"Sheldon?"
"Yes, sir."
"Sit down."
I took a seat. He studied me a moment. "You finished primary flight training?"
"Yes, sir."
He glanced at a paper on his desk. "And you're scheduled to go to a secondary flight school?"
"Yes, sir."
"Those plans have been changed."
I was puzzled. "Changed?"
"The war has taken a new turn. We're on the offensive now. We're going after the bastards. What we need are fighter pilots. You're not qualified because of your eyesight. We have orders to disband the entire War Training Service unit."
It took me a moment to digest it. "What does that - ?"
"All the volunteers in WTS are being given a choice. You can report to an infantry unit as a private in the Army or we can turn your name back to your draft board."
Hobson's choice. But I needed the time. It would probably take the draft board at least a month to process my papers before they sent me overseas and I could use that time working on the shows.
"I prefer the draft board, sir."
He made a note. "Fine. You'll hear from them."
I did not doubt it. The question was when? How much time would I have to work with Ben and Guy and Dorothy to get the shows in shape? I knew we could do a great deal in one month, working seven days a week. If the Army gave me one month . . .
When I returned to my hotel, I immediately called Ben. "We'll be working very late tonight."
"What's happened?"
"I'll tell you when you get here."
"Late" turned out to be three A.M., when Ben finally stumbled out of our hotel room and returned to Fort Dix.
Ben had been as dismayed by the news as I was. I tried to reassure him. "Don't worry. Draft boards move slowly."
During the next three days, I worked feverishly, going from theater to theater, working against the time that the call would come from the draft board.
On the fourth day, when I returned to my hotel, the hotel clerk handed me a letter. It began: Greetings.
My heart sank. I was to report to the draft board in the Bronx the following day. My career as a playwright was over before it had begun. I was deserting three shows that had been counting on me, and I would be going overseas to face possible death. And suddenly I was filled with an overwhelming sense of elation.
I knew my emotions were completely out of control. I had no idea what was the matter with me. I looked at the idiotically happy face in the mirror and I began to cry.
The next morning at nine o'clock, I reported for my physical examination at Army draft headquarters. It was the same examination I had had in California. It was over in thirty minutes and I was asked to report to the doctor's office.
He was studying a sheet of paper. "Your medical report shows that you have a herniated disc."
"Yes, sir. But they knew that when I had my first examination and they - "
He interrupted me. "They had no business accepting you. If you suffered an attack during a combat engagement, you could endanger not only yourself, but everyone around you. That is not acceptable."
"Sir - "
"I'm marking you 4F."
I was speechless.
"I'll notify your draft board in California. You're dismissed."
I sat there for a long moment, stunned, trying to comprehend what had just happened. Then I got up to leave.
As I walked toward the door, he said, "And take off that uniform."
I was a civilian again.
It was with a feeling of unreality that I went into a clothing store that afternoon and bought two suits, some shorts, shirts, and ties. I was ready to go back to work being a playwright.
On August 4, 1943, The Merry Widow opened at the Majestic Theatre, and it turned out to be one of the most successful revivals ever to play on Broadway. The reviews were raves.
The New York Times: "A worthy revival."
The Herald Tribune: "Gives the town something to be proud of and happy over."
The Mirror: "Beautiful, opulent, tasteful and tuneful."
The Journal-American: "A lovely, relaxing, charming, laughing love story."
Walter Winchell: "August had a first night boom. The Merry Widow was revived into a sellout."
Howard Barnes: "The new season has been gladdened by a delicious revival. The Merry Widow has been brought to the Majestic with taste, melodic eloquence and pageantry."
Frank Sullivan: "I'm happy to report that The Merry Widow book has been dusted off and reupholstered very deftly by the Messrs. Sidney Sheldon and Ben Roberts."
One down, two to go.
The show ran on Broadway for nearly a year and toured for another two years. On opening night, after the show, the whole company went to Sardi's to celebrate. Vincent Sardi was standing near the door.
I walked up to him and said, "I can pay you back now, Mr. Sardi."
He smiled. "You've already paid me back. I saw the show tonight."
Chapter 15
Dorothy Kilgallen was a bright, creative woman with a nice sense of humor. She was a joy to collaborate with.
Having first found fame as a crime reporter, Dorothy went on to become a powerful Broadway and Hollywood columnist. She later returned to her top-notch investigative reporting and was crucial in helping to secure a new trial for Dr. Sam Shepard, whose murder case was the basis for the popular TV series The Fugitive.
While Dorothy and Ben worked on Dream with Music, Guy Bolton and I finished the libretto of Jackpot. Vinton Freedley decided to send the show on tour before its Broadway opening, and it turned out to be a long and profitable run. Along with Allan Jones and Nanette Fabray, the show now starred Jerry Lester and Betty Garrett.