Elliot Tiber - Palm Trees on the Hudson: A True Story of the Mob, Judy Garland & Interior Decorating

Elliot Tiber

This book is dedicated to Andre Ernotte, my long-term companion and cherished friend, whom I trust is out there somewhere, still sharing my joie de vivre and remembrances of things past.

First, I give my heartfelt thanks to my sister Renee for her tenderness and encouragement. Her sharp humor helped me in the writing of this book and made the Hudson River Walkway all the more enjoyable.

I also thank my cherished friends Alyce Finell, Joan Wilen, Lydia Wilen, and Scott Hall, for guiding my literary talents away from mayhem, madness, and complete "outre."

Thanks to all of you who have been supportive of me in the past, present, and future:

Judy Garland

Molly Picon

Calvin Ki

Joseph and Gail Papp

Zubin Mehra

Neal Burstein, Esq.

Andy Roth of The Agency Group

Lybi Ma

Jack Blumkin, CPA

Marti Mabin and David Schnitter

Nancy and Roger Cunningham

Claude Lombard

Annie Cordy

Bernard Giraudeau

Army Duperey

Roy Howard and Jeryl Abramson

Larry Dvoskin

Dr. Rod Hurt

Stan Goldstein

Dr. Michael Weiner

Katharine Hepburn

Bette Davis

Michael Moriarty

Andre Bishop of Lincoln Center Theater

Marlon Brando

Tennessee Williams

Truman Capote

Ingrid Bergman

RTB TV Brussels

National Theater of Belgium

Linda Lepomme

Editions Rossel of Belgium

President Giscard D'Estaing

Queen Fabiola

Golda Meir

Life Magazine

Richie Havens

Janis Joplin

Jimi Hendrix

Sammy Davis, Jr.

Arlo Guthrie

Pete Seeger

Federico Fellini

Pier Pasolini

Harvey Milk

Jade Marx and Dom Ruiz

Congressman Barney Frank

Yuri and Rita Brisker

Alyse, Steve, and Scott Peterson

Beverly Dates

Rachelle Teichberg Golden and Sam Golden

Roger Orcutt

Fanny Ernotte

Marcia Lewison

Irving and Lee Regent

Suzy Falk

Charles Murray

Paul Adler

Robert Mapplethorpe

Marion Florsheim

Walter Bahno

Shirley Kaplan

Robin and Steve Kaufman

Max Yasgur

The Manhattan Plaza family

Jack Teichberg

A special thanks to Ang Lee, James Schamus, and the Focus Features family.

I am grateful to my publisher, Rudy Shur of Square One, and to Square One's Anthony Pomes and Joanne Abrams. I am especially thankful to Rich Mintzer, without whom this book would have been a single 240-page sentence.

Finally, I thank my ever-loving Yorkies, Molly Picon, Shayna, and Woody Woodstock.

The movie house went dark, and I found myself watching a girl who seemed not much older than I was. Within minutes, her tiny dog was taken away from her, a storm separated her from her family, and her weathered farmhouse was ripped from the earth and spun around like a top. The events in this girl's stark black-andwhite world were happening so quickly and were so alarming that I felt tearful and afraid. But then, suddenly and unexpectedly, the screen lit up in dazzling Technicolor, soft music played in the background, and the girl's world became one of enchantment. Dorothy Gale was in a beautiful sunlit land far away from her home in Kansas-and far away from mine in Bensonhurst, Brooklyn, too. She was in the Land of Oz.

Dorothy sang and danced her way through her magical new world, caught between a desire for adventure and a hunger for her safe and loving home. I was totally absorbed in the movie, hypnotized by the story and all the strange and exotic characters. No one in this film looked like the people who trudged down the crowded, dreary streets of Brooklyn. Instead, Dorothy-clad in a gingham dress and gleaming ruby slippers-skipped down a shining yellow brick road accompanied by her faithful dog, Toto; a talking scarecrow; a lovable tin man; and a cowardly lion. I wanted so much to follow her, to be one of her new friends, to share in her journey.

The Wizard of Oz captivated me as no film had before. Like every child, I was entranced by the songs, the colorful costumes, and Dorothy's thrilling adventures. But the movie also spoke to me in a very personal way. When Dorothy sang "Over the Rainbow," I was spellbound not only by her beautiful voice, but also by the longing and hope she expressed. Like me, Dorothy felt out of step with her everyday world and dreamed of a trouble-free home where she would be loved, accepted, and happy. Could it be that the longed-for world actually existed for me as well, far away from my real-life existence of screaming parents and family arguments?

To say that the movie had a profound effect on me would be an understatement. For the first time in my eight years of life, I felt a connection to another person. Maybe it was a childish crush, or perhaps it was simply the fact that this girl dreamed of a better place and actually found it. Whatever it was, the few hours I spent in the theater couldn't have been a more enjoyable experienceexcept for the woman sitting next to me, nudging me with her elbow throughout the movie, saying "Elli, stop shuckling around in your seat, you're gonna drop the plate." The woman was my mother. For me, Elliot Teichberg, going to the movies every week was an escape from the lunacy I called home. For Momma, however, it was all business.

With the war raging in Europe, movie theaters were hardpressed to pull in paying customers during the week. In an effort to attract more patrons, especially women, they began to offer a free dish on certain evenings. When the old Metro theater, a rundown former vaudeville playhouse, began its Plate Night promotion every Tuesday, the giveaway was not lost on my mother. Each week, a different dish was handed out. Sometimes it was a soup bowl; other times, a dinner plate. Every once in a while, the hard-to-come-by gravy boat was offered. Hundreds of different pieces were given away, one piece at a time, enabling frequent moviegoers to acquire a massive set of dishes.