Goddamn Don Adler
**
LITTLEWOMENTURNED OUT TO be a carrot dangled in front of me. Because as soon as I became “Evelyn Hugo, Young Blonde,” Sunset had all sorts of movies they wanted me to do. Dumb sentimental comedy stuff.
I was OK with it for two reasons. One, I had no choice but to be all right with it because I didn’t hold the cards. And two, my star was rising. Fast.
The first movie they gave me to star in was Father and Daughter. We shot it in 1956. Ed Baker played my widowed father, and the two of us were falling in love with people at the same time. Him with his secretary, me with his apprentice.
During that time, Harry was really pushing for me to go out on a few dates with Brick Thomas.
Brick was a former child star and a matinee idol who honest-to-God thought he might be the messiah. Just standing next to him, I thought I might drown in the self-adoration cascading off him.
One Friday night, Brick and I met, with Harry and Gwendolyn Peters, a few blocks from Chasen’s. Gwen put me in a dress, hose, and heels. She put my hair in an updo. Brick showed up in dungarees and a T-shirt, and Gwen put him in a nice suit. We drove Harry’s brand-new crimson Cadillac Biarritz the half mile to the front door.
People were taking pictures of Brick and me before we even got out of the car. We were escorted to a circular booth, where the two of us packed ourselves in tight together. I ordered a Shirley Temple.
“How old are you, sweetheart?” Brick asked me.
“Eighteen,” I said.
“So I bet you had my picture up on your wall, huh?”
It took everything I had not to grab my drink and throw it right in his face. Instead, I smiled as politely as possible and said, “How’d you know?”
Photographers snapped shots as we sat together. We pretended not to see them, making it look as if we were laughing together, arm in arm.
An hour later, we were back with Harry and Gwendolyn, changing into our normal clothes.
Just before Brick and I said good-bye, he turned to me and smiled. “Gonna be a lot of rumors about you and me tomorrow,” he said.
“Sure are.”
“Let me know if you want to make ’em true.”
I should have kept quiet. I should have just smiled nicely. But instead, I said, “Don’t hold your breath.”
Brick looked at me and laughed and then waved good-bye, as if I hadn’t just insulted him.
“Can you believe that guy?” I said. Harry had already opened my door and was waiting for me to get into the car.
“That guy makes us a lot of money,” he said as I sat down.
Harry got in on the other side and turned the key in the ignition but didn’t start driving. Instead, he looked at me. “I’m not saying you should be dallying around too much with these actors you don’t like,” he said. “But it would do you some good, if you liked one, if things progressed past a photo op or two. The studio would like it. The fans would like it.”
Naively, I had thought I was done pretending to like the attention of every man I came across. “OK,” I said, rather petulantly. “I’ll try.”
And while I knew it was the best thing to do for my career, I grinned through my teeth on dates with Pete Greer and Bobby Donovan.
But then Harry set me up on a date with Don Adler, and I forgot why I would ever have resented the idea in the first place.
* * *
DON ADLER INVITED me out to Mocambo, without a doubt the hottest club in town, and he picked me up at my apartment.
I opened the door to see him in a nice suit, with a bouquet of lilies. He was just a few inches taller than me in my heels. Light brown hair, hazel eyes, square jaw, the kind of smile that, the moment you saw it, made you smile. It was the smile his mother had been famous for, now on a handsomer face.
“For you,” he said, just a bit shyly.
“Wow,” I said, taking them from him. “They’re gorgeous. Come in. Come in. I’ll put them in some water.”
I was wearing a boatneck sapphire-blue cocktail dress, my hair up in a chignon. I grabbed a vase from underneath the sink and turned the water on.
“You didn’t have to do all this,” I said as Don stood in my kitchen, waiting for me.
“Well,” he said, “I wanted to. I’ve been hounding Harry to meet you for a while. So it was the least I could do to make you feel special.”
I put the flowers on the counter. “Shall we?”
Don nodded and took my hand.
“I saw Father and Daughter,” he said when we were in his convertible and headed over to the Sunset Strip.
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah, Ari showed me an early cut. He says he thinks it’s going to be a big hit. Says he thinks you’re going to be a big hit.”
“And what did you think?”
We were stopped at a red light on Highland. Don looked at me. “I think you’re the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen in my life.”
“Oh, stop,” I said. I found myself laughing, blushing even.
“Truly. And a real talent, too. When the movie ended, I looked right at Ari and said, ‘That’s the girl for me.’ ”
“You did not,” I said.
Don put up his hand. “Scout’s honor.”
There’s absolutely no reason a man like Don Adler should have a different effect on me from the rest of the men in the world. He was no more handsome than Brick Thomas, no more earnest than Ernie Diaz, and he could offer me stardom whether I loved him or not. But these things defy reason. I blame pheromones, ultimately.
That and the fact that, at least at first, Don Adler treated me like a person. There are people who see a beautiful flower and rush over to pick it. They want to hold it in their hands, they want to own it. They want the flower’s beauty to be theirs, to be within their possession, their control. Don wasn’t like that. At least, not at first. Don was happy to be near the flower, to look at the flower, to appreciate the flower simply being.
Here’s the thing about marrying a guy like that—a guy like Don Adler, back then. You’re saying to him, “This beautiful thing you’ve been happy to simply appreciate, well, now it’s yours to own.”
Don and I partied the night away at the Mocambo. It was a real scene. Crowds outside, packed tight as sardines trying to get in. Inside, a celebrity playground. Tables upon tables filled with famous people, high ceilings, incredible stage acts, and birds everywhere. Actual live birds in glass aviaries.
Don introduced me to a few actors from MGM and Warner Brothers. I met Bonnie Lakeland, who had just gone freelance and made it big with Money, Honey. I heard, more than once, someone refer to Don as the prince of Hollywood, and I found it charming when he turned to me after the third time someone said it and whispered, “They are underestimating me. I’ll be king one of these days.”
Don and I stayed at Mocambo well past midnight, dancing together until our feet hurt. Every time a song ended, we said we were going to sit down, but once a new one started, we refused to leave the floor.
He drove me home, the streets quiet at the late hour, the lights dim all over town. When we got to my apartment, he walked me to my door. He didn’t ask to come in. He just said, “When can I see you again?”
“Call Harry and make a date,” I said.
Don put his hand on the door. “No,” he said. “Really. Me and you.”
“And the cameras?” I said.
“If you want them there, fine,” he said. “If you don’t, neither do I.” He smiled, a sweet, teasing smile.
I laughed. “OK,” I said. “How about next Friday?”
Don thought about it a second. “Can I tell you the truth about something?”
“If you must.”
“I’m scheduled to go to the Trocadero with Natalie Ember next Friday night.”
“Oh.”
“It’s the name. The Adler name. Sunset’s trying to squeeze all the fame out of me that they can.”
I shook my head. “I don’t think it’s just the name,” I told him. “I’ve seen Brothers in Arms. You’re great. The whole audience loved you.”
Don looked at me shyly and smiled. “You really think so?”
I laughed. He knew it was true; he just liked hearing it come out of my mouth.
“I won’t give you the satisfaction,” I said.
“I wish you would.”
“Enough of that,” I told him. “I’ve told you when I’m free. You do with it what you will.”
He stood tall, listening to what I’d said as if I’d given him orders. “OK, I’ll cancel Natalie, then. I’ll pick you up here on Friday at seven.”
I smiled and nodded. “Good night, Don,” I said.
“Good night, Evelyn,” he said.
I started to shut the door, and he put his hand up, stopping me.
“Did you have a good time tonight?” he asked me.
I thought about what to say, how to say it. And then I lost control of myself, giddy to feel excited by someone for the first time. “One of the better nights of my life,” I said.
Don smiled. “Me too.”
The next day, our picture appeared in Sub Rosa magazine with the caption “Don Adler and Evelyn Hugo make quite the pair.”
FATHER ANDDAUGHTER WAS A huge hit. And as a show of just how excited Sunset was about my new persona, they credited me in the beginning of the movie as “Introducing Evelyn Hugo.” It was the first, and only, time my name was under the marquee.
On opening night, I thought of my mother. I knew that if she could have been there with me, she would have been beaming. I did it, I wanted to tell her. We’re both out of there.
When the movie did well, I thought Sunset would certainly green-light Little Women. But Ari wanted Ed Baker and me in another movie as fast as possible. We didn’t do sequels back then. Instead, we would essentially just make the same movie again with a different name and a slightly different conceit.
So we commenced shooting on Next Door. Ed played my uncle, who had taken me in after my parents died. The two of us quickly fell into respective romantic entanglements with the widowed mother and son who lived next to us.
Don was shooting a thriller on the lot at the time, and he used to come visit me every day when his set broke for lunch.
I was absolutely smitten, in love and lust for the very first time.
I found myself brightening up the moment I set eyes on him, always finding reasons to touch him, reasons to bring him up in conversation when he wasn’t around.
Harry was sick of hearing about him.
“Ev, honey, I’m serious,” Harry said one afternoon in his office when the two of us were sharing a drink. “I’ve had it up to my eyeballs with this Don Adler talk.” I visited Harry about once a day back then, just to check in, see how he was doing. I always made it seem like business, but even then I knew he was the closest thing I had to a friend.
Sure, I’d become friendly with a lot of the other actresses at Sunset. Ruby Reilly, in particular, was a favorite of mine. She was tall and lean, with a dynamite laugh and an air of detachment to her. She never minced words but she could charm the pants off almost anybody.
Sometimes Ruby and I, and some of the other girls on the lot, would grab lunch and gossip about various goings-on, but, to be honest, I would have thrown every single one of them in front of a moving train to get a part. And I think they would have done the same to me.
Intimacy is impossible without trust. And we would have been idiots to trust one another.
But Harry was different.
Harry and I both wanted the same thing. We wanted Evelyn Hugo to be a household name. Also, we just liked each other.
“We can talk about Don, or we can talk about when you’re green-lighting Little Women,” I said teasingly.
Harry laughed. “It’s not up to me. You know that.”
“Well, why is Ari dragging his feet?”
“You don’t want to do Little Women right now,” Harry says. “It’s better if you give it a few months.”
“I most certainly do want to do it right now.”
Harry shook his head and stood up, pouring himself another glass of scotch. He didn’t offer me a second martini, and I knew it was because he knew I shouldn’t have had the first one to begin with.
“You could really be big,” Harry said. “Everybody’s saying so. If Next Door does as well as Father and Daughter and you and Don keep going on the way you have been, you could be a big deal.”
“I know,” I said. “That’s what I’m banking on.”
“You want Little Women to come out just when people are thinking you only know how to do one thing.”
“What do you mean?”
“You had a huge hit with Father and Daughter. People know you can be funny. They know you’re adorable. They know they liked you in that picture.”
“Sure.”
“Now you’re gonna do it again. You’re going to show them that you can re-create the magic. You’re not just a one-trick pony.”
“All right . . .”
“Maybe you do a picture with Don. After all, they can’t print pictures of the two of you dancing at Ciro’s or the Trocadero fast enough.”
“But—”
“Hear me out. You and Don do a picture. A matinee romance, maybe. Something where all the girls want to be you, and all the boys want to be with you.”
“Fine.”
“And just when everyone is thinking they know you, that they ‘get’ Evelyn Hugo, you play Jo. You knock everybody’s socks off. Now the audience is going to think to themselves, ‘I knew she was something special.’ ”
“But why can’t I just do Little Women now? And they’ll think that now?”
Harry shook his head. “Because you have to give them time to invest in you. You have to give them time to get to know you.”
“You’re saying I should be predictable.”
“I’m saying you should be predictable and then do something unpredictable, and they’ll love you forever.”
I listened to him, thought about it. “You’re just feeding me a line,” I said.
Harry laughed. “Look, this is Ari’s plan. Like it or not. He wants you in a few more pictures before he’s gonna give you Little Women. But he is gonna give you Little Women.”
“All right,” I said. What choice did I have, really? My contract with Sunset was for another three years. If I caused too much trouble, they had an option to drop me at any time. They could loan me out, force me to take projects, put me on leave without pay, you name it. They could do anything they wanted. Sunset owned me.
“Your job now,” Harry said, “is to see if you can make a real go of it with Don. It’s in both of your best interests.”
I laughed. “Oh, now you want to talk about Don.”
Harry smiled. “I don’t want to sit here and listen to you talk about how dreamy he is. That’s boring. I want to know if the two of you might be ready to make it official.”
Don and I had been seen around town, our photos taken at every hot spot in Hollywood. Dinner at Dan Tana’s, lunch at the Vine Street Derby, tennis at the Beverly Hills Tennis Club. And we knew what we were doing, parading around in public.
I needed Don’s name mentioned in the same sentences as mine, and Don needed to look like he was a part of the New Hollywood. Photos of the two of us double-dating with other stars went a long way toward solidifying his image as a man-about-town.
But he and I never talked about any of that. Because we were genuinely happy to be around each other. The fact that it was helping our careers felt like a bonus.
The night of the premiere of his movie Big Trouble, Don picked me up wearing a slick dark suit and holding a Tiffany box.
“What’s this?” I asked him. I was wearing a black-and-purple floral Christian Dior.
“Open it,” Don said, smiling.
Inside was a giant platinum and diamond ring. It was braided on the sides with a square-cut jewel in the middle.
I gasped. “Are you . . .”
I knew it had been coming, if only because I knew Don wanted to sleep with me so bad it was nearly killing him. I’d been resisting him despite his very overt advances. But it was getting harder to do. The more we kissed in dark places, the more we found ourselves alone in the backs of limousines, the harder it was for me to push him away.
I’d never had that feeling before, physical yearning. I’d never felt what it is to ache to be touched—until Don. I would find myself next to him, desperate to feel his hands on my bare skin.
And I loved the idea of making love to someone. I’d had sex before, but it had never meant anything to me. I wanted to make love to Don. I loved him. And I wanted us to do it right.
And here it was. A marriage proposal.
I put my hand out to touch the ring, to make sure it was all real. Don shut the box before I could. “I’m not asking you to marry me,” he said.
“What?” I felt foolish. I’d allowed myself to dream too big. Here I was, Evelyn Herrera, parading around as if my name was Evelyn Hugo and I could marry a movie star.
“At least, not yet.”
I tried to hide my disappointment. “Have it your way, then,” I said, turning away from him to grab my clutch.
“Don’t be sour,” Don said.
“Who’s sour?” I said. We walked out of my apartment, and I shut the door behind me.
“I’m going to ask you tonight.” His voice was pleading, nearly apologetic. “At the premiere. In front of everyone.”
I softened.
“I just wanted to make sure . . . I wanted to know . . .” Don grabbed my hand and got down on one knee. He didn’t open the ring box again. He just looked at me sincerely. “Will you say yes?”
“We should go,” I said. “You can’t be late to your own movie.”
“Will you say yes? That’s all I need to know.”
I looked right at him and said, “Yes, you dumb fool. I’m mad for you.”
He grabbed me and kissed me. It hurt a little. His teeth hit my lower lip.
I was going to get married. To someone I loved this time. To someone who made me feel the way I was pretending to feel in the movies.
What could be any further from that tiny sad apartment in Hell’s Kitchen than this?
An hour later, on the red carpet, in a sea of photographers and publicists, Don Adler got down on one knee. “Evelyn Hugo, will you marry me?”
I cried and nodded. He stood up and put the ring on my finger. And then he picked me up and spun me in the air.
As Don put me back down, I saw Harry Cameron by the theater door, clapping for us. He gave me a wink.
**
Sub Rosa
March 4, 1957
DON AND EV, FOREV!
You heard it here first, folks: Hollywood’s newest It Couple, Don Adler and Evelyn Hugo, are tying the knot!
The Most Eligible of Eligible Bachelors has chosen none other than the sparkling blond starlet to be his bride. The two have been seen canoodling and cavorting all over, and now they’ve decided to make it official.
Rumor has it that Mary and Roger Adler, Don’s oh-so-proud parents, couldn’t be happier to have Evelyn joining the family.
You can bet your bottom dollar that the nuptials will be the event of the season. With a Hollywood family this glamorous and a bride this beautiful, the whole town will be talking.
**