POSTI: War Hero, Hollywood Insider, Chef to Celebrities, and Redemption

By Larry Nichols, George Mather and Sharon Mather

Paul Posti was a war hero. During WWII, he was the only person in history to shoot down a German Focke-Wolfe fighter plane with his father’s Smith and Wesson, 38 cal. Service Revolver. He later became a executive chef, and a close friend to celebrities including, Clark Gable, Elvis Presley, Pavarotti, Frank Sinatra and the world renown Rat Pack.

Frank Sinatra was introduced to Paul’s cooking when Paul would give him free meals to help him out. Posti’s thoughtfulness and help was appreciated by Frank Sinatra, so what began as a kind gesture turned into a life-long friendship. Posti became Sinatra’s personal chef for over 24 years.
Along with his employer and owner of The Brown Derby, Bob Cobb, Paul created the now famous Cobb Salad, which he literally concocted on the spot to please a demanding Cecil B. DeMille. He even had occasion to kick a hungry young kid named Elvis Presley out of his kitchen at the Knickerbocker Hotel. Later, Posti and The King became good friends. His dearest friend was probably the legendary Mel Blanc, the man who brought Bugs Bunny, Elmer Fudd and a host of other voices to life. Most of the stars every American knew from the 40's 50's 60's and 70's knew Paul Posti. From the Brown Derby to the Villa Capri, he was the chef to Hollywood's royalty.
Posti made his mark as a chef during a time when fine dining was highly esteemed. For him, cooking was not just a job, but rather an art form, He would sometimes say with a smirk, “Cooking is the soul of partying, at all times and all ages.”

• Language: English
• Publisher: LifeRich Publishing
• Release date: Oct 25, 2023
• ISBN: 9781489749055

Larry Nichols

Larry Nichols is an ordained Lutheran pastor. He received his Master's Degree at Yale University and is completing his PhD at the University of Saint Andrews in Scotland. He is currently a Hospice chaplain with Hope Health and Palliative Care of Rhode Island and has been an adiunct professor of Philosophy at Rhode Island College since 1994. George Mather is an ordained Lutheran pastor, recently retired from the Ministerium of the Lutheran Church Missouri Synod. This story was narrated by church member Paul J. Posti, Sr. in many meetings and meals to both Rev. Mather and his wife Sharon. George received his education at Christ College Irvine: BA and Concordia Theological Seminary: MDiv. Sharon Mather is an Alzheimer's Care Specialist and was the Department Head at St. George Care in St. George, Utah. Sharon Received her education at UCLA, Los Angeles, and University of Phoenix: AAB. Both George and Sharon are retired and reside in Raynham, Massachusetts.

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Copyright © 2023 Larry Nichols, George & Sharon Mather.

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ISBN: 978-1-4897-4906-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4897-4907-9 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4897-4905-5 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2023918675

LifeRich Publishing rev. date: 10/24/2023

CONTENTS

Introduction

1 A Meatball on her Finger!

2 Early Sinatra

3 Childhood Memories

4 Gone with the Pistol

5 Ice Cream Anyone?

6 A Tale of Two Butts

7 Carol, Clark, and Collectibles

8 A Hunting Gable Goes

9 Bogus Money

10 Guest of the Third Reich

11 So, Just Who Invented the Cobb Salad?

12 Sinatra and the Mob

13 These Boots are Made for Walking!

14 Ladies and Gentlemen, Elvis Has Left the Building

15 Where’s the Gratitude?

16 Paul’s Earlier Life

17 A Toll Tale

18 The Last Supper

19 Help Him Cry

Appendix

Also by George Mather and Larry Nichols

The Encyclopedic Dictionary of Cults, Sects, and World Religions

The Masonic Lodge

Discovering the Plain Truth

Old Hollywood’s Original Recipes

Posti: War Hero, Chef to the Stars, celebrity

Friendships and Redemption

CREDITS AND DEDICATIONS

George and Sharon would like to dedicate this book to:

I would like to thank my beautiful and faithful wife Sharon, who cheered me on, made lots of coffee without sugar and tolerated me rising before dawn. We are grateful for our sons Andrew, Joshua, Kristian and our daughter Jennifer and her husband Jim who inspired us to stay busy. Finally, we especially want to thank ourselves for whom this book could have been done years earlier if we were not involved.

Larry Nichols would like to dedicate this book to:

Melissa, Adam, and Knox;

Charissa, AJ, Noah, Lucas, and Ethan

Alicia, Manny, Anthony, Zelianna

Faythe, Chris, Amelia, and Ella Hope

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

We especially want to thank the following individuals for their research and suggestions for the Posti project. Mrs. Nancy Ulrich Suddath for her help regarding contacts and for corrections of historical accuracy. Rick School, author of Valor at Polebrook and historian for the 351st Bomb Group, and Mrs. Kate-Lynne Laroche, genealogical researcher for The Rhode Island Jewish Historical Association in Providence, RI. Their kind contributions are deeply appreciated.

A very special acknowledgement to Dr. Lisa Nichols, the author’s wife, whose careful and critical review of the manuscript proved invaluable. She gave vigilant attention to style and overall helpful advice for writing in a genre so different from the author’s previous publications.

INTRODUCTION

The following is a narrative or collection of personal events according to the memory of chef Paul Joseph Posti. This memoir is from the perspective of George and Sharon Mather’s as told to them in both written, and taped interviews by Paul Posti. We hope you enjoy discovering why Tom Brokaw, the noted Journalist once called those Americans born between 1900 and 1925 the Greatest Generation.

I first met Paul Posti one Sunday morning back in Sherman Oaks, California in 1993 at the close of an ordinary church service. Standing at the door shaking hands as members filed by with their usual smiles and pleasantries like ‘good sermon this morning pastor,’ as they were heading to their cars. On this particular sunny morning, I was greeted by an old man who I had never met before. He was modestly dressed in a neatly pressed yet faded thread bare shirt. He had what appeared to me to be a glass eye. He extended his hand to me and simply said, "Good morning pastah!" His distinctive Boston accent told me instantly that he was from my own part of the world. He had already reached the same conclusion as he had heard me conduct the church service and preach my weekly sermon in the very same Boston baked bean brogue. He introduced himself as Paul Posti.

That simple introduction would change both of our lives, although neither of us was in any position to know it at the time. Honestly, my first impression was that this was just a nice elderly gentleman who was seeking to join a church in the twilight years of his life in order to insure that when he died, he would receive a dignified and proper Christian burial. I should have known by this point in my life that first impressions can be very misleading or just plain wrong. As it turned out, this man’s motives proved far more substantive, genuine, and sincere. Paul Posti’s life was multifaceted and meaningful in ways I had yet to discover. I would learn from the Monday night meetings that would soon take place at his home, that he was a war hero and in his post-war years, a chef to celebrities? Yes, that’s right! After the war (WWII that is), Posti became the personal chef of none other than the legendary Frank Sinatra. There was much more to the story of this fascinating albeit frail man. I discovered rather quickly that Paul Posti was also a wounded soul. In spite of all of his success and accomplishments, he was a man whose life included deep struggles with personal demons that he had been seeking to exorcise for many years.

Paul and I had more in common than our Boston accent. I too had been a chef for many years before heeding God’s call to go to seminary and give my life to serving Christ as a pastor in order to, among other things, help others find some answers to life’s difficult questions. One of those seeking such answers was this elderly gentleman standing before me with whom I was about to develop and forge not only a pastoral relationship, but a deep and wonderful friendship that would last until his death in 2002.

The story of Paul Posti is comprised of an eclectic blend of culinary artistry, spirituality, virtue and heroism, existential angst, and just plain interesting and fun encounters with a chef and his celebrity friends. Some of the names you will read about on these pages in addition to Sinatra include one of his close friends, none other than the legendary Clark Gable, best known for his role in Gone with the Wind (1939). Posti also became a friend to Gable’s wife, Carol Lombard.

Most, if not all of Paul’s life experiences related to us took place on Monday evenings at Paul’s Van Nuys, CA home. Paul invited us to join him and his wife Irena on Monday evenings for dinner, story-telling, and cooking lessons.

Our Monday night meetings included a chance encounter with Elvis Presley. There’s a story about Mel Blanc and how Posti’s relationship with the inventor of Bugs Bunny, that qwazy Wabbit led to Paul learning how to be a clown at Hollywood’s world-renowned Magic Castle.

A number of our Monday night conversations with Paul Posti include stories that awed my wife Sharon and I. The experiences he had during WWII were edge of the seaters.

Not all of the conversations we had revolved around celebrities. On a number of evenings, Paul would also reveal to me some of the darkest moments in his life. He painfully recalled his childhood memories, his drunken abusive father, who was a member of the Boston mob, otherwise known as the The Black Hand.

In short, I came to know and love Paul Posti. He was simply a man who I would characterize as salt of the earth. His spirituality moves one from a kitchen filled with pots, pans, spice racks, creative concoctions, and cooking lessons to a world of wonderment and awe. I guess it could be called a kitchen of the soul.

Paul Posti and I came to discover the real issues of life were shaped by deep rooted experiences dating back to our childhood years and beyond. Posti was part of the greatest generation. He found it difficult to adjust to and keep up with an age where information moves at nearly the speed of light. His remaining years were physically limiting, to be sure, but the magnanimity of his heart and soul along with his robust strength of character never waned or weakened.

Paul Posti’s kitchen would become my culinary classroom. As for the master chef? At the time, I never came to think of him as a living, breathing recipe. If people are like recipes, then they are filled with so many ingredients that make them who they really are deep down inside. There are those things that make for character, things that make the human heart and soul what they are, so many virtues, so many vices, so much good and so much evil, so much joy, so much sorrow, so much pride, so much humility, so much pleasure, so much pain and suffering. All of these ingredients mixed together result in rich variegated combinations that uniquely comprise each and every person.

In my own ministry, I looked out from my pulpit on Sunday mornings and saw all of those ‘recipes’ sitting in the pews. And there’s me, the recipe standing in the pulpit, preaching God’s Word, hoping to season lives with spiritual spices, praying that the words I would speak each Sunday morning would alter each of those recipes, including my own, of course. This story I am relating, is about one particular and complex recipe by the name of Paul Posti. Our Monday night meetings furnished me with the ingredients that made up his life. Ingredients that included his great culinary talents and gifts, his fascinating experiences and friendships, combined with the bitter herbs of the pain-filled side of his life.

Here in southern California in the 1990’s, two Boston boys came together, one the elder, one the younger. While I was able to teach and serve Paul’s soul with spiritual truths that he had been hungry for all of his life, he was able in turn to nourish me by imparting a display of his sheer brilliance and expertise, along with a wealth of stories of the lives of close celebrity friends. Together we underwent a journey toward healing! If the soul is like a home with a door where life’s experiences come and go, we discovered that we were neighbors, and that the selfsame experiences entered and exited from each of the doors of our lives. We were visited by pain, suffering, redemption, love, wholeness, and healing.

Paul was an unassuming and humble man. He reminded me of a story about a man who walked into a European church one day and asked to play the organ. The organist said no at first. After being persistent, he was finally allowed to play. His fingers glided over the keys. The organist never heard such a wonderful and skilled performance. When the stranger finished, he started for the door. ‘Who are you?’ asked the organist. The man turned and looked over his shoulder and calmly replied, Felix Mendelssohn sir. The organist realized that he almost missed the opportunity to hear the Master, because of his misjudgment based on appearances.

I guess I can say that this humble classroom kitchen made me realize why Paul Posti had such a star as the Chairman of the Board, Mr. Frank Sinatra himself, singing for his supper. The first story Paul told me, made this quite literally true. I share this as Paul related it to Sharon and I on our first Monday together.

CHAPTER 1

A Meatball on her Finger!

Before Paul and I parted company after church yesterday, he had invited my wife Sharon and I over for dinner the very next day on Monday evening. He said he wanted us to sample some of his cooking and tell us the first of many stories surrounding his life. I immediately thought to myself, here we go again. As a pastor I had of course been around many veterans. They all had their war stories. Don’t get me wrong. I totally respected them and what they did to serve their country at the risk of their own lives. I often salute a war veteran when I meet one. Little did I know that we were not going to be experiencing repetitive anecdotal stories. No, not at all! Sharon and I would come to understand that Paul’s stories and experiences turned out to be fascinating, true, and simply put, were the stuff of a hero.

Paul and Irena greeted us at the door and Paul’s infectious smile set the tone. Irena immediately seized Sharon embracing her with her small hands. She was very pretty and slightly compact, her hair short and raven. When she smiled her teeth sparkled.

Paul’s home was simple in design and representative of the single-story California Bungalow made popular in the early 1930’s. Its sloping roof and dormered windows were like most the other houses in the neighborhood. This was the area where many movie industry people lived in Hollywood’s early years.

The Posti home was almost as old in the inside as it was on the outside. The furniture was as dated as its owners. The house appeared well kept and clean. As we were given the tour, I was surprised to note the kitchen was also outdated. I started to wonder just what kind of a chef Paul was. I expected to see newer equipment such as bowls, pans and the tools, but almost everything was indeed outdated. Most of the pans were dented and some, however, were made of spectacular antique copper. The old utensil rack hanging from his ceiling had a variety of large spoons and whisks that had wooden handles. I had only seen these in books and knew they were rare. I even doubted if they were original.

Sharon and I immediately noticed numerous photos of celebrities hanging on the walls most of which were black and white. We recognized many of the stars. The photos were autographed. To my dear friend Paul, one said. All the best to you Paul, read another. To a true friend. On and on it went in photo after photo.

I simply had to ask! Paul, how did you come by all of these photos? And how is it that they are all autographed to you?

Oh, these were all friends of mine, Paul responded nonchalantly.

Really Paul? I blurted out. I’m looking at several photos of Frank Sinatra here. How did you know him?

I’ve known him since we were both young back in Hoboken. He is not only a friend, but I was also his personal chef. I worked for him!

Sharon and I were taken aback. Paul, are you kidding me? How so? When? Where?

"Well, Pastor, I’ll tell you. I worked for Sinatra at his restaurant, the Villa Capri. It was right next to Don the Beachcomber, one of America’s first Tiki Bars and another one of Hollywood’s famous restaurants.

I also cooked many a dinner for him and his family and friends in his home. He was a great guy and a really good friend. He loved my cooking and my recipes. In fact, tonight, Pastor and Sharon, I am going to make you one of Sinatra’s favorite dishes. Not only am I going to prepare it for you, I’m going to teach you how to make it yourself and eventually give you the recipe. Consider this the first of what I hope are many Monday evenings together. I will gladly share recipes and cook dinner if you and Sharon will come over. In addition, during and following our meal together, I will share some great stories about my experiences with all of these friends of mine, as he pointed to the photos adorning the walls of his kitchen. And each Monday, Paul continued, another recipe. What do you think, Pastor?"

I was barely able to contain my excitement. What an opportunity, I thought to myself. Not only do I get to teach an inquiring soul about the Christian faith and welcome a new family to the church, but in return, Paul is going to teach me some new recipes from the past, but we are going to sit down and eat, and then learn more about the life of what we would learn would be the most extraordinary man we ever met, who just happened to wander into Church and subsequently, into our lives. It all began just yesterday morning.

"Tonight Pastor, as I said, I’m going to make one of Sinatra’s favorite dishes. It is one that I made for him and his guests on many occasions, together with my meatballs. We will be enjoying Ossi Buchi in Gremolata. You’re going to love it. I’ve already got it prepared, but before we sit down to eat, I’ll explain how it’s done step by step. So, listen up. The first rule is don’t interrupt and start yapping,’ Paul said in a kidding and affectionate tone. Clam up and just listen. You know Pastor, sometimes you meet people who need to discipline their mouths to stay shut, so they can listen and learn."

I’m with you there. Just don’t expect that on Sunday mornings, I said with a wide grin. I get paid to talk. It’s one of the tools of my trade.

No, on Sunday mornings, it’s my turn to keep my mouth shut and to listen and learn.

For the next ten or fifteen minutes, Paul went over all the details of the recipe, ingredients, timing, special little tidbits about the history of the dish etc. He concluded by telling me he plans to give me the recipe along with many more.

Finding the lesson interesting, I looked forward to hearing what Paul had to say. I thought about the pictures of the stars on the wall and how Paul said they were his friends. I wasn’t sure what Sharon was thinking, but this is where my mind was at the moment. Sharon has always been very discerning and she too had her questions. I suddenly felt that I too had to ask. Paul, if you really are or have been friends with all of these celebrities, why haven’t you let it be known? Wouldn’t you want people to know? Wouldn’t this help you and promote you? I would think most people would do this.

A great question, Pastor. And you are not the first one to ask me this. The answer is no! Absolutely not! And I will tell you why. You see, these people really were my friends. I guarded these friendships very closely through the years. What so many people do not understand in life is that friendships are a two-way street. A true friend is not someone who takes advantage of the other person so they can hope to use them to gain something for their own benefit. My friends totally believed and trusted in me and they knew I always spoke my mind. Friends do not always have to agree with each other. Believe me! There were many times that we didn’t! During the war, I chewed out Clark Gable, maybe like he had never been chewed out before in his life, at least not by a friend. I’ll tell you about that at some point. If we continue getting together on these Monday evenings, I’ll tell you a hell of a lot of stories. I’ll tell you about how I threw Elvis Presley and his agent, Colonel Parker, right the hell out of my kitchen. I’ll tell you about how I laid into Luciano Pavarotti at a party when Sinatra hosted him at his home.

Paul was impassioned as he spoke. My doubts about whether Paul was really who he said he was and his relationships with these stars were as real as he described to us, were now beginning to fade, maybe due to his sincerity and the genuine nature he exuded.

Again Pastor, these people were close, close, friends.

Paul pointed to all of the photos and went on. "Pastor, they all knew that I would count them as friends even if they were not celebrities. I knew that they would count me as a friend, even though I was not a famous celebrity myself. None of that mattered between us. They respected and trusted me, just as I respected and trusted them. So, you see Pastor, this is why I would never want anything published about my friendships while I’m alive. I never want to be accused of exploiting any of these great people and their celebrity status. If I did that, Pastor, none of them would have remained in my life and none of these photos would be here on these walls with their autographs and kind words. I wouldn’t have the wonderful memories or the stories I want to tell you about in my life experiences with a number of them. And besides! What the hell would the word friend mean if it was all about that?"

Why do you want to share these stories with Sharon and me? I interjected.

"In Church yesterday, Pastor, I kind of knew that you were someone I would like to get to know. I instantly knew that I liked you. And now that I’ve met Sharon, I wonder just how she could possibly like you," Paul joked. We all laughed.

Paul took me aside to a room adjacent to the kitchen and looked at me intently and in a whispered voice said, "Pastor, I have been hurting inside for years. There is stuff that has happened in my life that cause me sleepless nights. I am looking to find peace in my soul. If this works out between us, I would like you to tell a story that I have refused to tell, again, because I have never wanted to discuss or tell about my friendships, my war experiences, or my recipes with anyone. But after I die, I think I would like you to do so.

Paul, we hardly know each other.

"Well, let’s start to get to know each other, dammit," Paul quickly came back at me!

Paul paused. "Before we begin, let’s join Sharon and Irena over some coffee and biscotta."

Moving back to the living room, we all exchanged pleasantries and a few stories about our respective families. I guess we had begun to get to know each other.

Paul then spoke up and announced, I’m making one of Sinatra’s favorites tonight, so let me start with a story that I think you’ll enjoy.

Paul then slowly shuffled over to his old record player. He brought back a Sinatra album, it was signed ‘To Paolo, the Meatball?’ Several of my Sinatra albums are signed this way.

"Why is it signed ‘Paolo the Meatball?"

Paul noticed that we were all looking at the album and anticipated our question.

"Paolo is my name in Italian. You see, in Italian it’s a play on words. Paolo, also means small and Mr. Sinatra loved my meatballs. This is why he would sometimes call me ‘Paolo the Meatball.’ I was Paul and small and he loved my meatballs. So, he gave me the name ‘Paolo the Meatball.’

"Speaking of Sinatra loving my meatballs, during the time I was working for him as chef at the Villa Capri, not many people know that he actually considered his restaurant his office. One dining booth in that office is where he would sit and write his songs. One particular album he produced was named after his famous tune Come Fly with Me. Now are you ready for this?"

Yes, Sharon and I said at the same time with rising interest.

"It was there in that booth at the Villa Capri that Frank made some changes in the song Isle of Capri. One of those changes made my meatballs famous."

Now I was getting skeptical again. I didn’t recall anything about meatballs in Sinatra’s big hit tune, which, incidentally, I really liked.

"Yes, Pastor and Sharon, that’s right! My meatballs are in his hit song Isle of Capri.

"Well, if you know the original song, it mentions the Isle of Capri. Mr. Sinatra then changed the lyrics to the Villa Capri. The original words say, `She wore a lovely ring on her finger.’ Mr. Sinatra changed the words to `She wore a lovely meatball on her finger, t’was goodbye at the Villa Capri.’ Those words are in the fourth stanza of the tune. Check for yourself.

"You see it is the Villa Capri, the restaurant, not the Isle of Capri, and the meatball that he tossed into the tune was my very own. I know this sounds crazy, but it’s true. I was