The Sorrows of a Show Girl - Kenneth McGaffey
He held my shrinking little hand in his and said, "Say, Kid, you've made
an awful good showing with me. Believe it, I could plant your stuff all
the rest of my life, and while I ain't much of a litho myself, still I
can get away with it and am the man who invented red on yellow. I can't
pay for many electric signs for you, but still if you'll plant your
heart in my cut-trunk I'll guarantee there won't be any excess and I'm
making money enough to O.K. most of your extras.
"Listen, Party, we'll split my salary fifty-fifty every Saturday night.
I got good backing in the bank, and I want you to be my little star. You
angel!"
Wasn't that sweet? That word angel aroused my suspicions for the nonce,
for angels are the ones who generally get lanced, but he handed it out
so fervent that I knew he would make good on some of the points, so from
force of habit I said, "Bring out your contract."
And with those tender words and the pitcher the bellhop had brought back
we plighted our troth.
What do you know about that? I don't believe I ever before was as much
in love as I am now. Why, I ain't been to see any other show but his for
two weeks. Of course, I have been engaged before and handed out this
eye-glistening-with-adoration gag before, but it was done only to vary
the monotony of my former theatrical career and increase my income.
What! Sure I get an allowance from the fellows I'm engaged to. It's only
fair. Ain't I got a trooso to buy? Te, he!
If I'd saved all the money I have been given to purchase troosos with I
would have a bunch that would make Gladys Vanderbilt's layout look like
a gingham wrapper. Sure, ain't it worth money to those wops to have the
pure love of a good, true girl? Gee, don't make me laugh like a baby.
I was betrothed to six at one time, and the diamond rings I wore made
the prima bite her finger-nails with jealousy. Oh, I had a great graft.
I had a birthday in every week stand. System? Well, I should hope so,
dear.
We'd work it this way: Alla McSweeney and I were chumming together, and
naturally Monday night after the show we would meet some folks. We would
have a real nice time, and along about fourth highball time after the
show Wednesday night Alla would whisper real confidential into one of
the fellows' ear that I was going to be twenty-one Friday and "we girls"
are planning to give her a little surprise, and did he want to come in
on it.
Every time the Johns would fall, except in Milwaukee, and nobody ever
got anything out of that town anyway. Then Alla would whisper that the
company was going to present me with a loving cup because I was such a
good fellow, and if they wanted to chip in now was their chance, and
anything was acceptable from $5 up, and to bring his friends.
Alla would tout it up something fierce, I being totally unconscious to
what was coming off.
Friday night would come around and Alla would borrow the loving cup from
the property man that the tenor used in the drinking number, put it
under her shawl and caper over to the appointed cafe.
I would be the center of a bunch of merry cut-ups all wanting to blow
out the candles on my birthday cake.
After the wine got to flowing freely and the crowd all jolly Alla would
drag out the prop and make a nice little speech on behalf of the
company.
Me--you know I would be that flustered that I didn't know what to do,
and when Alla would say that other people beside the members of the
company had assisted I would be so gratified that I could scarce keep
back the tears.
All the clucks that hadn't chipped in would feel so bad because they
weren't included in my outburst of gratitude that nine times out of ten
they would sneak out and try to break into a jewelry store.
Then Saturday Alla and I would do the great divide.
Take it from me, when I came in off the road that season I had a roll of
the evergreen that looked like a bundle of hall carpet.
But now that I am an heiress I do not have to adopt those subterfuges in
order to get the daily Java. But I couldn't work those stunts on my
Wilbur; he's too wise, and being in the business he's hep to all that
kind of work.
He's a good, nice, honest fellow, as press agents go, and I think I can
safely trust him with my innocent heart.
If he don't--well, you know me. If he don't think he run up against the
business end of a cyclone it will be because I got throat trouble and
can't talk.
Honest, my fair young brow is commencing to get wrinkled trying to dope
out whether I want to become a bride or lead the free and easy life of a
bachelor girl.
Of course, if I get married and don't like it divorces are easy enough
to get, and then being a widow saves a girl a whole lot of
embarrassment, for she don't have to pretend to not understand some of
the innuendoes that are now and then sprung during the modern
conversations.
But, on the other hand, Wilbur isn't there with a very big fresh air
fund, and by perseverance I might cop out a Pittsburg millionaire and
become famous.
Marriage is worse than a lottery; it's a strong second for the show
business. You never can tell.
Wilbur sure does treat me nice--he's promised that I shall be a flower
girl at the Friar Festival when it comes off in May. Ain't that nice of
him?
Gee, but that's going to be the grand doings.
Are you going to the ball?
Say, the round of festivities I am pulling off lately would make a
person think I was a society bud.
Oh, come closer, listen. A certain party wants me to go out in
vaudeville. What do you know about that? Can you see me doing two-a-day
and getting in a contest with Eva Tanguay or Vesta Victoria or the
Russell Brothers. I would go in a minute, though I promised mother when
I quit burlesque that I would never again wear tights.
When I was in the business if I couldn't get a job on my voice all I had
to do was to flash a photo taken as Captain of the High Jinks Cadets,
and then--in a minute.
Flo. Ziegfield made me all kinds of offers to go in the "Soul Kiss," but
the blondes were all full, and you can see me in a brindle wig?
I am willing to sacrifice nearly anything for Art, but when it comes to
leaving nineteen dollars' worth of puffs in a dressing room where you
can't pick your company, not for little Sabrina.
I used to have trouble enough with my number eighteen and lip stick and
the bunch of near-lady kleptomaniacs that the manager made a great
mistake taking on the road in the last show I was with.
Well, to get back to vaudeville, I don't know whether to do a single
turn or put on a big act with a dancing scene or a prizefight in it.
Those things go big nowadays.
I could get the music publishers to slip me a little on the side for
using their songs, too. Of course I don't need the money, for I've got
the biggest part of that ten thou. inheritance left yet; but still it
would keep me busy and away from the cafes, for now all I do all day
long is to roam around from one place to another imbibing booze and
balloon juice.
It's beautiful billiards all right for the time being, but I always feel
so on the blink the next morning.
Wilbur doesn't care; that is, he said he knew I had artistic
temperament, and if I wanted to get it out of my system, vaudeville was
as good as anything.
I was talking to a guy the other day that is in vaudeville, and he said
that down around the St. James Building you could buy acts by the pound.
Another guy wanted to take my money and star me in a musical comedy.
Wasn't he the kind gent?
Gee, I didn't tell you how Wilbur come to get pinched, did I? Well, it
was this way:
You know Wilbur is of Spanish descent even though he was born in
Canarsie, and he has a very jealous disposition; so the night after I
had promised to be his own little star of hope he discovered me in a
certain cafe with another party. This other party was a dramatic critic
and I was touting Wilbur's show, but Wilbur didn't know that, so when he
saw me sitting there having the time of my young life he lost his nanny
and caused a scene, forgetting this other party was a critic in his
passion.
The head waiter threw them both out, and the critic, seeing the police
coming, said: "This is an actor trying to lick me," and naturally the
cops nearly beat poor Wilbur to a pulp.
I went down to the station house and tried to get Wilbur out, but the
police were so rude that I had to tell them where to get off, and they
threatened to jug me, so I slid.
Wilbur got out the next day, though, and told me over the 'phone that he
loved me all the more for trying to come to his rescue. I wish they
would import the Emporia police force here. I can lick him myself.
My! is it that late? Wilbur will be waiting to take me over to Childs'.
So long!
Sabrina returns to the chorus so that she can keep an apartment,
a maid and an automobile without causing comment. She also talks
of getting a house-boat for the summer with some girl friends
and discourses on the advisability of having the wardrobe
mistress for a chaperone.
CHAPTER NINE
"Virtue has its own reward and that's all it ever gets," remarked
Sabrina, the Show Girl, as we met her on the street. "I am once again a
wage-earner. This floating around town as one of the idle rich is all to
the peaches for a while, but as a continuous performance it makes a poor
showing. You know when I first became an heiress I had a call-board put
up in my boudoir and a little notice pinned on it that read, 'Rehearsal,
10 o'clock to-morrow, everybody,' and then I would lay in bed all morning
and make faces at it.
"Everybody had a large bunch of fun kidding me about my inheritance till
I was nearly bug. Why, would you believe it? I couldn't go to dinner or
riding with a gentleman friend, but some humorous dame sitting at
another table would arch her eyebrows and then, if I introduced them to
the gent, they would say, 'I am very glad to meet you, Mr. Suchandsuch;
how are things in Pittsburg?'
"At last it got so bad that I decided to go back to work and earn my
little twenty per, so that I could keep my automobile and wear good
clothes without the slightest taint of suspicion on my character. With
that noble end in view I started on the still hunt. Nothing doing with
that traveling thing.
"I tucked my little scrapbook under my arm and sat in the waiting-room.
After hanging around in there for about half an hour I would be
permitted to glide into the big boss. I had a nice little monologue
framed up as to my virtues--no, that's the wrong word--ability.
"None of the managers asked me what I had done, but what did I GET.
"When I called on the gentlemen by whom I am now employed he said:
'Talent? Oh, piffle! Can you wear tights?' He said that to me.
"I merely mentioned that I used to work for Mr. Ziegfeld and he hired me
at once. I didn't even have to show him my picture taken as Aphrodite in
a classical art study.
"I went over to rehearsal, and of all the frowsy dames I ever piped--far
be it from me to knock, but they looked like a bunch of pie-trammers
that had just rushed over from Child's. The stage manager was a friend
of mine, and I asked him when he had started an old ladies' home, and he
told me--mind you, this is the strictest confidence--that the divorce
courts and the cheap rates from Pittsburg was raising Cain with the crop
of merry-merries.
"I was standing over near the piano when the leading lady galloped in.
Believe me the dog she put on would make you think that she had every
other star looking like a twinkle, and before she landed where she is
now she was leading lady for a moving picture company.
"But the comedian--honest, when he gets a couple under his belt he is
just that funny--gee! I nearly howled my head off at him calling the
tenor Gertrude.
"Say, he got awfully peevish and was mad enough to crush a grape when he
found out that he couldn't have the 'spot' when he does his duet number
with the ingenue, and when he found out that he would have to dress with
the character comedian, who is a low, coarse brute, always drinking beer
in the dressing room and not sharing with anybody, he got so mad I
thought he would burst into tears.
"He's another of these exaggerated ego guys, every move a picture, wears
his handkerchief up his sleeve and all that kind of guff.
"The funniest thing about the whole show is that the author is staging
the piece, and what he don't know about the show business would make the
Lenox Library look like a news stand He wanted the tenor to hold the
prima so she couldn't show her rings. And that's the only thing that got
her the job--her jewelry.
"We open in Hartford in a couple of weeks and then play Washington and
then come in here for a run.
"Honest, the way those two towns fall for this: 'Manager Soandso is to
be congratulated upon securing for his next week's attraction Mr.
Suchandsuch's elaborate production of the great London success, 'The
Rancid Prune,' with the following all-star cast of metropolitan
favorites.' And some of them, ach, Himmel!
"I do wish that the merry Springtime would hurry up and kick in. Them
can have the Winter that likes it, but not for little Angel-face; give
me the summer and that 'Robins Nest Again' number.
"When the bock beer signs again wave in the breeze and the Dutchman in
the delicatessen don't think you are a bug when you ask for Summer
sausage; when the mint commences to sprout in the cigar box on the fire
escape and all nature seems glad. I just love those trips on the night
boat up the Hudson with the searchlight: shining on the trees and the
ice tinkling in the highball glass as the steward comes down the deck.
"You know that I am naturally--even when sober--of a romantic and
emotional temperament, but those nights I can sit and hold hands and
inhale cocktails until daylight without an effort.
"And then Sundays down at Manhattan Beach dubbing around in a bathing
suit--and take this from me as advance information, the bathing suit I
am going to wear this year is going to chase the waves clear out in the
ocean. I don't know yet whether I can wear it at Rockaway or not; it's a
cinch I can't if they have another moral wave like they did last year.
It's chic without being bizarre.
"And I can safely say without fear of successful contradiction that I
look well in it, and if I can keep my hair from getting wet I'll be the
one best bet. But if the briny mingles with my marcel wave--good night,
nurse!
"One of Mr. Hepner's assistants told me that if salt water ever touched
my golden tresses that the only thing I could do to keep them from
turning green was to get scalped.
"A friend of mine who owns a yacht is going to send his wife and
daughter on a trip to Europe, and he told me to count myself one of a
party of six that are going to make a tour of all the neighboring
resorts--no, not that kind--Summer resorts. Fresh!
"We had the one grand time last year.
"I never had a more enjoyable time. Just press a button and the steward
was right on the job to take your order.
"Anything from a glass of hops to a Merry Widow cocktail, and you didn't
have to dig once. Everything paid for ad lib.
"Ah! those happy evenings that appeal so to every true lover of Nature
and well mixed drinks. To sit and listen to the lapping of the
waters--and booze.
"Us girls are talking about getting a houseboat this season if we don't
have to work. Of course, the chances are that it will never come off,
but up to date that is the last dressing room pipe.
"We are figuring on getting a nice place within trolley distance of
Broadway and then get several of our wine agent friends to stock it for
us.
"We won't need much furniture--an ice box and a corkscrew are the only
real necessities.
"Do you think it would cast asparagus on my character if I should reside
in a houseboat unchaperoned.
"Oh, we can get the wardrobe mistress for a chaperone, but why talk
shop; and besides she gets a bun on and goes to sleep in a hamper, and
we girls have to pack our own bundles, and if she got soused while
chaperoning the mob it would take away the otherwise proper air of
refinement and leave us open to the gibes and scoffs of those who were
not so fortunate as to be invited to our houseboat.
"Say, I don't want to indulge in brag or ostentation, but the gown I am
going to wear to the Friar festival they are going to pull off in May is
going to have some class to it.
"Wilbur--that's my betrothed--is going to be one of the main guys, and
when it comes his day to get the showing keep your eye on muh.
"I think Mr. Klaw and Mr. Erlanger are just the nicest men to give the
Friars the New York Theatre for the big doings.
"You want to go. All our set will be there with their hair in a braid.
"Oh, yes; Wilbur and I are getting along just splendid. We have been
engaged now for nearly two weeks and have only broken it off three
times.
"I went to see 'Miss Hook of Holland' the other night and Wilbur got
jealous and told me that if his show wasn't good enough for me to see
without having to go to others to just come across with his ring and he
would cancel the engagement.
"I, being a girl of some spirit and pride, just naturally yanked Mr.
Ring off and threw it at him.
"That made him hedge and before long we were cooing over a bottle of
wine like a couple of turtle doves.
"You can't take any too much off these men. Keep 'em guessing; thats my
system. And then they will walk sideways, so as to not overlook any
bets.
"Take that Alla McSweeney for example. She falls in love and is always
on the job, like Faithful Fido. Sits around the flat and gazes at his
photo all day and from quitting time on she is there with her ear to the
ground waiting to hear him get out of the elevator.
"That aint little Sabrina's graft.
"Nix. Wilbur calls up and I tell him to wait a minute and let him cool
his heels downstairs for a while, and then when I do send for him to
come up he is more glad to see me and manages to amuse himself in
hunting for a stray glove or a handkerchief.
"And then sometimes when he calls up I am out, just to let him know that
he is not the only star performer.
"That stunt keeps them at heel all the time and so busy trying to keep
track of you that they don't have time to look for any other dame. So
that it works both ways for the dealer, and a couple of tears will
always copper any wrong play you make.
"This Beatrice Fairfax dope may be all right in the simple country
maiden, but it don't go in the show business worth a whoop. You've got
to be on your toes in this game and play no steady system.
"My, how I run on! Here I will be late for rehearsal and will have to
give the stage manager an excuse and he will fall for it until some time
I have got good reason for being late, and then he will call me.
"Say, is it considered au fait for a bride-about-to-be to do a little
plugging for wedding presents this early in the game? Well, so long."
Sabrina in this chapter attends a beefsteak party and becomes
involved in an argument with a certain party who was formerly
her roommate but whom she left quietly and by night.
CHAPTER TEN
"Don't I look like a tea store chromo?" inquired Sabrina as Estelle, her
maid, opened the door. "Oh, such a time I had! Never again will I go to
see that Alla McSweeney. Pipe my dial! Get onto the scratch! There are
some wounds that even powder cannot hide. It all started this way. The
girls down at Wilbur's show decided to give a beefsteak in honor of the
prima donna getting the can. Believe me, if they had let a hanging piece
fall on her she would have got but half what was coming to her. Cat!
Well, I should say so, dear. She spoiled the whole effect of that 'I'd
Rather Be a Lemon Than a Quince' number just because she wouldn't let
the pony girls share the spot in the picture. Honest, she caused more
troubles than Louis Nethersole's English actors ever imagined they had.
"I met her socially several times, and she certainly was perfectly
lovely to me. But when she got back on the stage, why, she even had the
stagehands stepping sideways, and you know them. And the manager
couldn't call his soul his own until he had loaded her into a cab and on
her way. Wilbur told me that while on the road that between watching the
panners in the box offices and keeping her from throwing a fit on the
stage he got gray-headed. As for her maid, I can only say, 'Help that
poor creature.' One time the maid pinched her foot while buttoning her
shoe and what does the prima donna do but bounce her whole makeup box on
the top of the maid's defenseless nob. And the way she looks on the
street compared to what she does on the stage, that makeup box must
certainly have been of some size. Of course I am not roasting the poor
creature, for it may be temperament instead of temper, but I am merely
stating what I have heard.
"But to get back to the big eat. The prima donna got too gay and when
they struck New York the home office got wise and she wouldn't stand a
cut in her salary, so they just naturally decorated her with the festive
bug and told her to take a whirl at vaudeville or something else real
mean. Say, when the news got out that she was to leave everybody was so
happy that even the chorus men went out and bought each other a beer.
What do you think of that? Well, anyway the mob got together after the
performance and decided to celebrate the event in fitting and proper
style by getting soused, and Alla kindly donated her new flat. Yes, the
Judge caught a sleeper on Wall Street and she was in strong with the cop
on the beat and the people on the floor below her had moved on account
of the noise. Selfish people. They didn't want to do anything all night
but sleep, and Alla complained that they were wearing out the steam pipe
by pounding on it.
"After the show the whole outfit cleaned all the makeup off except
behind the ears and took it on the lope for Alla's domicile. Me being
the guest of honor, I naturally kicked in late. Gee! everybody of any
importance was there, even some of the principals, and every other show
in town sent at least one representative. Say, the drum was so crowded
that some of the couples had to turn the fire escape into a
conservatory. They would crawl out there and bombard the neighborhood
with empty bottles, until the cop on the corner would rap and then for
some two or three minutes the block would be as silent as a tomb.
"Wilbur of course was there in his official capacity as press agent, to
not only add tone to the gathering, but to make sure that it reached the
night desk of all the papers, for if these society guys get a column and
a half they ought to be willing to slip us poor chorus dolls a couple of
sticks and keep it from under police news.
"I was there to see that Wilbur did not, under the influence of the
charming company, make any remarks that might be misconstrued by any of
the assembled gathering as a declaration of love. For them dolls are
always on the job and the only time they don't catch a live one is when
their hands are tied. Jealous? What! Me? Not so you can notice it, but I
ain't going to have anybody have anything on me, and while I caused no
scenes, I left the impression that I had Wilbur trained so that he would
roll over and play dead at the word of command. While these 'keep off
the grass' signs don't do much good, still they run a horrible bluff.
Did Wilbur get wise to this move on my part? Not on your life! If he
found out that I was, figuratively speaking, riding herd on him, he
would get chesty and all swelled up until it would be my painful duty to
lance him. I don't know yet whether Wilbur is a rhinestone Billie or a
Whisky amber Billie with a dash of bitters Billie, but I am On the Job
Betty, all right, all right.
"Well, to get back to the beefsteak. After all the guests had assembled,
which was maybe some 2 a.m., they started in. It was merely the ordinary
stunt of beer and beefsteak and beefsteak and beer, but the hours were
enlivened by the vaudeville performances of the guests. This was before
the precinct sergeant knocked on the door. One old frump that must have
been tramming a mace in the Roman Hanging Gardens got a yen that was
doing imitations she had Elsie Janis and Gertrude Hoffman looking like a
couple of false starts. Another took the hooks out of her marsel wave
and did that time-worn stunt of 'Laska.' Then one of the chorus men gave
an imitation of George Cohan, as usual. But that don't explain the
scratches; does it?
"To go back sometime, there was a certain skirt that I used to room with
in Chicago when we were both broke, but one night she went out with a
bunch of siss-boom-ah! boys and came home with a large and juicy snoot
full and spent the early morning hours in leaning out of the window of
the apartment and whistling through her fingers to the milkmen, as well
as staging a disrobing number in the middle of the room with the
curtains up to such an extent that the inhabitants of the outlying
districts had to wait sometime for their morning milk.