This is the city: Los Angeleez Califor-ni-a. The following story is true. The names were left the same because there were no innocent to protect. In a moment a description of the events. But first an ad from our sponsor Chesterfield Cigarettes:
More deceased doctors recommend Chesterfield Cigarettes for their cadavers who smoke cigarettes than any other brand. Why not try a Chesterfield today and experience the full rich tobacco flavor of toxic gases slowly nestling into your once pink lungs. And with Chesterfield there’s no morning hack. In fact, after smoking them for a while, there’s no morning at all. Just mourning.
That’s how you could advertise cigarettes in 1954. And now back to our True Story:
A telephone conversation between frantic landlady Florence Katz Ross and her unimpressed friend Gladys Rabinowitz:
Florence: Yes operator. I’d like MElrose3-9421.
Operator: One moment please. OK. Go ahead.
Florence: Hello Gladys? Gladys, you’re never gonna believe what just happened.
Gladys: Well what is it honey? Do tell.
Florence: Well I was just adjusting the rabbit ears on my new 8” Philco-Vision TV set to watch my stories, when Frank Sinatra and Joe DiMaggio break down my door with an axe, run over to me and demand to know where Marilyn is. I said “Marilyn who?” And Joe says, “My wife Marilyn Monroe. She’s shacking up here with some bum and I’m gonna give it to him real good see. You capish lady? Now where is she?”
Gladys: Now what channel did you say they were on?
Florence: No. It’s not a show. They were just here. In my house. Joe DiMaggio and Frank Sinatra. My door is lying flat on the floor.
Gladys: That’s a very nice story Florence. But I have to go now because Harry & Bess Truman just arrived for lunch. Florence, if I told you once I told you a thousand times; please, use the cooking sherry only for cooking.
Florence: No. Really. Frank Sinatra and Joe DiMaggio were just here. They were…oh never mind. I’ll just call LA Pulp Confidential Confession instead. They’ll believe me.
Sound far fetched? Hardly. This event actually did occur (with the slightest of humorous embellishment). I become giddy speculating on what was going through little old landlady Florence Katz-Ross’s mind when two of the most famous men in America broke down her door with an axe, rushed inside (also known as breaking and entering), grabbed her by the shoulders and began to interrogate her. If that event wasn’t unnerving enough, poor Florence begins to slowly recognize her invaders as Ol’ Blue Eyes and the Yankee Clipper. WTH! – H standing for heck, this being the 1950s. Two legends (one of the screen, the other of the diamond) are in her parlor which is normally occupied by white ceramic dishes of 3 year old hard candy resting on lacy doilies.
In January 1954 Marilyn and Joe were married. She to his guinea charm and he to her bodacious ta-ta’s. It was a match made in celebrity insecurities heaven. By August 1954 they had hit hard times and were on the outs. About this time Marilyn was preparing for a new movie requiring dialogue training and so she engaged the services of the renowned and perfectly libidinous voice coach Ivan Rubitsky. Apparently the coaching went a little too well and Rubitsky began teaching Marilyn to speak from her diaphragm. Trysting ensued and Joltin’ Joe got wind of it. So he enlisted the services of a private dic to find out about this public dick.
The detective traced them to the above mentioned house on Wilshire Blvd and gave the address to Mr. DiMaggio – little did Joe realize this love nest was a duplex. In hopes of catching his now ex-wife in flagrante delicto (humping like a hyena), Joe requested the assistance of his gumbah Frank Sinatra, who, like Joe was also an honorary member of the Sicilian Brownies. Armed with enough Mediterranean testosterone to impregnate all of Sardinia, they hightail it over to Wilshire Blvd where, axe in hand, they storm the place, but instead of breaking and entering the upstairs love nest where Marilyn and Ivan are engaged in oral arguments, they mistakenly break into itty bitty landlady Florence Katz-Ross’s tidy downstairs flat, only to find the old maid fondling her rabbit ears with intent to get a better picture. By now Marilyn and Ivan had heard the ruckus downstairs and escaped through a back exit.
And that’s 2 perspectives (Florence’s and Joe DiMaggio’s) on how world famous Joe DiMaggio and Frank Sinatra were unexpectedly brought face to face with old maid Florence Katz-Ross in her apartment one day. It is rumored that upon realizing their mistake, Sinatra peeled off five $100 bills, tossed them on the floor and said, “Sorry lady. We got the wrong broad.” Meanwhile DiMaggio straightened Florence’s frumpy house coat, apologized profusely and politely asked for a cigarette. When she offered him a Phillip Morris he remarked, “Hey me and Frank are really sorry about all this, but there is one thing I want to tell you. You should really consider the full, rich tobacco flavor of Chesterfield Cigarettes.”
In short order Joe and Frank left and, as we now know, Florence called Gladys. After Gladys accused Florence of a drunken hallucination, the Florence called LA Pulp Confidential Confession magazine with the story.
Florence: Yes operator. I’d like MUllholland6-3873.
Operator: One moment please. OK. Go ahead.
Florence: Hello LA Pulp Confidential Confession, you’re never gonna believe what just happened.
LA PCC: Well what is it honey? Do tell.
Florence: Well I was just adjusting the rabbit ears on my new 8” Philco-Vision TV set to watch my stories, when Frank Sinatra and Joe DiMaggio break down my door with an axe, run over to me and demand to know where Marilyn is.
LA PCC: Hang on one minute doll face while I light up my Chesterfield cigarette.
Florence: Jesus! Enough with the Chesterfield Cigarettes already. I didn’t know we had “product placement” ads in 1954. Do you want to hear about Joe and Frank or what?
LA PCC: Alright then sweetheart. Spill it.
Florence: OK then. There I was just minding my own business when…
Chesterfield Cigarettes and Marilyn Monroe – Both Smokin’!