
were staying while I was away. Mom was on the road at the time too. Anyway, I came
back with a fistful of per diem, which Maj was happy to see since she was so broke
she’d had to borrow five bucks from my mother’s butler in order to buy groceries.
I looked into the doll’s carriage outside on the porch and there was my daughter,
Heidi, pink and rosy, covered with a light dusting of snow. I was furious.
“She’s going to freeze,” I said.
“No, it’s healthy,” Maj said. “She’s getting fresh air. It’s good for her.”
When Richard found out that Maj had borrowed five bucks from the butler he blew up
at Maj. Big mistake. It was one thing to get angry at me, but an altogether different
thing when he targeted Maj. She handed him his head, and we moved back to the Village
apartment, which was suddenly way too small for the four of us. We had to move. Maj
opened up the newspaper and searched the ads.
* * *
Though we hated to leave our beloved two-room, Aaron-Burr-slept-here place in the
Village, our new apartment, located at 159 West Forty-ninth Street, between Sixth
and Seventh Avenues, was smack in the middle of the Times Square district. It was
exactly what Maj and I had wished for the day we arrived in New York. It was also
one of the greatest bargains ever. For $269.60 a month, we got four bedrooms, three
bathrooms, two living rooms, a kitchen, a rooftop terrace, and the aroma of being
right above the Sun Luck Chinese Restaurant.
We never ate there because they kept shutting off our heat and hot water. We had a
running feud with them.
However, we did eat right next door, at the Canton Village, which was run by Pearl,
a very sophisticated Chinese lady who’d come to the States with a Chinese dance act.
She danced on huge wooden balls three or four feet in diameter and played some of
the best vaudeville theaters in America. When the act moved on, Pearl stayed in New
York City. She was a kind and wonderful person who let us run up huge bills. Years
later, when I got
I Dream of Jeannie,
I was in New York on a press junket and paid her $2,500, plus a 15 percent tip for
her staff, for all that I owed, and we stayed friends forever.
Our new apartment also came with a history. Prior to us, it had been a bookie joint,
and before that it had been a whorehouse run by the famous madam Polly Adler. We took
advantage of having so much space by constantly offering friends a place to stay.
But there were so many other people knocking on the door from its previous incarnations
that we had to be extremely vigilant about locking the door.
Not that it always worked. One night I was awakened by a noise. It was around three
or four in the morning. We didn’t have any guests at the time, so I got out of
We’ve got six hundred cadets out here marching behind our actors, and you ruined the
shot!”
I told him who I was and he said, “Go to costume and makeup and get back here as soon
as you can.” I started the car up again and drove across the vast expanse of the field
again, noticing everyone behind me covering their ears and shaking their heads. I
somehow got through the two days I was shooting and was never asked to reappear on
The West Point Story
again.
However, Ziv had another series shooting in Florida, with Lloyd Bridges. It was called
Sea Hunt,
and a couple weeks later I went down there to do one show. Either they liked me or
there weren’t many actors who could scuba dive, because they kept me there for two
more shows. Lloyd was a wonderful man who had the patience to help aneophyte like me learn the ins and outs of working in front of a camera. I also remember
his two little boys were down there, Jeff and Beau, and both would become terrific
actors just like their dad.
I returned home to Connecticut, to the Peter Pan House, where Maj, Heidi, and Bebe
were staying while I was away. Mom was on the road at the time too. Anyway, I came
back with a fistful of per diem, which Maj was happy to see since she was so broke
she’d had to borrow five bucks from my mother’s butler in order to buy groceries.
I looked into the doll’s carriage outside on the porch and there was my daughter,
Heidi, pink and rosy, covered with a light dusting of snow. I was furious.
“She’s going to freeze,” I said.
“No, it’s healthy,” Maj said. “She’s getting fresh air. It’s good for her.”
When Richard found out that Maj had borrowed five bucks from the butler he blew up
at Maj. Big mistake. It was one thing to get angry at me, but an altogether different
thing when he targeted Maj. She handed him his head, and we moved back to the Village
apartment, which was suddenly way too small for the four of us. We had to move. Maj
opened up the newspaper and searched the ads.
* * *
Though we hated to leave our beloved two-room, Aaron-Burr-slept-here place in the
Village, our new apartment, located at 159 West Forty-ninth Street, between Sixth
and Seventh Avenues, was smack in the middle of the Times Square district. It was
exactly what Maj and I had wished for the day we arrived in New York. It was also
one of the greatest bargains ever. For $269.60 a month, we got four bedrooms, three
bathrooms, two living rooms, a kitchen, a rooftop terrace, and the aroma of being
right above the Sun Luck Chinese Restaurant.
We never ate there because they kept shutting off our heat and hot water. We had a
running feud with them.
However, we did eat right next door, at the Canton Village, which was run by Pearl,
a very sophisticated Chinese lady who’d come to the States with a Chinese dance act.
She danced on huge wooden balls three or four feet in diameter and played some of
the best vaudeville theaters in America. When the act moved on, Pearl stayed in New
York City. She was a kind and wonderful person who let us run up huge bills. Years
later, when I got
I Dream of Jeannie,
I was in New York on a press junket and paid her $2,500, plus a 15 percent tip for
her staff, for all that I owed, and we stayed friends forever.
Our new apartment also came with a history. Prior to us, it had been a bookie joint,
and before that it had been a whorehouse run by the famous madam Polly Adler. We took
advantage of having so much space by constantly offering friends a place to stay.
But there were so many other people knocking on the door from its previous incarnations
that we had to be extremely vigilant about locking the door.
Not that it always worked. One night I was awakened by a noise. It was around three
or four in the morning. We didn’t have any guests at the time, so I got out of
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