reading was going smoothly, and Polly discovered that Mag wasn’t untalented. Her line readings were thoughtful and she had a flare for comedy. Unless she suddenly developed stage fright, she was not going to be an embarrassment to the production, as Polly had feared. When Gerold called, “Fifteen!” and left for the bathroom, Polly pounced on the opportunity to sidle up to Mag and pour out her charm.
“You’re doing well, my dear!” Polly cooed, taking a seat at the table beside the young actress. “It’s taken me this long to refine my perfect comedy timing. You’re a natural. You must have studied Doria Cook’s performance from the movie.”
Mag smiled awkwardly and Polly knew that she had never heard of Doria Cook. Nor, Polly surmised, had Mag seen what was affectionately known as LucyMame —the Warner Bros. musical debacle that screwed Angela Lansbury out of the film version of her Broadway triumph in the title role. That film practically sank the unsinkable Jerry Herman musical, and it tarnished the otherwise sparkling career of Hollywood legend Lucille Ball. As one reviewer said at the time of the film’s release in 1974, “Lucy wanted to make Mame in the worst way—and that’s what she did.”
Polly rambled on. “Never mind, Mag. You’re doing a lovely job on your own. I imagine that Gerold’s a marvelous help at home. What I would have given to live with my director on that stupid indy I made in Mexico, It Oozed Through the Crack —the better to get extracurricular coaching. Gerold’s probably much better than stiff ol’ Karen would have been. Poor Karen. What a shame. Dead at such a tender age. Perhaps the publicity from her shocking demise will pay off at the box office. Does Gerold like to walk? Does he often stroll through Glendale early in the morning? Does he have another alibi?”
Mag asked in a low voice, “Does everybody know that I’m ‘the girlfriend’? Do they think I got this role just because Gerold and I have feelings for each other?”
Polly put her arm around Mag. “Does a smart young woman such as you give a rat’s ass that her colleagues are tittering under their Max Factor mask-of-comedy faces? We know that it doesn’t matter how we get our big breaks. The important thing is to have the talent to back up the opportunity when he, er, it, comes along. You’ve got loads of talent. But don’t let your relationship with Gerold get in the way of you becoming part of the company. It’s important that you spend time with the rest of us. Get to know the chorus kids and stage hands. Have your meals with us. Spend your off hours with members of the company. It’ll be good for dispelling all the rumors and for us to learn all about you.”
Mag looked nervous. “Rumors?”
“The usual. That you’re using Gerold for career strategy, and that you and he lied to the police.”
Mag swallowed hard. “Why can’t people mind their own business? Everybody makes mistakes.”
“Gerold or the nosey cast?” Polly suggested that the kid playing Little Patrick in the show claimed he saw Gerold in the theater early the morning of the murder. “Which contradicts Gerold’s insistence that he was taking a long walk.”
“Damn kids, as my father used to say,” Mag pouted. “If Gerold hears this, he’ll drag that little monkey out of the show. He gets way cranky whenever the subject of the murder—especially the police investigation—comes up. He’s, like, in my face twenty-four-seven if I ask about the girl who murdered Karen. I swear, sometimes he’s a totally gnarly drag.”
“You know how actors love to chat. Backstage gossip is de rigueur, especially when you’re sleeping with the leading man or the director or the producer, or all of the above. But almost everybody sleeps with those who can help advance their careers.”
Mag involuntarily smiled. “I’m not trying to be a star, or anything. I just want to do good work.”
Polly forced a smile and patted Mag on
“You’re doing well, my dear!” Polly cooed, taking a seat at the table beside the young actress. “It’s taken me this long to refine my perfect comedy timing. You’re a natural. You must have studied Doria Cook’s performance from the movie.”
Mag smiled awkwardly and Polly knew that she had never heard of Doria Cook. Nor, Polly surmised, had Mag seen what was affectionately known as LucyMame —the Warner Bros. musical debacle that screwed Angela Lansbury out of the film version of her Broadway triumph in the title role. That film practically sank the unsinkable Jerry Herman musical, and it tarnished the otherwise sparkling career of Hollywood legend Lucille Ball. As one reviewer said at the time of the film’s release in 1974, “Lucy wanted to make Mame in the worst way—and that’s what she did.”
Polly rambled on. “Never mind, Mag. You’re doing a lovely job on your own. I imagine that Gerold’s a marvelous help at home. What I would have given to live with my director on that stupid indy I made in Mexico, It Oozed Through the Crack —the better to get extracurricular coaching. Gerold’s probably much better than stiff ol’ Karen would have been. Poor Karen. What a shame. Dead at such a tender age. Perhaps the publicity from her shocking demise will pay off at the box office. Does Gerold like to walk? Does he often stroll through Glendale early in the morning? Does he have another alibi?”
Mag asked in a low voice, “Does everybody know that I’m ‘the girlfriend’? Do they think I got this role just because Gerold and I have feelings for each other?”
Polly put her arm around Mag. “Does a smart young woman such as you give a rat’s ass that her colleagues are tittering under their Max Factor mask-of-comedy faces? We know that it doesn’t matter how we get our big breaks. The important thing is to have the talent to back up the opportunity when he, er, it, comes along. You’ve got loads of talent. But don’t let your relationship with Gerold get in the way of you becoming part of the company. It’s important that you spend time with the rest of us. Get to know the chorus kids and stage hands. Have your meals with us. Spend your off hours with members of the company. It’ll be good for dispelling all the rumors and for us to learn all about you.”
Mag looked nervous. “Rumors?”
“The usual. That you’re using Gerold for career strategy, and that you and he lied to the police.”
Mag swallowed hard. “Why can’t people mind their own business? Everybody makes mistakes.”
“Gerold or the nosey cast?” Polly suggested that the kid playing Little Patrick in the show claimed he saw Gerold in the theater early the morning of the murder. “Which contradicts Gerold’s insistence that he was taking a long walk.”
“Damn kids, as my father used to say,” Mag pouted. “If Gerold hears this, he’ll drag that little monkey out of the show. He gets way cranky whenever the subject of the murder—especially the police investigation—comes up. He’s, like, in my face twenty-four-seven if I ask about the girl who murdered Karen. I swear, sometimes he’s a totally gnarly drag.”
“You know how actors love to chat. Backstage gossip is de rigueur, especially when you’re sleeping with the leading man or the director or the producer, or all of the above. But almost everybody sleeps with those who can help advance their careers.”
Mag involuntarily smiled. “I’m not trying to be a star, or anything. I just want to do good work.”
Polly forced a smile and patted Mag on
Similar Books
