Representative Robin Beard, a young (34) but old-guard Republican from Tennessee, has been telling his colleagues that he’s not troubled at all by the White House transcripts. “They don’t bother me,” he drawls, “I’m sleeping just like a baby. I sleep for an hour. Then I wake up and cry a while….”
Free to Be You and Me
Thieves, the thin slice-of-life comedy by playwright Herb Gardner, starring his resident muse, Mario Thomas, nearly closed out-of-town in Boston. But it came to Broadway and has run for two months, despite the lack of break-even notices or box office. What has kept the show going reputedly is a secret $100,000 draw from Danny Thomas to make up any shortfall.
“Come over and read the scene. I want to test you for the part.” It was a summons from Barbra Streisand to Robert Blake, the cantankerous star of Busting and In Cold Blood. The part was Billy Rose, the super-showman, one of whose wives, Fanny Brice, is soon to be resuscitated in Barbra’s Funny Lady—a sequel to her Funny Girl. When Blake arrived Streisand said imperiously, “O.K. Let’s read the scene.” “No,” Blake insisted. “Let’s read the whole script.” They did and two hours later Streisand exclaimed, “You’re great. The part’s yours.” “Thanks,” Blake murmured as he walked to the door, “but I’ve just done it!” So the role of Rose went to an actor Streisand presumably found more malleable: James (The Godfather) Caan.
The bachelor pad in Kent being readied for Britain’s Prince Charles, 25, is provoking some cheeky rumors and comment, all of which royal sources have quashed in polite terms as rubbish. An impending marriage? Absolutely not—”like many other young men, he will simply appreciate a place of his own.” But why such excessively grand quarters? Reports about the 17th-century manse, the queen’s spokesman responded, are grossly exaggerated. “This spectacular figure of 115 rooms that is being bandied about is wrong. You could only get the figure of 115 if you included the wine cellars, the dog kennels and the attics.”
The ad in the Wall Street Journal offered an intriguing new editorial service for egotistical businessmen—”Your life story. Professionally Written. Book-Length Biography-Autobiography”—by a past master just returning to the business: none other than Clifford Irving. His previous work, the bogus biography of Howard Hughes, had cost him 17-and-a-half months in prison, but had left him undaunted. In his new operation, Literary Developments, Inc., Irving would himself write only the foreward and turn over the rest of the vanity bios to a bucket shop of journeymen. Irving’s personal projects are a novel, Naked on Ibiza, and a screenplay, Killing Time, which he describes as “a love story set in a prison.”
Hearing that Truman Capote had just flown to Paris to have the glass on his Cartier watch replaced, Kay Thompson, 62, choreographer-author and creator of the Eloise books set off with her godchild Liza Minnelli on a similarly compelling mission. “I’ll be buying my favorite boots,” she said, “while Liza will be soaking in culture. Every nice girl should see those wonderful glass-blowers at work in Venice!” Their six-week itinerary will also include Russia, where the boots come from, and where caviar is cheap. “It gives much more energy than vitamins,” Kay insisted.