When We Were Young With Our Corvettes-Chapter 52
Chapter 52 - A Trip To Lake Tahoe Looking for Sinatra
...Had a love-sick Sinatra really attempted suicide on the Cal-Neva property after one of his many bitter fights with Gardner…later claming an allergic reaction to sleeping pills? Was his 50% financial stake in Cal-Neva, which was made the very day that JFK won the Democratic Party nomination, a payoff from a grateful Kennedy family…or the Mafia? What role did JFK’s father, Ambassador Joe Kennedy…a very longtime Cal-Neva guest and supposed womanizer here… play in a possible mob association that allegedly gave Illinois to JFK in the national election? Was the fact that Sam Giancana was Frankie’s silent partner in Cal-Neva really a surprise to the feds? Did Sinatra personally arrange rendezvous between JFK and RFK and Marilyn Monroe in the secret underground tunnels running from backstage to the two private bungalows at lakes edge…one of which was always occupied by Monroe when in town? Did she attempt suicide requiring a doctor’s attendance at Cal-Neva just days before her death in LA in 1962 after alleged conversations with DiMaggio about reconciliation and RFK about never contacting JFK again? Was her suicide really a murder to shut her up about her relationship with the President and his brother…and was Hoover's FBI or the mob, or both behind it? Did Cal-Neva’s mafia connection order a hit on JFK in 1963, finding him and his brother ungrateful for their help in his election? Did Jack Ruby, an ex-Cal-Neva longtime employee, just happen along in the basement of police headquarters in Dallas that evening? And what did the very well connected Sinatra know?
It was enough to make our heads spin. So we toured the tables and slots in the casino, then walked through the chalet restaurant where a white stripe was once painted on the floor marking the exact dividing line between California and Nevada, and finally for ten dollars we were let-in for a moment to see the big theater, already filled for the first performance of the evening…and not a sign of “The Voice” anywhere. Shucks…we’d come all this way.
But before we left, we went back outside and walked the path down to the little lakeside bungalows where lights twinkled their reflection off the now black waters…and we stood and wondered…just for a moment…could it have been true?
She was wearing a white stretch Lastex Rose Marie Reed of California swimsuit…at the neck a single strap around the neck and open panels down the sides…that when wet had such an incredibly sensual smell when she was close. We did “canon balls” off the board, one after the another until we were completely waterlogged, laughing and screaming like fifteen year olds…and then splashing and hugging each other in the water like there was no tomorrow. She was even more beautiful with her hair soaked. And after getting back to our room, showering, and removing all signs of the chlorine, we jumped into the bed still damp and unclothed…and dug under the fluffy, warm covers. Work was still to be done, but much of the relationship had been restored today…like old times back in Belmont Shore and Seal Beach…and I was determined to make it even better.
The Vette parked outside in our stall would sign-up to help for sure.
...Had a love-sick Sinatra really attempted suicide on the Cal-Neva property after one of his many bitter fights with Gardner…later claming an allergic reaction to sleeping pills? Was his 50% financial stake in Cal-Neva, which was made the very day that JFK won the Democratic Party nomination, a payoff from a grateful Kennedy family…or the Mafia? What role did JFK’s father, Ambassador Joe Kennedy…a very longtime Cal-Neva guest and supposed womanizer here… play in a possible mob association that allegedly gave Illinois to JFK in the national election? Was the fact that Sam Giancana was Frankie’s silent partner in Cal-Neva really a surprise to the feds? Did Sinatra personally arrange rendezvous between JFK and RFK and Marilyn Monroe in the secret underground tunnels running from backstage to the two private bungalows at lakes edge…one of which was always occupied by Monroe when in town? Did she attempt suicide requiring a doctor’s attendance at Cal-Neva just days before her death in LA in 1962 after alleged conversations with DiMaggio about reconciliation and RFK about never contacting JFK again? Was her suicide really a murder to shut her up about her relationship with the President and his brother…and was Hoover's FBI or the mob, or both behind it? Did Cal-Neva’s mafia connection order a hit on JFK in 1963, finding him and his brother ungrateful for their help in his election? Did Jack Ruby, an ex-Cal-Neva longtime employee, just happen along in the basement of police headquarters in Dallas that evening? And what did the very well connected Sinatra know?
It was enough to make our heads spin. So we toured the tables and slots in the casino, then walked through the chalet restaurant where a white stripe was once painted on the floor marking the exact dividing line between California and Nevada, and finally for ten dollars we were let-in for a moment to see the big theater, already filled for the first performance of the evening…and not a sign of “The Voice” anywhere. Shucks…we’d come all this way.
But before we left, we went back outside and walked the path down to the little lakeside bungalows where lights twinkled their reflection off the now black waters…and we stood and wondered…just for a moment…could it have been true?
She was wearing a white stretch Lastex Rose Marie Reed of California swimsuit…at the neck a single strap around the neck and open panels down the sides…that when wet had such an incredibly sensual smell when she was close. We did “canon balls” off the board, one after the another until we were completely waterlogged, laughing and screaming like fifteen year olds…and then splashing and hugging each other in the water like there was no tomorrow. She was even more beautiful with her hair soaked. And after getting back to our room, showering, and removing all signs of the chlorine, we jumped into the bed still damp and unclothed…and dug under the fluffy, warm covers. Work was still to be done, but much of the relationship had been restored today…like old times back in Belmont Shore and Seal Beach…and I was determined to make it even better.
The Vette parked outside in our stall would sign-up to help for sure.