AULD LANG SYNE ON MULHOLLAND DR.

HOLLYWOOD LEGENDS

Photo by Vincentiu Solomon on Unsplash

I’d never spent a New Year’s Evening with my parents. Probably because it was also my father’s Birthday and he only wanted to share with our mother. They had a standing date and dinner in the exquisite Chasen’s just outside the City limits. My father, stepped out looking distinguished. Tall, lanky in tuxedo. Initialed gold watch nestled in his vest. My mother. Simply elegant. A tinge of makeup and red lipstick on her sensuous yet girlish mouth. How handsome they were. I imagined them on the silver screen. Little did I know the only year I was included would be our last together.

The invitation came from Ralph and Alice Bellamy, my parents best friends. MINE TOO! I spent hours in their home listening to Ralph’s captivating stories of stage, screen and politics .I hung on each word. Alice. Soft as her dark eyes hidden under a raspy, gruff tone . How deeply I cherished them so when I was going to be apart of their New Year celebration. I was totally psyched . I didn’t drive with my parents. Solo in my red VW Bug. Up Coldwater Canyon in case the event was boring I would head out . Boring? The evening . One of the most memorable of my life.

Ralph greeted me. Tanned. Always. Full head of white hair. Velvet deep navy jacket. Tailored around his very trim physique. If he weren’t a father figure . My 20 year old imagination.

I was late . Their guests filled the living room. One I stood when empty before they moved from their traditional Colonial in Beverly Hills above Sunset. Now way above Sunset in a contemporary , one level with a glassed in swimming pool large enough for Ralph to swim laps every day. She had a fabulous decorators eye . I asked how she was going to create a comfortable space in the cavernous room. Success . She nailed it.

My left arm tightly wrapped around Ralph’s right. Seemingly brazen I was inwardly shy and insecureI followed him to mingle. “Oh my god,” I whispered. “That’s James Cagney!” I took a birds eye view . Jack Webb, Harry Morgan and Shirley Booth. It appeared I’d entered a veritable Hollywood Wax Museum.

I made a bee line for the bartender. With glass and courage full I cut through a handful of guests to introduce myself to Mr. Cagney. I mumbled something inane. He eased my obvious pain with giant Irish grin. “Please call me Jimmy.” and that, was that.

I was particularly intrigued with Shirley Booth who’d distanced herself from the crowd on a small couch. My generation knew her as Hazel, apron clad maid with scratch on chock board voice. She was in fact a brilliant Academy Award winning actress. I approached slowly. She invited me to join. Lovely. Soft spoken I believe we chatted for an hour about her life and mine. Lost in conversation we had not refilled our glasses. Perhaps the soberest in the room.

Jack Webb certainly wasn’t. He was sloppy drunk. I steered clear. I think I’d seen Dragnet on TV once or twice. I enjoyed meeting his sidekick Harry Morgan . Gentleman and friendly.

Booze and casual atmosphere . Ripe for some show. Music played. “Jimmy” kicked up his aging heels and danced. Yankee Doodle Dandy he was. Everyone roared with laughter and applause. His wife Billie stood. She recited one of her poems. Damn I wish I’d committed to memory. Silenced the room then she and her husband embraced as if young lovers.

From the edges I gazed to admire the lights of the San Fernando Valley. Floor to ceiling windows. The buildings glittered like a box of multicoloured jewels. I felt the presence of my father. We stood together just before midnight. I wished him Happy Birthday and New Year. As always. He tapped the top of my head then turned to my mother to ring in the first day of 1972 and the final year of his life.

My parents. The Bellamy’s, their famous friends have left me behind. I am not sad more wistful.

I long to rewind the film to that evening on the hills. As we all know. That only happens. In Hollywood.