The Sunday Memory Drawer Redux: My Lunch with a Bombshell

The summer rerun season continues in the Sunday Memory Drawer. Here's an entry from 2008.

I shared this Hollywood story on my annual Christmas newsletter a few years ago. It bears repeating here for those not in the loop. Another example of how you can make the oddest of connections here in Los Angeles.

There is something very mystical about how I find myself hooking up with stars that my parents probably saw on the silver screen at the Wakefield Theater in the Bronx. Well, here’s how this one starts. One summer week in LA, I am scheduled to have lunch with a good friend who is an actress/stand-up comic. She has worked on a variety of our projects. But she calls to tell me that she needs to juggle her lunch schedule as she is overbooked on the day we are scheduled.

Let me back up. This particular friend has an even more magical way of connecting to Hollywood legends. The neighbors in her apartment building, at one time, included the lone surviving Nicholas Brother (at the time) as well as Glenn Miller’s band singer. And it is through the latter connection that my friend had lunch scheduled with a certain somebody and that conflicted with the lunch she had scheduled with me. I willingly beg off and agree to another date for lunch.

But I later mentioned to my writing partner that my lunch was postponed because our actress friend was booked for lunch with this certain somebody. Innocently, he asked why I didn’t suggest that the lunches be combined so I could, too, break bread with that certain somebody.

Bang! I could have had a V-8.

The next day, when I related what my partner had suggested to my friend as a joke, I didn’t expect the response I got.

“Why didn’t I think about that? Besides, you have A/C in your car and I don’t.”

Huh?

But, who was I to quibble if a standard option on my car suddenly became a valued calling card?

My actress friend immediately called this certain somebody and said, “I’m bringing a friend. And he's got air conditioning in the car.”

And I suppose I have a fully loaded Toyota 4-Runner to thank because that's how I wound up having lunch with JANE RUSSELL.

Yes, Jane Russell.

It was an absolute hoot. She has held up very nicely for her age (83 at the time). Except she can’t see and she subsequently asked me to read the entire menu to her. I did so with all the aplomb of the best waiter.

"And then, Miss Russell, there is a sauteed chicken breast with a delicate white wine sauce and capers on the side."

Jane brightened. "I love capers!"

And talk about name dropping. Marilyn…….as in Monroe. Howard……as in Hughes. Shelley…as in Winters. Being the ultimate gentleman (or patsy), I paid for lunch. She was so impressed.

“Look at you. Getting stuck picking up the check for a couple of old broads!”

On the way home, she even showed us where Bob Hope lived. Knowing that my writing partner would be disappointed that he wasn’t there----and that I forgot to ask Jane to autograph one of those bras for him, I casually suggested she come over for a home cooked meal the next time she was in town. Imagine my surprise when she answered.

"Sure. When?”

It hasn't happened yet. I'm waiting for capers to go on sale.

Dinner last night: Turkey panini at the Hollywood Bowl.