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246 D Chapter Seventy-Two d The Today Show Whenever arriving early enough at my job at 30 Rockefeller Plaza, I loved to sneak up to the eighth-floor studio to watch the tail end of the Today Show, which was shot between seven and nine o’clock, five days a week. Like most television shows in those days, it was done live. The undisputed star of this production was not Dave Garroway, Jack Lescoulie, Frank Blair, or even Helen O’Donnell (later replaced by the beautiful and talented Florence Henderson), but J. Fred Muggs, a chimpanzee! Seated next to Garroway on a couch, this totally unpredictable ape of considerable size managed to keep everyone on the set in constant tension over the possible and totally unscheduled tricks J. Fred had up his little sleeve. Not even his trainer, hidden from view behind the camera, was always able to prevent his ward from throwing coffee or Coca Cola in Garroway’s face or going into one of his uncontrollable temper tantrums, during which he would screech, scream, and bite, lashing out at anything that moved. Most of America watched Today in eager anticipation of some mishap caused by the chimp.Sometimes when J. Fred, dressed in one of his impeccable little sailor suits, was ready to go into a fit of rage, it was advisable to seek shelter wherever possible. When his behavior became intolerable, he was replaced with an even-tempered,ladylike little chimpanzee by the name of Kokomo who never lost her temper, which promptly caused the ratings to fall. The Tonight Show,broadcast by NBC five evenings a week,in those days without competition ,was hosted by Jack Paar,who had succeeded Steve Allen as host.One day he found himself fired on the spot because he had done something absolutely unimaginable for the puritan ears of the censors; he had used the unspeakably indecent word“WC”(water closet) on the air, a faux pas punishable by immediate dismissal. Those were the glorious old days, when it was even taboo to show two married people in bed together.After Paar’s demise and several unfortunate attempts by a handful of substitute hosts, a modest young man with an irresistible pixie smile made a guest appearance, Johnny Carson. In time, he became the undisputed king of nighttime television, holding his position for thirty years. Whoeverwasanybodyintheglitteringworldof televisionwould,atonetimeoranother, pass through my office to negotiate terms for upcoming shows with my boss.These stars included LorettaYoung,who only removed the restraining braces on her front teeth when on camera, Kim Novak, Milton Berle, and Nat King Cole. A noisy, jewel-bedecked chatterbox by the name of Jolie Gábor, with her obnoxious but authentic Hungarian accent, showed The Promised Land 247 up with her equally noisy daughters, Eva and Zsa Zsa, whose accents were just as thick but perhaps not quite so authentic. Then there was Pat Boone, who sang “Love Letters in the Sand.”Perry Como, the singer with the velvet voice, a devout Catholic, insisted that during his show one of us speed across 5th Avenue to St. Patrick’s Cathedral to light half a dozen candles to assure him of the Madonna’s grace.If this was not done,NBC and all of America could forget about his appearance! Since I was not Catholic, I was never asked to perform this service. My coworker, however, of Italian descent like Perry, and in the habit of placing a rather hideous picture of Jesus with the crown of thorns next to that of her mother on the desk each morning, was soon able to display the grateful star’s hand-signed photograph.2 My private life,although now restricted by my duties as a breadwinner,housewife,and mother,had begun to bloom.Through my friend Hans Schwerin,grandson of Paul Ehrlich, whose Jewish family had been able to reach safety from the Nazis by the skin of their teeth, I was introduced to what was known as the“Black Society”during an era when blacks were still called “negroes” or referred to simply by the colonial term “colored people.” Those African Americans who, in spite of discrimination, had made it up the social ladder, as a rule barred white Americans from their circles, while extending gracious hospitality to Europeans . Hans, unmarried, but with a fallibility for African American girls, took me with him to Harlem’s Cotton Club, and through him I met Langston Hughes, the renowned author. During...

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