When I finally listened to my messages, I found out I was in deep shit. It seemed I had checks bouncing all over town. Big Ones! I had a seventy-thousand dollar American Express bill for chartering a jet. All of my credit cards were worthless and from out of the blue came the IRS. They were after me for three-hundred-thousand dollars for
back taxes for 1972 and I hadn't even thought about 1973 yet. Paramount Studios was suing me to the tune of three-million dollars for walking off the set of 'Samantha's Father' and to top it all off, my checking and savings account balances were ZERO, thanks to Frank.