It was radio copy, of course, not television copy because New York was
not Las Vegas and it was a different
ballgame.
NBC would not do any short-notice videotaping so Gauer got a man from his home office to bring a tape-recorder. It weighed
fifty-four pounds. Durante was still in the feathers. Which was lucky because the recorder suffered a slipping belt and needed
emergency first aid.
A young man in a black suit hovered nearby, ready evidently to plug the visitor with a slug from his Colt.45 if he
made any sudden moves. Jimmy was not quite awake as he emerged clad in his underwear and a light robe but he was cheerful and
genial.
Squinting at his old buddy Gauer he said, "We go a back a long way, don't we?" and Gauer nodded a little sadly. They
sure did. Not together, of course, but there were so many, many good days, all behind now and there was yearning to rekindle
some of the companionship and the fun and laughing, the smoking and wise-cracking, the talking show-biz.
