Monday, Nov. 17, 1975
"I'm on my own and have to worry about paying my rent every month," explains Kitty Bruce, 20, who has filed suit against the biographers of her late father, Comedian Lenny Bruce. Claiming copyright infringement, unfair trade practice and appropriation of Bruce's name and likeness, Kitty wants $11 million from the makers of the movie Lenny and another $4 million from Authors Albert Goldman and Lawrence Schiller and the publishers of Ladies and Gentlemen, Lenny Bruce! Why file suit now? "So I'll be able to pay my bills for the rest of my life."
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Facing a life term in prison if convicted of the attempted assassination of President Ford in September, Lynette ("Squeaky") Fromme, 27, took one step deeper into trouble last week. As U.S. Attorney Dwayne Keyes began his opening statement to the jury of six men and six women in Sacramento, Fromme, who had decided to act as her own counsel, suddenly stood up and demanded the right to bring her mentor, convicted Murderer Charles Manson, into court as a witness. "Manson and our family are my own heartbeat," said she. "I can't go to trial unless they are allowed to speak. Lives will be lost. It's gonna get bloody." District Court Judge Thomas MacBride ejected Fromme from the courtroom and reappointed as her counsel John Virgo, the attorney Fromme had fired just three days earlier. While Keyes resumed his statement, Fromme watched her trial proceed on a closed-circuit TV from a nearby holding cell.
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He is the Prince of Wales and Earl of Chester, Duke of Cornwall and now, says the London Evening Standard, the "Show Biz Prince." As president of the Lord's Taverners, an association of charity-minded English entertainers, Prince Charles doffed his royal decorum last week and took a turn on the boards during the Taverners' silver jubilee at London's Grosvenor House. Then, after mingling with the ball's 1,300 guests until 2 a.m., the Prince returned to his workaday world at the Royal Naval College at Greenwich.
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For a while it looked like old times at the jewelry store for Liz Taylor and Richard Burton. Fresh from their honeymoon in Botswana, the pair stopped off in Johannesburg, South Africa, where Dick picked out a 72-diamond wedding band for his beloved, as well as a platinum and multi-diamond dress ring worth close to $1 million. Liz, however, announced that she was "deeply moved by Richard's gesture of giving me the ring" but just couldn't accept such an "extravagant thought." Instead, she said, she and Burton had agreed to use the money to build a hospital in Kasane, the northern Botswana village where they were remarried last month. "The people there need a clinic badly, and I certainly don't need another ring," said Taylor. Well, maybe just one more. She did agree to keep the wedding band.
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"I had to sit in the tub all day long," said ex-Model Marisa Berenson, 28, as she recalled her difficulties with 18th century plumbing in Stanley Kubrick's new film Barry Lyndon. The movie, based on William Thackeray's novel The Luck of Barry Lyndon, features Ryan O'Neal as a young Irish rogue looking for wealth and Marisa as the countess who supplies it by marrying him. The bathtub, where she goes to brood after catching Ryan flirting with another girl, proved to be as annoying as it was authentic. "They had to keep rilling it with hot water. And since there was no plug, they had a lot of pipes carrying water out of the room." Now recovered from the pink-and-wrinkled look, Berenson sees no faults in the movie at least. It is, she gushes, "very romantic."
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"You can use me as a prop, but I won't perform," insisted New York Senator Jacob Javits, 71, agreeing to pose for photographers with Daughter Joy, 27. Javits, who had come to Boston's Charles Playhouse to see his offspring sing and dance in the stage musical Diamond Studs, managed to keep his senatorial cool while Joy pranced about in bowler hat and tights. Despite Javits' solemnity in front of the cameras, Joy attributed her vocation to Papa's own love of fancy footwork. Said she: "He's a great ballroom dancer."
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Those beefy chorines in numbered jerseys are really Los Angeles Rams Cody Jones, Fred Dryer, Bob Klein, Merlin Olsen, Larry Brooks, Tom Mack, Bill Nelson and Jack Youngblood. The players are holding hands because they are rehearsing a high-kick production number with Dancer Cissie Wellman Donner, all for the sake of a Nov. 19 multiple sclerosis fund-raising benefit in L.A. Come show time, the boys will look even more terpsichorean, according to Costumer Barbara Zelin. Besides pink tutus, "the fellows will wear low-cut white tank tops with their numbers in pink sequins, white tights to show off their legs--and tennis shoes. We haven't seen any ballet slippers in their size."
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Industrialist Howard Hughes "was just a big, awkward, overgrown country boy" in the late 1920s. Charlie Chaplin was stubborn, arbitrary, and once bet $100 that "talkies" would never last in Hollywood. Both were part of the galaxy that surrounded Actress Marion Davies during her 32-year reign as mistress to Newspaper Tycoon William Randolph Hearst. Davies' recollections, which were tape-recorded in 1951 but locked up until her death a decade later at 64, were only recently rediscovered and published as a memoir entitled The Times We Had. Hearst, who was 58 when he discovered Marion as a chorus girl of 16, was "the kindest, most innocent, naive person you'd ever want to meet." Despite the millions he spent on his 300,000-acre estate at San Simeon in California, he provided his guests with paper napkins (he considered them more sanitary than linen). Few seemed to mind, including Calvin Coolidge, who once dropped by for a visit after retiring from politics. Davies impishly served the teetotaling former President tokay wine, while assuring him that it was nonalcoholic. "He started talking at dinner, and kept on drinking the tokay," she recalled. Said the not-so-silent Cal: "Best darned nonalcoholic drink I ever drank in my life."
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Flashbulbs pop, the limousine doors open, and out step tuxedoed Actor Robert De Niro and a white-gowned Ingrid Boulting. The big moment was staged for The Last Tycoon, a Hollywood version of F. Scott Fitzgerald's novel about Hollywood. "It's a period I've never been into before," observed De Niro, who was born in 1944 and portrays Hollywood Mogul Monroe Stahr in the movie. "Thanks to this scene, I suddenly understand all the glamour of the '30s. I began to feel it emotionally for the first time." Even so, De Niro's emotional entrance will scarcely be seen at all by viewers of Tycoon; its only purpose was to provide a single photograph of the dressed-up couple to be framed and used as one of the movie's props. Fitzgerald would have been pleased at the extravagance.
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