WE WILL ALWAYS LIVE IN BEVERLY HILLS,...

WE WILL ALWAYS LIVE IN BEVERLY HILLS, by Ned Wynn (Penguin: $10., illustrated). Like Carlotta, the aging vamp in the musical “Follies,” Ned Wynn proclaims, “Good times and bum times/ I’ve seen them all/ And, my dear/ I’m still here” in these recollections of growing up in The Industry--and in the bag. His family constituted the Show Biz equivalent of royalty: His grandfather was Ed Wynn, his father Keenan Wynn, his stepfather Van Johnson. Petted and spoiled by a gaggle of movie, television and rock stars, Wynn immersed himself in alcohol, pills, Beach Party movies, flower power, marijuana, LSD, transcendental meditation and every other self-indulgent pastime popular between 1950 and 1990. His rich relatives and friends underwrote and excused these excesses in a textbook example of the role enablers play in the lives of alcoholics. But if Wynn had a tough life, it was one he chose, and after a certain point, it becomes difficult to sympathize with the poor-little-rich-boy who routinely threw away opportunities millions seek. As Noel Coward remarked, “We know that you’re sad/ We know that you’ve had/ A lot of storm and strife/ But is it quite fair/ To ask us to share/ Your dreary private life?”