Dante also continued to work. Making a [1942] movie with Laurel and Hardy, “A Haunting We Will Go.” He did “Sawing a Woman in Half” [in 1953] on the television show, “You Asked For It,” and was technical advisor for “Lili,” a [1953] movie with Leslie Caron.
[In 1940], the Dante show opened at the Morosco Theatre on Broadway in New York.
I had chosen to end my “show biz” career and was staying home with Mom. Miki continued on with the show and was receiving more prominent billing.
The show went on tour to Boston, Philadelphia, Cleveland, Columbus, Toledo, Detroit and Chicago at the Erlanger Theatre. Then Pittsburgh, San Francisco at the Curran Theatre where Mom, Al, Ruth and I went to see the show. Next engagement was the Biltmore Theatre in Los Angeles.
Meantime Mom got fed up with the flies and, without telling Pop, moved us into the house on Lassen Street in Northridge. He later said it was the smartest thing she had ever done!
It was much more suited to his retirement plans. There were plenty of storage buildings but the one very large building out in back was big enough for a small stage and seating capacity of about fifty, a workshop and several rooms which he converted into a bar, an Oriental room and an office.
There was another very large building next to the swimming pool which became the “Rumpus Room.” It had a huge fireplace, bookshelves to hold the hundreds of books Morn had been collecting, beamed ceiling that held many elephants and other items bought during our travels and room enough for three “hide-a-bed” couches. It was their dream come true. There were many months when Pop stopped drinking and really enjoyed his home.
He did return engagements in the Eastern cities and played Toronto as well as Mexico City, ten weeks at the Iris Theatre [Teatro Esperanza Iris, now Teatro de la Ciudad].
Morn and I had found ways to help in the war effort, supporting the wonderful shows “Bundles For Britain” put on by all the big name movie stars. We did projects for the Red Cross. Including donating blood as often as we could. Mom did that so much she received a special pin.
Al was working at Lockheed Aircraft and after Pearl Harbor, I also applied there. The first question I was asked was what foreign countries had I visited. I had to type up a separate sheet to answer that!
Then what could I do? I was beginning to feel a little discouraged about my qualifications when the interviewer asked if I could sew and could I read patterns? That meant I could read blueprints, so I was sent to template school and eventually wound up in engineering, where we worked on the P-38 “Lightning” planes.
Early in 1943 Al got his draft notice, which was a big mistake. He was thirty-eight, married over ten years and an assistant supervisor. Any one of which should have disqualified him. He went to boot camp at Camp Roberts [in San Miguel, Calif.] where all the young men called him “Grandpa.”
Because of his past history with his skull fracture, every time he was sent on a long march he would pass out from the heat. He was given an honorable discharge under protest. He wanted to stay in the service and even thought he could play in the band.
But they said no and he returned to Lockheed. While he was gone, Ruth had begun to work there – Rosie the Riveter. Al continued working there until he retired.
I met my future husband at Lockheed, John Glazier, he was also in the engineering department.
At coffee breaks we talked and he was very interested in my travels. He had a friend, Allen Rich, who had a radio program where he interviewed Lockheed employees, so I was asked to talk about our leaving Berlin.
Then John invited me and my mother to go to the Easter sunrise service at the Hollywood Bowl. Unfortunately, his first impression on my Mother was not good. He lived in Burbank but had come into Hollywood to spend the night at his sisters. He didn’t have his topcoat with him and borrowed one from his brother-in-law, which was about two sizes too small!
Time moved very fast in 1943.The future was so uncertain. John was expecting to be drafted at any time.
I knew I couldn’t expect any support from my parents. Pop was on tour with the show and Mom went to visit him. So it seemed like a good time to elope, we were married in Las Vegas.
When the tour ended, we went to the train station in Northridge to meet them. The train stopped and since no one seemed to be getting off, I got on the train looking for Pop, with John following me. I met him at the end of the car and greeted him saying, “Pop, I want you to meet John.” He swung his arm out as he pushed John aside and said, “Get out of my way!” and left the train.
In spite of such a beginning, my husband and Pop got along fairly well. They would even go to the local pub in Northridge until the night Pop pulled his dead-drunk routine on John. This was a “gag” (as Pop called it) that he had done many times all over the world and he thought was very funny.
Leaving a bar or arriving at his hotel he would collapse, supposedly dead drunk. The very concerned bellhops or companions would lift him and carry him to his room. Once there he would stand up, dust himself off nonchalantly and say, “Thanks for the ride, boys!”
Once the war ended, Pop began negotiations with London Impresarios and arranged a six-month tour in England. Christmas 1946 the show played the Garrick Theatre, Leicester Square, for ten weeks in London.
In 1949, Dante once again went on tour in the United States. He played the Majestic Theatre in New York but closed suddenly because of union problems. He had ordered twelve musicians and the union insisted he had to have twenty-two. That was his final engagement. He said there were too many headaches because of union demands and would not tour again.