Shirley Jones

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In Beverley Hills with Shirley Jones and Marty Ingels - 1989

 

Imagine if someone had said to me in 1983: "How would you like a date with Shirley Jones"?  What would have been my response?

Well, of course, first I would have laughed.  Then I might have asked: "What's the gag?"

But this was not friend Sasha Lyons's style.  He phoned me.  I was working for Sea Containers at the time.  And they owned the Orient Express Hotel Group which, in turn, owned the Harry's Bar private dining club in Mayfair.  Sasha asked me if I could use my influence to book a table for six for that evening  He was aware it was rather short notice, but had been placed in a difficult situation by one of his overseas agents.  He had planned a dinner for four that evening, to include himself, his wife and business partner Michelle, his Belgian agent (male) and his Chicago agent (female).  At the last moment the Chicago agent had begged to be allowed to bring an old school friend (female) who had just flown in from an engagement in Frankfurt, Germany, and was en route to the United States.  Sasha was one male short.  I said I'd do my best - and managed it.

We met up at his St John's Wood home in Blenheim Terrace for cocktails.  Sasha, Michelle and his Belgian agent Louis were already there, the champagne cork had popped, and we were awaiting the arrive of Chicago agent Joanne and her friend.  Sasha looked at me coyly over his glass and said "See if you can recognise your date for this evening".   I had no idea what he was talking about, but Louis' and Michelle's mirth was obvious.  Then the front door bell rang.

I did not recognise her immediately.  Possibly because she came in with not one, but two other women.  One I recognised instantly, as I had met her before - Sasha's Chicago agent Joanne.  One of the other two was an elderly, frail woman who looked extremely excited.  So I determined the last of the trio was my "date" for the evening.  This, of course, all took place within a few seconds, but while my partner for the evening was clearly very attractive - not in a "glamorous" way, but facial appearance and demeanour suggesting someone rather special - she did not strike any immediate chords . . . until Sasha started singing something from Oklahoma and moved forward to have Joanne introduce him properly.  The penny then dropped - as did, perhaps, my jaw! - well metaphorically at least.

It transpired that the aged lady had been Shirley Jones's music teacher some 50 years earlier!  I believe she had later married an Englishman and relocated to London where she now lived, alone, in Chelsea.  I believe Shirley called her Queenie.  They had not met for decades and the old woman was naturally very very excited.  So Shirley had invited her to join us and our party increased in size to seven.  We had to take both my and Sasha's car and met up at the restaurant.  Where, after an excellent starter and half of a main course, Queenie found the excitement too much for her and began to feel extremely sick.  It was decided that she had to be taken home.  I, chivalrous as ever, volunteered to drive her.  Shirley insisted on coming with me.  I was overjoyed!  We would obviously be unable to return in time for dessert or coffee and arranged to meet up again at Annabel's, Mark Birley's night club in Berkeley Square.  [Mark Birley, incidentally, was a partner with Sea Containers' Jim Sherwood (another entry in my Cast of Characters!) in Harry's Bar.]

We somehow got Queenie into her bijou mews home in Chelsea and then rejoined the others in Annabel's for a spot of drinking and dancing.  Shirley Jones would not stop being effusive about my kindness in helping her with dear Queenie.  It was useless to protest that this had created, for me, a pivotal experience that would last the rest of my life in memory.  Indeed - so it has proved.

This would normally have been the end of this recitation, but for a piece of serendipity that occurred six years later.  I had arranged a round-the-world trip to coincide with the marketing of my first published book  - a history of refrigerated transport - primarily in the Far East, and the conclusion of the publication in Washington D.C. of my monograph on refrigerated containers for the World Bank.  My friend Sasha Lyons had an apartment in Los Angeles where I had actually stayed for a few days some time earlier.  As my itinerary involved a flight from San Francisco to Los Angeles with a connecting flight to Washington D.C., I asked if I might use his apartment and stay over for a few days between flights.  Sasha was, as ever the most generous of friends and had no hesitation in agreeing.

On my second day in Los Angeles in the condo, I chanced on a local telephone directory and, on impulse, looked under "Jones".  To my utter astonishment, not only was Shirley Jones listed, in her own name, but her address was apparently in the same street at Sasha's condo: North Doheney Drive.  I telephoned, got through to a man, asked for Shirley, and she appeared instantly.  I tried to remind her of who I was, but it wasn't necessary.  She still remembered me clearly and her London experience was vivid in her memory.  She wanted to know where I was.  I told her I was at Sasha's condo on North Doheney.  "Oh gosh," she said.  "What number?"  I told her and she gasped.  "Why, that's right across the street from me.  In fact, if you go onto your balcony you can look across and see me."   Well, that was a slight exaggeration, because the street is extremely wide, but the coincidence was nevertheless remarkable.

So we arranged to meet.  She invited me over, having first ascertained that I had a car.  (I had!  Sasha allowed me to use the car he kept garaged beneath the building.)  But - and this is typical of Los Angeles - it would have taken longer to get the car out of the garage than simply to walk across the road.   Shirley was adamant that "in Los Angeles you walk nowhere!).   Nevertheless, I ignored her advice and ten minutes later I was ringing her front doorbell.  She lived in a house, not an apartment.  The man who had answered the phone was her husband, actor and comedian Marty Ingels.  Her stepson David, the son of her former husband, the late Jack Cassidy, was also present.  He it was who took the two photos that appear at the top and foot of his page.

David was, of course, the male lead of the hit TV series The Partridge Family which restored Shirley's acting fortunes after a slump in the 1970s and 1980s in her film career.

Shirley insisted on displaying her Best Supporting Actress Oscar for her role as a prostitute in the movie Elmer Gantry.  A more out-of-character piece of casting it would be hard to imagine.  But it worked!  I was astonished at how heavy the statuette was.  She was very proud of her achievement, but in a typically-Shirley-Jones-modest way. 

And there this story rightly ends.  A fitting sequel to that evening in London all those years earlier.

(And here you can see Shirley Jones being interviewed in 2017.) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=39H8t_st5KA

 

Marty Ingels, Shirley Jones, and I - 1989