 I guess if I had been braver, I would have taken off my glasses, put my camera in a safe place, ripped off my shirt and dived into the water to save Jayne Mansfield. Instead, I stood there, like a dumb klutz, and let the brave life guard do the honors.
He kept coming up for air, and then returning to the bottom of the outdoor pool, where hundreds of holiday swimmers had been innocently enjoying a lazy Sunday afternoon, before all hell broke loose.
Three, then four, then five times I saw this dude valiantly come up and go back down again and come up empty handed. Finally, on the sixth try, he found what he was looking for. And, fortunately, it wasn’t the limp body of the now famous actress. It was her bright pink bikini top.
 (Years later, I would receive a phone call from the PR guy at the Hard Rock Café in Dallas, asking me to confirm the Jayne Mansfield pink bikini top incident, before they showcased it historically with other memorabilia on their wall. Jayne had never been a rock singer, but she did record “Rock Around the Rockpile” in one of her movies).
As the people cheered and the noise became deafening, I wondered where Jayne was. Then I felt someone in the pool tugging on my trouser leg. I looked down and there was this sexy blonde bombshell smiling up at me. It didn’t take me long to figure out she was topless, so I quickly tossed her a big white towel. Damn, everybody booed me.
 Then, the lifeguard swam over to her with the much sought after prize bikini top and the boos changed to cheers again. She dunked herself once or twice and came up, sans top, to give everybody one last look at her ample girlish charms, and then, with a little help from the lifeguard chap, fastened the bikini top and smiled sexily at all the gawking people.
Basking in the spotlight, Jayne thanked the brave young lifeguard and planted a kiss on his tan cheek. Spotting my camera by the side of the pool, she struck a familiar “cheesecake” pose, as naturally as one would reach for another glass of lemonade.
“Hi, handsome,” she cooed, playfully. “I accidentally lost my bikini top. But, fortunately, the lifeguard guy found it. My name is Jayne Mansfield. Wanna take my picture?”
 I should have known something like this would have happened when my friend at Universal Pictures tipped me off that Jayne Mansfield would be taking a dip in the Olympic-sized Vickery Park pool – at that time the largest outdoor public swimming pool in the southwest.
Jayne had grown up spending her weekends swimming in the pool, while still a student at Highland Park High School. She had modeled in the nude for art classes at Southern Methodist University, moved on to Austin and the University of Texas, and then made the scene at UCLA in Hollywood, where she astounded everyone with her intelligence, wit and rather stunning 46-inch bustline, (according to British tape measures). Then, one happy day, she had decided to return to Big D to look up all of her old teachers at Highland Park High School.
 That was truly a day to behold. Jayne walked into the school building where Doak Walker and Bobby Layne had made football history, and simply astounded faculty and students alike. Big and bold as life, she wiggled down the hallowed halls, with two big, brawny Mr. Universe bodyguards on each side. It looked like a scene out of a Mae West movie, except Jayne, in a tight sweater and black leather pants, was a bit more spectacular.
It could have been written off as a publicity stunt – goodness knows, Jayne could have taught Ringling Brothers, Barnum and Bailey how to put on a little dog and pony show – but Jayne was dead serious about finding some of her former teachers and letting them know about all the wonderful things that had happened to her since she left Highland Park and became a movie star.
When she attended classes at Highland Park, Jayne had been known as Vera Jane Palmer. She was a rather shy brunette, then, who prided herself more on the fact that she had won first place medals as a violinist and cello player in the school orchestra rather than the fact that she had been Miss Photoflash Dallas.
Jayne was so intelligent, she easily made better grades than her fellow classmates, and had it not been for her stunning physical presence, she probably would have skipped some years and been promoted to classes with students who had more advanced learning skills.
She was, instead, restricted by some teachers, who viewed her as a “distraction” because of her well developed figure. On one occasion, a teacher sent her to the principal’s office with a note that accused her of being “deformed.” She even went so far as to suggest that Jayne be expelled from school and placed in a “private institution.”
 “I suddenly changed when I became 12 years old,” Jayne recalled. “I changed overnight from the skinny little girl to one with curves popping out all over. One of my school teachers - a man – suddenly started finding excuses to put his arms around me when he talked to me. And the boys began to whistle. My dresses became tighter and I loved the attention. Mama kept trying to get me to wear a size larger dress or sweater or skirt to grow into. But I liked the feel of tight clothes on my body. It was like a caress.”
(This was the same Jayne Mansfield who would later say in Hollywood, “A 41-inch bust and a lot of perseverance will get you a lot more than a cup of coffee. But most girls don’t know what to do with what they’re got”).
 Despite the fact that fellow students could have been (and probably were) a bit jealous of Jayne’s girlish figure and her popularity with the boys, she remained a friendly, likeable classmate who excelled at everything she did with a genuine flare.
It had been in high school, at a party on Christmas Eve, in 1949, that Jayne first met her boyfriend, Paul Mansfield, though, contrary to popular belief, he had not been a student at Highland Park. Paul attended classes at Sunset High School, located in a part of the city not known particularly for its fancy cars, “rich bitch” jet set crowd or “high-fallutin’ restaurants.”
Handsome and studious, Paul treated Jayne with genuine respect. They fell in love, and were married on January 28. After a difficult labor, Jayne Marie Mansfield was born on November 8, 1950. Well aware of his wife's Hollywood ambitions, Paul thought becoming a mother would distract her. He was, however, wrong.
 Though she was thrilled with the birth of her daughter, Jayne had not faltered in her dream to become a star. She knew, however, that money was a necessity in order to reach her goal, and that her fabulous body was an asset in helping her make ends meet. When Jayne shed her clothes and posed for art classes on the SMU campus, her baby was there with her, sleeping comfortably in a bassinet.
During breaks in the modeling classes, she would take time out to bottle feed the little infant, who would later grow up to be almost as sexy and provocative as her famous mother.
When the war in North Korea started, Paul had to leave for Army reserve duty. Before leaving, he relented and promised Jayne that, when it was over, the family would move to Hollywood.
Two years later, the Mansfield family packed all their belongings into an old buggy and started out bravely for California. Paul would stay only four months. They divorced and he went back to Dallas. Nonetheless, Jayne kept the name Mansfield because she thought it sounded “illustrious.”
Vera Jayne Palmer visited Hollywood for the first time when she was only 13. After a tour of Twentieth Century Fox Studios, she and her mother had gone to the Brown Derby for lunch. Jayne immediately spotted “The Great Gildersleeve” radio stars Dennis Day and Harold Peary, and asked for their autographs. She later told her Mama, when she returned, that one day, some other young girl was going to make her way across that room and ask for her autograph.
 Actually, Jayne had decided she was gonna take Hollywood by storm and become a star long before that day. The trip had only re-awakened desires that had always burned within her. Her parents, Herbert and Vera, were witness to her enthusiastic performances at an early age.
 When she was five, Jayne was singing for anyone who would listen, including her large collection of stuffed animals. At seven, she would stand in her driveway and play the violin for passers-by. Though her idols changed over the years- from Shirley Temple to Gene Tierney, Hedy Lamarr, and Jean Harlow, they were always movie stars.
A naïve and trusting child, Jayne's innocence often resulted in touching anecdotes. Once, Jayne's Sunday School teacher told the children that God was always with them. That night, Jayne fell out of bed several times “making room for God.” When Jayne learned that a family living down the street had fallen on hard times, she helped them out in whatever way possible. Disturbed because their little girl had no winter coat, Jayne traded her jacket to the girl in exchange for an old baby bottle. Jayne's parents were upset, but she never regretted the trade.
Though Jayne's kind heart made it possible for her to touch the lives of many, it also made her extremely vulnerable. When she was three, her father died, suddenly. That morning, at a physical, he had been declared healthy, but, several hours later, he had a heart attack. Jayne, who had always been “a daddy's girl,” was stunned.
 Years later, she remembered how she would sit on his lap while he stroked her long curly hair. Her earliest memories were the best, she confided. She admitted she always tried to remember the good times when her daddy was alive.
Fortunately, Vera was able to support the family by working as a school teacher. Not long afterward, she met and married Harry "Tex" Peers, and they decided to move from Phillipsburg, New Jersey to Dallas. Jayne was fond of Harry, a firm but loving man, and appreciated the discipline that he brought as they once again became a “family.”
Harry also cultivated Jayne's great love for barbecuing. Outgoing and personable, Jayne would invite anyone to join their weekly barbecues. (Years later, on their custom-built double pink marble-topped barbecue, she and husband Mickey Hargitay would cook for the entire San Francisco Giants baseball team).
To nobody’s amazement, including her own, Jayne quickly flourished in Hollywood. She took a job as an usherette at a movie theater but was soon accepting work as a model. Her first professional job was for General Electric. She was cropped out of the final print because the company said she looked too sexy. That was in 1954.
 Hollywood publicity agent Jim Byron saw her potential and knew instantly that she had “star quality.” During the Christmas season, they decided Jayne would visit newspapers and provide the overworked reporters with cheer - in the form of a spirited hug and kiss. Her appearances were a hit, and Jayne's picture ended up in newspapers all over the country.
Jayne was invited to a press event in Florida for the RKO Pictures release of “Underwater,” starring Jane Russell. On the plane, she was seated next to Daily Variety reporter Joe Schoenfeld. He found her so delightful that the following day their conversation took up his whole his column.
Later, in a red bikini, it became rather obvious to everyone that she had control of the spotlight. Headlines from that weekend announced, “Jayne Out-Points Jane.” That same year, Jayne starred in the Broadway hit “Will Success Spoil Rock Hunter,” and Hollywood beckoned.
 As fate would have it, our paths crossed again when I went to Riverside, California to emcee the Fifteenth Air Force Talent Contest. Jayne was the guest of honor. Always popular with servicemen throughout the world, she, like Marilyn Monroe, knew the value and importance of being a morale booster for Uncle Sam.
 When I introduced her, and she bowed, graciously, in a lowcut gown, exposing her ample bosom, it reminded me of the time she bent over a table at a party honoring Sophia Loren at Romanoff’s (without a bra) and shocked the Italian actress and others in attendance. Photographers had a field day, much to the delight of men all over the world. “I have enemies who said I did that on purpose to steal the show from Sophia Loren,” she later said, “but that is not true. I guess I did show Sophia that American women also have breasts.”
Jayne was on her way to becoming a celebrity when she attended a Mae West performance at the Latin Quarter. After the show, Jayne was also on her way to falling in love-with 1956 Mr. Universe Mickey Hargitay, who was working as one of Mae's musclemen in the show. As their relationship developed, Mae became irate at the loss of Mickey's affections, and called a press conference where she ordered him to denounce his relationship with Jayne. Her plan backfired.
 Instead of reading the scripted statement, Mickey said that he and Jayne were very much in love, and had seriously discussed marriage plans. On January 13, 1958, amid family, friends and a flurry of press in Palos Verde, California, the pair married.
Their story was very much a story of storybook love. The couple had three children together, Micklos, Zoltan and Mariska, whom they regularly brought on location for performances. Meanwhile, Jayne's career had continued to prosper. She purchased a Mediterranean style mansion on Sunset Boulevard. In keeping with her distinct decorative taste, the mansion would soon become known as “The Pink Palace.”
 By then,  Jayne knew for sure she had a gimmick. Pink would be her color because it made her happy. It was bright and cheerful. “Mansfield Pink will one day become famous,” she proudly boasted. “Just think of all the publicity I can get. It will not only be a good home, but a wonderful investment in my career.”
Just the day before, Jayne had walked her new pet leopard on a leash down Hollywood Blvd. She had tied a big, satin pink bow tie around his neck. And, she wore a pink jumpsuit and a big picture pink hat.
 Every time Jayne talked about her Pink Palace, with the heart-shaped swimming pool out back, and the twin nude statues of her and husband Mickey, people teased Jayne about her 36 bathrooms. “Actually,” she admitted , “I think we can seat 12.” (The Pink Palace had, indeed, eight bedrooms and 13 baths).
Ultimately, Jayne juggled a career that encompassed almost every media facet. Unfortunately, as so often happens in Hollywood, Jayne and Mickey's relationship had become strained. They decided to divorce in August 1964, but always remained good friends.
 In 1967, Jayne's life was still moving at full speed. On June 29, she was riding in the front seat of an automobile with Ronnie Harrison and lawyer Sam Brody on the way from a Mississippi nightclub engagement. Her children, Mickey Jr., Zoltan and Mariska sat in the back. As they rounded a curve on a dark stretch of road, the car suddenly slammed into a slowed semi. Though the children survived with minor injuries, everyone sitting in the front – including Jayne - was killed instantly.
 The world was stunned. Jayne's personality had been so vibrant, her career so vivacious, that it was almost impossible for fans the world over to believe that she was gone. At age 34, she had already earned a special place in the hearts of millions, and with her death came a deep void that would never quite be filled.
Jayne was laid to rest in Fairview Cemetery, in Plainfield, Pennsylvania. The wild, wacky world of Jayne Mansfield had come to a dramatic end.
Well, that’s show biz, baby.
“Some of the women I know in Hollywood treat their husbands like a god. They religiously believe in the Hollywood tithe. That means they always give hubby 10 percent of everything they make.”
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