foto/ N.Y. Social Diary./By MattTyrnauer- Vanity Fair.On March 20, 1990, in the middle of the night, paramedics were called to the de Cordova home at 1875 Carla Ridge Road, in the Trousdale section of Beverly Hills. Freddie de Cordova, the executive producer of Johnny Carson’s Tonight Show, and his wife, Janet, a leading local socialite sometimes referred to as the Duchess of Trousdale, were asleep in their separate bedrooms. The problem was downstairs, in the servants’ quarters, where Gracie Covarrubias, the longtime housekeeper, was trying to revive her husband, Javier, who was dying of a heart attack. When the paramedics arrived, they muted their sirens. Javier was removed on a gurney and driven to Cedars-Sinai hospital, where he was pronounced dead.
Early in the morning, Gracie Covarrubias returned to the house, and at eight o’clock Freddie de Cordova appeared at the breakfast table. He began to go through a pile of newspapers and the Hollywood trades, in preparation for his ritual midmorning phone call with Carson, in which they discussed the headlines that might make fodder for Carson’s monologue that night. Gracie fixed de Cordova’s breakfast, then, according to a close friend of the de Cordovas’, “waited until after he ate to approach him, saying, ‘Mr. De, I have something to tell you.’ Freddie asked, ‘What’s that, Gracie?’ She said, ‘Javier is dead.’ Freddie was stunned. He said, ‘Why didn’t you call us?’ Gracie said, ‘I didn’t want to wake you up. I called the police, and I told them not to use their sirens.’ She added, ‘I didn’t want them to wake up my lady.’” Janet de Cordova, a late riser and a heavy user of sleeping pills, was still in bed. Gracie, as usual, took her her breakfast tray at precisely nine o’clock.
“Of course, Janet was very disturbed when she heard Javier had died,” the late Dominick Dunne, a friend of Janet’s, told me. “It got to the point where Gracie, after all those years working for Janet, was very well known to the Beverly Hills set. This is one of those stories where the servants become more than just the help.”
Michelle Phillips, the former Mamas & the Papas singer, who was a protégée of Janet’s, recalls, “Janet kind of freaked out. She kept screaming, ‘Where is he?’ But that was Gracie. She always kept the messy things away from Janet. She wanted everything to be like a flowery sweet bouquet for her. She took on the problems herself and kept Janet’s world running smoothly.”
According to Dunne, “In Trousdale, there is a kind of urban legend. If you say ‘Javier is dead,’ it’s like a code for a certain generation. They know exactly whom you are quoting, what you mean. It’s like something out of Trollope or Edith Wharton—a lady and her maid. Janet could be a very demanding and difficult lady, but there was something special about her bond with Gracie.”
“Attached at the hip” is how Nancy Reagan, another of Janet’s friends, characterizes it.
When Johnny Carson retired from The Tonight Show, on May 22, 1992, an era also ended for the de Cordovas. Freddie had produced the show for almost 25 years. Although he stayed on for a brief period as a consultant to Jay Leno, Carson’s successor, his importance in the Hollywood hierarchy—chief gatekeeper to the most revered man in the entertainment industry and executive producer of NBC’s most profitable late-night hour—was over. It was a tremendous blow to his ego. “Leno paid Freddie a pittance, maybe $500 a week,” Janet told me in 2009, shortly before her death, with bitterness in her voice. (An informed source says the network paid him more than three times that amount.) “Freddie started to dress in the worst way,” she continued, “ordering clothes from these horrible catalogues, wearing white shoes and black socks, even though he had closets full of Carroll & Co. suits. He was worrying about me—letting me spend on my clothes, and he would dress cheaply. It was getting pathetic.”
Carla Ridge, as they called their pavilion-like modern house, had been a glittering hub of L.A.’s social scene, and the thought of giving all that up was hard to take. “We were living high off the hog,” said Janet, whose spending was legendary.(By Matt Tyrnauer/Vanity Fair)
“Everything with Janet had to be big and the best,” says her friend Betsy Bloomingdale. “If it was caviar, it had to be big caviar. She always had wonderful things—Lalique, Baccarat—and did wonderful things, always with Gracie behind the scenes, making sure it was the way Janet wanted it.”
“Janet was an absolute perfectionist,” says Joanna Carson, the third wife (1972–83) of Johnny Carson. “Everything in its place. If an ice bucket on the bar was one centimeter out of place, she would veer over, pass by, touch it back into place, and say something to Gracie or one of the other girls who worked there—I think there were always three girls, Gracie and two under her.” Anne Douglas, the wife of Kirk Douglas, recalls, “The dinners at that house were things of beauty. Janet did not slave in the kitchen, but she made sure everything was either brought in from Chasen’s or was the caviar pasta from Le Dome—her favorite because it had lots of vodka and lots of caviar.” Producer and director George Schlatter (The Dinah Shore Chevy Show, Rowan & Martin’s Laugh-In) tells me, “I think she single-handedly introduced Château d’Yquem to this town.”
For years, whenever Carson threatened to quit, Janet would make a play behind the scenes. “Every time,” Joanna Carson recalls. “If Johnny’s contract was coming up, which was every two years, he would say, ‘I’ll give up this show.’ He didn’t want any more money; he just wanted more time off. Then the phone would ring. Janet: ‘Jo-aann-ah! What are we going to do?’ I knew it wasn’t going to happen—Johnny loved that show too much—but she always went behind Fred’s back to me to try to make sure it wasn’t going to end when it didn’t need to.”
“The de Cordovas’ raison d’être,” said Dominick Dunne, “was to live an A-list life. The A-crowd in Los Angeles was a mix of Hollywood and society, with the Reagans very much at the center of things.” The de Cordovas were among the very few TV couples allowed into that rarefied group. “They were untouchables,” in the words of George Schlatter, “in a group of all above-the-title people—the Gary Coopers, the Jack Bennys, the Frank Sinatras, the Billy Wilders, the Dean Martins, the Jimmy Stewarts, the Armand Deutsches, the Lew Wassermans, the Ray Starks, the Earle Jorgensens, the Gregory Pecks, the Jules Steins.”
Freddie’s Demise
What Janet did not know as the curtain finally rang down on Freddie’s career was that her husband had, in effect, already confronted the end of the road with Carson. According to several friends of Janet’s, Freddie was too ashamed to tell her that he and Carson had had a very ugly break at the studio a year previously. Author Bill Zehme, who is at work on a book titled Carson the Magnificent, says, “It was when Johnny returned to the air after his son Ricky died. I’ve studied that tape like the Zapruder film, where Carson did this tribute at the end of the show, talking about his son, a nature photographer, who had died when he was shooting on a mountain and his car rolled over him and took him down the mountain. So Carson goes through a normal show with no mention until the very end. He’s clearly going a little bit long with the tribute, but there are all these majestic nature shots, and Carson is talking about his son—heart-wrenching. Carson was never so naked on the air. And then his eyes start darting over to where Freddie is, and you can see a little register of annoyance. I learned later that Fred was over there actually giving him the ‘Wrap it up’ sign [to indicate that the show was running over]. That was July 1991, so what happened next was Johnny exploded in the after-show meeting in his office. He took Freddie off the floor, and he was never allowed back on. That was the deathblow.”
On September 15, 2001, at age 90, Freddie died at the Motion Picture Home, in Woodland Hills, California. The Kirk Douglases had pulled strings to get him into the retirement community for members of the entertainment industry. “He thought it was the chic-est thing to go there,” recalled Janet, who remained at Carla Ridge, despite Freddie’s desire that they sell the house and play out their nearly 40-year marriage together at the home.
There was another thing Janet did not know: for several years her husband had been in dire financial straits. Though Freddie had made about a half-million dollars a year at the height of his career, they had burned through most of their savings. According to Dunne, Freddie had been trying to signal Janet that she would have to sell Carla Ridge to survive, but she didn’t want to hear it. Jack Deamer, an interior decorator who had worked on the house and become close to Janet, told me it was clear to him that “the money was running out when Gracie taped pennies to the inside of the front door, a Mexican superstition to bring money to a house.”
“Freddie did not believe in banks,” Janet explained to me. “He had been the son of a con man during the Great Depression—they went from first-class hotel to hotel with all their clothes on their backs. He had also made a bad investment once on the advice of Alfred Bloomingdale, who was his best friend from when they worked for the Shuberts [the Broadway producers] in New York. So he was spooked by banks.”
Nenhum comentário:
Postar um comentário