Robert Randisi - Everybody Kills Somebody Sometime

“Well, get me off,” I demanded. “I’m fine.”

Actually, I was better than fine. All that Rat Pack stuff had passed through my head while I was out-was it seconds? Minutes? Whatever it was I appreciated it. I would much rather have those memories of the Sands than any from the implosion tonight.

“Come on, somebody help me up!” I demanded.

Sheldon and Wayne Newton stepped forward and helped me sit up and get off the gurney. I looked at Wayne and could still see the fresh-faced kid in there who came to Vegas so many years ago. He patted me on the back affectionately and turned to leave. I knew he had his own memories of the Sands.

I looked at my watch. I’d been out about twenty minutes.

“You want me to take you home, Eddie?” Sheldon asked.

“I’ve got my car, Shelly,” I said. “Don’t worry about me. It was just … you know, the dust and … everything …”

“Yeah, I know, Eddie,” Sheldon said, “I know.”

The crowd was starting to disperse and I decided to get to my car and turn on the air-conditioning. I was still feeling kinda woozy, but I didn’t want anyone to know.

I reached my Coupe Deville and got inside. I still liked Caddies. I started the engine, turned up the AC and put my head back. For one more moment I was back in the Copa Room at the Sands in 1960. Frank, Dino and the guys would leave Vegas on February 18th and head to Hollywood to finish shooting Ocean’s 11 there. The movie would be a big hit, and the guys would go on to make a few more-except for Peter Lawford. After Kennedy got elected he’d snubbed Frank and never let him come to the White House. Oddly enough, Frank never blamed JFK. He blamed Peter, and after 1962 the two never spoke again. I didn’t like Peter much, but I thought he got a raw deal from Frank.

But that night in the Copa Room in 1960 the show went great. I saw Danny and Marcia enjoying it from their front seats, and I hoped the two would get along. But I didn’t expect much, because Danny was a ladies’ man and not ready to settle down. They had a ball, though, especially when they went backstage and met Frank and the guys.

While we were all backstage Dean came over to me and clapped me on the back again.

“Glad you made it, Eddie. Come on, I wanna introduce you to somebody.”

I had already shaken hands with Milton Berle, and Frank had introduced me-briefly-to the beautiful Juliet Prowse, so I didn’t know who Dean was taking me to meet.

But even now, thirty-six years later, I smiled in my Caddy as I remembered Dean Martin walking me up to a vision of loveliness, the owner of the best legs in Hollywood, and saying to me, “Eddie, I’d like you to meet Angie Dickinson.”