The Other Side of Midnight

“Please, sit down,” I said.

We chatted idly for a few minutes. Finally, I said to Jorja, “If you’re not seeing anyone, why don’t we have dinner one night?” I picked up a pen. “What’s your phone number?”

“I’m afraid I’m very busy,” Jorja said.

Zsa Zsa looked at Jorja in horror. “Don’t be a fool, darling. Sidney’s a producer.”

“I’m sorry,” Jorja said, “I’m not interested in—”

Zsa Zsa spoke up and gave me Jorja’s telephone number. Jorja glared at her, obviously upset.

“It’s just a dinner,” I said to Jorja. “I’ll call you.”

Jorja got up. “It was nice meeting you, Mr. Sheldon.”

I could feel the chill in the room. I watched as the two of them left. This is not going to be easy, I thought.

I looked up Jorja Curtright’s credits. They were formidable. She had appeared in television, motion pictures, and on Broadway. She had just starred as Stella on a road tour of the Broadway hit A Streetcar Named Desire. The reviewers were ecstatic.

The New York Times said, “As ‘Stella,’ Jorja Curtright is superb—energetic and decisive in her analysis of the part and glowing with warmth, pity and understanding.”

She had also gotten great reviews for the movie Whistle Stop and a dozen important television shows.

I telephoned Jorja the next morning and invited her to dinner. She said, “I’m sorry, I’m busy.”

I telephoned her for the next four days and got the same answer.

On the fifth day, I called and said, “I’m giving a dinner party Friday night. There are going to be a lot of important producers and directors here. I think it might be helpful for your career for you to meet them.”

There was a long, long pause. “All right.”

I had the feeling that she had accepted because the two of us were not going to be alone.

Now I had to begin putting together a dinner party with important producers and directors.

Somehow I managed to pull it off. A few of the producers and directors who were there had seen Jorja’s work and were very flattering.

When the evening was over I said to Jorja, “Did you enjoy yourself tonight?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

“I’ll drive you home.”

She shook her head. “I have my car. Thank you for a lovely evening.” She started to head for the door.

“Wait a minute,” I said. “Will you have dinner with me one night?”

She thought about it. “All right.” There was a definite lack of enthusiasm in her answer.

I called her the following morning. “Are you free for dinner this evening?”

For the first time she said, “Yes.”

“I’ll pick you up, seven-thirty.”

That was the beginning.

We had dinner at Chasen’s. My experience was that when having a conversation with an actress, the talk usually consisted of: “So I said to the director . . .” and “I told the cameraman . . .” and “My leading man . . .” Dinner with an actress was all about show business. With Jorja, show business was not even mentioned. She talked about her family and friends. She had come from a small town—Mena, Arkansas—and still had her small-town roots. She was the antithesis of any actress I had ever met.

As we came to the end of the dinner, I said, “Jorja, why were you so reluctant to go out with me?”

She hesitated. “Do you want a straight answer?”

“Of course.”

“You have the reputation of dating too many women. I don’t intend to be just another one on your list.”

I said, “You’re not just another one. Why don’t you give me a chance?”

She studied me a moment. “All right. We’ll see.”

I began seeing Jorja every evening. The more I saw of her, the more I knew that I was in love. She had a wonderful, wicked sense of humor, and we laughed a lot. We became closer and closer.

At the end of three months, I took her in my arms and said, “Let’s get married.”

We eloped to Vegas the next day.

I arranged for Natalie and Marty to come to Hollywood to meet Jorja, and they all got along beautifully. Natalie asked Jorja a hundred questions, then decided that she was thrilled for me.

I planned a honeymoon for us in Europe. I had bought a small house off Coldwater Canyon in Beverly Hills.

Otto and his wife, Ann, were living in Los Angeles, and when I told Otto the news about Jorja, he clapped me on the shoulder and said, “That’s wonderful. I’ll tell you what I’m going to do. As a wedding gift, I’m going to put siding on your house.”

Otto’s latest occupation was the siding business, putting aluminum siding on the outside of houses. It was a generous gift because siding was expensive.

“Great. Thanks.”

I told Kenneth McKenna that I was taking three months off, and Jorja and I sailed to Europe. It was a dream honeymoon that included a tour of London, Paris, Rome, and one of my favorite places in the world—Venice. I had never been happier. The dark cloud was behind me.

Finally, it was time to return home. When we arrived back in Los Angeles, Otto was waiting for us. As we drove up to our house, he said, “I think you’re going to love this.”

He was right. The house looked beautiful, completely covered with shiny aluminum siding.

“. . . And I’ll tell you what I’m going to do,” Otto added magnanimously. “I’m going to give you this at cost.”

Jorja was doing a lot of television. She seemed to go from one top show to another.