Merv Griffin- A Life in the Closet

by Darwin Porter

  “Other than Ethel Kennedy, no

  woman in America suffered the

  death of RFK more than

  Rosemary Clooney”

  After his visit that day to the hospital, Rosemary cut Merv out of her life and wouldn't answer his urgent phone calls. Years went by before he finally reached her by showing up, unannounced, on her doorstep. “A nanny or somebody let me in,” Merv said, “and I marched immediately to her bedroom and confronted her. ‘For God's sake,’ I told her, ‘get the hell out of that God damn bed and get on with your life. Bobby's dead. He's not coming back.’”

  At least this is the story that Merv told his friends in Los Angeles. In his second autobiography, he claimed he reached her on the telephone.

  After that painful reunion and confrontation, Merv admitted that he nagged the singer day after day. Even so, it took weeks before she agreed to come onto his show.

  Merv had predicted to Rosemary that she'd be a big hit if she appeared in public again—and she was. The fans in the studio responded with massive applause after her beautiful rendition of “What Are You Doing the Rest of Your Life?” Merv admitted that he teared up at the end of that song.

  He brought her back on the show time and time again until Rosemary pleaded with him, “Your audience will get tired of hearing me sing ‘Come Ona My House.’”

  For the rest of her life, Merv stayed in touch with her, even though most of their friendship was conducted over the phone. He called frequently and offered his moral support during Rosemary's eventual bout with lung cancer. Then a call he'd dreaded came in on June 29, 2002. Rosemary had died in Beverly Hills.

  As Merv later told the press, “Those lungs that gave us some of the most beautiful music of the 20th century will breathe no more. I was hoping until the very end that she'd pull through. I called her as often as I could. She was one of my closest friends. The spot she occupied in my heart will never be filled by anyone else.”

  ***

  In 1968, Merv made an illfated move, bringing a liberal producer, David Susskind, onto the same show on which he'd booked Richard Nixon, who at the time was making what would turn out to be a successful run for the presidency.

  Nixon had never been at ease on camera and seemed to be especially upset at the presence of David Susskind. When the producer suggested that many anti-Catholic Democrats had voted for him, and not for John F. Kennedy, in the 1960 election, Nixon was furious but masked it until Merv broke for a commercial.

  At the beginning of the commercial break, Nixon got up and shook Merv's hand, telling him that he was walking off the show. After the commercial ended, when Merv came back on the air, he explained that Nixon had been called away on urgent business.

  The next day Merv got a call from Herb Klein, Nixon's communications director, who urged him not to run the interview. Defying him, Merv ran the tape of Nixon's appearance anyway.

  ***

  For a vacation, Merv flew to Hawaii, where he retained memories of Monty Clift and Frank Sinatra during the filming of From Here to Eternity. While walking through the lobby of his hotel, wearing his tennis whites on the way to his game, he encountered Queen Elizabeth and Prince Philip. “She couldn't take her eyes off my bare legs,” he later said. “I think she wanted to fuck me.”

  More and more, Merv was having fun and paying for sex, as he'd long ago learned to do. Much of the actual day to day management of his various enterprises had been handed over to Murray Schwartz, who was now the president of Merv Griffin Productions. During the period when Merv had been represented by the William Morris Agency, Schwartz had been his agent.

  ***

  Merv's beloved Tallulah Bankhead died in 1968, a nurse telling Merv that her final words were a desperate outreach for “bourbon” or “codeine.”

  In the years leading up to her death, the indomitable “Tallu” had been one of the most popular, most memorable, and amusing guests on Merv's daytime talk show.

  After filming an episode for the Batman TV series, Tallulah had appeared twice on Merv's shows. Her last appearance was on January 23, 1968, eight days before her sixtyfifth birthday. She was so ill that Merv had to order his chauffeur to physically carry Tallulah from her bedroom to the waiting limousine. From the limousine, she was then carried through the studio to her dressing room.

  Before they went on the air, Merv ordered his cameraman to steer clear of her face. Suffering from emphysema, she was having a hard time breathing. On the air Merv handed her a tumbler of water, or so it appeared. Actually it was filled with gin.

  For her farewell appearance, she spoke of her favorite politicians, including Harry S. Truman, her fondness for bridge games, her various illnesses, and even her loneliness. So many of her favorite people in the world had died.

  As the credits were rolling, he popped one final question, wanting to know why she'd gone to so much trouble to appear on his show. “I wanted to prove to all my fans that I'm not dead, dah-ling.”

  Back at her home, her condition over the following months continued to worsen until she had to be taken to a hospital. She ranted and raged with the hospital staff, and had an intravenous tube injected into her body. One night as she was tossing and turning, she ripped the tube from her arm and immediately lapsed into a coma, from which she never recovered. She died on the night of December 12, 1968. Merv wept openly upon hearing the news. Privately, he journeyed to Frank Campbell's Funeral Home in Manhattan to see her body before her casket was closed. The coffin was lined in baby blue. “Pink is for little girls,” Tallulah always said.

  He couldn't help but notice that cigarette burns were etched into the silk wrapper that draped her body.

  “Good night, sweet lady,” Merv whispered to her before bending over to kiss her cheek. Rising up, he turned to one of his staff. “There will never be a hellraisin’ gal like Tallulah Bankhead ever again. God threw away the formula.”

  ***

  Merv met Mickey Deans when he was managing a club called Sybil Burton's Arthur Discothèque in New York. With the divorced wife of Richard Burton showing up frequently, it was the most popular disco in town. Merv had gone there one evening with Hadley and had been enchanted with the charismatic manager. “Mickey Deans knows how to treat a star like a star,” Merv said. “That boy's going places. He's made this damn disco the most popular and entertaining place to be at night in all of America.”

  The following day, the first place Mickey went was into Merv's bed. Their sexual bonding was so successful that the two men became a “couple” the very next day, at least according to Hadley. Throughout the course of their brief relationship, Hadley acted as gobetween between Merv and Mickey, carrying messages back and forth and arranging their private times together.

  Merv was adamant that no member of his staff or family and especially the press got wind of this new relationship.

  Through Mickey, Merv arranged to rent Arthur's one evening as the venue for his staff's Christmas party. As a courtesy, Merv invited Judy Garland to attend.

  Ignoring Merv and the business of hosting a party, Mickey spent all evening at a table in a remote corner of the disco talking to Judy.

  Every now and then Merv looked over at Judy and Mickey, both of whom had been drinking heavily all evening. Shortly after midnight, a waiter tapped Merv on the shoulder, saying that Judy wanted him to come over to her table. Once there, she handed the phone to Merv. “[The columnist] Earl Wilson wants to talk to you,” she said.

  “Hi, Earl,” Merv said, not knowing what to expect.

  “Is Judy Garland drunk or is she marrying Mickey Deans for real?”

  “Just a minute.” Merv looked into the eyes of both Judy and Mickey. “You two getting married—or not?”

  Judy claimed that she'd accepted Mickey's proposal of marriage only an hour before.

  “They're getting married,” Merv said to Earl. “Print it!” He put down the phone and walked away.

  Judy called after him. “Aren't you going to congratulate us?” />
  Merv was furious. Before leaving the club that night, he had an angry confrontation with Mickey in his private office. “I can't believe you're doing this to me?” he said. “You're my boy friend, or at least you were until tonight.”

  “All of us have to move on,” Mickey said. “Life is about change.”

  “Don't give me that God damn cliché,” Merv shouted at him.

  “C'mon, you've got to understand,” Mickey said. “What gay man on the planet would turn down a chance to marry Judy Garland?”

  Rumor had it that Mickey had originally met Judy when, at the suggestion of a friend, he'd rushed to her hotel suite with a bagful of amphetamines.

  Mickey was good looking, with piercing blue eyes, and a voice so deep it seemed to emanate from a cave. He was ruggedly masculine, and his lovers reported that he was “well endowed.”

  “There was a kind of John Garfield toughness to Mickey Deans,” said author Gerold Frank. “Mickey was a sturdy, muscular man, who could wheel and deal as well as sing, play the piano, entertain, manage a discothèque—all of which must have attracted Judy. It was his Icanhandleit assurance that was reminiscent of Sid Luft.”

  London gossips kept Merv up to date with what was going on within the marriage. Judy was said to have caught Mickey in bed with the singer Johnnie Ray, with whom she was living for a time. Johnnie, like Judy, was also falling in popularity.

  Singer Johnny Ray (left) slept with Judy

  Garland's final husband, Mickey Deans (right)

  on the night before her wedding

  to yet another gay husband.

  The marriage managed to survive that embarrassment. By now Judy must have been familiar with catching one or another of her husbands in bed with other men.

  On June 22, 1969, Merv was informed that Mickey was on the phone calling from London about Judy. Merv was still furious at the way Mickey had dumped him for Judy, and at first, he decided not to take the call. But his secretary returned, telling Merv how urgent the call was. He picked up the receiver to hear Mickey's distressed voice. “Judy's dead,” he announced bluntly.

  Merv later told Hadley, “I'm ashamed of myself. My response was too bitchy.”

  Over the transatlantic line, Merv said, “I'm not surprised. I guess you'll start trying to get a book offer today.” Then he hung up the phone.

  At Judy's funeral in New York, Merv noted that many of the people who had refused to come onto The Merv Griffin Show with Judy showed up at the funeral, along with 22,000 hysterical fans outside.

  “James Mason gave the eulogy,” Merv said. “But he wouldn't come onto my show when I invited him when Judy was still alive and needed his support.”

  Merv sent a stunning array of flowers to the funeral. He wrote on the card, “Bonne Nuit, Judy. With eternal love, Merv.”

  When he walked out of the funeral home, he heard Judy's voice on the portable radio of a fan.

  “Forget your troubles and just get happy. Get ready for the judgment day.”

  ***

  When Roddy McDowall phoned and asked Merv if he'd appear as himself in a film called Hello Down There (1969), he accepted because of his longstanding relationship with the actor. It was only when filming began that Merv learned from one of the codirectors, Jack Arnold, that the role had originally been intended for Jackie Gleason.

  Merv enjoyed seeing Roddy again, his passion for the handsome actor a distant memory. Their relationship had evolved into a deep friendship. Merv also enjoyed a reunion on the set with Janet Leigh.

  The film was a silly 60s comedy about a family living in an underwater house off the coast of Florida. Appearing as himself, Merv interviewed the “aqua family” for his TV show.

  Merv's lifelong contempt for the star of the film, Tony Randall, stemmed from their dealings together on the set of Hello Down There. Through Rock Hudson, Merv had learned that Randall was a closeted homosexual. Yet when he was around someone he suspected of being gay, Randall often launched into bitter put-downs.

  In front of Merv, and without provocation, Randall attacked homosexuals. “I've had to give up the ballet,” he said. “I'm surrounded there by a bunch of fags. Definitely not my bag. Friends of mine even showed me a gay male porno film. It was disgusting but it confirmed a longheld suspicion of mine. Homosexuals don't really like sucking each other's cocks. Throughout the film the guys didn't even get aroused, unlike the kids who do straight porn. Straight couples really go at it.”

  “If gays don't enjoy it, then why do they do it?” Merv asked.

  Anger flashed across Randall's face. Usually quick with a comeback, he at first seemed stuck for an answer. “They just do it to defy society. It's a way of saying ‘fuck you’ to the Establishment. In fact, there's no such thing as homosexuality. It's all a joke. They just pretend to dig each other. Actually homosexuality is just a manifestation of self-hatred.”

  “Tony, sweet babycakes,” Merv said mockingly. “Don't get so worked up about it. You're fooling no one. Rock Hudson told me you're one of the best cocksuckers in Hollywood.” Merv turned and walked away.

  ***

  Not just Ronald Reagan and Richard Nixon, but other U.S. presidents came onto Merv's show, including Gerald Ford and Jimmy Carter. But an anticipated interview with Dwight Eisenhower slipped through his fingers.

  Merv almost got to interview Eisenhower in retirement with Mamie at his Gettysburg farm. He journeyed to Pennsylvania to personally ask Ike if he'd agree to be interviewed. What Merv discovered was a frail, greatly weakened man who no longer looked as strong and powerful as he did when he was commanding Allied forces during World War II. The presidency and a harsh life in the military had taken a great toll. Merv was reassured when Ike firmly shook his hand and told him that he and Mamie were “faithful watchers” of his talk show.

  After agreeing to allow Merv's camera crew to film at his farmstead, Ike immediately discussed money, suggesting that his fee for appearing would be donated to charity. Merv's show at Westinghouse always paid guests under onethousand dollars for their appearances. Ike wanted $30,000.

  Merv was taken aback by the figure. He later wrote, “I knew that that was a lot more toasters than Westinghouse would ever pay.”

  Back in New York, Merv was pondering where he'd get the money when a bulletin came over television. Ike had died of a heart attack in Washington, D.C. The date was March 28, 1969.

  Merv watched stunned as television stations across the country broadcast film clips of Ike, going back to the State of Texas where he was born in 1890, though he'd been raised in Abilene, Kansas.

  “Maybe it's just as well that I didn't get to interview Ike,” Merv later said. “I was saving two provocative questions for the end of the show. I wanted to ask him why he had tried to hide his upbringing as a Jehovah's Witness. Then I was going to deliver the zinger. I wanted to know if Kay Summersby, his aide, was really his wartime mistress. After asking the bombshell, I guess his Secret Service guys would have kicked me off that farm in Gettysburg.”

  ***

  As the 1960s came to their tumultuous end, Merv was in his 40s and deep into middle age. But at long last, and after many failures, he'd found success. His game shows, Let's Play Post Office, One in a Million, Talk It Up, and Reach for the Stars had been purchased and aired, although, unlike Jeopardy!, each had had a short life.

  One TV critic noted that Merv's game shows appealed to viewers “with a lot of time to waste.” He specifically singled out Let's Play Post Office. On that show, three contestants were read letters from celebrities one line at a time. They tried to guess the identity of the letter's author. As each subsequent line from the mystery letter was read on air, the money value of the prize decreased.

  Despite his many successes, Merv was bored and desperately wanted a challenge. Later, as events unfolded, “The tooth fairy must have heard me and granted my wish,” Merv said. “And how!”

  Retired President Dwight D. Eisenhower agreed to an

  exclusive interview w
ith Merv, but priced himself too high.

  He's pictured here, on the left, with his then-

  Vice-President Richard Nixon

  Merv

  Chapter Nine

  In 1967, despite the popularity of The Merv Griffin Show, Westinghouse, its sponsor, seemed to be “dragging its feet” (Merv's words) about renewing his contract.

  Then an unexpected call came in from CBS, asking Merv if he'd signed his contract. When Merv responded that he had not, “the suits” began secret negotiations with Merv about hosting a latenight talk show on CBS.

  As negotiations continued, Merv demanded that CBS pay him “twice the money” that Carson was hauling in. “There were a lot of bank vaults in New York that needed filling,” Merv said, only half kidding.

  At the time, Carson was pulling in $40,000 a week, which meant that Merv was demanding $80,000. The negotiators at CBS were outraged, one executive calling the salary demand “highway robbery.” Nevertheless, CBS was desperate, as they'd been running old movies in an unsuccessful attempt to lure latenight audiences away from Carson. “Not that many people wanted to see Kay Francis in Transgression,” said an executive at CBS, referring to a movie the star had made in 1931.

  When Merv's salary demands moved upstairs at CBS, the brass there agreed to it almost without protest. Merv was told that lawyers would begin drawing up the contract immediately. “It was the shock of my life,” he said. “I couldn't believe they'd pay me a salary that was to the moon—unprecedented in the history of television.”