Watch Me A Memoir by Anjelica Huston
Watch Me A Memoir by Anjelica Huston
Watch Me A Memoir by Anjelica Huston
"
"
door booth as you tucked behind your ear a fresh gardenia from
the scorpion punch. Los Angeles was a small town then; it felt
both incredibly glamorous and a little provincial.
Cici had a son, Collin, by a former marriage to the documentary filmmaker and screenwriter Walon Green. Collin had
dyslexia, as well as a few other health issues. Cici, who was in
her mid-thirties, ran with a fast crowd. She had gone to private schools in Beverly Hills and Montecito, and her friends
were the hot beauties of the day, from Jill St. John and Stefanie
Powers to Bo Derek and Stephanie Zimbalistglamorous
sportswomen and great horseback riders who had grown up
privileged in the western sunbelt. She had played baseball with
Elvis Presley at Beverly Glen Park in the fifties and roomed
with Grace Slick at Finch College in New York. Cici also had a
lively retinue of gay friends who were sportive and gossipy and
informal.
Cicis energy was buoyant. She cursed like a sailor and loved
a bit of illicit fun, as did I. Our practice, at least a couple of times
a week, was to do an impromptu raid on other peoples gardens
in the neighboring canyons. I would wield the scimitars, and
with a trunkful of flowers and branches, Cici would drive her
candy-apple-red Maserati like a getaway car, burning rubber to
peals of laughter; although we tempted fate, for some miraculous reason we never got caught. Sometimes Allegra would
accompany us on these forays.
After the sale of St. Clerans, Allegra had moved in with her
Irish nanny, Kathleen Shine, whom we called Nurse, to share
a rented house in Santa Monica with Gladys Hill, Dads cowriter
and secretary. Heartbroken by the death of our mother and still
painfully loyal to her, Nurse had been a staple of Tonys and
my childhood. Gladys was calm, deliberate, and kind. A moon-
"
faced woman from West Virginia with ice-blond hair, she was
devoted to Dad and shared his passion for pre-Columbian art.
She had worked for him in the previous decade and was part of
the family in Ireland when I was growing up.
Allegra was going on nine and was extremely smart; it was
already her intention to go to Oxford University. From the
time she was a baby, shed had an innate, deep wisdom and a
sweet formality about her.
I looked up Jeremy Railton, a handsome Rhodesian friend
from my former life, when I was going to school in London.
He had been designing the sets for a play by Ntozake Shange,
For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide When the Rainbow
Is Enuf, and was living in an apartment on Fountain Avenue.
We picked up our friendship where wed left off five years
before. He introduced me to his social circle, which included
the comedy writer Kenny Solms and his collaborator, Gail Parent; Sandy Gallin; Michael Douglas and Brenda Vaccaro; Paula
and Lisa Weinstein; and Neil Diamond. Kenny and Gail wrote
for The Carol Burnett Show and numerous television specials for
Mary Tyler Moore, Dick Van Dyke, and Julie Andrews.
Cici knew that I was still shaken from my split with Bob
Richardson. She did her best to take me out and introduce me
to people, but I was more interested in riding her horses and
walking in the next-door garden. She and Dad had just celebrated the completion of a new Jacuzzi, and one afternoon I
found the actor Don Johnson and a male friend of his floating
in it. Though I was grateful to Cici for her efforts, I was somewhat embarrassed and ran back to the camellia trees.
A Swedish friend of hers, Brigitta, who owned Strip Thrills,
a dress shop on Sunset, told Cici that she was going to a party
at Jack Nicholsons house and invited her to come along. Cici
"
asked if she could bring her stepdaughter, and Brigitta said fine,
that it was his birthday, and Jack loved pretty girls.
I borrowed an evening dress from Ciciblack, long, open
at the back, with a diamant clasp. Brigitta and another Swedish girl picked us up and the four of us drove in Brigittas car to
Jacks house on Mulholland Drive, on a high ridge separating
Beverly Hills from the San Fernando Valley on the other side.
It felt like we were on top of the world.
The front door of a modest two-story ranch-style house
opened, and there was that smile. Later, after he became a superstar and was on the cover of Time magazine, Diana Vreeland was
to christen it The Killer Smile. But at the time I thought, Ah!
Yes. Now, theres a man you could fall for.
In 1969, when I was still living in London, I had gone with
some friends to see Easy Rider in a movie theater in Piccadilly
Circus, and had returned alone some days later to see it again.
It was Jacks combination of ease and exuberance that had captured me from the moment he came on-screen. I think it was
probably upon seeing the film that, like many others, I first fell
in love with Jack.
The second time was when he opened the door to his house
that early evening in April, with the late sun still golden in the
sky. Good evening, ladies, he said, beaming, and added in a
slow drawl, Im Jack, and Im glad you could make it.
He motioned for us to enter. The front room was lowceilinged, candlelit, and filled with strangers. There was Greek
food, and music playing. I danced with Jack for hours. And
when he invited me to stay the night, I asked Cici what she
thought. Are you kidding? she said. Of course!
In the morning, when I woke up and put on my evening
dress from the night before, Jack was already downstairs. Some-
"
"
"