Phyllis McGuire met Sam Giancana, according to legend, in Las Vegas in 1960, when the McGuire Sisters were performing there four times a year and pulling down $30,000 a week. Sam was a widower of fifty-two, and Phyllis, barely thirty, had already divorced Neal Van Ells, a radio/television announcer from Dayton, Ohio. Like many another Vegas performer, Phyllis had taken a liking to the gaming tables and had run up a hefty marker. As the story goes, Sam, spotting her, and liking her, went to Moe Dalitz, who ran the Desert Inn, and asked him how much the McGuire girl owed. Moe told him $100,000, a large marker at any time but enormous then. Sam is alleged to have said to Moe, “Eat it,” meaning, in gangland parlance, erase the debt, which is different, of course, from paying the debt, but nonetheless it was a gesture not without charm and romantic appeal, especially since Sam followed it up with a suiteful of flowers. They fell in love. https://archive.vanityfair.com/article/1989/6/high-roller-the-phyllis-mcguire-story
Phyllis expressed sorrow and regret about her family’s reaction to her relationship with Giancana, but she didn’t apologize for it. She particularly regretted what it might have done to the sisters’ professional “girls next door” image. If they had been the McGuire Brothers, nobody would’ve blinked an eye.
Look at Frank Sinatra, who was rumored to have very close ties to the mob. It didn’t do anything but enhance his “tough guy” persona.
To me, the record buyer, it made no difference. They made great records and I bought them. What they did on their days off made no difference to me.
It does not make you cool by using slang like that. It makes you sound stupid. It’s not cute. It is annoying and I would unfriend you, on FB and in reality. I would remove you from my phone’s contact list.
Fya is slang form of fire, used for anything that’s, well, lit. It means something is amazing, extremely good, or on point, especially said of how someone feels or looks.
When someone uses that word, Fya, or fire, we should be allowed to set them on fire.
I just received this brief email from Jack Blanchard:
“I was sitting in the hospital room watching Misty sleep and she died.
They tell me I’m in shock so I’d better stop writing.
Thanks, friends, for caring.
50+ years of marriage and a career together. That is rare.
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