Well, that guy whose National Fan Club I was President of .... You know, I was second choice for that position. I found out they'd interviewed another possibility first (how humiliating to find that out, that I was second banana right from the start). I only found that out because she told me so, in a letter that had the envelope covered with small hand drawn images of Bobby Rydell. So on my trip to scope out Berkeley campus (to which I was being streamed in 1960 whether I was aware of it or not) ... I stopped by her house in San Francisco and we had a swell visit.
But, as it ended up within a year she was as mad as I was, and we both QUIT the fan club simultaneously. That's it, Bub!
She and I each typed up the exact same letter of resignation, each in our homes nearly simultaneously ... then .... we snipped the letters in half, using pinking shears, and mailed each other the half (I forget whether I was left half or right half). Once we got the letter from the other, we assembled them and put them in an envelope and mailed them to him at his personal address at his grandmother's house. I thought that was clever, using pinking shears so he could assembled the letters and they'd fit perfectly and he'd be able to read the lines in each letter, which were duplicates of each other.
I'm not so sure why she was miffed, and though he was nice to me .... I tell you, I stuck a pin straight into his name on my autograph puppy. He arrived later to reclaim the mimeograph machine, which my mother had hidden in the garage and said we didn't have ... because I was using it to make cartoon books with my friend's adventures and other things, too ... I heard them talking from the kitchen in my house, and I did not even go in to say hello.
And then, I sent him all his records and pictures back, too. Even the autographed ones.
Frank thought that was funny, too.