Frank & Charli

by Frank Yandolino

  Woodstock 3

  The third Woodstock Festival in 1999 was definitely not the charm. Michael’s Woodstock Ventures again was unable to secure the original site. Woodstock 3 was held at the Griffiss Air Force Base in Rome, New York, with concrete airstrips and roads for the kids to sit on in ninety-degree heat. There was very little shelter and there were still land-to-air missile silos all over the site. What a dichotomy from the original Woodstock—1969, stop the war, peace, and love.

  This time Michael agreed to let me get involved. Again, Artie was not invited, nor did he attend. The rift between Artie and Michael goes back to the beginning. They never could agree on anything, starting with what to call the festival, what acts should be invited to perform, is it an anti-war festival or a peace festival, how much to spend on who and what, what happened to the money, how to promote it, who was boss, who was king, and on and on. Although they are seemingly cordial to each other they have not done anything together for forty-five years. Who knows if they ever will?

  I arranged for my brother Robert’s company to have food and concession vending rights for the festival. Right from the beginning the vibe was off between the acts that were booked and again the message and purpose of the event. There wasn’t one, except to make as much money as they could. Just like all the other Woodstocks, even that didn’t work out. This version of Woodstock was very commercial and had the wrong mix of performers that drew a wide range of audience. The new, disjointed vibe caused the burning of Woodstock 3 on the last day, when rioters started fires and burned down the house, so to speak. Despite all of that, Michael again developed spectacular-looking stages that were huge, beautiful, and magnificent.

  For the fourth time, including Riviera 76, a giant monsoon rainstorm came; fences were torn down by the festival goers who again didn’t pay to get in; gate revenue was lost; no movie was released, just music, raves, rapes, and riots. What had happened to the Woodstock Nation?

  The original Woodstock Nation was the birth of a new generation that began way before the festival on that hilly farm in White Lake in 1969.The Woodstock Nation was a mental and physical way of life. Woodstock the festival was a place to gather and listen to music from groups symbolizing a generation of young people who believed in the same things. Even though the mixture of folk and rock music was different in style, the message was the same. People gathered to show unity against the corrupt government, the war, and the establishment, and to be free to exercise their rights. Woodstock ’99, on the other hand, was a microcosm of the change running through society at that time: the mixture of rap, rock, pop, and electronic dance brought an eclectic mix of styles and certainly mixed messages that caused the clash between festival goers.

  Michael’s and Artie’s Woodstock didn’t end after that first festival in ’69. They couldn’t let it be over. The never-ending dramas continued for decades. For me, Woodstock was only a period in time that came after and before others, like Picasso’s Blue Period. For Artie and Michael, it was different. They never left the Woodstock world. They say the word every day.

  The three of us say we are all best friends and do care for each other, but the Woodstock saga continues. The common thread we all love is Charli. She talks to Michael and Artie more than I do. She is the one with the “diplomatic” nature, always displaying true friendship, the one who really cares and is the voice of reason. She’s the one whose thoughts and actions you never have to second-guess, and she goes through life without prejudice and free of ulterior motives.

  CHAPTER 22

  Marilyn Monroe and Lena

  Lena Pepitone was eighty-six years old when she passed away on June 11, 2011. She was Marilyn Monroe’s seamstress and part-time cook during the last five years of Marilyn’s life, 1957–62.

  I met Lena over twenty years ago at the company party to celebrate the launching of Joe Franklin Productions. After meeting her, I saw the ball and I am still running with it. That meeting and many subsequent conversations with Lena brought me to write a screenplay. “Marilyn and Lena” is a true story about two women and their lives together. Over the years, I have uncovered many things about Marilyn that most people don’t know. Lena has revealed new and provocative personal information she didn’t put in her book—a book, by the way, even though she is credited as the author, that she never read, nor did she really have any idea what was written in it by her co-writer. The details of her stories revealed to me during the years we spent together were much more detailed and scandalous. Among other things, Lena told of Marilyn’s suicide attempts and relationships with presidents, movie stars, and other influential men. Those stories and others have led me to questioning how Marilyn may have truly died.

  Charli became a very close friend to Lena, a lot closer than I, and many times she would intervene between me and Lena by keeping her on point, especially when Lena would become impatient and complain that things were not going fast enough with the screenplay. Lena would meet and discuss with others her ideas regarding her story. She was always looking for the grass to be greener on the other side. She didn’t know it could be Astroturf over there.

  Charli is, of course, a very likable person. She was able to listen to Lena and understand her. Lena would tell Charli things she never told anyone else, especially about her relationship with her estranged family. I’m sure Charli’s ability to focus and show that she cares helped her relationship with Lena.

  The world has always been fascinated with Marilyn Monroe. More than forty years after her tragic death, Marilyn continues to intrigue us. She’s transcended generations and has been crystallized into our minds and our culture. Marilyn’s life story has always been told with a mixture of success, struggle, and controversy. Her life as a film actress in Hollywood’s golden era, her relationships with some of the world’s most influential men and her unexpected death are among the elements of Marilyn’s life that have been documented and portrayed in many ways over the past fifty years.

  Lena was an attractive young Italian woman who loved to sing and play act, always dreaming of Hollywood’s glamour and a rich, famous life far better than the one she had in war-torn Italy, where she was unhappy and disappointed. Lena’s sister arranged a meeting with an American GI stationed in her town, and Lena grabbed the opportunity to get to America and married that soldier, Joey Pepitone. After leaving Italy they found an Italian community on the east side of New York City. The life of wife and mother with two small boys, however, was not what she had in mind when she moved across the Atlantic. She was not satisfied, still dreaming and wanting to be a star, an actress, a singer, anything that would bring her fame and, most importantly, fortune. Joey never wanted her to work. In those days, a woman would stay home with the children, cook, and clean—especially an Italian woman. That did not sit well with Lena. So she decided to get a job and not tell Joey. She secretly went off to an employment agency and was sent on to her first interview at an apartment on 57th Street, the apartment of a very famous person. Arriving at the appointment, walking off the elevator, she rang the bell to apartment 3F. The door opens, and she is greeted by May Reese, a tall, stern, gray-haired woman who coldly invites her in, where the interrogation of Lena begins.

  “Tell me, have you been a maid before?”

  Lena was insulted by that question. One thing about her is she would tell you what was on her mind no matter how it came out of her mouth.

  “A maid? I don’t think so. How ’bout you?” As Lena tells it, suddenly she got distracted as a door swings opens and out bursts a woman into the room, á la Loretta Young. Lena is shocked to see Marilyn Monroe fresh out of bed, totally nude.

  Seeing Lena, Marilyn responds, “Oh, hi. Excuse me. I’m Marilyn, are you here to help me?” Lena nods her head as May helps Marilyn into a robe.

  “You seem so nice. What’s your name?”

  “Lena. Lena Pepitone.”

  “Are you Italian? I love Italians. And their food! Can you cook? I can really use a good cook around here. Can you ma
ke lasagna? I just love it.”

  “Oh boy, that’s my specialty! I could show you how to make it. It’s easy.”

  And Lena was hired on the spot, beginning a strange relationship. Lena cooked for Marilyn and was present at unique events and several risky situations where she attempted to find her true love. Over the years to come Lena would give Marilyn what she never had—her own family. What Lena got in return was the chance to be the closest she would get to becoming a great actress.

  *The following scenario and dialogue was told to me personally by Lena and Henry Weinstein.*

  Back in Hollywood, Marilyn was on the set, shooting Something’s Got to Give. Directors, cameramen, the producer Henry Weinstein are all there, except no Marilyn. She walked off the set and days later she called in sick. Now Weinstein called her phone.

  “I’m sorry, Henry,” she answered. “I must go to New York. I promise I will be back in a few days. It’s for the president’s birthday, you know!” Weinstein fired her.

  Before her untimely death, Marilyn Monroe spent most of her days living on 57th Street in New York City. During those days, Lena arrived at Marilyn’s apartment, where Marilyn was standing in a corner, talking on the phone with her head in her hand and her back to Lena, who, unknowingly to Marilyn, overheard the entire conversation.

  “Well, if it’s okay then I could come there.”

  Marilyn paused for a minute then hung up the phone. She realized Lena was in the room. Lena was embarrassed.

  “Excuse me, Marilee.” (Because of Lena’s strong Italian accent she called Marilyn Marilee.) “I didn’t mean to listen.”

  Marilyn was uneasy. “No, Baby Lamb. Don’t be silly. I’m sorry. I must go out and get something at the Carlyle Hotel.”

  Marilyn was never really good at lying, so she decides to confess. “Oh shit, to see Jack.”

  “Jack. Who’s Jack?” Lena asked.

  “Jack Kennedy. JFK, silly.”

  “You call the President of the United States Jack?!”

  “Yes, Jack. He said it was okay ever since we became, you know, friends. He told me to be careful what I say and never to tell anyone what we do so that means you too, promise?”

  “Never. I promise.” I don’t think Lena said anything else, but it wouldn’t surprise me if she was thinking I don’t know what your plan is, but I’m pretty sure your secret’s out already, Marilee.

  A touching part of their relationship is how Lena taught Marilyn how to cook. They prepared dinner for Arthur Miller, Joe DiMaggio, Frank Sinatra, Yves Montand, Montgomery Clift, and several others who came to visit.

  An important element of what I uncovered in my collaborating with Lena had to do with wiretaps and secret recordings. As Lena tells it, while talking from Marilyn’s New York phone to Marilyn at her house in LA, Lena asked, “What is all that clicking and humming sound?”

  “It’s not me,” Marilyn answered. “I hear it all the time, must be the wires, the taps.” Lena, surprised by that remark, replied, “What tap? You got taps?”

  “Yes, on the phone and in my room. Well, whoever you are,” Marilyn continued, “I’m listening too.”

  “If they can, so can I,” she tells Lena another time. “I hired this private detective, Fred Otash something, to record and find out who’s listening to me. He said he is hired by everybody famous and that they all do it to each other.”

  Lena was very suspicious. She warned Marilyn, “Maybe people listen to you talk too much, Marilee.”

  “Let them listen and let them talk. I don’t care anymore, anyway. You plan a big dinner for twenty-five people, lots of food. Everyone is going to see the new Marilyn Monroe! I’m letting it all out, once and for all! I’m going to tell them all about everyone.”

  “Marilee, what’s this about? You mix me up. Why do you want to stir this up?”

  “I’m gonna show everyone, even me. I’m not crazy; I’m not a drunk anymore. I’m going to call a big press party and tell everybody everything, what they have all done to me and how I don’t need them anymore.”

  “You be careful what you say on the telephone.”

  A short time later, Marilyn was invited to a barbecue at Peter Lawford’s home. He told her Jack Kennedy would be there. She refused to go and told him about the same plans she had told Lena. Lawford paid her a visit later that day. She was found dead.

  After returning from India and working with Prakash Mehra on his latest movie that I had written with him, I attended a producer’s seminar and dinner at the Waldorf Astoria Hotel in New York. Sitting at my table were ten other producers, directors, and industry executives. I was explaining my experiences working in India, and when asked what else I was working on I mentioned my latest screenplay in the works about Marilyn and Lena. As usual, I was bombarded with questions. Everyone always wants to know the same thing: How do I think she died, did she screw the Kennedys, and on and on, until one of the older guys sitting at the end of the table, a heavyset gentleman, asked, “Do you know who I am?” and with a smile he said, “I’m Henry Weinstein, the producer you’re talking about in your script.”

  That was it. The ball was in the air. We immediately sat next to each other and swapped stories the rest of the night. We agreed that Henry would come to my boat and spend the weekend, where we would discuss my concepts and his recollections. We did just that; it was amazing. Henry and me, Cuban cigars, rum, and my favorite topic, Marilyn Monroe. Neither Henry nor I am quite sure how she died.

  After all is said and done and more than twenty-five years of working on this story, I now see the most important aspect of it, one of the underlying stories in the relationship between Marilyn and Lena. Lena, along with Marilyn’s other so-called close friends, were nothing but enablers. They fed Marilyn what she wanted in order to get what they wanted. Just like Michael Jackson, Elvis, Anna Nicole, Whitney, and others, Marilyn died because of the enablers. I also realize people aren’t interested in personal or good things about Marilyn; they want to hear the dirt. I have talked with producers somewhat interested in my nice story about Marilyn and Lena, but most of them are more interested in hearing whether they were lesbian lovers, who she slept with, or who killed her. They don’t care what Marilyn was really about, what she did as a person, or whether or not she ever cooked a meal or ate a hamburger. I wrote a screenplay, “Marilyn and Lena,” based on this relationship, about two women searching and wanting what they didn’t and couldn’t have. Not a porn movie.

  In Charli’s Words

  Frank was very passionate about his screenplay. He believed a different side of Marilyn should be told, the side none of us really saw, the side of her as a lonely woman, not a sex goddess but just the girl next door. He would often say, “No one really knows her. They only know the same old stories, book after book, movie after movie, the same old thing. We don’t even know her. Did she ever eat a hamburger?” When he met Lena, he set out to write that story, a story about two women, one who happens to be Marilyn Monroe and the other an unskilled immigrant from Italy. Frank would wake up in the middle of the night, as he often does when writing, and write until morning, putting down his thoughts, completely immersed in his work.

  Lena became my friend. Yes, she was a client of Frank’s, but most of the time when he finishes a project he leaves it behind and moves on to the next. He is not a good smoocher nor does he continue relationships when the project ends. He says he is working on that flaw but he is still not good at it. Luckily our phone number was the same for thirty-six years, so many times some of those people eventually call him again with new ideas, requesting his help. They all say the same thing. “Boy, am I glad you still have the same number.” There are a few exceptions, a select few people, maybe six or seven he has remained friends with for over forty years. Frank, who doesn’t trust anyone, is a great judge of character and is usually right. I, on the other hand, generally stay in touch with people we meet. And Lena was special, someone I felt was more like a family member. Sadly, in the end I was wron
g.

  When I first met Lena we hit it off right away. She did not trust or respect most people she met in her life, but over the years I gained her trust and respect; she would tell me that many times.

  Lena lived at 309 East 76th Street. Marilyn visited her there several times. The apartment was not far from my office, so she would drop by often and I would take her to lunch. Lena was much older than I—old enough, in fact, to be my grandmother—but she called me daily and we became very close friends. When I originally met her many years ago she was physically and mentally much stronger, full of confidence, a strong character, but now as she’s gotten older she’s become bitter and very disappointed with her life. She has lived in the same three-room walk-up railroad apartment for her entire life since coming to America. Her life in Italy was good, she was brought up well, she had fine tastes, and when she married a GI, Joe Pepitone, she left her loving family, ambitious to be a famous singer or a Hollywood star. Otherwise I don’t think she would have married Joe or left her family. Many people that I have met have been disappointed with America, left only with their visions that did not materialize.

  Lena came here not speaking English and suddenly was one of the millions of immigrants without any money, now with two young boys and a husband. Unfortunately for everyone, that was the last thing on her mind. She was disappointed and depressed, and then she met Marilyn. Lena was torn with emotion. In one sense she envied Marilyn, but in another way she enjoyed how being her seamstress, maid, and cook made it easy to fantasize being her. Even though Marilyn thought of her as a friend, inwardly Lena was always ambitious and jealous of her money and fame.

  Marilyn was a weak, needy person; Lena strong and aggressive. They both needed each other. After Marilyn died, Lena wrote a book about their lives together, only wanting the fame, the money, the high life, not caring or paying attention to the true facts or what the cowriter of her book says, and whether there’s some scandalous discrepancy between what was written and what was expected to be written, and whose expectations they were actually writing about—essentially, they were stories filled with false controversy all for pure shock value. Because of that, the book has received very negative and damaging reviews and has painted Lena as a money-grabbing opportunist.