You know me. Jim Hart of Hart and Sole.

Yeh, I’m the monkey and Gino Sole is the Italian crooner. You couldn’t mistake us. I’m the one playing in a crouch with messy hair and silly pantomimes.

Gino is every woman’s dream boat. A singer without peer. And one of the most handsome men in the world.

We found each other on the Borscht Belt, in the right place, at the right time.

Our country had been through a very trying war, and now everyone was ready to begin laughing once more.

We hit it off right away. We found that magic of getting into each other’s heads. We perfected the comedy style that seemed unrehearsed and wild to the audience, but really was the result of two young entertainers who understood one another.

We played all the top night spots to rousing audiences and were signed to a four- picture deal with Paramount.

That was when we realized we could no longer tolerate one another.

The tabloids were full of the stories of our feud, each with their own made up stories, none of them getting it right.

My misgivings about Gino slowly turned to what journalists later called it, “a bizarre cross between jealousy and hatred.”

Gino preferred to live out the loose lifestyle he had created for himself, and his aloof character further cemented his image.

Everyone remembers the night of our last performance. We gave them a full, three hour show and brought down the house. At the end, we took our contract and tore it up in front of the audience.

Every comic of renown was at that performance. Milton Berle jumped up and yelled, “C’mon, people, we can’t let them get away like this!”

They didn’t know of our last private talk. No one has been told this before.

We had finished dressing in our hotel room.

Gino looked at me said, quite plainly, “Okay, pal. We’re still the best, but we hate each other’s guts. I think before we split, we should be open and frank about it. You tell me exactly what you hate about me, and then I’ll tell you. But be honest.”

“Gino, you were like the brother I wish I had. You had the look, the Talent, anything a squirt like me could ever want.”

“Are you confessing, or proposing?”

“No, Gino, you know it’s true. When we first got together, you were a decent family man. You loved your wife, your kids.”

Gino looked downward a moment. “Yes, I did.”

“Then we made it big. You betrayed that love. You believed your own image and caroused with every little…”

“Say it, tramp…”

“You’re playing around with fire, Gino.”

“-Nothing you haven’t done yourself.”

“That’s because you rubbed off on me. And I’m not very happy with myself, and what I did to my wife. Your turn.”

Gino never was one much for words. He said, “Yeah, you became me, and I wanted to become you, but I can’t.”

“C’mon, Gino baby, you can’t be a monkey?”

“Let’s leave it at that, Jim, go on and hang it all up.”

Following the performance, Gino went back to his wife. They had a small indoor party, ate some egg sandwiches.

I thrust myself into the sea of women that had come to worship me. All because I was a monkey. A monkey with Talent.

I don’t remember who joined me in my room that night, I was so drunk.

Mercifully, sleep overtook me.

When I awoke, I felt so different. The kind of difference I felt when I saw that Gino could get into my mind. Somehow, I felt that some time had gone by.

My room had a mirrored ceiling. I took a peek. I had changed.

Incredibly, I had become Gino Sole.

My first impulse was to jump out of bed. That was when I realized I couldn’t.

Gino’s wife, Jeannie, walked into the room. She saw my messed up sheets.

“What goes on?” she asked. “You know better than to…”

Her words were interrupted by a trio of nurses and a physical therapist. One rolled in a wheelchair.

Before I could protest, they restrained me and lifted me into the chair.

“Please let me be!” I cried.

Jeannie whispered softly in my ear, “Remember, Gino. You have a disease of the central nervous system.”

I was still in that body, but it was no longer me. It was Gino who responded. “Why couldn’t Jim have seen all that?”

“Hush, dear, said Jeannie, “Don’t upset yourself."

The part of me that was Gino continued, “Why didn’t he notice? He never saw I was beginning to lose my vision. He never noticed the loss of motor control, my balance…”

“Why didn’t you say something to him, dear?”

“What was I supposed to say? Your wonderful partner has Multiple Sclerosis?”

“You could’ve told him gradually.”

“All that monkey ever saw was me, The King of Cool, and all he ever desired was to be me.”

“Are you sorry you met him?”

“Of course not! He was a first-rate monkey! The acrobatics he could do! The jumping, twisting, the sheer magnificence of motion! I’d give anything to be able to do that!”

The nurse whispered in Jeannie’s ear, “Let’s not try to rile him. Remember, the disruptions in his brain and spinal cord."

“Jeannie,” Gino said, “I love you. If I made mistakes, it’s because I felt the best part of me dwindling away. I never meant to hurt you.”

Jennie planted a tender kiss on Gino’s lips.

It was Gino that felt it, not me.

I’m me again, alone again, just trying to find my way in Life’s storm.