Behind the Candelabra Page #5

something?

How do you stay hard

for so long? I mean...

that was the fourth time

since lunch.

You make me feel

so young.

And I've had implants.

I've had quite a drive,

you know, as well

and... you know,

I've had problems.

And it's a terrible thing

when you have such a desire

and the equipment

doesn't work.

It's like

wanting to sing

and being tone deaf.

And no one knows.

You're the only one

I told.

You see what

you mean to me?

Lee, I think--

just a minute.

I should

just tell you...

I'm bisexual.

I like women, too.

Well, good for you.

I love women!

I wish I could be

that flexible.

Make things

so much easier.

I am so sick

of getting fan mail

about my engagement

to Sonja Henie.

As if I would marry

an ice skater.

Please--

I mean, those thighs.

No, I was a goner

from my first time.

He was

a Green Bay Packer.

He came to hear me play

at one of my saloons.

I couldn't miss him--

the guy was

the size of the door.

That's how I lost

my virginity.

Isn't that romantic?

You know, I tried

to make myself love women.

I'd stare at women's bosoms

and their backsides,

you know, trying

to feel something.

You see, I knew...

from being Catholic

what happened

to boys like me.

And I went

to confession.

Of course, I couldn't

confess everything.

The problem was,

according to Catholics...

not confessing a sin

is also considered a sin...

so, you know, I was damned

if I do, damned if I didn't.

I can't believe

you're still Catholic.

Devout.

The turning point

for me...

was Kennedy

getting assassinated.

I was working non-stop

and I was sick.

I felt terrible.

We found out later...

that when those heavy costumes

I wear get dry cleaned...

they use this

tetrachloride solution.

I would sweat...

and it'd get absorbed

into my bloodstream...

and shut down my kidneys.

Can you imagine?

But no one knew.

So I'm watching

the assassination on TV

and I think... at least

I'll have a few days off.

I mean, nobody's going to come

see me perform this weekend.

But, no.

No, Seymour made me work.

They thought

I was dying.

They couldn't figure out

what was wrong.

I mean,

everything's bloated.

I'm drowning

in my own fluids.

They put me on dialysis

and I'm thinking...

the only thing that's going to

get me through this is prayer.

Sometime within these

36 hours of treatment...

I wake up,

and there's this nun

in an all-white habit

sitting beside my bed.

I said

I wanted to pray,

and she told me

not to waste my strength.

And she assured me

I would live.

Next day, my kidneys

start to work.

The doctors were amazed!

They admitted to me

they had given up hope.

So I asked

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