A movie poster for Ocean’s 11. Illustrated from left are Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Pop, Peter Lawford, and Angie Dickinson.
“The Summit”: Peter Lawford, Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Dad, and Joey Bishop during the time they were making Ocean’s 11.
The stars of Ocean’s 11
The Rat Pack in all their glory.
Dad as Jonah Williams in Sergeants 3, 1962
“The way we did our shows, we made it look like all fun and games. But we worked hard. Like I said, we were wild, but how hard can you really party when you perform one to two shows a night and are due in for call-time and makeup on a major feature film the next morning, sometimes before sunrise? The only time we got any decent sleep was in the afternoons, after the shoot before a show,” Pop explained.
I always loved the final shot of Ocean’s 11, when the eleven compatriots referred to in the title walk past the Rat Pack’s own famous marquee in front of the Sands hotel—Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Sammy Davis Jr, Peter Lawford, and Joey Bishop. The last billed, Joey Bishop, was also the last of the Rat Pack to pass away, on October 17, 2007.
Producer Budd Schulberg visits Dad on the set of a television special, “Memory in White,” in 1961.
Pop approached his rigid schedule like clockwork, never missing a beat. 1961 began a period of Rat Pack activities for Dad that included a whirlwind of making movies, among them Sergeants 3, Robin and the 7 Hoods, and Johnny Cool.
There were “Summit” performances with Uncle Frank and Uncle Dean in Atlantic City in August 1962. There were shows at the Villa Venice in Chicago in November 1962, and back at the Sands Hotel in both January and September of 1963.
Dad made an appearance in the 1962 movie Three Penny Opera.
“Frank asked me to work John F. Kennedy’s campaign show. He was obsessed with getting JFK elected—pushed favors with the mob to turn West Virginia and Chicago voters in favor of JFK. But really that was none of my business, though, there are rumors to the contrary. I can tell you after working the JFK campaign show, I was delighted that JFK received the Democratic party’s presidential ballot in 1960. I wasn’t thrilled about Mississippi booing me when I sung the national anthem, though. But no racial slurs surprised me by that point. Brush it off and move on was my motto!” Pop explained.
“What about Joe Kennedy? I heard some stories about him!” I said.
“I got one story about Ambassador Kennedy I bet you have never heard.”
“What happened?” I asked.
“Awww, well, poor Peter Lawford was just a kid, sixteen years old, parking cars on the wrong side of town in West Palm Beach, Florida, for twenty-five bucks a week. Peter became buddies with two black valet cats he worked with. One day, a rich client saw Peter on break, eating lunch and playing cards with his colored buddies. The rich client was outraged and complained to the parking lot owner that it was a disgrace to see such a good-looking white boy fraternizing with colored kids. Poor Peter almost lost his job. Turns out the client was Joe Kennedy. How Peter survived being Joe Kennedy’s son-in-law fifteen years later is beyond me!” Pop said.
“How did you survive being the son-in-law to mom’s father? I mean he was Swedish, she was Swedish, interracial marriages were forbidden by law in thirty-one states when you got married.” I asked.
Dad in the 1962 film Convicts 4
“I adored my father-in-law, and your mother said he loved me, too. Your grandparents didn’t have an ounce of racism in them. They were kind, loving, and supportive. Incredible folks. That’s why your mother was the way she was,” Pop smiled.
“I remember my first appearance as an entertainer in London. I was booked for a $12,000-a-week nightclub act at the Pigalle in London. Your mom was already telling friends she’d probably become Mrs. D, but she was finalizing her divorce from [Edwin] Eddie Gregson, son of a distinguished widower and Southern California real estate millionaire. Your mom flew to London to see my show, and flew her father in from Sweden. She was determined to introduce her own father to her ‘soon-to-be groom,’” Pop said.
“That’s so sweet. . . .”
“Luckily, her father had already gone back to our London hotel and didn’t have to see the hate banners and all the public booing outside the Pigalle. Your mom and I had to face horrible insults from bigots. About thirty followers of Sir Oswald Mosley waved banners saying, ‘Go home, Nigger’ and ‘Get divorced first, Slag’ in reference to my plans to marry your mom after her divorce was final,” Pop explained.
“As I always say, being a star made it possible for me to get insulted in places where the average Negro could never hope to get insulted!” Pop smirked.