"By far the most exciting thing that happened in the Alejo house during my early tenure, the thing that made me realize I truly was not in Kansas anymore, occurred when Mr. S wasn't even there...my boss was ultragenerous with his possessions. He would readily lend his house to anyone, even if he barely knew the object of his largesse. The case in point here was Minna Wallis, the fiftyish homely sister of mega producer Hal Wallis...Because of her brother's success, Minna Wallis was A-list.... and someone Mr. S, who was admittedly a social climber, wanted to cultivate. Mi casa, su casa. And my valet, your valet. He sent me down to Palm Springs to prepare the house for her and whomever she happened to bring. Boy, was I unprepared when Marlene Dietrich and Greta Garbo showed up. Both women were in their fifties, and neither had made a film for years. As far as celebrity sightings could be rated, Garbo, who had "wanted to be alone" for over a decade, was by far number one, and Dietrich wasn't far off.
The two European superstars couldn't have been more natural, no makeup, no airs, no frills. Garbo had some weird dietary requests, no dairy, no animal protein, just exotic organic grains and stuff (now the regimen is known as "vegan" and very popular among star and model types). These edibles she had learned about through her friend, Beverly Hills's first celebrity nutritionist, Gaylord Hauser, but at that time no grocery store in Palm Springs had ever heard of them. I had to make a mad run back to L.A. and Jurgensen's, which had everything, to keep the ladies happy. When I returned that evening, they couldn't have been happier. Greta and Marlene were in the pool, completely naked, and Minna Wallis was lying on a chaise in a Moroccan caftan, drinking champagne and watching them like a hawk. They were oblivious to her, and to me. I slipped into the house and into my room so as not to spoil their party, though I couldn't resist peeping through the blinds. What mortal could? I rarely heard Garbo talk, but I did hear Garbo laugh. She was having a wonderful time, giggling, splashing Minna, dunking Marlene under water. Then fun turned to heat. Marlene pulled Greta into what seemed like a playful embrace, which ended up in a kiss. They got out of the pool, but didn't dress. They savored the privacy, the freedom, the nighttime desert warmth.
Marlene lit up a cigarette, which she passed to Greta. They each took long drags, intercut with long, pregnant looks at each other. Then Greta sprawled out on a chaise, and Marlene lay down beside her, looking up at the constellations in the crystal-clear desert sky. Minna wouldn't leave them alone, but they didn't seem to care. If she liked to watch, let her watch. Marlene was the aggressor. She kissed Greta's lips, she stroked her, she began to slither down Greta's long slender frame. And then a coyote began to howl. The ladies jumped in fright and retreated into the house, and the best I could do was to serve them yogurt, steel-cut oatmeal, and organic honey for breakfast the morning after. But at this point, even before Mr. S made the cover of Time a few months hence, I had no doubt that I had the coolest job in the world." —George Jacobs, valet to Frank Sinatra from 1953 to 1968
(From Mr. S: My Life with Frank Sinatra by George Jacobs and William Stadiem, 2003)
