Mark Winegardner - The Godfather returns

Fredo stood. He called out to their waitress to bring another round of drinks. “Ladies,” he said, “if you’ll excuse me?” He made it seem like he was just going to take a leak, but he had no intention of coming back to the table. It’d be a good way to ditch the bodyguards, too, and have a decent night on the town.

Across the room, Johnny Ola-Hyman Roth’s token Sicilian-rose and at a discreet distance followed him to the men’s room.

Maybe, Fredo thought, I’ll just go home. Although where was that? Home? He’d spent most of the last dozen or so years in hotel suites. His father was dead. His mother was in Tahoe, where Fredo had a house, too. But that wasn’t home. That was just a lake cottage in the country. A fishing cabin. Fredo Corleone was a city boy, stifled in Vegas, but Tahoe? Suffocating.

He saw Gussie Cicero and slipped him a Cleveland. For the tab. Gussie told Fredo his money wasn’t good here. “Aw, buy your wife flowers or something,” Fredo said. “Or put it in the offering plate at Mass tomorrow.”

“Mass tomorrow!” Gussie said, pocketing the thousand dollars. “You crack me up.”

At the urinal, he wondered what Deanna would do if she got back to the wreckage of their room before he did. It sent a chill through him. Though maybe it was just a piss shiver.

Fredo zipped up, spun around and slammed into Johnny Ola so hard Ola’s hat went flying and Fredo fell on his ass. The men’s room attendant rushed over to help, but Ola was already apologizing and helping Fredo to his feet.

“Did I do that?” Ola said, pointing to Fredo’s gashed cheek.

Fredo shook his head. “Cut myself shaving.”

“You’re Frederico Corleone, aren’t you? Johnny Ola,” he said, offering his hand. “We have some friends in common. I’ve been hoping to run into you. I didn’t expect it’d be so literal, you know?” He grinned. “We should talk. Sometime soon.”

Deanna was no doubt already there, had already seen what he’d done. If Fredo hadn’t balked at the thought of going to face up to that, it might have saved his life.

“No time like the present,” Fredo said.

Moments later, he was in his car, following Ola and Mortie White-shoes to Hollywood. They stopped at the Musso amp; Frank Grill. The place was packed, but one of those high-backed mahogany booths with the padded red leather seats miraculously opened up.

“My kind of place,” Fredo said. “Best martinis in L.A. if not the whole world. Stirred, not shaken, which, take it from an Italian, is the right way to make a martini.”

At a place with lesser martinis or less private booths, on a day that had gone better for Fredo than this one, who knows what might have happened? Fredo didn’t think of himself as a weak man, but he’d certainly look back on this as a weak moment. Ola and Whiteshoes explained that their boss and Fredo’s brother were involved in a big deal of some sort. They claimed not to know what it was about; Cuba wasn’t mentioned. Ola said that Michael was being unreasonable in the negotiations. On a better day, Fredo might have understood that was a fancy way of saying that Roth wanted Michael killed. All Fredo could think of at the time was that, when it came to his own big brother, Michael was unreasonable about everything. Fredo tried to poker-face it, but even under the best of circumstances, he was no good at that.

Ola said that if Fredo could help out with things-just some simple information that might help confirm things about the Family’s position and assets, nothing major-that there’d be something in it for him. They were open to talking about what that might be. A cash bonus, maybe.

That was when Whiteshoes chimed in and said that a little bird told him something about some kind of city of the dead Fredo was planning out in New Jersey. “I only know what my friend Jules Segal told me,” Mortie said, “but from the sound of it, I gotta say, I like the sound of it.”

( From The Fred Corleone Show, March 23, 1959 [final episode]. )

FRED CORLEONE: Ladies and gentlemen, on our show tonight we were supposed to have a very special guest, but as you can see we don’t. We’re going to have a guest, that is, and I said the wrong thing in implying that this other guest-I’m getting ahead of myself. That the other one’s not special. He is. Great fella. I’m not… ( Looks down; rubs his face with both hands. ) I should keep this simple. Nobody wants me to make it complicated. Miss Deanna Dunn, who as you may know… What I mean to say is that despite what was in the newspaper there, our guest tonight is not Miss Deanna Dunn. (Looks offstage.) I don’t need to say more than that, do I?

VOICE OF DIRECTOR: ( Inaudible )

FRED CORLEONE: Not really. (Turns back to face the camera.) Don’t worry, folks. With no further to-do, not to mention that there hasn’t been any to-do here in the first place, let’s welcome our first guest. Here he is, a fine actor who is now making a movie with Mr. Johnny Fontane and that whole crew, about robbing casinos, they tell me, which I can’t wait to hear more about, put your hands together for Mr. Robert Chadwick.

(Recorded applause. This is the only episode that used it, even though the show had dispensed with the live audience several episodes earlier.)

ROBERT CHADWICK ( waving at the nonexistent audience ): Thanks, everyone. Thanks, Freddie.

FRED CORLEONE: No, thank you, Bobby. You’re a lifesaver, comin’ in at the last minute.

ROBERT CHADWICK: Don’t mention it. Believe me, I’ve been second choice to movie stars a lot less legendary than Deanna Dunn.

FRED CORLEONE: You’re obviously being ironical, and I appreciate it. Though in seriousness, a good-lookin’ guy like you, leading-man material, classy British accent, I wouldn’t think that’d be the case. Most of the roles you get, you’re the first choice, right?

ROBERT CHADWICK: The scripts I see have been read by so many other actors, they have more coffee stains on the pages than words. But I must say, it does beat working for a living.

FRED CORLEONE: What?

ROBERT CHADWICK: I said, it’s a living.

FRED CORLEONE: Sorry. I’m sorry. I was just-

ROBERT CHADWICK: It’s fine. By the way, I wanted to say I was sorry to hear about your mother. I lost my own mother last year, so I know what you’re going through. It’s not something you really ever get over.

FRED CORLEONE ( frowning ): You know what I’m- ? (Closes his eyes, nods, stops frowning.) Right. Of course… thanks.

ROBERT CHADWICK: I tell you what I truly believe, though. A philosophy of life, if you will. Between losing your mother and-I know you don’t want to talk about it on the air, but I just want to say I’m also sorry things didn’t work out with your lady.

FRED CORLEONE: Thank you.

ROBERT CHADWICK: But between those two misfortunes, I can just about guarantee you that your luck’s about to change.

FRED CORLEONE: Just about, huh?

ROBERT CHADWICK ( looking into the camera ): So, ladies, line up! This galoot next to me’s on the open market again!

FRED CORLEONE: That’ll be a while yet. Before I-

ROBERT CHADWICK: Sure. But there’s a lot of fish in the sea.

FRED CORLEONE: That’s what they say. You’re a happily married man these days, I hear.

ROBERT CHADWICK: I am. Seven years this month, actually.

FRED CORLEONE: To a great girl. She’s the sister of Governor Jimmy Shea, if I’m not mistaken.

ROBERT CHADWICK: She is.

FRED CORLEONE: Whattaya think, our next president?

ROBERT CHADWICK: Margaret?

FRED CORLEONE: No, Governor Shea. Oh, right. Good one.