Chapter Six
Sixty years in show business! Ethel Waters had lots of honors and awards to show for it. The framed certificates that hung on the walls and the memorabilia around her apartment were proof of it. She never bragged about her accomplishments. To her they represented things of the past and now her life was different. "Everybody gets an Oscar with Jesus," was her view.
A reporter once asked her if she would ever make a comeback, "Oh, honey, that's a lost ball in the high weeds," she replied.
She did comment once that she was grateful Jesus had allowed her to give out what she felt inside. She had done that on the stage, and was doing it now in her sacred concerts. "When I sing 'Sparrow,' I know I'm the sparrow he's watched over all these years."
For fifteen years now Ethel had been singing in the Billy Graham Crusades. To express his gratitude to Ethel and to tell the movie industry of her love and faith in Jesus Christ, Billy Graham honored Ethel with a testimonial dinner on October 6, 1972.
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That Friday evening, as the guests were arriving at the Century Plaza Hotel in their limousines, Joan Brown and I were in Ethel's suite pinning back her bra straps. We assured her she looked just beautiful as she stepped back to look at herself in the mirror. Her white hair was tucked in place under the little brown scarf which matched her caramel colored chiffon dress trimmed with brown lace. Only minutes before, she had realized that she didn't have an evening bag, and Joan had scurried to the stores just before closing time to purchase one.
Shopping for Ethel was not easy. I remembered how Joan and I had tried to buy Ethel a new evening dress for this special occasion. Fred Dienert had generously offered to foot the bill. We wanted the guest of honor to look stunning but her health was not up to a shopping spree. Joan and I were delegated the buyers, and we began hunting stores that carried dresses large enough for Ethel. Our choices were soon narrowed down to Lane Bryant in Beverly Hills.
We found a beautiful pink, elegant but simple Mr. Blackwell original, which we felt suited Ethel. However, the store refused to let us bring back the dress if it didn't meet with Ethel's approval. The saleslady agreed to let us use the phone to call Ethel and describe the dress to her. Ethel was indignant. "Pink is not my color," she bellowed at me, "and besides what are you doing at Lane Bryant? That's a store for fat people!" I meekly hung up the phone feeling defeated. Joan and I thanked the saleslady for her help and walked out.
Tonight Ethel looked very lovely in her dress which was made especially for her in the 1940s.
Joan and I escorted her downstairs to the Brentwood Room for a private reception where she could first greet selected VIPs. I was to meet my date there. Ethel had arranged for me to be escorted by the editor of her recently published book.
I was standing at the doorway as one of the special guests
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arrived — Tricia Nixon Cox with her stoic secret service detail. She looked like a fairy princess in her long white dress and blonde hair as she nodded a greeting to me. Ethel welcomed her with a bear hug and reminded her, "I haven't seen you since your wedding in the White House garden."
Ethel was hyped up for this big event as she greeted the other guests — Hugh Downs, Billy Daniels, Peter Lind Hayes and Jim Nabors.
The press and photographers were kept at a distance until ten minutes before the head table guests were to enter the grand ballroom. At the appointed time, all surged forward into the tiny room. Flash bulbs popped and TV lights blazed.
Billy Graham presented Ethel with an engraved silver tray reading, "With love and appreciation for 15 years of singing in our crusades." Two weeks later when Ethel learned I was entertaining guests in my home she gave me the silver tray. "You'll get more use out of it than I will. But don't let anyone from the Team know I gave it to you!"
As the picture-taking continued, one photographer mistakenly called her Mrs. Waters. "It's Miss," she chided him. "Don't spoil my chances."
Dr. Graham spoke to the press, "We're here to honor Ethel Waters. She made it in show business when it was difficult for a black actress to make it." She stopped him short. I cringed. I knew what was coming.
"Please, not that word black," she scolded him. "I'm a Negress and proud of it."
Previous experience had taught me that to her black was just a color. "Nobody in our race is jet black," she had told me. "I'm a brown-skinned woman. The term black came into being with the militants." Once she had even told a reporter, "You can call me a Negro or Negress, but if you call me a Nigger, I'm gonna slap you across the face even though I'm a Christian."
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With her boisterous enthusiasm, Ethel continued her speech with "I'm proud of being an American." She then turned to Tricia and said, "I love your dad and I love the world."
On that upbeat, everyone filed into the ballroom to join the more than nine hundred guests. The celebrity list was impressive and included people Ethel had worked with and others who simply admired her — the Gene Autrys, Bob and Rosemary Stack, Red Buttons, Jack Oakie, Joanne Carson, George Maharis, Mrs. Clark Gable, the Don De Fores, Robert Young — and Christian leaders such as Campus Crusade director Bill Bright and World Vision president Stan Mooneyham.
Jim Nabors' baritone voice rang out with the national anthem, the invocation was given by Dr. E.V. Hill and then the sound of silverware as the crown began to devour their meal of roast sirloin of beef.
I had been caught up in the activities of the day and was almost too excited to eat. It was almost as though I was feeling every emotion with Ethel. I kept one eye focused on her the entire evening, trying to read her penetrating eyes and that somber look. It was a tense time for me. At every exuberant laugh that burst forth from her, I could relax a little.
Hugh Downs, the master of ceremonies, began the evening's program with "We're meeting here to honor a great lady. Every one of us is aware of the place she has established for herself in the annals of show business through all media — vaudeville, clubs, Broadway, radio, films and television. She has become a part of every one of our lives. The honor is ours — just for the privilege of knowing her and having her as part of our lives."
We could hardly see the doll-like figure of Tricia Cox as she stepped to the podium to read her speech: "It's really a special pleasure for me to be with you this evening to help honor a great American artist who has been beloved by so many
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Americans for so long and who has also been such a wonderful friend of the Nixon family. That friendship, as a matter of fact, is now in its third generation with no generation gap in sight." Ethel loved that and so did the audience.
Tricia continued with a telegram from her father, Richard Nixon, telling how Ethel had touched the hearts of Americans with her magnetic and majestic voice.
Nixon had also prepared a tape for the program. Ethel's eyes were misty as she heard the President say, "We think of her as practically a member of our family. She brought that family feeling with her when she performed at the White House. She brings it to every group she is with, wherever she goes. As Billy Graham knows, it is one thing to sing the gospel, it is another thing to live the gospel, but Ethel Waters does both with as much spirit as anyone I know. Ethel, we love you, we thank you, we wish you many more years of happiness and success."
Another special guest for the evening was Bob Hope. As usual, his monologue was crammed with jokes. "I knew Billy Graham had something to do with this dinner when I saw the catering truck unload five loaves and two fishes.
"Ethel sings so beautifully," Bob continued, "that one time at an outdoor concert, a pair of canaries swooped to her shoulder and whispered, 'Cool it, you're spoiling our act.' "
His one-liners included "They used to call her Sweet Mama Stringbean. She was Twiggy of her day," and "She has brought more happiness to people than tax refunds."
He concluded with "You have had your share of 'Stormy Weather' and have weathered many 'Heat Waves!' I hope you walk in many green pastures before you reach your 'Cabin in the Sky.' "
Singer Billy Daniels was next. He used the opportunity while he had the microphone in hand, to sing number after number. Then, even though the hour was getting late, he
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had one more song he wanted to sing for Ethel. I recognized that scowl on her face as she mumbled to him, "I don't think you have time," and looked around for someone to confirm her statement. No one did. He sang "Old Black Magic," much to her dismay.
Hugh Downs introduced Julie Harris who joined Ethel on the center stage. There were "ohs," "mys" and laughter from Ethel, since she didn't know her darling girl Julie was in the audience.
Julie handed Ethel a long-stem rose and blinked back tears as she reminisced about their working together in The Member of the Wedding at the Empire Theatre in New York City. Julie, with her delicate voice, remembered when Ethel took her curtain calls that it "sounded like thunder." She said, "I was the one who got to sit on Ethel's lap every night and it was heaven on earth. I love her with all my heart."
Ethel had fond memories of working with Julie. She recalled, "I would have to squeeze Julie at the end of the song, 'His Eye Is on the Sparrow,' as she would completely go to sleep on my lap. So I would nudge her so she could come in on her part."
Next on the program was Los Angeles County Supervisor Kenneth Hahn with a proclamation that cited Ethel as "one of America's outstanding citizens."
"Wow!" was Ethel's only comment.
I was proud of Ethel — proud that she was my Mom and not just a "superstar" to me.
Ethel was overwhelmed with all the love and admiration she received in one evening.
It was Billy Graham's turn to speak next. "I have learned through the years that when it reaches 11:00 P.M. not to preach." However, he continued, "I have learned a lot of things from Ethel Waters. She is a woman of determination. She is a lady with a sense of humor. She is also a woman of humility,
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a woman of discernment." He went on to tell about her compassion and the countless people to whom she had given of her time and money to help. "She's a woman of God. Some of the greatest philosophy and theology I have heard anywhere in the world has come from her lips and heart and mind. I have often wished I had her spontaneous gift of thought. She comes out with such brilliant things that later, though I don't suppose she knew it, I have turned around and used them in my sermons."
I really doubted that Ethel didn't know it. No one outwitted her.
At last the guest of honor had her chance to speak. "I'm suppose to be lookin' glamorous. I hope I look all right," she worried aloud. That was followed by her whoop of laughter.
She admitted she rambled, but added, "You have that privilege when you are old.
"You don't go to heaven in a group. You have to go the straight and narrow gate. You have to get it right before you leave here. When the Lord comes into your life, you know it. God was so patient with me. I ain't gonna turn Him loose now," she preached. Then she eased into singing "Partners with God."
Billy Graham presented her with a book of photographs of famous people and said, "God bless you for a wonderful evening we will never forget. We are going to see you for many years here on earth, but we are also going to spend eternity with you in heaven."
The evening was not complete. Ethel hadn't sung "His Eye Is on the Sparrow" yet. With fire in her eyes, she demanded orchestra conductor Ralph Carmichael not to "swing" with her song but to do it her way. He did. She gave the audience what they were waiting for. Even though the hour was late the guests all stayed to join her on the last chorus.
Ethel was weary but keyed up as she sat on the aqua love seat
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greeting guests until long past midnight. Then, beat but still on cloud nine from the evening activities, she asked me if I would spend the night with her. She had been given a beautiful suite for the night and she wanted to share it with me.
Ethel warned me as she climbed into bed, "If I start snoring, just wake me up and I'll turn over." Within minutes that dreadful noise penetrated the room. I just didn't have the heart to wake up the exhausted lady. I suffered through the night without sleeping a wink, eagerly waiting until I could go home and get some rest.
Ethel received other honors, including recognition from her hometown, Chester, Pennsylvania, where they held a parade and named a park in her honor.
On one of my Saturday visits with Ethel, she told me that MGM was going to include a segment of her performance in Cabin in the Sky in their new film, That's Entertainment, Part II. She always saved the good news until she saw me in person. I think she liked to see my excitement.
However, I was in Honolulu when she received the news that Mike Douglas wanted her on his show as he saluted the cast of That's Entertainment, II. Her decision to accept the invitation depended on whether I would be back in Los Angeles to attend with her.
My boss called me to present the assignment. Not one to miss a party, I agreed to arrive home the day of the big affair.
From Ethel's place we were chauffeured in a limousine to the MGM lot for the taping of the show. A soundstage had been decorated as a park with flowers everywhere, park benches, and fresh fruit stands. People were wandering around eating salmon, French bread and cheese, while Mike Douglas interviewed the hosts of the forthcoming film — Gene Kelly and Fred Astaire. It was noisy on the set and I was amazed they could tape with all the activity. Ethel and I took a seat.
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George Burns came by to say hello. Tony Bennett introduced himself. I was loving every minute.
After Nanette Fabray had done a dance number with Debbie Reynolds, it was Ethel's turn to be interviewed. I seized the opportunity to snoop around as Ethel was helped to the center stage. There was lots of chatter as I wandered and nibbled on the bread and cheese.
Suddenly a hush went over the stage and I crowded forward to see what I was missing. Ethel and Mike were singing "Cabin in the Sky." He let her finish as she talked and sang that old song. It was a magical moment.
The next day the Hollywood Reporter said of the incident, "There was hardly a dry eye in the room when Ethel Waters sang." She still commanded respect from her show business friends.
In May of that year she received her invitation to attend the premiere showing of That's Entertainment, II. Once again she depended on me to go along with her. Knowing she was my "ticket" to these gala events, I seized every opportunity to go.
With the gold tickets in my hand, Ethel and I relaxed in the limousine on our way to the Cinerama Dome Theatre. A block from the theatre we were to transfer to vintage cars that would take us to the theatre's entrance.
I climbed into the back seat of the 1952 brown Hudson convertible. Ethel was up front with the driver.
As we rounded the corner, we saw the crowd that had gathered to watch the celebrities arrive. The car moved slowly as we waved at the cheering fans.
One lady gasped and said, "Oh, look, there's Ethel . . . Merman." I panicked in the back seat. I knew how Ethel hated to be mistaken for another celebrity. There was silence for what seemed like an eternity. Finally she turned to me and said, "She must have been looking at you. At least you're the right color."
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The driver stopped the car in front of the theatre. Ruth Ashton Taylor stepped forward and asked for an interview. However, it was seven minutes until air time, and since her program was "live," she asked if we could possibly go around the block one more time.
We did. Ethel joked with the young driver about his going "the extra mile."
The crowd was confused as we rounded the corner again, but the timing was right. Ms. Taylor got her interview.
The parking lot was transformed for a "picnic in the patio." Food stalls were serving quiche Lorraine, roast beef, lasagna, tacos and fancy desserts. I made the rounds heaping my plate, but Ethel refused to indulge.
Just before 8:00 P.M. we made our way into the theatre to find seats F2 and F4. Since Ethel's eyesight was so poor, I would often whisper the names of people who stopped to chat with her, though I was of little help around show business people. I did recognize Groucho Marx and whispered his name to Ethel before he shuffled to us to say "hello." "Thanks for telling me," she whispered back. "It's been so long since I've seen him."
That's Entertainment, II came alive for me as I sat between Ethel Waters and FiFi D'Orsay, ladies who represented two segments of that great film. FiFi nudged me and told me the history and story of each old film clip as it appeared on the screen.
In May 1976, Bill Brown and I planned a gathering of Ethel's closest friends to show Cabin in the Sky. Ethel was the happiest when she was around people who loved her for herself and not her name.
That evening as the lights went out and curtain went up, I could tell Ethel was so proud that her "family" was going to view her performance in this all negro movie made in 1943. It also starred Lena Horne, Louis Armstrong,
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Eddie "Rochester" Anderson and Butterfly McQueen. "I'm the only big name in that film," Ethel had boasted.
I had only seen Ethel in one other movie — The Member of the Wedding. I was amazed at the shimmying and shaking she could do — so different from the Ethel Waters I knew.
As I served refreshments to the group after the movie, Ethel beckoned me to come to her side, "Twila," she said, "you've worked hard on organizing this evening. I know you're tired. I think I can get along without your coming to my place tomorrow."
"Wow," I thought to myself, "a Saturday to sleep late."
But I never got that chance to sleep in. The phone rang early in the morning. It was Ethel.
"Twi, I just want to thank you again for last night. It was such a beautiful gesture." In real sincerity she continued, "That was the first time somebody has done something for me where I wasn't expected to give something in return."
