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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Crimson" data-source="post: 241452" data-attributes="member: 5079">Since I have the book out, here's the article on Lucille from  "<a href="https://www.amazon.com/TV-Sirens-Tantalizing-Fabulous-Females/dp/0399512926" target="_blank">TV Sirens</a>".Late in 1985, Lucille Ball glided into a roomful of reporters at the Four Seasons to promote STONE PILLOW, her TV movie about a Manhattan bag lady. Flanked by hubby Gary Morton and director George Schaefer, Lucy was decked out in a black velvet suit, a white ruffled blouse, and a comically oversized pair of diamond cluster rings. Witnessing this spectacle, an eager-beaver reporter suggested that Lucy would be the last citizen of Beverly Hills to understand the plight of the homeless. But at this point in her career, Lucy could play Mother Teresa and make it a reflection of her own life. STONE PILLOW is totally expressive of its TV diva — it's The Lucille Ball Story in bag-lady drag. Every line, every inflection, every plot twist mirrors a woman who's been pounding showbiz pavements for more than half a century with a Philip Morris  in one hand and a margarita in the other. Lucy plays a character Schaefer described as "Independent, selfish, eccentric, gabby, and cocky."  Her husband and son left her years before. She takes under her wing a young, black-haired woman whom she mistakes for a runaway, endlessly barking advice: "You gotta know how to protect yourself. First of all, you gotta make 'em think you're crazy! And you gotta kick 'em anywhere, everywhere! And you gotta bite 'em, scratch their eyes out! Remember, you're fightin' for your life!"For twenty-five years -— from the days of Prohibition to the dawn of McCarthyism -— Lucille Ball fought for her life. She struggled as a model, a salesgirl, and a waitress; as a bit player, a Goldwyn Girl, and a "Technicolor Tessie"; as a straight man, a radio clown, and an unlucky leading lady. By the time I LOVE LUCY hit the air in 1951, she was forty years old, had appeared in nearly seventy films, and had been married to Desi Arnaz for a decade. She had matched Ginger Rogers and Eve Arden in STAGE DOOR, upstaged Spencer Tracy  and Katharine Hepburn in WITHOUT LOVE, and exhibited great gifts in Dorothy Arzner's DANCE, GIRL, DANCE. But none of that gave Lucy what she wanted. She was not a star.On TV she got what she could never get in movies -- control,   Lucy and Desi called the shots with a business sassy that's become part of the Desilu legend: how she insisted Desi star with her; how he pioneered shooting for TV on film with three cameras, thereby insuring the preservation of the show; how both retained all rights to the show in exchange for a tiny pay cut. In a few years Desilu was a giant, owning even the RKO lot where Lucy and Desi were once contract players. After their divorce in 1960, Desi sold his share to Lucy, who sold it all to Gulf + Western.Brilliantly unbridled as she was in her prime, by the time of HERE'S LUCY (1968—74) she was a too-thin baritone squeezed into form-fitting suits with alarmingly high collars. Heavily made-up and teased to the max, Lucy had become a mesmerizing parody of herself, reworking old plots without a change in attitude and continually being referred to as "girl." In one late episode -- a horrifying excursion into surrealism -- Lucy plays herself as a dignified TV personality in a black fright wig and gold brocade muumuu. She holds a Lucille Ball lookalike contest, which the red-headed Lucy and her daughter, Lucie, enter. Dressed in matching wigs and muumuus, mother and daughter compete on TV.  Mommie wins.During the filming of STONE PILLOW near Grand Central Terminal, I was dining at the Oyster Bar. Halfway through the red snapper, I dropped my fork; Lucy, in full bag-lady drag, traipsed by with an entourage of five. Plopping down at a table,  she ordered a margarita. A waiter, a waitress, a maitre d', and two busboys scurried in all directions. Lucy sent back her drink —- once, twice, three times. "She's crazy!" cried one worker, racing past my table in a sweat. When I asked if I should go over and tell Lucy how much I love her, another worker gasped, "I wouldn't if I were you." At the STONE PILLOW press conference Lucy was on her best behavior -- she is, after all, seventy-five. Smoking nonfiltered Philip Morris (an early sponsor) and fielding some inexplicably hostile questions, she wavered between riotous wit (her imitation of Katharine Hepburn is a scream) and moody confusion. Several times she asked Morton, her husband of twenty-five years and apparent protector in all matters, to help her respond to particularly perplexing questions. But when asked if she saw any parallels between the character's life in STONE PILLOW and her own, Lucy delivered a beautifully timed double take that brought down the house. "No!" she shrieked. But Schaefer chose to contradict his star, insisting on how she'd kept detailed notes on her character and understood this woman better than anyone could.Lucille Ball is not so much at the end of the line as in a catch-22: she can't exactly do her style of comedy anymore and can't really do drama (she was "scared to death" of STONE PILLOW). What she can do -— and what she does to riveting effect in this film -— is tell us all about the legend of Lucy. It's a legend built on very little -— perhaps four years out of sixty -— but it dwarfs any other to come out of TV. As she got up from her chair at the Four Seasons, the Legend still seemed capable of collaring a waiter and intoning a speech from Pillow: "I'm not crazy. I'm smart. I'm still here. And I know how to protect myself."</blockquote>

Verification: What month follows July?