In that latter day, applejack brandy voice of hers, she said over the phone “Why don’t you come over for drinks around 6:00. Can you do that?”
Could I?!?!? When TV legend Lucille Ball asked if I could come over to her home for drinks, the answer would be “yes” even if I had to walk barefooted through the streets of Beverly Hills to get there.
Lucille Ball invited me to her home on St. Patrick’s Day in 1989. I was working on VH1 then. She’d seen some of my work, liked it and sent word to me that she liked it via a relative who worked here in New York City for an advertising firm. He and I had met at a party. That St. Patrick’s Day he and I were both in L.A. doing work for our respective companies. He was staying with Lucy. I was at a small hotel in West Hollywood.
It seemed surreal to be walking up to her door to ring the bell. I felt like I was outside of my body watching me do that. Inside, her home was so comfortable. She was extremely gracious — aware that she was a TV icon yet still with a working class sensibility and a working class appreciation for the fans that made her a star. I had an encounter earlier that day with Bruce Springsteen, then called the Balladeer of Blue Collar America or something like that. He was disappointingly high tone. Here was a woman who was a movie star before Bruce and I were both born and she was treating me like an old acquaintance. We chatted, laughed and had cocktails for about one hour. During that time, her second husband, Gary Morton came downstairs to meet me.
She had publicity photos out. She’d been autographing them for fans who continued to write to her. As I was about to leave, places for dinner were being set at the table and the TV was playing. Gary, in a royal blue jogging suit, was watching. Lucy said, “I’d invite you to stay, Bob, but we’ve only got two pork chops.” The old married couple was about to eat and watch “Wheel of Fortune.”
“I just love Pat Sajak,” Lucy said.
I get a big thrill entertaining on television. As probably happens with most kids when they’re growing up, convincing a parent for both parents that you are serious about a certain career — a career not of their choosing — can cause conflict. My mother intended for me to be a serious writer like F. Scott Fitzgerald, James Baldwin or Toni Morrison. I wanted to be on television and entertain like Steve Allen or Jack Paar. Through the years, I’ve been asked frequently what I want to do on television. I want to entertain and, in that entertainment, also inform. Paar did. David Frost did. Johnny Carson did. Oprah does. For a long time I didn’t think wanting to be an entertainer was a lofty ambition. Did that add anything to the world?
When Lucille Ball, an international superstar, raved about Pat Sajak and had his game show as part of his must-see TV viewing list, I thought differently. Weeks after the attacks of Sept. 11th, I formed a new appreciation for “Wheel of Fortune.” It helped me mentally recover from the non-stop devastating daily news updates. That entertainment provided my heart a little relief. Back in late 2001, regaining the ability to chuckle again thanks to his game show host skills, I recalled Lucy watching him the same way I watched her as Lucy Ricardo when I was a kid home from school.
If I got the chance to host something like “Wheel of Fortune,” I’d take it in a heartbeat and consider myself the luckiest guy in the country. In these hard times, I think there’s something to be said for the ability to put a few smiles on a few faces. What do you think?
Tags: Lucille Ball, Pat Sajak