AN INTERVIEW WITH BOBBY MORRIS

An Oral History Conducted by Cork Proctor

Southern Nevada Jewish Heritage Project Oral History Research Center at UNLV University Libraries University of Nevada Las Vegas

©Southern Nevada Jewish Community Digital Heritage Project

University of Nevada Las Vegas, 2014

Produced by: The Oral History Research Center at UNLV – University Libraries Director: Claytee D. White Project Manager: Barbara Tabach Transcriber: Kristin Hicks Interviewers: Barbara Tabach, Claytee D. White Editors and Project Assistants: Maggie Lopes

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The recorded interview and transcript have been made possible through the generosity of a

Library Services and Technology Act (LSTA) Grant. The Oral History Research Center enables students and staff to work together with community members to generate this selection of first- person narratives. The participants in this project thank University of Nevada Las Vegas for the support given that allowed an idea the opportunity to flourish.

The transcript received minimal editing that includes the elimination of fragments, false starts, and repetitions in order to enhance the reader’s understanding of the material. All measures have been taken to preserve the style and language of the narrator. In several cases photographic sources accompany the individual interviews with permission of the narrator.

The following interview is part of a series of interviews conducted under the auspices of the Southern Nevada Jewish Heritage Project.

Claytee D. White Director, Oral History Research Center University Libraries University of Nevada Las Vegas

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PREFACE

When he was ten years old, Bobby Morris (born Boruch Moishe Stempelman) immigrated from Wilno, Poland to Brooklyn, New York in 1937. His passion for drumming was ignited soon after, and he began shining shoes to pay for drumming lessons from Henry Adler. At the age of thirteen, he Morris got his first gig playing at the Musicians Union in the Catskill Mountains during the summer. He soon develops a career playing jazz around town with different artists while simultaneously studying at the Manhattan School of Music.

In 1950, Morris moved to Las Vegas to play in the orchestra at the Last Frontier Hotel and Casino, working with artists like Liberace and Ronald “Ronnie” Reagan. Over the next several years, he had an exciting and distinguished career as a jazz musician, playing in lounges, on studio albums and even at a presidential inauguration, with artists like Louis Prima and Keely Smith, Judy Garland, Eddie Fisher, and eventually with Elvis Presley as his musical director. In addition, Morris started his own agency – the Bobby Morris Agency – and managed acts like Robert Goulet and Keely Smith.

This interview conducted by Cork Proctor and is part of the Arnold Shaw Collection at UNLV University Libraries Special Collections. It has been added to the Southern Nevada Jewish Heritage Project with Mr. Morris’s permission.

In this conversation, Morris reflects upon his career, how he got started as a musician, and the wide range of influential artists he has worked with over the years, as a drummer, musical director and talent manager. Stories include playing with Louis Prima, live and on his albums; serving as Elvis’ musical director; filling in for Frank Sinatra’s drummer; entertaining Howard Hughes; and playing at President John F. Kennedy’s inauguration.

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

Interview with Bobby Morris September 7, 2004 by Cork Proctor in Las Vegas, Nevada

Preface………………………………………………………………………………………..…..iv Mentions first Las Vegas gigs, at Last Frontier, Sahara, after hours at Black Magic; playing timbales, congas and bongos in New York City before moving to Las Vegas. Talks about getting recruited by Sam Butera to join Louis Prima’s band; playing his shuffle style for him; recording albums with him; playing shows around the country, including The Ed Sullivan Show……….1-7

Continues talking about working with Louis Prima; the demise of Louis Prima and Keely Smith as personal and musical duo; challenges to working with Louis Prima. Discusses going to work for Keely Smith as solo act. Shares memories of Buddy Rich; touring with him, and George Kawaguchi, in Japan. Joins Bobby Darwin’s show; leads to playing short gig with Sinatra…8-21

Reflects upon introduction to music as a child in New York City; shining shoes to pay for lessons with Henry Adler; joining union, Local 802. Remembers first paid gig in Catskill Mountains. More about working with Louis Prima. Talks about working for the relief band when in between gigs in Las Vegas. Shares story of playing with Danny Thomas. Discusses serving as entertainment director for Harvey’s in Lake Tahoe; success as booking agent..…22-30

Recounts experience of playing for Howard Hughes. Mentions Stan Levy; Dick Foster; working with entertainment directors Mo Lewis, Herbie Victors, Bill DeAngelis; Jack Entratter. Discusses booking agency business. Mentions playing for Eddie Fisher; playing on The Ed Sullivan Show, and one show where parents were in audience….…………………………..31-37

Reflects on playing in the Latin Quarter, for people like Peter Lawford, John F. Kennedy; playing at President Kennedy’s inauguration. Discusses how became Elvis Presley’s musical director at the International Hotel and Casino, and, at length, about serving in that role. Stories also include Sammy Shore, Art Vasquez, Sonny West, Colonel Parker……………………..38-49

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Shares stories involving Mafia, including one about Chick Keeney and Buddy Rich; another with Eddie Fisher and Sam Giancana in Mexico; receiving gift from Tony Accardo’s son Jerry. More stories involving friend Jackie Gayle, at Hugh Hefner’s house; Ben Slutsky; Liberace. Talks about how Garwood Van recruited him to Las Vegas and their first gigs, including with Ted Fio Rito…………………………………………………………………………………………...50-56

Talks about early work in New York City, working with lots of name jazz players; getting job with Sammy Kaye. Tells story about becoming involved in representing a man falsely representing himself as Elvis Presley Jr. Talks about representing Elvis impersonator Johnny Harra; Joe Julian. Discuss interviewer Cork Proctor’s career. Mentions more about relationship with Buddy Rich; Jim McDonald; Georgie Carr. Comments on Abracadabra show, working to bring show to Las Vegas……………………………………………………………………..57-69

Mentions current gigs with jazz group; booking Louis Prima in Reno at the Resorts International; beef between Sam Butera and Frank Sinatra. More about John F. Kennedy, Elvis…………70-77

Index...... 78-80

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Here we are with Bobby Morris in his building on East Sahara. Today is Tuesday and it's

voting day in Vegas. It's Cork Proctor about to interview Elvis' conductor, Elvis' drummer,

Elvis' everything and a guy with a hell of a background and also a hell of a drummer.

We're going to cut up some stories over the last forty-five years. When I first met

Bobby, I think he was at the Sahara with Louis and I was the lifeguard. Does that ring a bell, 1955?

Nineteen fifty-five.

Was Harvey on the gig then? Did you replace Harvey or he replaced you?

He replaced me, and then I replaced him again. I left to go with the Jodimars.

Right. Joey, Dick and Marshall.

That's right. I was there for about five or six years with Louis and Keely, and then the Jodimars offered me the job because it paid more money. So I left. Then the Jodimars broke up because they were all chiefs and no Indians.

Did you work Harold's Club with them?

I worked Harold's Club.

That's probably where we met.

[Pause in recording]

We're talking about the Jodimars and Harold's Club. I remember that stripper. I had a wonderful time with her. Her name was Elenita Patia. Do you remember her? She was going with Marshall Page.

Several things have crossed my mind on the way over here to interview you. Among them was that your reputation came far before we met. Andy Thomas used to tell me you were probably one of the best timbale and Latin players in New York City in the late forties,

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early fifties, which is high marks.

Yes. I used to play timbales and congas and bongos at the Latin Casino in New York. I would see them with (Freaky Campos). In fact, (Tito Cante) would come in, and there was Chia Pozo and

Chano Pozo and we would have a session, all rhythm; I would play timbales and everybody would take off like a certain...until then they got tired. Then it would be my turn; I would take off and they would play kind of for me. I came to Las Vegas, and Ted Fio Rito was looking for a drummer and I didn't have a card. [It was] October 2, 1950. I came with Garwood Van.

You must have been eight, nine years old at least.

That's right. I was eleven.

Yeah, right.

I came with Garwood Van at the Last Frontier. We played for all the shows. It was a show and it was an eighteen-week engagement. Ted Fio Rito, at the end of eighteen weeks, was looking for a drummer, but I needed to have a card. He auditioned every drummer and they were unacceptable.

But being that I did play Latin, they had me audition in front of the union board. They would come down to make sure that I wouldn't take somebody else's gig. He hired me and I stayed on with them for a couple of years and did all these shows at that time—Sophie Tucker, Ted Lewis,

Harry Richman, Liberace and Ronald Reagan. Ronald Reagan was doing a stand-up with song and dance. Then I stayed on in Las Vegas and started doing jazz things at the Black Magic.

Paradise and Tropicana.

At Paradise and Tropicana. Everybody from all the big bands would come in. Tommy Dorsey was in town at the time, and Benny Goodman and Count Basie, and Harry James was always at the

Flamingo. Stan Kenton would come in. Cy Coleman Trio would come in and play with us. I had a group at the Sahara called Jack Prince and the Paupers.

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I remember him. He was huge.

Yes, he was big. He was a singer with Harry James. I put a group together—(Dee Locito) on bass, (Ruby Egen) on piano, (Jimmy Cook) on tenor, and myself. It was a wonderful little group.

Great players.

Everything was [voicing musical beat] just a swing. As we're there indefinitely, Louis Prima came in with Keely Smith, but he came in with a group. They were playing these big band arrangements, broken down from the big band charts.

What year is this, Bobby?

This is 1953. He came in with that. Sam Butera and "Little Red" were not on the band yet. But he had Phil something on drums. They finally carried him off because he was a stone head. The saxophone player was playing violin and saxophone. It did okay.

But it didn't swing.

Nothing happened well enough for them to call them back. I believe Stan Irwin was the entertainment director then.

Yes, he was.

Milton Prell was the owner. Louis and Keely were great, but nothing was happening. He came back a second time and I was still there. He came back with Sam Butera on tenor, "Little Red" on trombone, Willie McCumber on piano, Dick Johnson on drums, and Amato Rodriquez on bass. Of course, it was much better, but there was still something lacking.

So Sam started coming down to the Black Magic to sit in and he started romancing me to come on with the band. He says, "Hey, Louis Prima wants to talk to you." I said, "What for?" He says, "Well, about coming..." I said, "I'm happy. Hey, listen, I'm making a hundred and fifty dollars a week. I'm happy doing what I'm doing." And I'm enjoying playing and everybody is like

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the jazz gig in town. So he said, "Well, please come down and talk to him. What have you got to

lose?"

I came down and met with Louis Prima in his home, and he kind of hypnotized me. When

he talks, it puts you in a trance. He said, "Kid, listen, we're going to be called the comedy

hour/comedy act of Frank Sinatra."

Ed Sullivan.

The Ed Sullivan Shows, the Dean Martin, Dinah Shore every two weeks. He asked, "How much are you making now?" He says, "I'll give you two hundred." It was a lot of money, fifty dollars more because the scale in town was a hundred and ten dollars.

So I took it. But I said, "I have an idea and I'd like to"—, I had worked with Willie

McCumber in New York in the Catskill Mountains. I was with Latin then; he was with a show band. He was a trumpet player then, but he became an excellent piano player. Amato Rodriguez was a big bass player, but still nothing was happening in the rhythm section and they wanted to make a change with Dick Johnson. Dick Johnson was a sweet guy, but...What can I say? They wanted me to come on and it was fifty dollars a week more. I didn't want to replace him, but they were going to replace him.

I went with Willie and Amato and said, "I've got this idea." Before then, the shuffle thing was on the closed high, had those two handles [making beat]. It was okay, but it was kind of like

Henry Busse type of shuffle. I said, "I have an idea and I'd like to try something." I told Billy,

"[Making beat].” "Figure in [making beat]. You’re going to continue forward." I said, "I'll do a shuffle with my left hand, but when it goes to two hands, I'll do it with one hand and I'll do time with the right hand." So we started the shuffle thing by ourselves as a rhythm section and we played that for Louis Prima and he went crazy.

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It started off with "I'm Just a Gigolo," nice and slow everything, to ding, ding, ding, ding,

ding, ding, ding to "When Your Smiling" and "The Sheik of Araby," up tempo, and "I'll Be Glad

When You're Dead, You Rascal You," and whatever have you.

You had the chops to play it.

It was hard and I had to work at it. I had to practice and work at it to do it because I created the first shuffle and now I had to play it at whatever tempo he wanted. I couldn't back out. It became very exciting and we recorded. We went to Los Angeles to do the Capitol album, "The Wildest!"

From "The Wildest!" there's tunes now being used in many movies, like all the Robert De Niro movies, Mr. Saturday Night with Billy Crystal, Analyze This, Analyze That. The Elf just came on

and they had a soundtrack with Sharon Stone. Just numerous. I get a residual check about every

month.

It's hard to believe he's been dead twenty-six years, isn't it?

Yes, very much. Anyhow, it created a sound. It created a feel. It created an excitement that I

don't think anything has come up since then—

"Busa Nova" would be the exception.

—to create that kind of an excitement where you have everybody in the audience clapping either

on one and three or two and four; it didn't matter. They just went crazy because it just kept

building and building. Louis Prima, not being the best technical trumpet player in the world, was a

tremendous rhythm player. [Making beat] I was just swing between Louis and Sam and "Little

Red," and now we have the rhythm thing going.

You got to play.

We had the rhythm thing going. By the way, I picked up a cymbal in Sam Butera brother's backyard in New Orleans; it was hidden in sand and had been there maybe for fifteen years. His

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brother, “Little Joe,” said, "I've got the right cymbal for you." When I got the cymbal out, you would hit it and [making noise], all kinds of overtones. I took about fifty sizzles on it and that cymbal became very famous. Every drummer from Shelly Manne and Jack Sterling with Wes

Brown and Shelly Manne. It had the right definition now with [making noise] getting the sound.

Of course, Louis liked that bass drum thing.

The bottom end, between the bass drum and the high hat and the snare drum, was always great.

Yes.

Is that lick called the Flam Tap? What is that called? I know there's a term for it. I think you and I talked about it once…On the shuffle.

The shuffle would start at eight-sixteenths notes. [Making beat] Against time [making beat].

However, the two and four must come together at the exact same time to get that [making beat], to get that feel. In rhythm, in time, in monotony there is swing of when you don't vary from the time.

A lot of drummers would do a lot of fills.

They're busy.

Every time they get busy doing something it takes way from the time. So we had the time thing going on all the recordings and everywhere we went, as you know, Cork, because you're one of the historians, one of the classics, and certainly you were here at that particular time and saw it happen.

I saw a lot of great stuff.

Yes. From that point on, it took off and we started traveling and doing all the shows that he said.

And Louis wouldn't fly?

He would not fly, so he'd have to drive. There was one town we got him to fly to, but we got him

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stoned; we got him drunk. It was in San Francisco. Then when he woke up and he realized—it was coast to coast and we stopped in Chicago—he was on the plane, he got off and he hired a cab to drive him to Las Vegas.

That's funny.

Yes. It was amazing. Then we went and did the Moulin Rouge in Hollywood, the Copacabana in

New York, and we started doing The Ed Sullivan Shows. Ed Sullivan became one of the biggest fans. He was there every night at the Copacabana and he had us do more time than anybody. I was amazed; I didn't realize how many shows I did until somebody came to the Showboat when I had that New Orleans jazz band there. They said, "If you'll let us record 'Closer Walk,' I'll give you something that you'll be very happy with." I said, "You don't have to give me anything; just go ahead and record it." But after—he did record it—he brought this tape and it was done before they had VHS tape. He brought the tape over and on it was eight Ed Sullivan Shows.

Kinescope.

Kinescope. They took it off kinescope and they put it on VHS later on. It was eight Ed Sullivan

Shows and it was wonderful. I'll give you a tape; you will really enjoy it because it just captures all the excitement on television.

I didn't realize the impact we were getting until I came back to Las Vegas and every lounge group in the world was playing...copied off the album.

Yes. I was working with Kaye Stevens and she said, "I like that sound of Bobby Morris." I said, "Okay, I can do that." I never did it as well as you did, but I was adequate, and then the guys that replaced me. But I think the power came from doing it night after night after night because we used to walk in and go, "He must warm up for two hours before he goes to work." Because you can't walk up there cold and start playing those tempos. Your arms

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would fall off.

No, you can’t. I did about an hour. But later, when Louis Prima and Keely Smith broke up— because we worked at the place in New Jersey, The Latin Casino. It sat twenty-two hundred people and there was twenty-two hundred people every night.

Here is a story I think that you're going to enjoy. This was the beginning of the breakup of

Louis Prima and Keely Smith. Louis and Keely had a chemistry going second to none. It was one of those that happens once every ten or twenty years. We're working the Latin Casino. There was a line of girls, too, that would open the show, kind of like the Muriel Landers dancers years ago at the Flamingo.

Barry Ashton, bigger hats.

After the show—there was (John Navy) and I think (Luciano) and myself—we drive to the motel where we're staying. Every night we're staying there and we're just talking about everything. Here comes Louis Prima with a girl, and sitting in the corner in the dark, he's making out with this girl and we're watching.

Nobody's going to say anything.

Right. Nobody's going to say anything.

You need the gig.

Right. Right after he pulled up and he's making out with the girl, here pulls up Keely Smith in a

Corvette. She jumps out of the car and she starts pulling on the girl's hair and pulling her head.

She's pissed off. The girl said, "What are you mad at me for? Blame it on him."

Whatever. She didn't show up the next night at the Latin Casino and we had to finish the engagement without her. That was the end of Keely Smith; she left.

I remained with Louis. I had come back. I left the first time—I was there maybe four or

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five years—I left the first time and went with the group called The Jodimars because they were

paying me a hundred and fifty dollars a week more than what I was making with Louis.

And Louis was silly to let you go.

At that time, I was making three hundred and fifty, which was a lot of money. They offered me a

partnership, five hundred, and they were going to Harold's Club and the Sands.

Lake Tahoe.

So I left and Harvey Lang and (Cliff Ride)— there was a couple of drummers that came on and

both were good. Then something happened.

They had the car wreck with the guitar player Bobby Robertson. Harvey clipped a car.

In about '58? Is that when you came back?

Right. Something happened and I'm back in town and I get a call from Sam. I left The Jodimars

because it wasn't happening and I was embarrassed, frankly.

Well, it was beneath your standard of playing.

I was embarrassed because it just wasn't happening entertainment-wise and music-wise. I left and the group broke up because everybody wanted to be a leader. I came back to Las Vegas and got a call from Sam. "Hey, Bobby, would you like to come back?" I said, "Would I like to come back?

Sure." I came back and stayed a few more years. It was a lot of fun playing with the group.

Was Louis tough to work for? The reason I'm asking you that is not to dredge up old bad memories, but I think there was a rumor going around that you and Louis didn't talk for about three months. He was pissed off about something and you guys had a beef.

Right.

But he liked your playing so much, he didn't fire you.

Thank you for bringing that up. Let me tell you what happened. We did a thing up at Lake Tahoe,

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"The Wild Show," and it was a movie.

Were you at the Calneva?

No. We were at Harrah's. We did a movie on the thing. We were all playing and all kind of

people are around by the lake and all that, excitement and a lot of fun. To put it in the movie, we

had to go to Universal Studios in Hollywood. There was like Tony Curtis and Debbie Reynolds, a

whole bunch of people who were signed to Universal at the time. He gave us all earphones to

listen to and on it, like this [making beat]. It was click, click, click, click, one, three, one, three,

click, click. Everybody's conception of that click was different. So who's he going to blame it on?

The easiest one to blame it on is the drummer because that's the one he could understand.

Of course.

I got very disturbed and we had some words and we didn't talk for about two months. Every time

we were at the Sahara, he would pass by. I had the big single and his big belly would pass me by,

not talking to me. Then finally he started talking to me. Then we went into Hollywood to do a

recording of "5 Months, 2 Weeks, 2 Days," which is, by the way, going to be in a movie, a

Christmas movie that's coming out. In the recording, he wanted me to play brushes. So I played

brushes [making beat]. Right in between the brushes he wanted me to drop the brushes and pick

up the sticks in one beat. In one beat.

At that tempo.

At that tempo. I'm playing [making beat] and I'm supposed to drop the brushes and pick up the

sticks in one beat. He comes over and starts yelling to me. I said, "Listen. Get Shelly Manne,

Alvin Stoller, get anybody you want. Let them come and play brushes and drop it and pick up sticks in one beat." He said that I kicked over the drums, but I didn't. But what I did do is I said,

"Listen, let me play it with sticks very softly [making beat] on the closed high hat, then open up a

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little bit." We did one take and it was perfect.

And that pissed him off because you knew more than he did.

That pissed him off and for the next two months he didn't talk to me again, maybe three months.

So he didn't talk to me and he would pass by. It was a little disturbing, him not talking to me. But

I said, "It's better this way."

The second part of the rumor was that Louis, because of his voracious appetite, did a lot of farts up there, and purposefully he directed at lot them towards you. Somebody said that he would back up and just crank one out. They said Bobby is sitting back there and his eyes are running because Louis has had peppers and salami.

That's right. But listen to this. When he finally started talking to me, it was a night that it was absolutely—

Perfect night.

—everything happens. Sammy Davis and Frank Sinatra, everybody was in the audience.

The band was smoking.

Smoking. He introduces everybody. This time, before for months he'd go, "And Bobby Morris on drums." Then he introduced me. He said, "Ladies and gentlemen, I want you to meet the most improved drummer in America."

What a funny thing to say.

That went on. That ended, as I said; we were at Harrah's. I gave notice because Keely was offering me at least twice or maybe two and a half times as much to go with her for a couple of years and she had every job lined up that we did with Louis and Keely.

Did you know they were making fifty thousand dollars a week at the DI? It's in the book I'm going to loan you.

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One of the reasons that...I was going to leave.

Going to go back to The Jodimars.

No. We were at the Sahara. Now they're going into the DI. He said, "Well, I'm going to give you all two and a half times what you're making. We were making three hundred and fifty a week. So two and a half times is eight hundred and seventy-five dollars a week. It was like seven nights a week and we had to dance with the girls and I did a drum solo. The elevator would leave with the shadows on the screen. And we're dancing. Donn Arden did the choreography.

I saw it. It was a rickshaw. Somebody rolled in a rickshaw.

That's right. We broke all the records, Judy Garland's record, everybody that was at the Desert Inn in the main showroom. At the end of the week—I was making three fifty, right?—I get a check.

How much do you think it was?

Four fifty.

Four hundred.

Oh, Louis.

Four hundred. He was the cheapest person on earth.

He doesn't come across good in the book, either.

No. He was not a nice person.

Tough guy.

[Pause in recording]

That night.

Said, "Goodbye, Louis."

Including me. He told Sam to scrabble and "Little Red." Everybody was leaving.

He lied to you.

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Right. He called me in. He knew he could take and replace the others.

[End Tape 1, Side A]

This is the B side with Bobby Morris. It's still Tuesday, Election Day, and we're having a

great time telling some old stories. Bobby, of course, is a consummate drummer,

entertainment director, close, personal friend of Elvis.

We're winding up here with the end of Louis. So your total time with Louis from

years to years one more time.

I started about '53. I was with him about five years, till about '58. Then I left for maybe a year and

a half, and he had a couple of drummers that came on. Then I went back in about '59, and stayed

for a couple more years until about '61 or '62. I was at Harrah's in Lake Tahoe and I got a call

from Keely Smith. I told you that they had broken up.

Yes.

Keely offered me unheard of money at the time; I guess it was something like twelve hundred a

week, which was terrific.

She was making it and she wasn't afraid to spend it.

That's right.

Plus she knew you were going to show up every night, sober and play the shit out of her

charts. That's why she was paying you well.

Right. I proceeded in giving my notice to Sam and Louis, but I made the mistake by telling them that I was leaving and going with Keely, which was not very smart.

But I tried to be truthful with them. I said, "Listen, this job isn't going to be for a few months yet, but I'll stay with you until we do Las Vegas and until you get a new drummer and help you out. They fired me that night.

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Yes. Louis was very petty.

Yes. They fired me that night and I didn't even get a two weeks' notice, after eight years.

Was Sam doing the firing then or was Louis doing it?

It was Louis. Sam was just one of the musicians. Louis created the name Sam Butera and the

Witnesses, as he created Keely Smith, because he was a very smart businessman. There would be

Louis Prima, then he would put Louis Prima and Keely Smith, and then it would be Louis Prima with Keely Smith and Sam Butera and the Witnesses. So now when he was going to go into the

Desert Inn and he wanted fifty thousand a week, he said, "Well, you're not just getting Louis

Prima. You're getting Louis Prima, Keely Smith, Sam Butera and the Witnesses." All our names were identified on the marquee. I've got a brochure I could share with you. We were going to get two and a half times as much and certainly we deserved it because they were making fifty thousand a week and we were working seven nights a week.

Two shows? Eight and twelve?

Two shows a night.

They had dinner shows then, didn't they?

Two shows a night, seven nights a week. Donn Arden taught us how to dance with the girls. We would come down and dance with the girls, too. Everyone was featured and all that. It was a great time.

None of us knew that it was going to end. We all thought—and I speak for all the musicians and guys including Shecky and Herb Jeffries that I've interviewed. They all said the same thing—we couldn't believe it when it was over; what happened?

It was wonderful times. It was tremendous times. I stayed on with Keely and we did a couple of years; we played all the ones that we did with [Louis]. Unfortunately, Keely was very good, but

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the chemistry was not there because there was something missing—

There was nobody to bounce off of.

—as there was missing when Keely left Louis. There was a tremendous hole. Keely tried to do the things by herself. We worked all the rooms, Copacabana.

The Latin Quarter, the Latin Casino, everything.

Every room. Moulin Rouge in Hollywood. Everything that we did with Louis. But we did like one time on everything.

They were spoiled, too, because they were used to seeing the two of them. But, god, she's a good singer. I listen to the things she recorded with Frank Sinatra four years ago.

She is tremendous. She just did an album with a studio band in Hollywood, and it was just wonderful.

And Keely is seventy, sixty-eight, sixty-nine?

Keely is in her seventies, maybe seventy-two, seventy-three. But Keely left and I stayed with her a couple of years and then that ended and she signed with Frank Sinatra's (local with trees). She called me up and they flew me to Hollywood to do an album called “That Old Black Magic.” On the album was everything that we did with Louis and Keely, but she was doing it on her own with a Hollywood studio band. (Shirley Sharock, Al Casino, Bonnie Kessel, Jim Andragon, Frank

Russell) All the best players in Hollywood were on this album. We opened up and here I am with a suitcase and I go into the studio, and Shelly Manne and Alvin Stoller are assigned to the studio on staff. They've got to do something because they're on the thing. And we're opening with (Rain is Smiling) [making beat], the whole thing. I keep hearing in back of me, "Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit." And I didn't know why, like if they were liking it or if they were pissed off or something.

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Which is very distracting to have somebody sitting behind you.

That's right. They're playing their cow bell, some stupid thing. A nonessential thing just so that they would get paid because they have to pay them anyhow. I got off after that medley and I said,

"Shelly, what's wrong?" He says, "How the fuck do you do that and live? How can you do what you're doing and survive?"

We used to all come down and watch you because you were a great role model. It's like going to watch Charlton Heston as an actor. We would sit there. I remember (Dick Revere) when he took my place with Kaye Stevens.

He's still around.

Yes, he's still around somewhere. He owns an International House of Pancakes or something.

Yes, they were at the Latin Casino, and Dick was a good player. He was playing drums.

Luckily he saw the end of the business coming before a lot of us did and he got out.

He is a charming man.

Yes. I saw him a couple of months ago. Anyway, we would go there and there were or four other guys in town. We would go down and watch. I would just say, "Man, that's incredible." The big thing is that for the unknowing it's impressive to play all that shit, but if you don't play all the right time behind it...Danny Barcelona one time I remember calling up

Marty Napoleon and saying, "How can Louis Armstrong play with that drummer? That fucking time was everywhere, except [knocking on the table] and it's so weird." Marty said,

"You know what? Louis's in his own bag; he doesn't even know who's back there."

That's right.

He just knows, hey, (Tired Glen).

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I had the opportunity, I was at the Riviera with Tony Martin and Danny got sick for a week and I sat in with Louis Armstrong. He was very complimentary.

I've got to tell you another story. When we were playing at the Sahara lounge, working hard, to the point where, if you had been watching...the light was right in my eyes and I started blinking.

They only had one spotlight, didn't they?

Yes, and it was right in my eyes. If I didn't watch him every second, he would change the tune and tempo in one beat just to be a horrible person, just to throw us off.

Try to hang the band.

I would watch him. We were doing a whole bunch of things where we open up and they're just romping and he's digging in trumpet, trombone. Buddy Rich started coming in. I never went over to say hello to him. I'm not a politician.

But you knew him from New York?

Yes. I'll tell you the story. Buddy Rich was with Harry James and he started coming in every night. I didn't go over to say hello. He's sitting at the Silver Slipper having breakfast with Chick

Keeney, who was a drummer for Freddie Bell, wonderful drummer.

Found him in the back of a car.

I'll tell you that story. Oh, I've got stories.

They're having breakfast and I'm having breakfast. Chick is a good friend of mine. I'm passing by and say, "Hi, Chick." I didn't say hello to Buddy. He's sitting with Buddy. Buddy grabbed my arm. He says, "Hey, what the fuck do I have to do, win a (dombie pole) before you say hello?" I went, "Well, Buddy, I didn't say hello because I heard from young drummers that would come over and say, 'Hi I'm a drummer,' that you would say, 'That's nice kid, fuck off.'

17

Frankly, I didn't want to—" He says, "Why do you think I've been coming in every night? You're an animal, a real fucking animal." So we became friends.

Stan Irwin was managing him when he was getting his big band. I'll show you pictures of me with Buddy's big band. He said, "Buddy wants you to come on and play with his big band." I said, "Buddy's a great drummer. Why does he need me?" He said, "No, no, he wants you to come on and play and read the charts down because—

He doesn't read that well.

—and he wants you." And I read well. I did that and stayed with his band for about a year.

What a great opportunity.

It was wonderful. But the thing is he's sadistic. He's asinine. He's a very biting personality.

When we would play—now, I played the "West Side Story" down, so I knew that. Finally, when he learned it, he played the hell out of it. I was relegated to bongos. I was a big bongo player. We would clap hands [making beat]. I would play bongos and he would play drums. Then we would exchange, eighths and sixteenths and whatever. Then I would do a long bongo solo. At the end of the bongo solo, my hands were like hammers, swollen.

Come over and play. Yes, I knew what was going on.

What do you think caused that? "West Side Story." "West Side Story" is all kinds of drumming in between leading the band in and playing then a long drum solo.

Was it nine-eight or six-eight?

Oh, nine-eight and six-eight and whatever. My hands were like absolute hammers.

Frozen.

Frozen. He's very sadistic. That's another one.

Yes. He was a judo instructor in the marines, tough guy.

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Anyhow, he and I were good friends. I said, "Look, Buddy, you don't need me. You've got all the things."

Was the money good?

Yes. It paid all right. It was just fun being with him.

He had some great players.

Yes. I'll show you the picture. It's on the wall.

Was Sal Nistico on that band?

I don't think so.

He was on Woody's band.

All the great players were on it. That was a real good experience being with Buddy. Later on, my god, Corky—Cork.

I like Corky.

I was in Japan and was playing at the Latin Casino with (NAME) Band, and I was kind of like a house player. He was doing a drum concert tour with Philly Joe Jones and Elvin Jones. They both got busted for pot. In Japan, they don't have to prove that you're guilty; you have to prove that you're innocent. They’re in jail and he's stuck. He called me. He said, "Bobby, I've got to have you to finish the deal." So I finished the tour with him, and George Kawaguchi. I needed drums.

I called up Slingerland Drum Company. I said, "I'm doing this tour with Buddy Rich," which I got

Buddy Rich with Slingerland because they were paying fifty thousand dollars a year and I got him to leave Rogers at the time. "I need a set of drums. I can't take the drums out from the Latin

Casino because it's...I'm going to leave them there—

It was a house drum set.

—because when I come back, I'm going to do that."

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At the time, I had Bobby Morris 5A Model. It was one of the biggest sellers. The Gene

Krupa model, the Buddy Rich, and my model. Everybody liked the 5A Model, too.

Two bass drums?

Yes, two bass drums. So I called up Budd Slingerland, and said, "Budd, I'm going to be doing this

tour with Buddy Rich and George Kawaguchi.” He knew George Kawaguchi; he was the

number-one drummer in Japan. "I need drums right away." There were bass drums, all the

cymbals, all the hardware, and a thousand pair of sticks because I'm going to be giving it out and

I'll be promoting Slingerland drums.

Sure. Good marketing.

The next day there was the first set double bass drums, two tom-toms, the cymbals, the whole shot,

a thousand pair of drum sticks and a thousand pictures of me, Bobby Morris Slingerland Drums.

We did the tour, and I gave out sticks, and I resigned when my hand got tired from signing

pictures. It was a wonderful experience.

I came back after the tour and I stayed on in Japan and worked at the (NAME). I got tired

of Japan and came back to Las Vegas. I joined Bobby Darin and traveled with him.

This is a story I think you're going to really get a kick out of. I'm working at the Eden Roc

with Bobby Darin.

Miami.

Yes. Bobby liked a drummer that dug in. He would be hanging around the Sahara. We got to be

friends. So we're working at the Eden Roc in Miami and next door is Frank Sinatra. Our shows

weren't exactly at the same time, so I was able to go to see the show. And Irv Cottler, the

drummer, was a dear good friend and we were on a lot of studio things together in Hollywood. I would sit on the stand unobtrusively because I loved the arrangements. I loved Frank Sinatra.

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Our job ended at the Eden Roc, and we had about a week or two off. Irv Cottler got very,

very ill. They took him to the hospital. They're stuck. Jilly Rizzo came and said, "Bobby, we

need you." He knew I knew every goddamn arrangement. I knew every lick. I knew every move.

I knew every fill-in that Irv Cottler did.

You didn't even need to look at the book.

I didn't have to look at the book. I knew every arrangement, every fill. I said, "Yeah, okay, fine."

Sinatra must have loved that.

I did a week. He didn't know the difference. I finished the week and they called me upstairs to the

suite. I couldn't care less about money; I wasn't looking to get paid for it. It was just wonderful,

an experience. He gave me an envelope, and in the envelope was a check for five thousand

dollars.

And you were worth it because you walked in and played the show.

I think that's what Irv was making, too. He was the happiest. Frank Sinatra said, "I can't tell you

how happy I am.” We're standing in the street and he's looking through binoculars and there's a little girl in a bikini walking on the beach. He calls Jilly and says, "Get one of the boys to get her."

"Who's her?" "That girl with the bikini. Look through the binoculars." Well, anyhow, they went

and got her and in fifteen minutes she was up—beautiful little girl with a polka dot bikini, and— within fifteen minutes they were in the suite and doing whatever.

Whatever Frank had to do.

Having a nice time.

Oh, he liked to hump.

Yes.

Let me ask you about your background, which we never alluded to. Do you come from a

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musical family?

I was actually not born in this country. I was born in Poland. I came to this country at the age of ten. The only musical [person] in my family was my grandfather [who] was a military drummer. I used to love to see him in a parade.

Role model.

[Making beat] That kind of a thing. When I came to this country, I went to the community center because I liked drums and I asked them for some instruction. They gave me instructions and I thought the only kind of drums there were was military drums. I learned from the NARB, National

Association of Rhythm Blues; I learned every single lick from the rudimental drumming. Then I went to New York because I heard Benny Goodman, Gene Krupa, and I said, "I've got to see them." I was maybe twelve years old. I skipped school and went to the Paramount Theatre. I saw the band come out from the ground.

The riser.

There was Gene Krupa on drums. At that time every big band featured drummers. Gene Krupa was featured on "Sing, Sing, Sing," which became, as we all know, a big classic.

Thank you Louis Prima.

Yes. I was completely hooked then. So I'm passing by a place called Wurlitzer's and I hear a drummer playing. I said, "My God, who's your teacher?" He says, "Henry Adler." So I said,

"Where is Henry Adler at?" He said, "At the Ripley Hotel." I went to the Ripley Hotel and I asked him if he would teach me. He said, "Yes, but I charge two dollars a lesson." I said, "Okay."

Where am I going to get three dollars? I shined shoes, I mowed lawns, I did whatever I could. I would take one lesson a week and practice eight hours a day on a drum pad. He said, "You don't need drums, just a drum pad." I would practice and practice on drum pads. Then I asked him if I

22

could take two lessons a week. He said, "Well, okay, you could handle it."

He was teaching you reading and everything?

Reading, Latin and all that. You know he [wrote the] Buddy Rich book?

Oh, yes.

Henry Adler wrote that book. Everybody at that time had started with Henry. Finally, at the age

of fourteen, I got a job and joined the union, Local 802. I was standing at Local 802 and I didn't

have drums. But I joined the union and the guy that gave me the test was a drummer. He said,

"I'm going to take this kid through the lingo. All right. Do me a triple walk, a Ratamacue. Okay,

do a double like Drag Flamadiddle." Whatever. Anything he asked me, I played it.

You killed it.

Yes. He couldn't believe it. I knew every lick. I knew all the rudiments. It was fifty guys saying,

"You got it, kid; fifty dollars and you're in."

School had ended, and I went to the musicians union and stood there. Somebody said,

"Drummers. Are you a drummer?" I said, "I'm a drummer." They said, "We have a job at the

Golden Hotel with this little band. Would you like it?" I said, "Yeah. How much does it pay?"

"Fifteen dollars a week, but," he said, "it's room and board and we'll pay your bus fare up to the

Catskill Mountains."

You were still in high school?

Yes, I was fourteen years old. I didn't have drums. So I told my father, "Look, I have a job, but

I've got to get up to the Catskills and I don't have drums." He said, "Well, how much are drums?"

I said, "A hundred and fifty dollars I could get a whole set. If you lend it to me, I promise you I'll pay you back at the end of the ten-week season." I was making fifteen dollars a week. Ten times fifteen was a hundred and fifty dollars. I worked there for the summer and I brought him back the

23

hundred and fifty dollars, and he was very happy that I kept my word. Meanwhile, I had a set of drums.

But when I got the drums, I didn't know what to do with them because—

Oh, that's funny. You were used to the practice pad.

I had tremendous technique on a practice pad. I knew all the rhythm. I could do five stroke, nine stroke, thirteen stroke, whatever. I did everything. When I got the drums, I asked Henry, "How do you play a beat on a high hat? What's a high hat for?" He said, "G, D..." He taught me how to play the beat. That's how I went up there and—of course, I knew how to read. They would come and throw the music to me. Every time a comic came up and he bombed, he would blame it on the drummer.

Oh, yes. Still.

This one comic bombed out, and he blamed me at the end of the show. I was very strong and I was working all these things. I would pull five of them.

Charles Alas Springs.

Nobody was able to do five. I grabbed him and said, "Listen, if you ever blame me for your fuck-ups on stage, I'm going to take—see what I do with this? I'll pull your head right off your body, okay?" And I was only fourteen.

He got the message.

He got the message. I didn't take any shit from any acts that came up with their insecurity that they would blame on drums. I'm sure you've experienced the same thing.

Yes.

But anyhow, skipping all of that. We'll come back to Bobby Darin. And then I became the musical director at the International Hotel when it opened.

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Hold that thought just a second. I want to ask you two things that are kind of important at this juncture. I want to do the whole Elvis thing on another tape. What I wanted to do here is just ask you, if I may, what is your given name.

My name is Boruch Moishe Stempelman.

Good. Nice Jewish boy from Poland.

Right. When I came to this country and I became a drummer, Stempleman was too big on the thing. I was sixteen years old and I went down to see a lawyer who changed my name to Bobby

Morris. Everybody said, "Isn't your name Robert?" I said, "No, it's Bobby." They said, "Don't you have a name...?" I said, "No, it's Bobby Morris." So I changed my name to Bobby Morris because it fit good on the drums. Later on, my brothers, Artie and Joe, changed their name to

Sands and they wanted me to change my name to Sands. I said, "I can't." They said, "Why can't you?" I said, "Because I'm Bobby Morris."

I'm in show business and I'm already getting some identity.

That's right. People know me as Bobby Morris. And besides, there was a Bobby Sands.

[End Tape 1, Side B]

This is Tape 2, and it's Tuesday and it's Cork interviewing Bobby. We are now actually talking about the relief band in Vegas when he was in between gigs, as it were.

But I would like to finish a thought on Louis Prima. When we did the Desert Inn and everybody quit, he called me in. I was leaving, too. He said, "You can't leave." I said, "Well, you told us that we were going to make two and a half times and this is eight hundred and seventy-five dollars.

And now you're going to renege. We're working seven days a week. And now I went up to four hundred dollars." I said, "That's not right." He says, "Look, I'll tell you what, kid. The others I could replace. I'll give you another hundred dollars. You're a nice Jewish kid..." You've got a

25

Jewish cup, whatever. He said, "I'll give you another hundred dollars." At that time I said, "Well, that's five hundred a week," and that was a lot of money then. Just for principle's sake I wasn't going to leave because I needed the money.

Were you married then?

I was married and I had three kids. I needed the job.

And very few people are paying five hundred a week.

Nobody was making that.

Sinatra was paying that kind of money and that's about it.

That's right. Anyhow, that's going back to Louis Prima. But at the beginning before I joined

Louis, I was with the house band, which was the best paying job in town.

Relief band.

Yes, the relief band. The scale for house bands was up to a hundred and ten dollars a week; the relief band made about a hundred dollars more a week because they played a different show every night. One of our stops was the Rat Pack at the Sands with Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Sammy

Davis, Joey Bishop and Peter Lawford. It was exciting because every night they would make a stop and they weren't carrying drummers. I had a wonderful time playing for everybody. I would use the drummer's drums and they insisted that I didn't touch anything. So I touched nothing. If the snare pin was up here, I played up here; if it was down here, I played down there. It didn't matter.

Which made you really strong. Flexible.

Then we're playing for Danny Thomas at the Sands. This is kind of like a funny story I think you might enjoy. He's going through this soliloquy about this bird or chicken or whatever, a very dramatic type of story. I'm sitting on the drum stand and my drum stool broke and as it broke I fell

26

forward and I knocked over the bass drum. The bass drum went into the trombone section and it went into the saxophone section and the trumpets. Every stand, everything wound up on stage with Danny Thomas. Now, anybody else...I said, "This is it, man; I'm going to be fired; this is it; goodbye." But he made a very funny thing out of it. He said, "Hey, can we keep that in the show?"

He was smart.

It turned into a very funny thing and said, "Let's keep it in." Of course, we didn't keep it in. But it was just a one-night thing because that was one of my stops. Unfortunately, the drum stool had to break on my stop.

That was a very interesting part of my life, playing for different acts; just everybody—Nat

King Cole, Billy Eckstine, Billy Daniels, Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin—everybody that came to Las

Vegas.

Was there anybody beside Louis that you had a beef with?

I didn't really have a beef with Louis; he just created something. Obviously, he thought enough of me to give me a raise. But I didn't have a beef with anybody.

I enjoyed playing with the house band and we played who would come in.

Who was the leader?

It was Forest Grant.

I remember him. Forest Grant. I remember Al Johns from the Thunderbird.

You were at the Thunderbird with the Kings Four.

I was. And also with Suzie and the Night Owls, another infamous part of my career.

Kings Four was dynamite.

It was good.

27

Billy Kaye, I remember, was one of them.

I feel like a dinosaur, Bobby. They're all gone. I think Smilely, the trombone player, might—

George.

George is in Lake Tahoe.

George is still around. I think he's a chiropractor.

Yes, and he's doing very well. But Frank's gone. Billy's gone.

He used to come and visit me when I was up at Harvey's. I was entertainment director there for five years.

How did you get that job?

I heard that Frankowicz was leaving and they were looking for somebody. So I sent a resume. I'll show you the resume. I didn't get a call from Richard Kudrna, the chairman of the board. So I get concerned and I called him. I said, "Mr. Kudrna, I sent you a resume. You didn’t' answer me yet.

Could you tell me why?" He said, "Well, frankly, Bobby, I think you're overqualified for this job."

I said, "You mean about paying me, like you feel you would have to pay me a lot of money?" He said, "Yes, you'd be too expensive; we couldn't afford you." I said, "Well, how about we work something out where you don't pay me nothing and I work on a percentage of the gross?"

They like that.

A percentage of your entertainment budget. I said, "And that way I'll work within the entertainment budget; 10 percent of the entertainment budget and it won't cost you a dime and I'll be there?" I did and I changed everything. There was the lounge and there was nobody in the lounge at the time. When I came there, there was a trio playing and there was a stand-up bass player about six foot eight, a bald-headed piano player, and a fat woman on drums with her legs

28

spread.

I asked them, "Who's your agent?" They said, "Bob Vincent." So I called up Bob Vincent

and I checked the contract and they had another week to go. Meanwhile, I'm walking through the

casino and, "Paging Bobby Morris, Bobby Morris.” I called up. I was ashamed. I was

embarrassed. All the executives said, "This is the new entertainment director and that's what he's bringing in?" I called up Bob Vincent, and I paid them off my own money, fifteen hundred dollars. I said, "You're done."

I had Dominic Tanzi—anyhow, I got the job. They came to Las Vegas to meet with me. It

was Richard Kudrna, Ed Stevenson and Bill Ledbetter. I met them at Caesars. It was just kind of

like love at first sight. I was on. I was really comfortable. I said, "If I get it, fine; if I don't get,

I..." I had seventy-six bands working, so I was doing okay.

What was the name of that chain that you used to work, The Stein, Steak and Stein?

Steak and Ale. You remember that?

I do. That was funny. You said, "Well, you can always get a gig. Bobby will put you on

there."

Yes. We went to all the hotels, and I was fortunate enough to have at least one group in every

hotel, maybe two. At that time, they had marquees. One place we went was the Sands Hotel,

which, of course, I was handling—Freddie Bell and Sonny King and whatever. Of course,

everywhere we went, they'd, "Bobby Morris;" they'd want me to come up and play with them.

I bet you impressed those guys.

Yes. We went in every hotel and everybody introduced me and I would come up and play.

They said, "Well, listen, make up exactly what you would like to do, a proposition of

exactly what you would like to do up at Harvey's and send it to us." I did. All the changes I had in

29

mind, twenty-four hours a day, bringing in revues, alternating with the top Las Vegas acts in the

afternoon. I had the Frontier at night and had the show bands, the big time, late at night have the

real good Las Vegas bands and have all the biggie bands at Harvey's in and upstairs, the top floor

and all that.

And Ronnie Rose at the Orbit.

Ron Rose, yes, I hired him back. He was wonderful. It became very, very, very successful. Prior

to me coming in, there was nobody in the casino, nobody in the restaurant. There was no lounge.

Dominic Tanzi and I and about a half a dozen busboys got chairs and tables from the convention

room—we brought in about fifty chairs or sixty chairs, maybe a hundred tables. They had just

rebuilt Harvey's after the fire.

Was this when it was in the Quonset dome?

No. They just rebuilt Harvey's. They had a big fire and it was completely redone. Now they had a

big lounge with nothing in there, no chairs or tables. Where before people would stand around the

bar and they didn't need—

The shelf, they used to call that little ledge.

Just a shelf, right. Just a little bitty place. We put tables and chairs and it filled the place up. It was packed every night. I had the feminine touch. The best revues I had, all the best choreographers from the local community to produce shows and we kept them a year at a time.

Was Al Bello working for you?

Al Bellow was—I hired his wife, Zella Lehr.

No longer his wife.

Is that right?

I sound like the town crier, don't I? Somebody just told me.

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Al Bellow was always trying to sell me things, including Tony Austin. Tony Austin came to me

and said, "Please hire us back." I said," "Tony, but we're really going into a different type of

thing."

They had a nice mom and pop trio.

Yes. "You've got a nice, very nice thing, but it's not what I'm looking for right now."

Would be good on the ship.

Right. Of course, he was going to offer me money, whatever, to come in. I said, "Listen..." I

played it very straight and honest. I didn't accept anything from anybody because I was doing

quite well, made my 10 percent on a million and a half budget at that time and I still could book

everything in Las Vegas. I still had the building in Las Vegas and I could book everything and I

had people working for me. Of course, all kinds of doors opened for me because everybody

wanted to get their bands in. I didn't bring a band in unless I felt that the band would do justice to

the place.

I remained there for five years. It was way after the Elvis thing. So we haven't gotten to the Elvis thing yet.

I remained there for five years and I became very good friends with Harvey (NAME) and

Bobby Page. Remember Bobby Page?

I do. He had the cleaner's.

I joined Bobby Page. He was my first band when I came—right after Garwood Van left before I

joined (NAME)—Bobby Page and the Musical Pages. I was playing drums with Bobby Page at the Flamingo where the bar would turn, go around in circles.

He hired me because I sang. There's Bobby Page on trumpet, Jerry Weeks on bass, Jimmy

Hendricks on the piano and me. I'm singing, "All the Things You Are.” I knew that when we

31

went around twenty times, then it would be—and Dick Lane.

Dick Lane had a group alternating with us. One night I'm playing and I'm doing all the things you are. I'm sitting [laughing] Frank Sinatra. I thought I was going to pass out. I said, "I'm not the drummer. I just took the job because I knew some songs."

How funny.

Another story that you're going to get a big kick out of is we're playing and somebody kept sending up hundred-dollar bills. They kept requesting tunes that I was singing. I went down there to thank him and who do you think it was? Howard Hughes. This guy Jim, who was his flunky, said, "Mr.

Hughes wants to meet you." I said, "Oh, fine." I wasn't really that impressed because I really didn't know that much of how big Howard Hughes was. Howard says, "Do you know any of the girls in the line?"

He wanted you to pimp for him.

More or less. I says, "Yes, I know them all." He says, "Could you bring them over to the table when the show breaks?" And I did; I brought them over to the table and sat down. "This is Mr.

Hughes." Of course, I've got to tell you that the hundred-dollar bills kept coming. I was making a hundred and ten dollars or something a week. And a hundred-dollar bill we split three ways, it was like twenty-five dollars apiece every night, maybe twice a night.

What happened to your singing career? I guess you didn't want to pursue that. When the hundred-dollar bills quit, you said, "That's it. I'm not singing anymore."

That's it. At that time, I got the job with Ted Fio Rito and I enjoyed that better, playing for big shows. Then with the relief band, playing for that. Then came Louis Prima and that was one.

From then I started joining different acts and it was wonderful traveling and going places.

We're looking at almost sixty years of playing here, right?

32

Close, yes.

If you've got it, you've got it. I guess it's like anything else. The difference is I think you knew and you had the confidence to project what you did. A lot of us were insecure. Stan

Levey once came up to me and said, "Man, you've got some chops." I said, "Yeah, I know, but no time." I was a smartass. Here's Stan Levey—

Wonderful man.

—been with everybody, left-handed drummer.

On the Bacon Street East album, Stan was on drums. It was a tremendous band.

We've got the arrangements, nine piece, with a conga player, ten; that was the chart. We had nine pieces. Written for ten it's like filled. It's not like taking a sixteen-piece band and breaking it down to a nine-piece.

Was that Joe Parnello's band?

No. It was a Joe something. I know Stan Levey was the drummer, and Joe something played piano, wonderful accompanist. Very top New York players. We've got the same arrangements; we've got fifty of those charts. We performed at the Hilton and then we did a concert in Palm

Springs and she did Peggy Lee. [My wife] did okay, but she's doing much better now; she's got a lot more confidence now.

She's singing the same keys as Peggy Lee?

Same key. She sounds exactly like Peggy Lee.

How convenient for the arrangement.

On top of everything else, Dick Foster, who's a big producer here in Las Vegas— He opened up the Luxor with this big show.

The Winds of the War or the War of the Gods, something.

33

No. He's got many, many shows going on cruise ships. We met with him because he's in the

crosses of doing the Peggy Lee's story. He was Peggy Lee Lee's son-in-law. He was very impressed with Joan. I don't know if he's going to use it. But he said whenever they do go into it, he will consider her as a possibility. Whether it's going to be the young Peggy Lee, the middle

Peggy Lee, the old Peggy Lee, whatever. We went to her tribute concert at the Hollywood Bowl recently and every star was there. It was a marvelous presentation. She's really into that. Now we've put together for her Judy Garland and—

The divas.

—and, of course, friendly Kaye. You've known friendly Kaye for many years.

They're all heavy hitters, yes.

But Kaye is pretty old now.

And she's incapacitated, unfortunately.

Right.

Are any of your kids in show business?

No.

And they don't work with you?

No. One of them tried until he found out how difficult this business was.

It's a hard gig.

It's very, very hard. Everybody that I worked with, every entertainment director that I did business with—and I could name you up and down the Strip—Mo Lewis at the Stardust, (Herbie Victors) at

the Caesars Palace, (NAME Maloke) Flamingo, Bill DeAngelis at the Sands. Every entertainment

director that was in the position under a group, they were good entertainment, they knew what they

wanted.

34

Jack Entratter.

Jack Entratter.

They knew what they wanted.

Yes, they knew exactly what they wanted.

And they also had the budget and the confidence of knowing the boss is liking this.

That's right. How I got into the booking agency business is...This fellow that I met, we created our

place and we wanted to call it Creative Enterprises. I was still playing to subsidize it because...you

know you've got to. I went to Puerto Rico at the El San Juan with Eddie Fisher. Eddie, at that

time, was one of the top attractions. I met Louis Puro at the El San Juan Hotel. I told him I was in the agency business and I would like to look into booking something there. So I booked three bands; Jack Costanzo was one of them, in their (Hunka Munka) Room. I brought three bands in for a year each. It wasn't as easy as I'm saying. I had to work at it.

Yes, it's a lot of schmoozing.

Right. A lot of work. But being that Eddie Fisher was packing them in and he was doing good introduction, Bobby Morris—

Having trouble finding one. I remember Eddie's time was a little iffy.

That's right. I could tell you a story about that. We were doing The Ed Sullivan Show and the house band of the Ed Sullivan Show, he changed the time, on national television. I made the band lay off for one bar and I changed the time back to go with Eddie and brought the band back.

Nobody knew the difference.

The bandleader, at the end of it, said, "You saved us, man. Do you know what...?" I said,

"Yes, I learned how to do that out of necessity."

To keep from having a train wreck.

35

Right.

Eddie paid you well, Bobby?

Eddie paid me very well. I'll tell you another story. My father wanted me to be a [wall]paper

hanger because in Poland he was a paper hanger.

He said, "What are you spending all that time on a drum?"

Get a real job.

"You can make twenty-five dollars a week hanging paper." I said, "No, I don't want to hang paper;

I want to do this."

To make a long story short, we were working with Eddie Fisher and Buddy Hackett. We're doing a twenty-six-week tour, and we wind up doing The Ed Sullivan Show, and we're working at the Palace Theatre, and I have a suite at the Waldorf Astoria.

Compliments of them.

Yes, compliments of Eddie. Eddie was our opening act. So we're working at the Waldorf. I had my mother and father come up and they brought a Russian dish, cabbage soup, for Eddie and for

Buddy.

Buddy had just lost his mother. My mother and father came in back of the Palace Theater and gave them the Russian cabbage soup and Buddy cried and Eddie cried. Oh, my god.

"Momma, momma." He just lost his mother.

The job ended at the Palace Theater, so now we're doing the Waldorf. At that time Debbie

Reynolds is around because later on Connie Stevens came on the scene and I was at the wedding in

Puerto Rico. But I get paid and I had the suite and I show my parents the suite. And my father wanted to be a paper hanger for twenty-five dollars a week.

Here comes the punch line.

36

I just got the check for the week and I go down to cash it. I said, "Pa, come on down with me to the cashier's cage." We just had dinner at the top. You name it. Fine gourmet restaurant, like a multibillionaire couldn't have looked better.

I go down to the cage, and I'm cashing the check and he's paying me as he counts, "One hundred, two hundred, three hundred, four hundred, five hundred, six hundred, seven hundred, eight hundred, nine hundred, a thousand." The guy says, "Fifteen hundred dollars." My father looks at me and he says [speaking with accent], "What did you do, rob a bank?" I said, "Come on." [Speaking with accent] “You robbed a bank, didn't you?" I said, "No, Pa, this is what I make a week. I make fifteen hundred. I get a suite."

I'm very glad that my father saw The Ed Sullivan Show.

He must have been very proud of you.

He was proud. At the Waldorf Astoria, my brother Artie is sitting with my father and mother, and

Eddie introduces them. They're quite old and they don't know nothing about show business. So the spotlight goes on them and they freeze, like they're paralyzed.

I told my dad said, "Sit down, sit down." They didn't know when to sit down. They didn't know to stand up. He made me stand up and then he pulled them down. He put the spotlight on them and introduced them to open. "The best Russian cabbage soup I ever had. Mr. and Mrs.

Stempleman"—oh, no, he called them Mr. and Mrs. Morris because he didn't know. Frankly, nobody really knew at that time that my name wasn't Bobby Morris. But it had been since I was sixteen, so...

What a great night for your parents.

It was great.

And your two brothers were there?

37

Yes, my brothers were there and then they were there at the Latin Casino when I was there with

Louis and Keely.

And you have no sister?

I have one sister.

And they're all living?

They're all living, yes.

Great.

We worked the Latin Casino and the same two were there, and Louis introduced them and it was the same type of thing. I said, "Oh, no, don't put no spotlight on them." It was twenty-two hundred seating and twenty-two hundred every night and lines standing outside. You couldn't get in. It was an amazing thing. We worked the Copacabana in New York. Up and down Madison and Fifth Avenue, there was lines up and down. What's his name, the owner?

Jules Podell.

He would yell at Frankie Laine.

"Hey, get off."

"You're a bum. Get off, you bum." We did so well that instead of being two shows a night—

[End Tape Two, Side A]

The B side of the second tape with Bobby Morris. It's Tuesday, the seventh. We're sitting in his luxurious office where he just turned the lights on because I'm legally blind. We're talking about the Latin Quarter.

It's the kind of gig where you probably got pretty excited about going to work and seeing twenty-two hundred people probably give you standing ovations.

Every place we were.

38

Who wouldn't want a job like that?

Every place we were.

That's exciting in itself.

We packed it in.

In 1960, everywhere we worked two of our biggest fans, Peter Lawford—and he brought his brother-in-law who was John Kennedy who was a senator. Everywhere we worked—the

Moulin Rouge in Hollywood, the Copacabana in New York, the Latin Casino—there was Peter

Lawford and John Kennedy. They would invite us over for a drink and I would say, "Oh, Senator

Kennedy..." He says, "Just call me Jack." A very, very nice man. In 1961, the inauguration,

Frank Sinatra was the entertainment director of the whole festivity.

Later they had a falling out, but right then it was...

Right then, okay. We were on a bus and on the bus was your name it. I've got a book that I was throwing out. There was paint on it. My wife said, "What are you doing?" She said, "But this is historic." In the book is everybody that was on the show—Harry Belafonte, Tony Curtis, Frank

Sinatra, Sammy Davis, Cary Grant, and Katharine Hepburn. Everybody in the world, all

Broadway shows stopped; all Hollywood people came out. So we're all on the bus and Frank

Sinatra gets out of bus and he starts directing traffic, just to be funny.

That's funny.

Milton Berle and all the top comics of the show.

Ed Carter? I liked Ed Carter.

No.

Myron Cohen?

Let me see. There was Milton Berle.

39

Benny, Burns, any of those guys?

George Burns. Too numerous to mention. I mean top.

I saw the picture once, Bobby. It was incredible. There must have been about forty-five people.

Top people. They were with the inauguration, the party and all that. We're all in the cellar.

Nobody's a big shot. Everybody is like, "Hey, Bobby, how are you doing?" I called him Cary, Mr.

Grant. Everybody was just all equals to everybody else.

Very comfortable.

We go to do the show and it was very good. It was just a wonderful...thousands of people. At the end of the show they had the whole thirtieth floor of the Sheraton or Hilton for the party. We all go up there to meet Kennedy because he was coming up to thank us.

Meanwhile, I'm playing with a trio: Lou Levy on piano, Jim Andragon on bass, and me.

Everybody's sitting there—Nat King Cole, Sammy Davis, Ella Fitzgerald, Sarah Vaughan.

Wow. Wouldn't you like to have that tape?

Oh, my god. Everybody's sitting there and we're playing [making beat] and they're singing. Tony

Curtis keeps coming over and feeding me drinks. He said, "What do you drink?" "Orange juice."

"Oh, you've got to put something in it." I said, "Oh, a little vodka." So I'm getting more and more

stoned.

Kennedy comes up to thank us and shakes everybody's hand. "Thank you so much. I

appreciate it." I'm like, "Thank you." I was going to say, "I'm really proud of you, Jack."

You should have.

Then I realized that he's now president. I said, "Mr. President, I can't tell you how proud I am of

you. Oh, this is wonderful." I got to laughing about drinking at the Copacabana. I didn't tell him

40

that but that's what I was thinking. He's a wonderful man.

I miss him. He was a Camelot, man.

He was absolutely wonderful. Everywhere we worked, there was he was. That was really an

experience that I'll always cherish.

Do you ever think about writing a book, Bobby?

Somebody wanted to do a book and at the time—and they wanted me to pay them a weekly...I

said, "No, I don't mind paying you, but I don't know if I have the time to sit down." He wanted me

to sit down with him.

That's the problem. You'd be doing this four or five days a week for a year.

Yes. The experiences that I have had, the people that I've been with..it really would take a long

time. Of course, we can go into another era, the Elvis era and how that happened.

We can and it would probably be a good time. How many years [were you] with Elvis?

About five. Here's what happened. I was an agent in Las Vegas and doing quite well. I had trained many of the agents that became very successful, Frank (NAME) and Betty Rizzo and

Donna (NAME), many people at that time. Whenever they would fall down, whenever they would sell an act and they weren't making—they weren't placing the deal, they looked panicky, I would usually come and place a deal.

It just seemed that I was able to close. So I was booking every hotel. I had seventeen

bands working. At that time, most of the hotels had stagehands, they had lighting, they had regular

stages.

Sound booths.

It was a regular thing. I got to know Bill Miller at the Flamingo and I would start booking many

acts [there]. He and I became good friends. He said, "Listen, the International Hotel is opening

41

and we're going to have a lounge there and I've got the Flamingo. I'd like you to have the band if

you would at the International and the Flamingo." I said, "Well, who are you going to have in the

big room as the conductor?" "Harry James." I said, "Well, that sounds good." Then I said, "Now,

who are you going to bring into the lounge?" He said, "Well, Peggy Lee, Frankie Laine, Kay

Starr, The Mills Brothers; I brought in all those people." I said, "Well, Bill, we can't call it a

lounge then because their egos aren't going to have that. Let's call it the Casino Theatre." He said,

"That sounds good." So we named it the Casino Theatre; it sat about five hundred people and was

like a showroom. It was a beautiful showroom.

So he called me up. I had the band for the Casino Theatre and I had the band for the

Flamingo. He said, "Bobby, I've got some bad news." I said, "What?" Harry James reneged. He

doesn't feel confident." He was never a conductor.

No. Great player.

When I was with Eddie Fisher at Caesars, he was brought in as the conductor to conduct Eddie because Eddie (NAME) got sick.

What happened to Collin Roma? Do you remember him?

Collin was in Reno. That's when I first joined him. He was a good conductor. Anyhow, Harry

James said, "Bobby, I don't know about this conducting stuff. I'll just give it down to you and you take the tempo." I said, "Okay, Harry, that's fine."

That's a knack. You would have done that anyway.

He didn't know the tempo. To get back to the International, Harry James reneged because he just didn't feel confident being the musical director of the hotel.

He said, "Bobby, would you like to be the musical director of the International?" I said,

"You mean you want me to like have the band at the Casino Theatre at the Flamingo and the

42

International? I asked, "Who do you have opening?" He said, "Barbra Streisand." I said, "And what is she going to need?" "Well, you're going to need twenty-six strings." He gave me a whole breakdown of violins, cellos and everything. Five saxes, six trumpets, four trombones, six percussion.

What was the budget for the band, forty-five grand a month? Forty-five grand a week or something?

It was high—no, it wasn't twenty-five people; it was forty-six people.

It was in the thirty, forty thousand. It wasn't that high, but they were making top scale.

Everybody would get paid fifty dollars, a hundred dollars for every double that they had.

I said to Harry, "Okay." But I was very unsure of myself as a conductor. I tempoed for somebody to play. But to stand up and conduct the strings...So I went to the university and there was a Keith Moon. He was a musical instructor there. I said, "Keith, you've got to help me. I'm scared to death. All the sudden, I have to be a conductor." He taught me how to conduct off records. I knew tempos would be no problem. I learned in a period of about four weeks to follow the singer and all that.

With Elvis, we hired the same number of people. Of course, he had strings, too. He had the whole thing going. So I became the musical director of the International, which became the

Hilton later on, and the Flamingo and the Casino Theatre, and also the show called "Hair." Now, I had to double from Elvis, a job, to "Hair," and I had to run back and forth. But the "Hair" show was a Broadway show and everybody on stage was nude and it was very dark. We all had to dress very funky. told the guys, "Here we are in tuxedos and now we've got to throw everything away and dress as funky as you can, man." That went on and that was exciting.

Elvis, on opening night, told me, "I'm nervous." Kirk Kerkorian had me get a very nice

43

tuxedo. He wanted me to be the host, greeting people. Opening night, it was a papered audience, and everybody that came in was Hollywood stars.

Press.

Press.

Reviewers.

And this was his opening night. This was his big, big night. This put Elvis Presley onto a whole new level. He's telling me backstage, he got nervous, all those people. I'm greeting all of

Hollywood, all of Broadway. "Welcome to the International."

This is '69?

Yes. So I'm on stage and we're getting going. He kept going, "I'm nervous, man." I said, "Elvis, think of it this way. Think of everyone that's in the audience nude sitting on the toilet seat." I said,

"They're just people, okay? They all go to the toilet. Imagine them nude with their bellies hanging out and tits going out to their belly and all that."

We open up and we open up with [making tune].

Fanfare.

Yes, the fanfare thing and we're rolling away.

Are you playing and conducting from the drums?

I'm conducting.

Who was the drummer with him, Tommy Check?

No…He had his own people. James on guitar. Ronnie Tutt [was a] wonderful drummer. I played some conga drums just to add a little bit to the rhythm section and I conducted.

My wife at that time, Diane—I was married a couple of times.

I've heard that. Rumor has it you were busy.

44

Yes. So she and Priscilla looked very, very much alike. She insisted that Diane sit with her every

night. This is something that when I was interviewed from London, I told them. I was hoping that

they wouldn't print it, but they did. My dressing room was next to his.

Oh, boy.

The comic on the show was Sammy Shore. He's [has a] son, Pauly Shore. Sammy Shore and I

shared the dressing room next to him. In our dressing room, there was hardly anybody there. In

his dressing room, everybody was there—Engelbert, Tom Jones—everybody that was anybody.

One time, though, I was going through the casino and he would introduce me and make a big deal.

Little girls that came from all over the country, they'd leave you a hundred dollars just to sit

ringside. He said, "They'd do anything if you introduce yourself."

Oh, disgusting.

I mean they're beautiful little girls.

I know.

I said, "Anything?" So anyhow, I would take about ten or fifteen of them backstage with me to my

dressing room. Elvis started coming into my dressing room because of all these girls. So he

started hanging around. Almost every night two or three of those things—

Of course. The king is here.

We had a six-bedroom suite up on top of the International with a bar. It was on the thirty-second

floor. The whole floor was his. With beautiful lights of Las Vegas. He would come in and take a

girl and I would take a girl and we would go up and party.

Before I got the job as Elvis' conductor, I brought Art Vasquez with me, one of the trumpet

players; he was like the grand manager. We went to Hollywood with a guest of Colonel Parker

and all of the brass at MGM Studios. They took us to a room with all the gold and platinum

45

records. Every executive of MGM was there, sitting down at this long table. I tried to

unobtrusively sit down at the side so I wouldn't be seen. Colonel Parker said, "No, no, no, Bobby.

You sit right here in front." I said, "Colonel Parker, I'm not..."

I'm out of my element.

Right. He said, "No, I want you to sit there." So I sat there. We had a big dinner with Elvis and

everybody that was there. At the end of the day, there was a big limousine and they took us to his

home in Hollywood Hills. There was Elvis in the limousine, and me and Art Vasquez and a bunch

of other people. We came up to the top of his home and top of the Hollywood Hills and there were

maybe two hundred screaming Mimis scratching at the limousine. The gates open and there were

big bars to keep the girls away. I stayed there with him for about two weeks kicking out tunes,

"Suspicious Minds," "In the Ghetto," "Sweet Caroline."

Is that when Red and Sonny West were around him then?

Sonny West? As a matter of fact—

The Nashville Mafia.

—Sonny West is now with Paul Casey. Sonny West and the photographer, Tom Kriskin's nephew.

Also The Sweet Inspiration and Stans Quartet, all with Paul Casey. I went down to the Cannery

and said, "Sid, I've got maybe a hundred Elvises that I've thrown in the garbage." I didn't want to

get into the Elvis business. But his show is called "American Trilogy." I was astounded how dead

on he had Elvis down. He did Elvis from the young up to the old to the middle to wherever. And

the Stans Quartet and The Sweet Inspirations were there. The arrangements were wonderful.

Anyhow, I'm now handling him.

I heard he's good. He was at Bourbon Street when he first got here, at the Flamingo?

I don't know.

46

It must have been years ago. But he did marvelous over there and I'm in the process of

helping a bunch of people to try to get him located. Actually, I would come up and conduct like I did for Elvis and Johnny Hara. You remember that.

One of my illustrious firings. Of course.

That's right. That was Johnny Hara. Johnny Hara would have been there, but he was a jerk. He had himself committed to get out of his contract with (NAME) Enterprises, Dallas. I was doing very well. I was conducting for him. I was the agent. I was making good money.

You've always made good money.

Well, I did okay.

Except for Louis Prima.

I did okay. And my name "Bobby Morris" up there, "formerly Elvis' conductor." So that was an enhancement.

What about Colonel Parker? Bad guy, good guy? Good to you?

Colonel Parker was a very, very, very tough businessman. I had an offer for Elvis to go to

Australia to do five shows for a million dollars, with roundtrip transportation for him and his entire entourage. I brought the offer to him and he turned it down. I said, "Why?" He said, "Well, Elvis doesn't like to go that far." Then I had and offer from the Miami—

Do you suppose he never told Elvis about the offers?

He never told him. The big football field in Miami…It sat a hundred thousand people and tickets were twenty dollars apiece. People came to me because they knew I was with Elvis and said,

"Bobby, listen, we'll give Elvis one million dollars for the show and the three of us will split it.

We'll pay his transportation, whatever, you name it, to do one show." I brought the offer to

Colonel Parker and he turned it down. I said, "Why?" He said, "Because we could take over that

47

stadium, charge the twenty dollars apiece and make two million instead of one million." I said,

"But Colonel Parker, give me a break. This would be a big thing for me." "Business is good,

Bobby." So he turned that down.

Then I brought an unheard of offer from Japan. "Here is a check. Put any figure you want on the check and we will buy you to come." A blank-check offer to go to Japan for I think it was ten concerts. He could put any figure he wanted on it. Nothing was too much for them. Just, we want Elvis Presley. He turned it down. So, like I said, he's a tough businessman.

But he treated you well?

He treated me very well and Elvis treated me even better. Elvis gave me a four or five-carat ring, beautiful diamond ring. I've got a watch from Elvis.

Was Richard Sterban on The Sweet Inspirations, one of the singers that's with the Oakridge

Boys?

I don't remember. I know they were a wonderful group, The Sweet Inspirations. I know they were

The Imperials.

Yes, you're right.

The Sweet Inspirations are now with Paul Casey. I've got a DVD. It's remarkable.

What about Elvis' drug use then? Was he stoned or loaded?

Elvis Presley was the cleanest living human being. All he drank was Gatorade. That's all he wanted. He never smoked. He never took drugs. He never was on anything. I don't know how that happened.

At one time, Elvis’ hair was beginning to get a little gray or salt and pepper and then he started dyeing it.

Actually, his hair was a light brown. It was kind of like shit blond and he didn't like the color.

48

That's how he started getting his hair black. The black looked very, very flattering on him.

He was handsome.

It became even more appealing with his hair dyed. He was tremendous in marital arts. He moved very well. I brought the tune "Suspicious Mind" for him, which became one of the biggest hits.

The reason I brought it is nobody could get to him; it got to me and I brought the tune to him and they liked it. It's written up on the wall there.

I saw it yesterday; great write-up.

Yes. I've got all kinds of things. I could give you copies of so many things.

It's just great to get to interview you because there are very few guys left from that era that can talk about it with authenticity.

Boy, oh, boy, it was—

Every night was New Year's Eve.

When I was at the El Rancho, getting back to Ted Fio Rito...What's his name, the owner?

Beldon Katleman.

Beldon Katleman. Thank you. We had a line of girls. Every hotel had a line of girls. He was very oversexed, and he would chase these girls through corridors. I mean, the stories.

That explains the fire, doesn't it?

The stories about him are very wild. I think the place finally burned down and I think insurance...It's amazing that that hotel, in that area, that spot, as good as a piece of land that was, nobody ever came and built a hotel on it.

I think Hughes still has it.

Yes, Hughes bought it like they did everything else, all the properties, Summerlin, which ten years ago they said was going to be a two-hundred-and-fifty-thousand-people community.

49

And they were right.

It is, plus.

Do you have any regrets over the last sixty years? Is there anything you wanted to do and haven't done?

I have never really been happy; I mean truly happy. Some people wind up with one wife and kids and it's close. Unfortunately, my wife, she was drinking and smoking. I always wanted to have one wife and have a nice close family, but it didn't turn out. I feel kind of envious of people that are happily married.

[End Tape 2, Side B]

—Bobby Morris and here we go.

In retrospect, getting back to the Miami Eden Roc, there was Chick Keeney, the drummer with

Freddie Bell, who I later wound up handling, Freddie Bell and everybody else. At that time Chick

Keeney retired from playing drums, and he called me up at the Eden Roc. He said, "Bobby, let's have lunch." I said, "Okay." We had lunch and because we're good friends, I said, "So, Chick, what are you doing now?" He said, "Well, I'm a lieutenant." I said, "A lieutenant for who?" He said, "You know, for the mob." I said, "Well, what is your job?" He said, "I collect." I said,

"What do you mean you collect?" He said, "When somebody doesn't pay and they owe money to somebody, I go and I collect." I said, "What happens if they don't pay?" He says, "Then I have to kill them."

And he wasn't kidding.

Yes. As a matter of fact, Buddy Rich, who is probably my closest friend in life, him and Buddy, owed somebody ten thousand dollars and he went to collect from Buddy. Buddy says, "I don't have the money." Chick said, "Hey, Buddy, you've got to give me that ten thousand dollars

50

because if you don't, I'll have to kill you. If I don't kill you, they will kill me. I've got to kill you.

So please pay that ten thousand dollars." Buddy wound up paying the ten thousand dollars.

He got the message.

Yes. I left Miami, and I called and spoke to a relative of his. I asked to talk to Chick. I said, "Can

I speak to Chick?" He says, "You can't speak to Chick." I said, "Why?" He said, "Because he's

dead."

In the trunk of a car.

In the trunk of a car. He got a bunch of bullet holes in his head and he wound up in the trunk of a car.

Apparently, he didn't take the bag back where it was supposed to go or something.

Something happened there; I don't know what.

I've got to tell you another story as long as we're on the Mafia. I'm with Eddie Fisher and

we're working in Mexico City. There's a man who came backstage and introduced him to me as

Dr. Goldberg. Every night he would come and say, "Hi, Dr. Goldberg, how are you?" He said,

"I'm fine." Very nice man. Anyhow, I got married to my third wife, Diane. She flew out because

Eddie really liked her. He says, "Marry her, Bobby." They're all back and forth, "What are you

waiting for? She's beautiful. Marry her."

I flew her out to Mexico City and we went to Teotihuacan, which is like the pyramids in

Mexico. There was Dr. Goldberg, the piano player, the woman, Eddie Fisher and my wife. I got a

thousand-dollar gift from Eddie and a thousand-dollar gift from Dr. Goldberg because they were

both my best men.

They stood up for you.

Dr. Goldberg says, "I've got to do something nice for you. I want you to come over to my house

51

and I'm going to cook a beautiful dinner. We'll have a big party." We go out there, drive into his place, and I notice that there was men on top with machine guns. I go in the house and Dr.

Goldberg is cooking this wonderful Italian food. I said, "God, it smells too good." I said, "When I came in, Dr. Goldberg, I noticed all these guys with machine guns." He said, "Yes, Bobby, some people don't like me. And besides that I could tell you my real name now that you're best man. I'll tell you my real name now, Sam Giancana."

We had the best time, the most wonderful time. He was a dear, dear friend. We hugged, we kissed. What can I tell you?

Then, of course, a terrible thing happened to him. He should have never left Mexico City.

He went back to Chicago and they found him in a car.

Five twenty-twos behind his ear.

That's right.

I know too much.

Then we're working at the Chez Paree with Louis Prima and Keely. Of course, all the boys in

Chicago...

They love Louis.

Yes. One of them was there, Tony Accardo. He was the head of the Chicago and the Midwest, the whole thing.

Manny Scars, in the Sahara back then, right?

That's right. His son Jerry Accardo loved drums. They featured me and everything went pretty nice that night. Jerry says, "Hey, you ought to come over the house. I've got a present for you."

So I came over and it's like the gates, the whole shot, in Chicago. He gave me a set of beautiful golf clubs. I said, "Jerry, you don't have to do this." He said, "I've got thirty sets of golf clubs."

52

They fell off the truck.

He said, "Take it." Then I'm in Chicago with Andy Williams and every time I'm there with

anybody, Hugh Hefner would invite us to his house. You know Jackie Gayle?

Yes.

Of course. Jackie and I met when we were fourteen years old going to the mountains. He was carrying his drums, twenty-eight-inch bass drums.

Chinese silver blocks.

I was working the (NAME) showroom and he was working the Golden Hotel. Jackie and I were friends through the years and he's in Chicago at Hugh Hefner mansion. He says to Andy Williams and Hugh Hefner and a whole bunch of people—there was a pool and underneath the pool you could look in, but you can't look out. Jackie says, "Hey, let's take a couple of the bunnies and go skinny dipping in the pool." I said, "Okay." What the hell? We're drinking and whatever. We asked a couple of them, beautiful girls. They're all living at the mansion. We asked them to go swimming with us and we went skinny dipping. But unbeknownst to us, there's (a heavy wind) and Hugh Hefner and God knows how many others were watching us.

Sitting there watching through a one-way glass.

Andy making out with a girl. They kidded us, man. For a long time after that it was very funny.

Jackie is a funny, funny guy. We were sitting at a restaurant once and I tried to exchange lines with him, but I couldn't keep up with him.

He's gone now. Open-heart surgery and then some complications.

He's gone and Buddy Hackett is gone. Buddy was my roommate at the (Natalie) Country Club in

Allenberg, New York. He was making fifty-five dollars a week; I was making fifty.

That was big bucks then.

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I was there for a year and I went over to Ben Slutsky, the owner. I said, "Mr. Slutsky, could you

give me a raise to fifty-five dollars because Buddy is making fifty-five and all he does is ride

around on horses and jump into the pool and here I'm playing every night?" He said, "Well,

Bobby, I would, but we're going to put new carpet in and the whole thing and I can't do it now."

Years later, I'm working at the Fontainebleau with Louis Prima and Keely Smith. Who is

sitting ringside? Ben Slutsky party, the whole party. Louis features me. I did Trinology or

something and I get a big hand. Then Louis says, "How about this nineteen-year-old drummer?

Isn't he wonderful?" I was thirty. I was always nineteen.

Oh, yes. He couldn't remember your name, either.

That's right. Anyhow, so Ben Slutsky is sitting ringside after the show. I mean it was huge, just packed, I mean huge, standing ovation, just big. So we're finished with the show and I go over on stage. As I'm leaving I go over and bend down and I shake his hand. I said, "Hi, Mr. Slutsky, remember me, Bobby Morris? Remember I asked you for a raise? I was making fifty dollars a week; I wanted fifty-five dollars a week. But you told me that you had to put new carpeting in."

So he turned all red. There was twelve people there.

I love it. Busted his chops.

I busted his chops.

Oh, that's funny. Mr. Slutsky.

Yes. "Mr. Slutsky, remember me? I was working in your hotel. I wanted a five-dollar raise. I needed that five dollars."

You got him. That's payback.

That's payback. He turned red and he didn't know what the heck to say. I said, "Anyhow, I want to thank you for coming in and seeing the show."

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Now get out.

Yes. It was wonderful.

To your knowledge, did Louis have any broken nose partners? I know the manager he had the last few years of his life was a guy that he picked up in New Orleans, whose name escapes me. It's in the book, Louis Prima. But the mob guys used to come and see him, but I don't think—

All the mob guys.

—but I don't think they took a piece.

I don't think so. He was a very, very, very popular with them. When we worked places like

Chicago and New York, you name it, who was who in the underworld was there. And they were very nice people, too. If they liked you, they're the best.

And if they didn't, they'd kill you.

I mean who would ever give them a chance not to like you?

Did you ever get an offer to play with Mary Kaye in the trio?

I never did.

You would have been great on there, except that you were probably too strong.

No. I've got to tell you. When I came to Las Vegas with Garwood Van, I worked in the showroom. The first show we played was (Mary and Joseph Levine) and the opera, from New

York City Opera. They had the whole band sit out and I played with two pianos; I had to play five percussion parts. I asked Joseph Levine, "What part do you want me to play?" He said,

"Whatever."

We played. Then everybody came in. Liberace came in and he was making five hundred dollars a week; I made eighty-seven dollars. Lee offered me a job to go to Hollywood because he

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was going to give a television show. I asked, "Well, how much does it pay, Lee?" He said,

"Forty-six dollars." I said, "Well, Lee, I'm making eighty-seven dollars." He said, "But it'll get better, Bobby; it'll get better."

Years later, he was the first act to make fifty thousand a week when the Riviera opened, and everybody was invited, including me. For some reason, he invited me. Lee saw me and he came over and hugged me. "Bobby, how are you?" He said, "You should have come with me. I told you it'll get better."

He had a lot of good qualities.

He was a sweetheart. At the Frontier Hotel, I was in the showroom with Garwood Van. You might have heard of Garwood Van's Musicland, the music store.

Sure.

I was in the showroom and he brought me out to Las Vegas. I worked my card out of my Local 47 because he brought our whole Local 47 band out. I worked my 369 card when Ted Fio Rito hired me.

However, Mary Kaye was in the lounge. I would come out and (Frank Huback), Mary

Kaye, Frankie, beautiful people. They became real good friends. When they left—I was still in there with Garwood Van—Gene Krupa came into the lounge with his quintet.

Gene Krupa, unbeknownst to everybody, was very lazy. He met me and I said, "I play drums." "Hey, kid, you want to sit in?" I said, "Okay, I'll sit in." So I sat in with him, and every night when I came out, "Come on, Bobby, play."

So he could go to the bar or go outside and smoke a joint.

That's right. He didn't want to play. "Come here, Bobby, play." I said, "Gene, they hired you, right?" He said, "No, no, come on, you play. I'm having a little fun here with this." He was an

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absolute sweetheart.

From there, I joined Ted Fio Rito's band. That's how the transition went from there to playing with the relief band. I wanted to say something about Ted Fio Rito. Latin, because I played Latin music. We had everybody there including, of course, Ronald Reagan who did the stand-up part. You want to ask me any more questions?

Yes, I had a couple of observations. When I heard you and everybody heard you, we knew that primarily Bobby Morris wanted to be a jazz player, and you obviously were and, of course, you had the Dixieland band and everything else. But it's interesting because a lot of us had to do the same thing; we had to keep a gig that was really beneath our abilities, but it was something we had to do to make a living. I often wondered when I would see you playing on whatever with the Dixie band or anything—although you said you were never really as happy as you would like to be, and I wasn't either. But there were moments when I was on certain gigs where I really felt good; I could hardly wait to get to work.

Sure.

And it was playing brushes.

Sure. Let me tell you a story to that effect. Back in New York, I was eighteen and I was a jazz drummer working in 52nd Street. I worked for Chuck Wayne, (Gene Ganobi), just very nice jazz players that were name players. After three pieces came in a band from Harlem and there was a new type of music and there was a big buzz on the street about all this new music coming in. On trumpet was Dizzy Gillespie; alto was Charlie Parker; trombone, J.J. Johnson; Curley Russell on bass; Max Roach on drums; and Bud Powell on piano. I'm sitting down with Kai Winding. He was a wonderful trombone player with Stan Kenton. They're all very excited because at the time everything was like (Syd Cappa). Everything was [making beat] straightforward; there was no

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syncopation between left hand and right hand and foot and all that. They opened up and the

opening eight-bar thing was J.J. on trombone and they opened up with a tempo about [making beat].

Kai Winding picked up his trombone and was leaving. I said, "Kai, where are you going?

They just started." He said, "I'm going to go on 52nd Street. I'm going to outside and I'm going to put my trombone in the middle street and let the cab drivers run over it. Bobby, I have never, never heard anything like this or I never thought the trombone could articulate like a trumpet or an alto saxophone."

That was the beginning of a happening, as everybody knows. But at the time I got a job with "Swing and sway with Sammy Kaye." I knew the drummer Tony and he was leaving. I was

about eighteen years old, a cute kid with a lot of curly hair.

And a great smile.

"Bobby," he said, "When it comes to auditioning..." He counted a couple of notes. "Exactly what

I play, you play, nothing more, nothing fancy." [Making beat]

Nice and clean.

"Do very simple straight time." I go to audition and there's about twenty-five drummers and I'm

dressed in a suit. I bought a suit. I combed my hair because he liked clean-cut looking. I sat in

and I played just like Tony played and I got the job. I'm making a hundred and thirty dollars a

week. And it's, "Ladies and gentlemen, direct from the Edison Hotel in downtown New York

City. We bring you 'Swing and sway with Sammy Kaye.'"

So I'm working with Sammy Kaye, and then I changed everything. I go to work 52nd

Street playing jazz and I'm making a hundred and thirty, and then I'm making fifty dollars working

till like six o'clock in the morning.

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But with the giants, with the guys.

I worked with very good players. I sat in with Accardo and Oscar Peterson. There was just a whole bunch of people at that time.

Which made your playing stronger. I think it's sad today, Bobby, you can't go around Vegas and sit in because there's nobody in town working the lounges that's going to make us a better player.

No.

Not anymore.

It's over.

It's over. It's very bitter and it sounds cynical, but it is true. I didn't get to touch the heights you did. I was very lucky. I got to play with Dexter Gordon, Billy Higgins, Don Cherry, and

Ornette in the Hillcrest Club in L.A. when I started back in the fifties, and also studied with

Shelly Manne and Mel Lewis. I was very lucky.

You're a wonderful drummer. But I've got to tell you. You mentioned Dexter Gordon. I'm in San

Francisco working the St. Francis Hotel with Sammy Kaye. I'm making a little more money, I think two hundred dollars a week. Dexter Gordon and Chet Baker were working in a jazz club. I came in and said, "I'd like to sit in." They said, "Who are you with?" I said, "With Sammy Kaye."

He said, "No, you don't want to sit in with us." I said, "No, I'd like to sit in."

I sat in with them and they were very happy. Up tempo, whatever. At that time I was into all the bebop stuff and a lot of syncopation, the Jim Chapin book, I had the whole book down, the whole thing, solos and whatever.

After we finished that night, after I sat in, they went backstage—the set ended—and out came the syringes. They were all popping.

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Shooting up.

Shooting. It came our time, I said, "I don't think so, guys. Maybe I’m a little prude or something, but I'm no...” I was never asked to sit in any more. I would come in and just listen to them because I enjoyed it, but I wasn't asked to sit in.

I worked a job one time with the Kings Four at (Fax two) in San Francisco. A really nice guy, a drummer who was working the club at Fax for (Joe Janrose), took me down to a place called The Plantation. Tommy Smith had a Hammond B3 organ. He just got up from

Damita Jo.

He was black and the drummer was black. Ray, who had taken me to this other club where all the guys—I never knew what Crow Jim was, Bobby.

That's right.

All the guys picked up their horns and said, "Fuck you," and walked off the stage. I was devastated.

That's right, Crow Jim.

Then Ray said, "Well, fuck those guys, man. Come on. I'm going to take you where you can play." So he took me down there and that guy let me sit in. I'll tell you something. I had the biggest musical hard-on that night you could ever get because sitting there behind that

Hammond B3 was just the two of us and catching all those licks. Plus he played the bass pedals.

Right.

The drummer was very good. I think the drummer was like Donald Bailey or somebody.

He dug in.

Tommy Smith, boy, could he play.

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Wonderful, yes.

I came out of there, went home, and woke my wife up. I said, "I think I had a musical

orgasm." I told her what happened. She said, "Well, God, you got beat up on one side." I

said, "You know, Louise, I never felt that terrible feeling that it must be for some guys, that

terrible rejection." I was devastated. Ray said, "Eh, don't worry about that shit, baby.

Come on. I'll go to a joint where we can both play." Man, I even came home at six o'clock in

the morning. So I can appreciate all you doubling from Sammy Kaye. But you know what?

I've worked with some guys and played where a bunch of guys. Dave Pike was a

vibraphonist. Carla Bley, Paul Bley. All excellent players.

But they weren't all shooting up. Some of them were just having fun drinking, as we

all were.

Sure. Chet Baker and Dexter Gordon and Tommy Flanagan or somebody, a very popular—a

wonderful band, great players. I think they're all gone now.

We were just at the hotel in Amsterdam where Chet Baker died, right there down by where

you catch the trains and everything.

This is a weird question. But did you ever see the tricks on drums that came out in

the fifties from Germany, where the bass drum was oval and you had a felt beater and a

wooden beater and there were two pedals?

Yes.

And they got a ba-boom.

I went to the factory and the guy's name was Karl-Heinz Weimer.

Talking about Amsterdam, I've got to tell you a little story. A guy came into my office once; his name was Elvis Aaron Presley, Jr. He claimed to be Elvis' son. I had gotten a call from

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Amsterdam. They heard about him and that I was involved with him and wanted him to come to

Amsterdam and appear on KLO Television. I asked them, "What's the deal?" They said, "Well,

they can give you five thousand apiece and give transportation there and back to Amsterdam." I

had never been there.

This Elvis Presley, Jr. had a driver's license, had a birth certificate, had everything.

Supposedly his mother was in the circus or something and Elvis dated his mother and knocked her up, whatever. He showed it. We went out to Amsterdam and appeared on television. "So Mr.

Morris, how do you feel about him?" I said, "Well, he's got a birth certificate. He's got a driver's

license." We showed it on the television; here, it is. I said, "Certainly I think he's for real." I don't

want to say that he's not because I really didn't know if he was or not. Later on I found out that he

really wasn't.

It was a sham.

Yes. But he did very well and I booked him into the Desert Inn and he was packing the place in

because he was Elvis Presley, Jr. His road manager threatened to expose him if he didn't give him

a raise. Elvis Junior said, "I'm not going to give him a raise." I said, "How much are you paying

him?" "Two hundred a week." I said, "You're making ten thousand."

That sounds like Louis Prima.

Yes. I said, "Give him another hundred dollars." He wouldn't. So he exposed him and he was

going by the name of Johnny Tyrone or something. The hotel found out about it. They called me.

They said, "The contract is over. We want him out." That ended the contract, but it would have

been a very good contract.

Was he good?

He sang well in time, but he didn't move well in time. He was too short to be a son of Elvis, five

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foot seven or five foot eight. Elvis was six one and a half or six two.

But we could go on and on and on now.

We've already done two and a half hours. I'd be willing to sit here, but I know your wife

would like me to go home and it's eight o'clock. It's been a wonderful experience for me. I

don't think we've ever had a lengthy discussion in forty-five, fifty years.

No, we haven't. I've known you. You were a wonderful drummer. You're one of my favorite

comics.

You're very kind.

You really are, Cork Proctor. You were one of my very favorite comedians and you had a very

quick mind. You probably still do, I'm sure.

It's working pretty well.

You were so funny. You were one of the people that I always felt should have gone a long way.

You should have gotten television shows or headline in a hotel.

I shot myself in the foot several times, as you know. If I had it to do over again, I'd probably

do the same lines I did in Major Riddle's opening night show when you and Eleanor Grasso

were there.

Unfortunately, the audience was composed of rednecks. You were much too hip for them.

Yes. But it was funny.

You were wonderful.

I got some laughs. Then Glen Pays said, "This is a family show." That's the first time I

heard that and I thought, families don't belong in Vegas. We have gambling. We've got

hookers. We've got junkies. We've got twenty-four-hour everything.

Let me tell you the story about (NAME) Enterprises, how that came about. They called me and I

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brought Johnny Harra in. We come into Las Vegas and I introduced him. Major Riddle's wife was

an Elvis freak. She just loved Elvis.

Prior to working at the Silverbird, the most he ever made was twenty-five hundred a week.

I got him twenty thousand dollars to start, going up to twenty-five to thirty to forty; that was the

contract; it was a three-year thing. At the end of his first contract, he did a lot of stupid things, like

riding through the halls with a motorcycle and having girls sneak him pies and all that. Major

Riddle called me in and said, "Look, I'll give him a couple thousand dollars a week more if he'll

weigh on the scale; I don't want him to gain any more weight." I told that to Johnny. He said,

"Great."

As I found out, Johnny was making twenty-five hundred a week. I was making more than

Johnny because I was the bandleader, making fifteen hundred a week.

And you booked him.

And I made ten percent off the twenty thousand. So I made thirty-five hundred. He was making twenty-five hundred. He was starting to complain because he bought eight trailers around town and he had women in each trailer. Every day he would go and make love to every girl in every trailer.

He was busy.

He was oversexed. That's an understatement. You know how the contract ended? He wanted a raise and I told Glen Pays, “Give him another thousand, give him another twenty-five hundred."

Glen Pays Enterprises worked for management. Roy Jernagun was in on the team. He was selling the ads.

Jams and jellies and working as a goffer.

Roy is always doing very, very well. He went a long way since then, and he did it through one of

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the Elvises that we had then.

Morris or the other guy?

What's his name? He trained with Harra and then he got shot. Remember his wife, Dana McKay, got killed?

So I told Glen Pays, "Give him another twenty-five hundred a week and that will make him five thousand." I'm making close to that. You guys are making fifteen thousand. He said, "He doesn't deserve it, man."

That's not your problem.

I said, "What the hell do you care, man? Give him." They wouldn't give him and he had himself committed to an institution to get out of the contract. So we got out of the contract. Major Riddle dropped him. Everything just fell apart. He left town.

He called me up about a year or two later to see if I could handle him. So I got him into a place called (Joe Julian's).

I remember that on Spring Mountain Road. It had a mysterious fire.

Right.

Joe just died about a year ago.

Did he? Let me tell you the story on that. I get a call from David Walter Productions in

Hollywood, a big producer. He says, "They're doing the Elvis Presley story. "We want the middle." Which I've got Dana McKay. "And we want the fat Elvis." Johnny Harra. I called

Johnny. I said, "We've got another deal. I'll pick you up tomorrow morning at eight o'clock in the morning. We're going to go right to Hollywood."

The fat is okay because he was going to die in the bathroom in that job. I go to pick him up at eight o'clock in the morning and he's not there. I find out he went with Joe Julian to Hollywood.

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Joe gave him ten thousand dollars and he went to Hollywood and made the movie. He made the movie and Joe acted as his manager.

So they went right around you.

Of course. He did the movie and I saw it. It was good, young Elvis and fat Elvis and most of

Johnny's was like dying and overdose of drugs.

So much for David Walter's ethics.

Yes, right. Joe Julian came and said, "I'm his manager." To make a long story short, Johnny left town. Then he called me maybe a hundred and fifty times a year later because he was back on his ass in Texas working for seventeen hundred a week with his whole band. I told my secretary,

"Tell him I'm in Africa." I've got to get out of this thing. "I'm now living in Iceland." After he called about the hundredth time, I said, "Tell him I never want to talk to him as long as he lives."

Remember the Elvis sightings on TV? He was in those sightings. There was a big convention of something in Las Vegas and he was being honored because he was in Elvis sightings. A guy that worked for me (Lou Merrick) went to that.

I remember him.

He wanted me to go. I said, "No, I don't want to see this horrible person, the jerk-off." So he goes there. I'm sleeping and Lou Merrick calls me. He says, "Bobby, I've got somebody that wants to say hello." I said, "Who is it?" "Oh, it's a surprise." It was Johnny. "Hey, Bobby, this is Johnny

Harra." I was, "What the fuck? Fuck you. Fuck you." I hung up.

Good.

I said, "Don't ever call me, man." Oh, my god.

You know the night since you and Eleanor got me the gig opening for him at the Silverbird and then I think the next night Carmen started, didn't he? Everywhere I got fired Carmen

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came in behind me. At the Silver Slipper?

I don't remember. Carmen was very good, I remember that.

He did come in right after me.

But you were great. You would have been the best. The audience was a redneck audience.

And Glen Pays was terrified. He could see his millions going down the drain.

That's right. But getting back to you, you should have made it big. You should have been a headliner.

I had a good ride, but I didn't take direction very well, and I was too busy chasing my you- know-what. On a brighter note, you have had an amazing. I look at when you said, "I was never very happy." You know what? I don't think Buddy Rich was very happy either.

Buddy was a very angry man. Mel Tormé wrote a book. Jake Hanna, the drummer said,

"What's the book?" Mel said, "It's about Buddy Rich." About a week later Mark Barnett ran into Jake Hanna and he says, "Yeah, did you hear about the book that Mel Tormé wrote about Buddy?" And Jake Hanna said, "Did he mention Buddy in the book?"

That's funny.

It's interesting that Myrna Williams is Mel Tormé's sister.

I just went to Mel Tormé grave site. He's buried in the same place as Peggy Lee and Burt

Lancaster in Hollywood.

Santa Monica somewhere?

Off Wilshire. It's very difficult to find.

Buddy was a talent.

He was great. A real talent.

Everything, arranger, drummer.

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I used to go over Buddy's house. What made him happy was we used to play jazz. He loved to

play jazz, to pick up and [making beat]. I looked outside in his yard there and there were about

fifteen sets of (NAME) drums. I said, "What are you doing with all these drums?" He said, "You

want drums? They keep sending me these goddamn drums." He says, "You want a couple of sets,

take them." They worn in. I said, "I'm with Slingerland; I don't want them." But I got him with

Slingerland later and he started playing Slingerland.

From there where did he go? He went to Camco or something?

I don't know. But he was making a lot of money from Slingerland. But sometime we'd take a trip to the Gold Coast of Australia. I'd like to go on a trip with you and we could exchange a lot more stories.

I've been there. Coolangatta and Noosa, the Gold Coast. I love it.

I was at the Conrad International Hotel and Jim McDonald was the entertainment director and producer of the shows. I was bringing in a show for the Aladdin and I got (Stephanie Nielson) very interested in Yasuda. I spent three months on the Gold Coast. Anyhow, Jim and I became good friends and they had this yacht club. Of course, we would drink wine every day and I couldn't keep up with him. I don't know where the hell it all went. But we brought the Yasudas out to the Gold Coast.

Ginji Yasuda.

Yes, sir.

He was Korean and he changed his name.

Yes, Japanese. We brought them out to the Gold Coast. They loved the show and galaxies and the stars. It was comparable to any show in Las Vegas.

Was (Georgie Carr) on that show, George who walked around and disappeared?

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Georgie Carr was not in that show, but he was in one of the shows. He was in one of Jim

McDonald's productions. Jerry Jackson used to play Elvis. Anyhow, we flew Mr. and Mrs.

Yasuda out and they loved the show. Came back and we negotiated. They were giving me a price and offered a six-month contract, indefinite options. He turned it down because he wanted a year contract because he said it was going to cost him a million dollars to stage the show for Las Vegas.

I said, "Jim, look, skip my commission for the six months. I won't take anything. Just let's do this show, okay, because I know it will stay forever. It's a great show." But he turned it down and they had Abracadabra. Do you remember Abracadabra?

I do. Herbie (Van Burch).

Abracadabra came in for the same things. I used Herbie Van Burch in a show that I brought to

Texas.

They said, "He does great magic, ladies and gentlemen; he made Fielding West disappear."

The show was signed for six months and it stayed for three, Abracadabra, and we could have been there. So I missed out on that. Just another thing came up with Park Place Entertainment. Then we had another one of his shows. We brought that in and I set up a meeting with Tom (Fulterton), entertainment director for Park Place. We were negotiating and it happened a week before

September 11, 2001. It was comparable to any of the Cirque du Soleil shows. It was on that scale with the best acrobats, the best acts, the best choreography, costuming, everything.

Canadian people?

Australian and German and French. All over the world, but it was playing in Australia at the

Conrad International Hotel. That was his best show. So we were going to bring in it. They were ready to buy it, but September 11th came, and they said, "We have to hold everything because it's a

very bad time."

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Did you ever hear the line that somebody asked Jack Benny, "Are you ever going to retire?"

He said, "Retire to what?" Somehow I don't see you giving up anything. You still want to

play. We talked about music. Do you still want to keep doing this because you've had a

great career, booking, conducting, schmoozing and hanging out? Look at the people—your

father had a point when you were young, you should hang wallpaper. Do you think there's ever been a Polish wallpaper guy that ever got to hang out with Jack Kennedy and Mo

Giancana? Not to my knowledge.

I don't think so.

I don't think so. You can look in the Yellow Pages and go, "Oh, yeah, he knows everybody."

No, I don't think so. I still enjoy playing. I still have the jazz group and we still do corporate events, conventions and things like that. I'd like to maybe do one day a week. But as far as the entertainment, I've become very, very selective in representations.

Your time is valuable now. You're not twenty-eight years old.

Right. The time is valuable and every day, every week, every month is going by very quickly.

It seems that way, doesn't it?

I mean, Christmas comes and then before you know it there's another Christmas coming.

I know it's coming because the American Lung Association just sent me Christmas cards and now they want a check. I didn't have a money. So I just spent on a Kleenex and sent it back to them and said, "That's all I can give you."

I sent to Heart Association, to the cancer, to every...

You've had extremely good health. You've never been sick, have you?

No, thank God, I'm okay. I'm still hanging in there.

We're among the few, Bobby.

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Yes, I'm still hanging in there.

There's just a limited. Sam Butera is still alive, still tinting his hair. Sam looks like Emeril

Lagasse. I'm more convinced than ever now that these people came from the moors and they're half “smarshes.” I know they are.

Sam Butera is from the Louis Prima mode.

Oh, yes. He became Louis. He doesn't think he did, but he did.

Louis Prima mode as far as...I booked him.

He's a great act.

I could tell you some stories about him.

I could tell you some about him in Reno.

I booked him at the Resorts International for five years. Then I got him another five years with a big raise.

He had a great run.

A big, big raise. But he didn't want to pay me commission. He felt I already gave you commission for five years. I said, "But I booked you for another five years with a big raise with your own suite and everything."

I think he probably hindered his own progress.

Whatever happened with the beef between Sam and Frank Sinatra? Do you know that story?

All I could tell you is I had Sam at Resorts International in Atlantic City. Frank Sinatra was in the big room with Sam. Sam called me. I think he was making sixty-five or seventy-five hundred a week. He goes, "Bobby, tell him to tear up the contract. I want twice as much." I said, "Why?"

"Frank Sinatra sat in and it was packed." I said, "Come on, be realistic."

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When I booked Sam for the other five years, he wouldn't give me commission.

Unfortunately, I had to sue him.

And you collected?

We went down for deposition. My attorney was (Mark Trials). We sat down and he was hemming

and hawing all over the place. They had him sign papers to everything. Any time we made a deal

(indiscernible) Louis Prima.

Yes. It's risky.

So I had him sign. His attorney called my attorney into the huddle. He said, "Bobby Morris is right and Sammy is wrong because he signed this." He called me and said, "What if I got you a five-year book? Would you settle for three years now?" I took the advice to settle because who

knows what's going to happen in three years. Sam and I were good friends and I stayed right in his

home in New Orleans and we went fishing for shrimp. We brought big shrimp to his home. We

were friends. I had been with him for many years and we spent a lot of time together. But when it

comes to money, he's from the Louis Prima mode. I wish him the best and I hope he enjoys his

life.

What is he, eighty? He's almost eighty and he's been very lucky.

Sam is seventy-seven in August.

Is he? I don't think he's supposed to drink anymore. That much I do know. His liver is

jumping up and down.

That's right.

He's had a great run. But when they did that tune "Satisfy Me One More Time," and

Sinatra says, "Get all over that horn," I thought, God, he's in the fold. And he's Italian,

Sicilian. I figured he would go on the band and be featured and Sinatra would feature him

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and everything. But I guess something happened.

…Barbara Marx Sinatra was very selective about...She dressed Marlene Ricci and

tried to get her out of the Spandex pants and stop looking like a Puerto Rican hooker. I have

nothing against Puerto Ricans and I like Marlene, so it's not about that. But the rumors had

it that Mrs. Sinatra had a tremendous amount of clout over Frank's friends. I'm not sure if

it's all true, but from what I've heard from talking to guys like Frankie Reynold, Barbara

had a tremendous amount of ability to sway Frank, as well as she probably should have. The

same thing happened with Jack Kennedy where Frank was the number-one guy and all of a

sudden Jack's advisers said, "We just can't have this guy." It was after the Mo Giancana

thing. "We can't have this guy here."

He was too involved.

It looks like we're all connected.

That's right. It was very bad because he was a very good friend of Kennedy. They were good

friends and it hurt Frank a lot.

But his friends unfortunately didn't measure up to the level of the Kennedy people in

Washington, D.C.

No. And he wanted to go away from that image. That image became not what they were looking for at that stage because he could become president. It was okay that he did help him become president and his friends helped him become president. But when he became president, he should have...That situation in Dallas, there could be a lot more to what the public were taught to believe and what really happened.

I don't believe that there was a single shooter. You'd have to be an idiot.

No. It was an involvement of a group of people and a lot of them were his enemies. He made a lot

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of enemies and so did Bobby Kennedy.

(Barry Pegs) was a bad piece of advice, another Robert McNamara screw-up.

I had a personal contact with John Kennedy at one time and it was remarkable to have a contact with somebody that invites and he becomes president.

Well, he liked you.

Yes. He liked all of us. He liked the band. He liked the music. He liked the excitement. He liked the enthusiasm of the group. He liked the nucleus. He liked the variety. He liked the concept.

He had good musical tastes. He was one of the first guys who started bringing in different, diverse facts and stuff like that. He was extremely well cultured. Plus, he was a war hero. If you look at the options we have today in modern American politics, it's embarrassing. Here was a president that came out of a PT boat who was a true intellectual.

Yes. But without flaunting it. He was a remarkable mind and a remarkable person.

Great sense of humor.

Articulate, so well-spoken. Every word he said was beautiful. Other than I'm in now in a situation where it's a completely different thing.

We have a guy that stumbles over the word nuclear. But that's another story.

In a few minutes we're going to find out how he's doing.

Unfortunately, I hope there will be a change here because it's time.

But on a brighter note, did you get hit on a lot? I mean you were a star with Elvis. You were a star with Louis. And you traveled with everybody and anybody from Eddie Fisher. You must have got a lot of propositions.

When you're in a position like that, when you're traveling with people, yes, there are women that come on with you. There was one at the Playboy mansion in Chicago. She was a Miss February.

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She just was so nice and friendly. She invited me to move in there and I lived with her in the

mansion for two weeks.

It was marvelous. When you're with people of that stature, it really helps out, too.

But you're an articulate cat and a bright player and still good looking.

No, no.

When you were younger you were handsome.

You're good looking. I'm just passable.

No. I have a picture of you right here.

That was years ago with Elvis Presley.

Yes. But my point is you had a great smile and you look like, "Hi, I'm Bobby Morris and I have a pinkie ring."

I think that was a ring he gave me. It was easy to smile being with Elvis because he was a very

nice person. He was a wonderful human being; he would give the shirt off his back and he did.

He was so giving.

You can't hear much bad about him. The sad thing is he just died young. Somebody made

the observation that Elvis and Marilyn and Janis Joplin might not have aged well. Even

Frank Zappa. A lot of guys just maybe wouldn't have become Perry Como.

Why did he gain so much weight, though?

I guess he was eating too much.

He looked good there, but he was really much better looking. This was like when he just came off

the stage. He was all sweated up. But he was a tremendous looking guy.

Bobby, I'm going to let you go because I've taken up three hours of your time.

It's a pleasure.

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It certainly has been a pleasure for me. It's one of my more crowning achievements.

It's a pleasure.

You're in good company with Herb Jeffries and Shecky Greene and Buddy Greco and

Frankie Randall.

They're all good people.

It's been a wonderful experience for me because to talk to guys of your nature and get to know so much...I don't know that there's a book forthcoming, but it—

Don't sell yourself short, Cork, because you're every bit in that kind of category.

I'm okay. I think I'm having my last hoorah. It's pretty good here. I've got my health, notwithstanding a little arthritis from playing. It's amazing. When you choke the stick, as I did when I was working that Harold's Club gig for five years, I think I wore out my joints because I was holding the stick. I know how to play correctly. And I think I choked the stick down to keep the noise down and as a net result now they look like tree stumps.

Did you hurt yourself?

Yes, I actually gave my—the fingers that I used—the rest of them don't look that good either.

But the ones that I used the most all went kind of fruity on me. But the other ones are okay.

They don't hurt.

I'm sure you could stick.

I guess we could all play. Bebop.

I've got to go to the Bohemian Club in San Francisco.

I'm going to bring you the book before you go.

Please do because—they're getting all the best players in San Francisco and, of course, I'm going to play with them. But to be honest with you, I'm going to be doing a little practicing out there.

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Wood shedding.

Yes.

Get that Henry Adler pad out.

I want to get back to where I was and I'm going to be sitting in and having a fun and going to be

flying down with Sig Rogich.

Give him my best.

Clint Eastwood is a member there and George Bush, Sr. George Bush is the one that got Sig

Rogich in as a member.

Because George Bush is the guy that made Sig the ambassador to Iceland.

Talking about history, he's got quite a story, too.

Yes. And lucky.

Yes. He was at the right place at the right time. He is just very, very successful.

We may have to do another tape. Thank you again. It's been three great hours and I appreciate your sensitivity and your friendship.

You bet.

Stay well.

You too, Cork.

That's it, Joyce. Get busy.

[End of recorded interview]

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INDEX

A D

Accardo, Jerry, 52 Darin, Bobby, 20, 24 Accardo, Tony, 52 Davis, Jr., Sammy, 11, 26, 39, 40 Adler, Henry, 22, 23, 77 DeAngelis, Bill, 34 Aladdin Hotel and Casino, 68 Desert Inn Hotel and Casino, 12, 14, 25, 62 Allenberg, New York, 53 Amsterdam, The Netherlands, 61, 62 E Andragon, Jim, 15, 40 Arden, Donn, 12, 14 Eden Roc (Miami), 20, 21, 50 Armstrong, Louis, 17 El San Juan Hotel, 35 Australia, 47, 68, 69 Entratter, Jack, 35

B F

Baker, Chet, 59, 61 Fisher, Eddie, 35, 36, 42, 51, 74 Basie, Count, 2 Fitzgerald, Ella, 40 Belafonte, Harry, 39 Flamingo Hotel and Casino, 2, 8, 31, 34, 41, 42, 43, 46 Bell, Freddie, 17, 29, 50 Flanagan, Tommy, 61 Berle, Milton, 39 Foster, Dick, 33 Black Magic, 2, 3, 15 Brown, Wes, 6 G Burns, George, 40 Butera, Sam, 3, 5, 9, 12, 13, 14, 71, 72 Gayle, Jackie, 53 Giancana, Sam, 52, 70, 73 Gillespie, Dizzy, 57 C Gold Coast Hotel and Casino, 68 Caesars Hotel and Casino, 29, 34, 42 Golden Hotel, 23, 53 Capitol Records, 5 Goodman, Benny, 2, 22 Carr, Georgie, 68, 69 Gordon, Dexter, 59, 61 Casey, Paul, 46, 48 Grant, Cary, 39 Casino Theatre, 42, 43 Catskill Mountains, New York, 4, 23 H Chicago, Illinois, 7, 52, 53, 55, 74 Cole, Nat King, 27, 40 Hackett, Buddy, 36 Conrad International Hotel, 68, 69 Hara, Johnny, 47 Copacabana (New York), 7, 15, 38, 39, 40 Harold's Club, 1, 9, 76 Costanzo, Jack, 35 Harra, Johnny, 64, 65, 66 Cottler, Irv, 20, 21 Harrah's Hotel and Casino, 10, 11, 13 Creative Enterprises, 35 Harvey's Lake Tahoe Hotel and Casino, 28, 29, 30 Curtis, Tony, 10, 39, 40 Hefner, Hugh, 53 Cy Coleman Trio, 2 Hendricks, Jimmy, 31 Hepburn, Katharine, 39 Hughes, Howard, 32, 49

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I M

International Hotel and Casino, 24, 41 Manne, Shelly, 6, 10, 15, 59 Irwin, Stan, 3, 18 Martin, Dean, 4, 26, 27 Martin, Tony, 17 J McCumber, Willie, 3, 4 McDonald, Jim, 68, 69 Jack Prince and the Paupers, 2 McKay, Dana, 65 Japan, 19, 20, 48 Mexico City, Mexico, 51, 52 Jernagun, Roy, 64 MGM Studios, 45 Jim, Crow, 60 Miami, Florida, 20, 47, 50, 51 Jodimars, 1, 9, 12 Moon, Keith, 43 Johnson, Dick, 3, 4 Moulin Rouge (Hollywood), 7, 15, 39 Johnson, J.J., 57 Jones, Elvin, 19 N Jones, Philly Joe, 19 Jones, Tom, 45 National Association of Rhythm Blues, 22 Julian, Joe, 65, 66 New Jersey, 8 New Orleans, Louisiana, 5, 7, 55, 72 K New York City Opera, 55 Katleman, Beldon, 49 P Kawaguchi, George, 19, 20 Kaye, Mary, 55, 56 Page, Bobby, 31 Kaye, Sammy, 58, 59, 61 Paramount Theatre, 22 Keeney, Chick, 17, 50 Park Place Entertainment, 69 Kennedy, John F., 39, 40, 70, 73, 74 Parker, Charlie, 57 Kennedy, Robert, 74 Parker, Colonel, 45, 46, 47, 48 Kenton, Stan, 2, 57 Pays, Glen, 63, 64, 65, 67 Kerkorian, Kirk, 43 Peterson, Oscar, 59 King, Sonny, 29 Poland, 22, 25, 36 Kings Four, 27, 60 Powell, Bud, 57 Krupa, Gene, 20, 22, 56 Pozo, Chano, 2 Kudrna, Richard, 28, 29 Pozo, Chia, 2 Prell, Milton, 3 L Presley, Elvis, 1, 13, 25, 31, 41, 43, 44, 45, 46, 47, 48, 61, 62, 63, 64, 65, 66, 69, 74, 75 Laine, Frankie, 38, 42 Presley, Priscilla, 45 Lake Tahoe, 9, 13, 28 Prima, Louis, 1, 3, 4, 5, 6, 8, 9, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, Lane, Dick, 32 22, 25, 26, 27, 32, 38, 47, 52, 54, 55, 62, 71, 72, 74 Lang, Harvey, 9 Puerto Rico, 35, 36 Last Frontier Hotel and Casino, 2 Puro, Louis, 35 Latin Casino (New York), 2, 8, 15, 16, 19, 38, 39 Ledbetter, Bill, 29 R Lehr, Zella, 30 Levey, Stan, 33 Reagan, Ronald, 2, 57 Levine, Joseph, 55 Reynolds, Debbie, 10, 36 Levy, Lou, 40 Rich, Buddy, 17, 18, 19, 20, 23, 36, 50, 51, 54, 67, 68, Lewis, Ted, 2 76 Liberace, 2, 55 Richman, Harry, 2 Los Angeles, California, 5 Rito, Ted Fio, 2, 32, 49, 56, 57

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Riviera Hotel and Casino, 17, 56 T Rizzo, Betty, 41 Roach, Max, 57 Tanzi, Dominic, 29, 30 Rodriquez, Amato, 3 The Ed Sullivan Show, 4, 7, 35, 36, 37 Rogich, Sig, 77 The Sweet Inspirations, 46, 48 Rose, Ron, 30 Thomas, Danny, 26, 27 Russell, Curley, 57 Tormé, Mel, 67 Tucker, Sophie, 2 S Tutt, Ronnie, 44 Sahara Hotel and Casino, 1, 2, 10, 12, 17, 20, 52 U San Francisco, California, 7, 59, 60, 76 Sands Hotel and Casino, 9, 25, 26, 29, 34 Universal Studios, Hollywood, 10 Shore, Dinah, 4 Shore, Pauly, 45 V Shore, Sammy, 45 Showboat Hotel and Casino, 7 Van, Garwood, 2, 31, 55, 56 Silver Slipper Casino, 17, 67 Vasquez, Art, 45, 46 Silverbird Hotel and Casino, 64, 66 Vaughan, Sarah, 40 Sinatra, Frank, 4, 11, 15, 20, 21, 26, 27, 32, 39, 71, 72, Vincent, Bob, 29 73 Slingerland Drum Company, 19, 20, 68 W Slutsky, Ben, 54 Smith, Keely, 1, 3, 8, 11, 13, 14, 15, 38, 52, 54 Wayne, Chuck, 57 Stardust Hotel and Casino, 34 Weeks, Jerry, 31 Sterling, Jack, 6 Williams, Andy, 53 Stevens, Connie, 36 Winding, Kai, 57, 58 Stevenson, Ed, 29 Stoller, Alvin, 10, 15

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