Confessions of a Hollywood Agent Read online

  The date for Dorothy to appear in Washington got closer. Nathan called and requested that she come to his office for a conference. They needed to prepare their defense. Morry Marsh had hired a famous Washington D.C. trial lawyer to counsel them on their appearance before the Grand Jury. He was the best money could buy.

  Nathan Wise had kept his name in the background. Nobody really knew much about him, but because his name had been mentioned in the indictment, it brought him an association with the mob. Dorothy knew if Nathan wanted a strike at the studio or the racetrack or any other business that had contracts with unions he could nod his head and they’d shut down.

  Dorothy arrived at Nathan’s office, a nondescript building in Beverly Hills. His name wasn’t listed on the building directory.

  Dorothy took the elevator to the third floor, and rapped on his door.

  Nathan opened to let her in. Dorothy flashed him one of her famous movie star smiles. She wore a bright chartreuse colored dress that brought out the green flecks in her eyes.

  The room was paneled in light beechwood. An oval desk sat in front of windows that looked out on Beverly Hills. A Marc Chagall painting hung over the fireplace. Nathan went around to his desk and picked up a document and gave it to Dorothy to read as she sat down. After some study she handed it back, looking concerned.

  “What am I going to do? This is awful. It’ll ruin my career. I don’t want to answer my phone anymore.”

  “I got it covered. Don’t worry your pretty head. No publicity. The hearing will be closed. They meet in secret. I have been assured,” he said.

  “You’re sure?” she said searching his eyes. Nathan got up from his desk and threw his hands in the air.

  “It’s that shitheel, Morry. If he hadn’t got those bucket shop operators involved, the deal would have gone along smoothly. It’s his fucking greed, the son of a bitch. When this is over, I’m going to bury the prick.”

  “You wanted me to screw him. I’m glad I didn’t. I spotted him for a star fucker. You should ask my opinion about some of these guys you get involved with. I could save you a lot of trouble.”

  “Is that Nazi you see a star fucker?” Nathan had confirmed what she suspected. He was having her followed.

  “You know about him? Why do you call him a Nazi?” she asked.

  “Because he is. He told a realtor that sold him his house in Beverly Hills that he was Hitler’s godson. Does he know you’re Jewish?”

  “We haven’t discussed it. I don’t believe you. Why would anyone say such a thing? Especially in Beverly Hills, almost everyone is Jewish. You’re making this up. She could tell that Nathan was jealous.

  It’s all right if I screw someone he wants me to screw, but if I find someone on my own, he can’t handle it. I’ve got to get away from him, she thought. Johannes is my only way out. She rose from the chair.

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “Don’t talk to anyone about anything. You got that?”

  “I got it. I have to go. There’s a luncheon for Premier Khrushcev, who’s visiting Twentieth Century Fox, today. I’m going to show him what a real capitalist woman is all about.”

  “Does that mean you’ll suck his cock for a hundred?”

  Dorothy peered at Nathan. “It’s always sex with you, isn’t it?”

  “What else? I haven’t been by in awhile. Expect me soon,” he said as he got up to let her out.

  Dorothy thought about her involvement with Nathan as she left his office. I hate the power he has over me. He made me and he could destroy me.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Hi, Kid. You called?” asked Marty.

  “Howdyado today at the track?” Clint knew the answer. It was always a lie.

  “Great, had four winners. One paid twenty-three dollars.”

  “Raoul Walsh, the director, wants you for a picture in Europe. I read the script. It’s a great part. He’ll give you one hundred thousand dollars. With eight weeks shooting and two first class tickets. Are you interested?”

  “If he pays two hundred thousand I am.”

  “I’ll work on it.”

  “Do you know someone called Luis Verano?” asked Marty.

  “Luis Verano … Luis Verano, yes he’s the producer, director, Georgia worked for in Cuba? Wasn’t he killed?”

  “He’s alive! And he’s been calling here for Georgia.”

  Luis was alive and in Los Angles. His helicopter was shot down over the Caribbean Sea by a US Navy plane. The US government kept it a secret. Luis was injured in the crash. The helicopter pilot tied Luis’s belt to the copter’s pontoon, which kept them afloat. A passing Panamanian freighter picked them up. Luis remained in a coma. When he woke he was on his way to Barcelona, and he was hospitalized in Spain.

  Castro came to power in Cuba. Luis had the Cuban Consulate in Barcelona let Castro know he was alive. He remained in Spain until he could travel back to Cuba. When he returned, Castro offered him the job of minister of propaganda.

  Luis dived into his new status in Havana as a diligent Castro follower. Within a short time he saw that Castro was a Marxist. Luis was not a Communist; he had been a Socialist and was against Castro’s association with the Soviet Union.

  His love for Georgia had never faded. She was on his mind constantly. He tried to get in touch with Erroll Flynn to find Georgia’s whereabouts, but learned that Erroll had died of his afflictions shortly after he left Cuba.

  Luis became disillusioned with his life in Cuba. The revolution had not turned out like he had thought. Castro had become an egomaniac and was beyond reach of his past associates. Luis, an artist and romantic, saw the freedom of the people was more curtailed than during the Batista regime. The motion pictures that Castro wanted Luis to produce became message propaganda movies. Censorship became a problem and Luis hadn’t the freedom he needed to be happy. After careful thought he decided he wanted no more of the Cuban dictator, and started to plan his escape to the United States and Georgia.

  A conference of motion pictures producers from Latin American countries was held in Mexico City. Luis represented Cuba at the meetings. After a few days in to Mexico City, he disappeared into the crowd and found his way to Tijuana where he crossed the border into the United States illegally. He had a cousin who worked for the Spanish language television station in Los Angeles who put him up until he could find work. Luis found a job delivering flowers and he spent his free time searching for Georgia.

  He discovered that Georgia had married Marty Fallon. He located Marty’s office and he was able to get Marty’s home address from his Latin secretary.

  He waited outside the Fallon home watching for Georgia. The first time he saw her, she came out of the house holding on to a small child. It upset him so much that he let her drive off without trying to contact her.

  The next day he was back. He had seen Marty leave the same time in the morning so he knew Georgia was home alone except for the maid. Luis sat in the delivery truck on the road across the street from the house when Marty left that morning. He unloaded a box of red roses from the van and went to the front door and rang the bell.

  Georgia’s maid, a Latina, answered it.

  “Is Mrs. Fallon in? I have these roses for her. I’m supposed to deliver them to her personally,” he said.

  “A minute, I’ll get her,” said the maid. Luis began to sweat. He felt his heart was trying to jump out of his body.

  Georgia came to the door in her robe. “Who are these from?” she asked looking at him. “Luis, Oh, Luis!” She flew into his arms holding him tight, then she backed away observing him closely. She took her hand and put it to his face. She ran her finger down a long scar from his temple to his chin.

  “Should I leave, or do you want me to stay?” he asked.

  “Oh, darling, stay, stay. Don’t you ever leave again,” she said as tears appeared. She hugged him again. A little boy ran up to her. Luis looked down at him. The boy could be mine, he thought. Georgia pulled Luis inside and clo
sed the door.

  The subpoena to appear in Washington weighed on Dorothy. There had been no mention of it in the papers. Nathan had kept his word and kept it quiet. But she knew she had to appear before the Grand Jury and it scared her. At times she thought she should leave Hollywood and marry Johannes. And again she knew she was an actress and had to act.

  If she couldn’t work she felt miserable. She needed accolades from the public to feel good about herself. She asked herself, what do I want? Do I want to go on being a famous actress for the rest of my life or do I want to get married and have children? And from what other actresses she knew had told her it was almost impossible to have both. She wanted the love of a man, but she also wanted the love of her public.

  Johannes, she felt, was more sophisticated and attentive than American men, but he hid his feelings and she never knew where she stood. She had always had the upper hand with all her men, except Nathan and Clint. Clint was the only man who knew her for what she was. Johannes was different. He frustrated her. She sought advice from her friends hoping to gain some insight as to how to get him to marry her. Sexually she knew she was superior. She had all the whore tricks to keep her men interested. She was not going to fall into a menage-atrois. She had gotten advice from a successful courtesan who told her to bring the other girl into the scene. “Don’t let the man do it,” she said.

  “That way you control.” She thought, if this is the only way she could get Johannes, she would.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Clint had gotten a call from the USO, in Washington. They wanted Marty to come to the Capital to do a benefit and accept an award of merit for his services in the past for entertaining the troops. Clint, through his Washington connections, was able to get the President to ask them to visit the White House while they were in town. Marty was a conservative the likes of John Wayne and Ronald Reagan. Clint knew he’d have a problem convincing Marty to go to the White House even if he told Marty the President was a fan of his.

  Clint had never been to Washington and knew it would be a good opportunity to take some Hollywood starlets with them. He knew JFK liked attractive, glamorous women and he would make some points with the President. He had given up playing the horses, but going to the track with Marty would be a good place to discuss his invitation to the White House. Marty was always in a good mood at the track.

  They arrived at Santa Anita Racetrack, nestled in the foothills near Pasadena. Marty leased a box in the Club House, where gathered the strangest people one could meet. They all suffered from the racing obsession. If you wanted advice about picking a horse, they knew every angle. The Racing Form flew around the box like a kite. Numerous characters dressed in loud coats and ties would approach Marty and whisper in his ear as Marty nodded. An older lady, a regular in Marty’s box, told him the voice told her today to bet on the three horse in the second race. Vince Edwards, the actor, came over to compare notes on a horse. Jimmy Durante stopped by to say hello and gave Marty a horse in the third race. Clint was amused for he could remember his poor days at the racetrack sitting in the grandstands where he’d bet to supply his livelihood.

  Marty was deep into the Racing Form picking a horse for the next race.

  “I got a call from the USO in Washington. They want you to come to Washington to accept an award for your outstanding work for them.”

  “No kidding.”

  “We can work it into your schedule on your way to Europe. You wouldn’t have to make two trips.”

  “Sounds good,” said Marty, immersed in the Form.

  “The President would like you to come to the White House while you’re in town,” said Clint.

  “I’m not going to the White House,” said Marty putting the Form down. “I’m a lot of things, but I’m not a hypocrite. Thank the President, but no thanks.”

  “Marty, the President is a fan of yours, and Jackie has done over the White House. They say she did it with great style and she’ll give you a private tour,” said Clint trying to convince him.

  The announcer voice was heard. “The horses are off.”

  “Keep quiet. I’m watching the race,” said Marty as the horses broke from the starting gate. Marty peered through his binoculars.

  Clint tried to keep his mind on the race, but it was impossible. He had to get Marty to the White House. When the race was over, Marty’s horse “Weak Moment” ran out of the money. Marty was fuming.

  “Look!” He pushed the Form in Clint’s face.

  “She did a mile and sixteenth three times this meet with better time than today. The sonabitch held her back.”

  Clint thought, there’s always some excuse when he loses. “What if the President personally gives you the USO award at the White House?

  That wouldn’t be hypocritical, would it?”

  “You sure want me to go to the White House, don’t you?”

  “It’s an honor for you and good publicity.”

  “You might be right, but it wouldn’t be bad for you either.”

  “I think the President is a fine man.”

  “I’ll do it, but I want you to know I’m doing it because of you, not the President.”

  “Marty. One of these years I’ll vote for one of your guys.”

  The rest of the day was devoted to winning a race. Clint learned long ago to stay away from Marty’s horses, regardless of what information he had gotten. They both left the track losers.

  Driving home from the track, Marty complained.

  “I’m getting no sex in my house anymore. Something’s going on with Georgia. I think she’s seeing someone.”

  “Nah, she’s not the type.”

  “Bullshit. They’re all the type. Remember I been through this before. What about this guy Luis Verano? Did you find anything about him?” asked Marty.

  Quietly Dorothy, Nathan Wise and Morry Marsh slipped out of town for their appearance before the Grand Jury in Washington D.C.

  They stayed in separate hotels in the Washington area to make it difficult for the FBI to bug their rooms.

  Dorothy had a meeting in a downtown Washington hotel bar with her lawyer, Matthew Donnelly, to discuss the case. Donnelly was one of the most powerful lawyers in Washington. Dorothy was prepared to get him to like her; she knew he was her only hope of getting out of the mess she was in. Nathan blamed Morry for manipulating the stock. So everyone was at odds with each other. They had to stick together if they were to beat the rap, because if one went down so would the rest.

  Dorothy’s whole life was at stake. Her career would be over. Her involvement with Johannes would be finished. How could he marry a gangster’s moll, she thought. She was having a nightmare and it could become a reality to destroy her.

  It was five PM when she walked into the dimly lit oak-paneled barroom. She was ushered over to a corner booth where Donnelly sat waiting for her. She observed him closely as he introduced himself. She immediately liked what she saw and she could tell he liked her. She had done her homework on him: he was interested in sports, maybe liked to drink too much, was a Catholic, and had a crazy streak, which he used once in awhile in the courtroom. She also heard he had an eye for beautiful women. She had a plan. She knew that most every man had fantasies. She might risk giving him the idea there could be a chance with her if she thought it would work.

  “I hope you don’t mind me wanting to meet you without the others, but I wanted to get to know you, because this is so new to me.

  And frankly, Mr. Donnelly, I’m scared to death. I hope you understand,” she said in her sweetest voice.

  “The name is Matt. I understand completely. It’s difficult to come to Washington like this. It shakes up hardened criminals, so I can imagine what it must be like for an inexperienced young girl,” he said in a quiet voice. Dorothy already felt confident.

  “My staff and I have been studying the indictment the government sent to us, and frankly I can’t quite see where they have a case. They haven’t proved the stock was manipulated and that’s wha
t the case is about. They’re suspicious because of its rapid rise in a short period of time, but that’s not proving there was a false market. There’s a lot of politics behind this. The President’s brother, Bobby, as the attorney general, is out to get organized crime. I think that’s why the SEC has opened up this case. It involves Las Vegas and gambling and they have been trying for years to prove that the mob runs the gambling in this country.”

  This was the first time in months that Dorothy felt relieved. She made a deep sigh. “Matt, you have no idea how what you said makes me feel. I’ve been under a terrible strain. So what is going to happen?

  What will I have to do?”

  “They’ll put you on the stand and ask you questions about your involvement. I can’t do anything about that. The Grand Jury meets in secrecy. There’ll be no press coverage.” He glanced around for a waiter. “Waiter, another double scotch on the rocks. How about you? What will you have?” he asked.

  “A Shirley Temple.”

  “You don’t smoke, do you?”

  “No, I never have.”

  “Waiter, would you bring me a cigarette, please,” he called to him.

  “I have been trying to quit,” he said. The waiter brought the drinks and the cigarette. Donnelly fingered the cigarette but he didn’t light it.

  “Would you like a light for the cigarette?” asked Dorothy.

  “No, thank you. I’ll play with it for awhile and maybe the urge will go away,” he said as he gazed at her.

  “You know what Picasso said about smoking?” he asked. “Cigarette smoking was like sex. You never get over the urge. If you had ever smoked you’d know what I’m talking about.”

  “You’re an interesting man. It’s easy to see why you’re so successful,” she said, looking into his eyes.

  “And you’re a beautiful lady. I’m the man who will get all your troubles to go away,” he said.