Chapter 40
I’ve written about the people who have helped me and impressed me and whose lives intersected with mine only briefly, but made a big impact. As I look back, there are others who played roles large and small in bringing me to this point.
Foremost among these is my right-hand woman, Joyce McConnell.
I stole Joyce from Tova over twenty years ago. She was sitting there at her desk in Tova’s business office, where she helped with the skin care merchandise, and I happened to stop by. I was thinking about how distracting it was that I was still answering my own phone, typing my own correspondence—badly, as I’ve indicated—instead of studying scripts. I felt it was time to change that, so I said, “Do you want to work for me?”
She said, “Okay.”
That was that. I guess she felt she’d have more fun in the movies.
So we set up an office in my home and Joyce has been here ever since.
She’s more than a secretary. She’s a confidante. She takes care of the house while I’m gone on location, if Tova’s not around. She’s a jack of all trades—handles all my correspondence and computer stuff and protects me from scam artists who try to use my name, fame, and money. She’s a very, very good woman, tough when she needs to be. It’s been a pleasure to have her with me. She’s happily married to her husband Bob, who became a meat cutter after he got out of the marines. He’s retired and now plays senior softball. He knocks them out of the park all the time, and takes great pride in it. I’ll say, “How’d you hit ’em today?” He’ll say, “Nine out of nine.” I’ll say “Not bad!” God bless Joyce and Bob. I was the best man at their wedding. Ours has been a wonderful association. They’re both very special people.
Another person who helps me personally and professionally is Brent Braun. He came up to the house to introduce himself when he was in the FBI’s Los Angeles office. He wanted me to speak at a ceremony honoring fallen FBI agents. It was a moving experience, and since then Brent has become a good friend. I call him my hired gun. He’s retired from the FBI now and involved in a variety of public-service ventures, which includes looking after my ass when personal security could be a problem and also teaching me how to handle weapons properly on camera. You shouldn’t fake that stuff, you know. Not unless you want to hear from a few thousand people who do know what they’re doing!
Italians gravitate toward one another and Larry Manetti and I gravitated. We met when I guest-starred in an episode of Magnum P.I. in Hawaii. Larry was one of the costars with Tom Selleck—who, for the record, is absolutely the sweetest, gentlest man. The first thing you know, Larry and I were out eating, sampling various Waikiki restaurants, enjoying each other’s company. We still do. He brings over meals that he cooks himself.
Larry and I spent one memorable afternoon visiting Frank Sinatra. We went to his summer home on the Pacific Coast. There we were, Frank, Larry, and myself eating spaghetti and talking about old times. No star egos, no checkbook, just three Italians gravitating.
I met A. C. Lyles while doing Run For Cover with Cagney. A. C. was doing the publicity for Paramount on that picture. He and Cagney were friends and shared a suite at the hotel. Later, Cagney made his only directorial effort on a Paramount picture that A.C. produced, Shortcut to Hell. A.C.’s been at Paramount for over seventy years—no kidding!—and has been a good friend of mine for over fifty of them. He and his lovely wife Martha are among the most respected couples in Hollywood, true movie nobility!
Alex Cord, on Airwolf, has been a real anchor in the shaky times there, willing to do his share and more. He’s a wonderful actor and has become quite a noted author as well. He’s a horseman of the first water, plays polo, and lives on a beautiful ranch with his wife in Texas. Whenever he comes to town, we get together and talk old times.
I consider myself lucky to have these people in my life. I hope all of you have people like them in yours.
Last but far from least, I want to say how very grateful I am for my three children, Nancee, Sharon, and Cristofer.
Nancee—who, you may recall, was born while I was onstage with Helen Hayes doing Mrs. McThing and had Ms. Hayes as godmother—grew up in the midst of a bad divorce. She was always being pushed and pulled. It wasn’t the most pleasant thing for a little girl like her, but she made the best of it. Her mother passed away a number of years ago, but today, I must say, my daughter and I are the best of friends.
The same is true of Sharon and her year-younger brother Cristo-pher. Even after we hadn’t had contact for so long, we are very close friends and she has a beautiful family of her own.
Cristofer was my miracle kid. He was a sickly baby, and I remember sitting in an ambulance holding him in my hands, begging him, “Hey, kid, come on, you’ve got to pull yourself together. We’ve got to make this thing go, baby.”
I’m happy to say that today he’s a robust man with two kids of his own.
It wasn’t a miracle that it all worked out for us: it took a lot of hard work and forgiving, on their part. But they did it—we did it—and have never, ever taken our relationships for granted.
To any parent or child who is reading this book, I want to say, fathers and mothers are just people, which means they make mistakes. Don’t hold that against them. Whatever flaws they may have, they created you in a moment of love and are among the few who “knew you when.” When they’re gone, there won’t be anyone to take their place.