Zeppo, p.30
Zeppo, page 30
Zeppo was starting to feel old for the first time. His much younger wife liked to go to parties and stay out late, while Zeppo liked to get home early and go to bed. It didn’t bode well for their future. In her book Barbara wrote, “[A]fter two years in Palm Springs, I began asking myself how much tennis, golf or gin I could play.” Publicly Zeppo and Barbara seemed to be a very happy couple. The April 19, 1961, edition of Palm Springs Life carried this item: “Their home looks out on the second green at Tamarisk Country Club. Well, one day Barbara happened to see a golf ball fly through the air and land neatly in the cup. Excitedly, she ran out to congratulate the golfer who’d hit the hole-in-one. And who was it? None other than Zeppo himself.”
Barbara wasn’t going anywhere for the time being. She threw herself into charity work and volunteered to raise money for City of Hope, a cancer hospital in Duarte. The charity screening organized by Barbara that took place at the Plaza Theatre in Palm Springs on February 27, 1963, was made possible because of a very nice gesture by Frank Sinatra, who was asked by Zeppo to help with Barbara’s benefit. Sinatra arranged for his just completed film Come Blow Your Horn to have its world premiere to benefit Barbara’s City of Hope event. Sinatra brought everyone involved with the film to the event and it had all the glamour of an old-fashioned Hollywood premiere. It was a big success, and a lot of money was raised.
In her book Barbara picks up the story the following day:
Zeppo and I went to Tamarisk Country Club for lunch. I spotted Frank sitting at a table and said, “I’d like to go over to thank him personally.” “Stay there!” Zeppo barked. “I’ll go over and thank him.” I stared at my husband for a moment. I remembered when Zeppo and I had watched Andy Williams perform in Vegas; it had somehow gotten into his head that Andy was singing directly to me. “Stop flirting with him!” Zeppo had snapped as I sat innocently in my seat. . . . I told Zeppo, “Then please thank Frank from me,” and watched as he went over to the Sinatra table. I saw Frank look up and nod politely in my direction. I smiled, and he smiled back at me. Ridiculously, I felt myself blushing. Zeppo returned to our table with an invitation for dinner that night, which he couldn’t possibly refuse after the favor Frank had done for me.
That dinner was the first time Barbara was inside Sinatra’s house. She was aware of Sinatra’s flirtations as well as Zeppo’s fits of jealously. She wrote, “I knew that Frank’s reputation as a hothead superseded Zeppo’s, so I didn’t relish the idea of a public showdown. . . . I hadn’t been married that long and was determined my marriage to Zeppo would work. Bobby’s future was at stake as much as mine.” Although Zeppo was fully supporting Bobby financially, Barbara was frustrated that her former husband was delinquent in his child support payments. She did something about it that might have been payback for blocking the adoption. The Long Beach Independent reported on January 23, 1962, that
Robert Harrison Oliver was convicted Monday of contempt of court for failing to make child support payments to his former wife who is now married to Zeppo Marx of Marx Brothers movie fame. Mr. and Mrs. Marx drove here to court from their home in Palm Springs. . . . Oliver . . . was jailed for one day . . . for willfully failing to make monthly $125 payments last September, October and November for support of his son Robert, now 11. Mrs. Marx has custody of the child. . . . Oliver testified that he took home $290 a month during the period in question from his job as a bartender in Belmont Shore.”
Zeppo’s jealousy and persistent infidelity were a dangerous combination for the marriage. Barbara once arrived at Newport Beach, where the Barbara Ann was docked, and found a party with several young women in progress. Zeppo was below deck with one of them. This indiscretion cost him a trip to Europe, which Barbara accepted as compensation. As he had with Marion, Zeppo controlled the money, so Barbara had to cooperate to get things she wanted. Zeppo was very good at hiding his money—from his wives and the government—and Barbara wasn’t quite sure how rich he was. This was something he picked up from his mobster friends. He was also capable of losing large sums of money gambling and that had to take a toll no matter how rich he was. In her book Barbara claims he once told her he lost $6 million in one crap game. While that seems unlikely, he certainly had plenty of money after selling the agency and Marman. He not only gambled for high stakes, but Zeppo also bought expensive things and invested large sums of money into businesses and the stock market.
By the time Barbara had settled into life in Palm Springs, Zeppo had again lost contact with Tom and Tim following their 1958 visit. Tim made some effort to stay in touch, but Tom was through with Zeppo and wanted nothing to do with him. He says, “My brother kind of ingratiated himself to him, but I didn’t have any interest. I couldn’t even speak to Zeppo. If I said something to him that he didn’t like, he could explode. I was glad to be out of the whole thing.”
Zeppo didn’t know that Tom had dropped out of Cheshire Academy in the spring of 1961. Tim says, “That’s when Tom’s musical career started to blossom. He got into the Berklee School of Music in Boston without a high school diploma, based on some tapes he had made playing percussion and piano. They thought he was incredible.” Tom adds, “Zeppo knew nothing at all about my music, but Marion knew all about it. I got a little bit close to my mother, but not very close. She was very demanding. She knew everything. You knew nothing. One of the things she used to say was, ‘Don’t put me on the defensive.’ You couldn’t criticize her at all for anything.”
Tim’s relationship with Marion remained cordial. In 1960 she took him on a European vacation that included a trip to Rome for the Olympics. Tim recalls, “Tom did me a big favor at that time. He told Marion, ‘Tim really needs to go back with you and go to school in New York.’” But his last semester at the Cheshire School didn’t go well. In the fall of 1961, his deliberate effort to flunk out at Cheshire caused Tim to repeat the eleventh grade at the Rhodes School on West 54th Street in Manhattan. But living in New York with Marion greatly improved Tim’s situation. She traveled extensively, leaving him alone in the apartment for weeks at a time.
In the spring of 1963, Tim was a member of the Rhodes baseball team and he pitched the opening game on April 1. Marion did not attend. Tim returned home after the game and when asked by his mother how he did, he told her he had pitched a no-hitter. She laughed it off as an April Fools’ Day prank. But the next day Marion saw an item in the New York Times: “No-Hitter by Marx Wins for Rhodes.” The article said, “Tim Marx enjoyed the thrill of a lifetime by pitching an opening-season baseball no-hitter for Rhodes School yesterday. Marx twirled the prep school team from Manhattan to a 5–0 victory over Bronx Science High School. . . . He struck out nine batters.” Marion a sentimental, if indifferent parent, carefully saved the newspaper clipping. If the news made it back to Zeppo in California Tim was not aware of it.
In October 1962 Marion’s mother had died at the age of seventy-seven. She’d recently retired as an interior decorator, a profession she took up when she moved back to New York at Marion’s behest. With her mother gone, Marion was grateful to have Tim in her life more regularly. By the time he graduated in 1963, the animosity between Marion and Zeppo had further diminished. Tim recalls, “I went away to college in Atlanta that fall, and Marion moved back to Los Angeles. She and Zeppo were friendly at that point. Things really started to get better between them when I was in high school.” But Marion still held a certain level of resentment. Tim says, “She was very much annoyed that he married Barbara. Marion didn’t like her at all. Barbara was a close pal of Dinah Shore, and they would turn up at the Beverly Hills Tennis Club. Marion used to snarl about it. It was an invasion of her space.”
Zeppo and Barbara socialized with Shore frequently in Palm Springs while she was going through her divorce from actor George Montgomery. She married Maurice Smith, her mixed doubles partner from the Racquet Club, as soon as the divorce was finalized. A large group of friends, including Barbara and Zeppo, celebrated with her when she opened at Harrah’s Lake Tahoe in August 1963. When Dinah was at the Riviera in October, another large group of Palm Springs friends made the trip, this time including actress Donna Reed and her producer husband, Tony Owen. Owen, a former agent, liked to gamble and was an acquaintance of Zeppo’s. They had both been regulars at the Clover Club twenty years earlier.
Marion reconnected with Harpo’s wife Susan after not being in touch for most of the eight years she spent in New York. She complained to Susan that Barbara was born the same year she and Zeppo had gotten married and called her ex-husband a dirty old man. Susan and Harpo were living near Zeppo and Barbara in Palm Springs and they liked Barbara. Harpo also didn’t like hearing complaints about his brothers, no matter how justifiable they may have been. Marion’s comments didn’t impress Susan either. She was twenty years younger than Harpo and didn’t see the twenty-six-year age difference between Zeppo and Barbara any differently. Susan and Marion remained friendly, but from a comfortable distance. With their children grown there wasn’t much left in common for them.
Tim visited Marion in Los Angeles during his spring break from college in 1964. Marion was justifiably proud of Tim for having overcome a childhood that even she would have to admit was far from ideal. She tried to foster a relationship with Tom, but it was difficult. Tim says, “When we first moved to New York with Marion, Tom started getting high. That continued after high school, and it got worse. Marion recognized that military school messed up Tom.”
During Tim’s visit there was a brief awkward reunion with Zeppo. Marion and Tim went to see a movie in Westwood and Marion noticed someone in the lobby of the theater. “That old guy looks familiar,” she jokingly said to Tim. Zeppo and Barbara stopped to say hello. Marion and Zeppo were very cordial, and everyone quickly moved on. Near the end of his visit, Marion surprised Tim with an expensive gift—the sort of thing that would never have come from Zeppo. She bought him a 1964 Chevrolet Corvair and asked when he needed to be back at school. “In four days,” Tim answered. Marion suggested he hop in and start driving. Tim rushed back to Atlanta in his new car. He drove back to Los Angeles in the car that summer and visited Marion again. He didn’t see Zeppo on that trip.
Zeppo liked to tell people that he was now a citrus rancher, so it was unexpected and caused a minor family crisis when Harpo and Gummo learned that he’d sold his share of the Martuc Ranch without telling his partners—just before a statement came showing the ranch needed additional investments by the partners. Zeppo’s share, which had also briefly been partly owned by Groucho, was sold to Tony Owen. Harpo immediately wanted to sell his share of the ranch, since he only bought in because of Zeppo. But it proved difficult to sell for several years.1 When they learned that Tony Owen was their new partner, Harpo and Gummo suspected that Zeppo had lost his piece of the ranch in a card game.
As Harpo’s heart troubles worsened, he was told by his doctor in no uncertain terms to stop working. To Susan’s dismay he became convinced that open-heart surgery would repair the damage to his heart and enable him to get back on stage. He was financially secure; he just missed the applause. He died on September 28, 1964, several hours after having had the operation. Per Harpo’s wishes there was no funeral service or family gathering. The surviving brothers had been so depressed at Chico’s funeral they were probably relieved to grieve privately.
There was no question that Harpo was the most beloved member of the family. While the brothers may have had serious issues with Chico’s or Zeppo’s behavior, none of them could ever view Harpo as anything other than a complete angel. For Zeppo it was another grim reminder that, although he was the youngest brother, he was—at the age of sixty-three—approaching the twilight of his life. In his 1968 memoir, The Unimportance of Being Oscar, longtime Marx family friend Oscar Levant wrote, “I saw Zeppo not long ago. ‘Had any fistfights lately?’ I asked him. ‘Had one about a month ago.’ he sighed. ‘It was very tough.’ Then, for the first time, I knew Zeppo was getting old.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
With Friends Like These . . .
WHENEVER ZEPPO AND BARBARA WERE IN LOS ANGELES, ZEPPO spent his days at the Friars Club; while Barbara, to the consternation of Marion, was often at the Beverly Hills Tennis Club. Zeppo played high stakes gin rummy with fellow Friars including Phil Silvers and Tony Martin. There were also some wealthy noncelebrity Friars in his regular game. Harry Karl, who was married to Debbie Reynolds, made a fortune in his family’s shoe business. Victor Lands was a Beverly Hills doctor with many famous patients. Maury Friedman was a Las Vegas real estate developer who had put together a $25 million deal for the Frontier Hotel. Ben Teitelbaum was the co-owner of Hollywood Film Service, a manufacturer of movie studio equipment. He owned an art collection estimated to be worth $3 million that included some items from Zeppo’s collection purchased at auction. T. Warner Richardson had previously operated the Silver Slipper in Las Vegas and was currently with the Frontier Hotel. Ricky Jacobs, supposedly an investment counselor, was really a professional gambler and the owner of a card club in Santa Monica. Apart from hanging around at the Friars Club, they all had something else in common: they were reprobate gamblers. What would become clear later was that Lands, Friedman, Teitelbaum, Richardson, and Jacobs were cheating.
The game started in the summer of 1962 as a two-handed grudge match between Harry Karl and Maury Friedman. As the stakes got higher, they drew the attention of the others in the card room. It soon became a four-handed game with restaurateur Al Mathes and Ted Briskin, a millionaire playboy whose father made a fortune with the Revere Camera Company selling home movie equipment.1 Other Friars started to sit in when one of the four players wasn’t available, and the game evolved into the larger rotating group over several months. Zeppo and Kurt Frings, mostly known as Audrey Hepburn’s agent, played frequently. Sometimes Zeppo would win several thousand dollars. And he could just as easily lose twice as much the next time he played.
One Friar rarely played but observed the game frequently. His name was Johnny Rosselli. His membership in the Friars Club had been sponsored by Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, and George Jessel. Most of the older Hollywood crowd at the club knew quite well that Rosselli had been indicted on federal labor racketeering charges in 1942 for attempting to extort the studios with threats of labor trouble and had spent nearly four years in prison for it. Zeppo certainly knew about it, having been part of the Artists’ Managers Guild, which tried to quietly benefit from Rosselli’s scheme.
It didn’t take long for Rosselli to figure out what was going on in the Friars Club card room. He knew Friedman was a card cheat, and he asked him to explain how he was beating his rich fellow Friars out of so much money. The answer was in the ceiling. Friedman had hired an electronics expert named George Emerson Seach to set up a space in an air duct above the card table. Equipped with a telescope and a transmitter, Seach sent electronic signals from his position in the air duct to a receiver in Friedman’s pocket. If Friedman wasn’t to be that night’s winner one of the other crooked players would have the receiver. Having Friedman occasionally come out the big loser made it look legitimate. Johnny Rosselli was impressed enough to make himself a partner in the scheme to the tune of 20 percent of the take. Friedman had no problem making Rosselli his partner because he preferred to remain alive.
Describing the game to Rosselli biographer Lee Server, Tony Martin said, “Most of those guys played for relaxation. . . . Small stakes. A few hundred dollars. But there were some guys, Zeppo, Harry Karl . . . some others, they took it very seriously, you know. Somebody like Harry Karl was a degenerate gambler. That’s a guy who plays until he wins or loses everything. And if he wins, he goes on playing until he loses again.”
Zeppo was known to occasionally separate Harry Karl from large sums of money without being in on the scheme—and both of them could also lose when playing at a table not located under the surveillance equipment. The game went on for five years before the FBI raided the Friars Club on July 20, 1967. They got a tip exposing the scheme from Beldon Katleman—Zeppo’s one-time El Rancho Vegas partner and fellow Terre Haute grand jury witness. Katleman, himself a notorious card cheat, despised Maury Friedman. When George Seach told him about the Friars Club game Katleman called the FBI. George Seach cooperated, and his confession included the names of all the participants—including Edwin Gebhardt and Albert “Slick” Snyder, the men who worked in the air duct when Seach spent some time in prison for an unrelated burglary conviction or was otherwise unavailable.
Once again Zeppo received a subpoena in a gambling investigation. This time he didn’t try to evade it. The Los Angeles County grand jury heard more than a hundred witnesses. Testimony revealed that Ted Briskin was the biggest victim with losses of $220,000. Harry Karl lost $80,000—including $9,200 in a single game. Ben Teitelbaum was said to have won $30,000 from bank executive Richard Corenson in one game. Total losses in the scheme were estimated at around $1 million.
It was Zeppo’s turn to talk to the grand jury on November 30, 1967. During his fifteen-minute testimony, he acknowledged that he was a member of the Friars Club and that “I played a little gin rummy and lost,” adding “my losses were nothing like those other fellows.” He told reporters as he left the courtroom that he was “running a citrus grove in the southern part of the state.” When pressed with more questions he replied, “You should’ve gotten Groucho. He’d have loved this.”
Friedman, Jacobs, Lands, Teitelbaum, Richardson, and Rosselli were all indicted. Gebhardt, Mathes, and Snyder were named as co-conspirators along with a few other lesser players. Gebhardt and Snyder were indicted separately on perjury charges for repeatedly lying during the grand jury proceedings. Maury Friedman bribed a court employee and obtained the secret grand jury transcripts. He learned that George Seach had been granted immunity from prosecution in exchange for implicating everyone involved in the crooked game.
