Long Legs and Tall Tales: A Showgirl's Wacky, Sexy Journey to the Playboy Mansion and the Radio City Rockettes (38 page)

Our enormous, full-cast finale was a lively, tambourine-shaking, banjo-strumming “Mr. Banjo Man” number. We wore white gloves, obnoxiously bright red and hot pink jackets and top hats, and lime-green and turquoise-blue striped spandex pants. We did snazzy choreography with the tambourines while, at one point, backlighting added to the excitement and our gloves and pant stripes glowed in the dark. The 2nd Banana did the exhausting Mr. Banjo Man solo. He had to pretend-play his banjo, sing, and dance his heart out all at the same time. Afterward, as he huffed and puffed, he told me, “I always choreograph breaths into the aerobically challenging numbers, so I don’t forget and keel over.” He was a riot, and I took his good advice to heart, remembering to strategically breathe at certain points in my show.

Our entire production was a ball to perform, the only downside being the Sugar Babies’ fast costume change into the “In Louisiana” tap dance. We had so little time, all twelve of us had to strip down in the wings. Oddly enough, over time, the men on stage crew magically appeared just in time to catch a bit of T and way too much A. It got to be so obvious and such a problem that I complained to the stage manager, “This is not supposed to be a free peep show!” The lack of professionalism made me mad, and the stage manager finally made sure we had the privacy we deserved.

*******

Harrah’s Casino, situated on the water and accessible by boat, sat just over the bridge from Brigantine Island. We had a company van to take us to work, or we could call a taxi, but walking three miles in the frigid cold was out of the question. With only one van at the entire cast’s disposal, it was too difficult to go into town for every meal, so we ate brunch at home and dinner at Harrah’s employee cafeteria where we dined for free. We also had access to the hotel’s tiny, cruddy, workout room, and between shows a few of us Sugar Babies would sometimes ride the stationary bikes or walk the treadmills looking ridiculous in our full show makeup, fake eyelashes, and baseball caps. With two shows a day at 3:00 p.m. and 8:00 p.m., we didn’t have enough time to make trekking back to the condo between shows worthwhile, so we filled our break by eating, working out, and shopping at the employee gift store for Harrah’s paraphernalia at a discounted price. 

Juliet, a devout follower of Bikram, the famous hot yoga guru in L.A., gave herself a yoga class everyday at the hotel and eventually invited the cast to join her. The hotel manager kindly agreed to let us use an empty conference room. Every day, a group of us devoted two hours before the first show to working off our asanas by doing poses such as half moon, eagle, triangle, tree, cobra, bow, tortoise, camel, and rabbit.
Pavanamuktasana
, the “wind-removing” pose, was the most fearsome; Juliet told stories about masses of people involuntarily farting in Bikram’s class. But if you purposefully wanted to remove a painful gas bubble, this was a miracle cure. This yoga series was also a miracle cure for my knees, which had gotten so bad from the cement stage that I could no longer even jump. I was really worried until the yoga cleared that problem right up. Juliet was so kind and generous to teach us. She was always trying to coerce Rip into joining in because he had a lot of back pain. He finally did (I hope it helped). I felt privileged to be posing with the stars.

Rip was a character whose humor could be off-beat and unpredictable, making interactions with him perpetually surprising. He had a handsome, young, male assistant who would cater to his every whim and fetch him his fur coat. How Hollywood glamorous! Seeing that Rip was such a wild card, I never knew quite how to handle him. Juliet, on the other hand, could tame even the wildest of beasts with her charming, nurturing ways. She had a soothing quality about her that Rip responded well to, as did the rest of the cast. Rip, too, had a generous, sweet side and was always showering the Sugar Babies with little presents. Every few days some new Harrah’s gift store item would appear on our dressing room spots: a clock, a thermometer, chocolate gold coins, a key chain, courtesy of Mr. Taylor.

I was impressed that Rip also joined us before each show for the prayer circle that was started by Georgia. (Showbiz people are very spiritual and superstitious.) The cast members would stand in a circle holding hands and someone would pray to the theatre gods (an all-inclusive, non-exclusive, nonreligious way to be sort of religious) to ensure a good show, or to help someone who was sick or injured, or whatever we felt we needed to pull off that night’s performance. I think it helped. At the very least it gave us a positive attitude and made us feel more like a team.

It goes without saying, but I will say it anyway: Rip was a master at physical comedy, and it was a treat to watch him do his thing. In a particularly hilarious scene called “Hearts of Stone,” he was a park statue lamenting his life, as real, live, pigeons perched all over his body, leaving their mark as well. A pigeon trainer had trained half a dozen birds (Krieg-James Theatrical Birds) to fly from the wings onto the stage and sit right on Rip’s head and shoulders and, well, let rip. His facial expressions were priceless. That he was even willing to be pooped on by a flock of pigeons to get a laugh showed what a great sport he was. He was a terrific performer, and the crowd loved him.

I, too, loved watching his comedy sketches with Juliet including “Bored of Education,” in which she, playing the strict school marm, scolded Rip, the naughty, young schoolboy; and “The Court of Last Retort,” a scene replete with double entendres in which Juliet, a provocative murder defendant, used her luscious legs to taunt the corruptible, joking judge, played by Rip. Rip was a master of comedic timing and of squeezing as much hilarity out of a gag as possible. While Juliet successfully brought her own brand of humor to the bits, she was mesmerizing in the song and dance numbers.

This woman spelled class, all the way. Always happy and gracious, she never displayed a negative attitude. When the musical director periodically called her in to practice her singing, which wasn’t always perfectly on pitch, she never had an ego about it. Instead, she rehearsed with a smile on her face. What a professional. She even went bowling with us and took the entire cast out for Mexican food. She was star quality as a performer and a human being.

*******

Working in Atlantic City with two famous headliners was especially fun, because other stars, friends of Juliet and Rip, came to see them in our show, and the cast got to meet some of them. For instance, when famous Broadway musical theatre actress Chita Rivera and screen and stage star Jerry Orbach watched the show, they came backstage. Some of us returned the favor by going to New York City on our day off to see Chita star in
Kiss of the Spider Woman
on Broadway, and she schmoozed with us after the show. She was a class act and very gracious. Another ultra-exciting moment at Harrah’s was when former teen idol Davy Jones from the band and TV show
The Monkees
was in our audience. He was my first crush when I was five years old! (Who could resist that charming British accent?) Suddenly, I found myself too busy monkeying around (and singing the Monkees’ theme song) to put my enthusiasm for my heartthrob down.

We got so bold that, if the stars didn’t come to us, we went to them. When we discovered that Charo was performing in Atlantic City, a few of the Sugar Babies got tickets to see her. Her real name was María del Rosario Mercedes Pilar Martínez Molina Baeza, but she had become so famous (like Cher, Madonna, and Jesus) that people now recognized her by that single moniker. The super sexy, big-breasted, diminutive, Spanish American (famous for her catch phrase “Cuchi-Cuchi!”) was also an amazing flamenco guitar player and singer. She was such a stellar performer that I was inspired to buy her CD. We wanted to meet her, so we name-dropped. “We’re performing in
Sugar Babies
with Rip Taylor and Juliet Prowse and would like to say hello to Charo.” It worked! She chatted with us for over a half hour
in her dressing room
. Just listening to her talk in her thick, Spanish accent with the rolled Rs was entertaining enough. Charo was hilarious and complained, “My see-sterrrr won’t let me eat, because eef I weigh overrrr one-hundrrrrred-and-one pounds, I cannot feet into my costumes.” I understood her sister’s point—Charo’s skimpy outfits looked to be stretched to capacity as it was. There was a lot of spunk, talent, and passion in that tiny package. Cuchi-Cuchi!

******

The Sugar Babies were sweet gals who taught me some cool tricks. My roommate Ashley and I became especially close. She showed me how to make a quick, healthy, delicious meal of brown rice topped with black beans and salsa (and shredded cheese for you dairy folks)—one of her staple, go-to meals at the condo. Maya was the comedy relief in the dressing room; she was always showing off her perfect Arabesque
penchée
—a ballet move in which you lean forward on one leg while raising the back leg high in the air (she was so freakishly flexible, she could make her legs mimic the six-o’-clock position of hands on a clock, like standing splits)—and her grotesquely real, crazed gorilla imitation.

Vivian loved to tap. She had studied with hoofing legend Henry Le Tang in Vegas and taught me a bunch of fabulous tap combos. Before the show or between shows, we’d get on stage in our tap shoes and practice. We paradiddled, maxie forded, flapped, cramp rolled, chugged, shuffled, triple time-stepped, winged, pulled back, and riffed our way to happiness. It really helped improve my tap skills.

June was a flaming redhead and a progressive feminist. She taught us about being goddesses, how a man should please a woman in bed before pleasing himself, and how to sew reusable maxipads out of soft flannel. (Not only were they better for your body and the environment, but rinsing pads off onto droopy plants gave them precisely the pick-me-up they needed. Who knew? I wasn’t sure I was that committed to my body, the environment, or my Ficus, but I was impressed that June was.) Once again, the dressing room was a safe setting for discussions of all things girlie and sexy, no matter how intimate.

When a group of us were in NYC seeing
Kiss
, June (an avid salsa dancer) inspired us to go along with her to a Brazilian nightclub. The salsa was so spicy that my dance partner was moved to passionately kiss me smack in the middle of our “quick-quick slow” steps. As a result of having been attacked walking down an L.A. street alone, June had taken self-defense classes and offered to teach us, too. I learned the most effective way to kick a guy in the cohones (and get away with it). Her shocking tips and pro-female perspective took me from feeling like the weaker sex to feeling like an empowered goddess.

One time June auditioned for a singing gig only to get the humiliating feedback, “You might want to use your lunch money to buy voice lessons.” How rude. But instead of just going home to cry into her beer, that’s exactly what she did. Eventually, she landed a job as a singer on a cruise ship. That’s what I call turning a negative into a positive. You hear lots of criticism over time in this business, and you have to learn to separate the good advice from the baloney. Then if it’s not baloney, you have to do something about it. June took the “I’ll show you who can sing!” attitude instead of wallowing in self pity and admitting defeat. You have to have thick skin for rejection, but be wise and clearheaded enough to examine the comments to see if the casting people have a point.

Marty was the life of the party. For her birthday, the cast presented her with a male stripper-gram. I’ve never seen anyone more excited about unwrapping a present. Marty and her package hit it off so well, they ended up dating and kept right on exchanging gifts.

Annabelle was one of the older, wiser, showbiz veterans whom I looked up to as a mentor. She knew how to survive in the business, but she also knew how to squeeze the most fun out of it. I was delighted to discover that she traveled from show to show with her little parakeet named Lenny. Her claim to fame was her distinctive, high, squeaky voice that won her commercial voiceovers and even became the speaking voice for toy dolls. She had an apartment in Manhattan where she generously let us stay when a bunch of us Babies went to see
Kiss
.

As a seasoned, union professional, Annabelle kept a close eye on our working conditions and was often alerting A.G.V.A. about some misdemeanor. She knew what her rights were. Many, like me, were just babies and hadn’t a clue. For instance, our show run time was always going over the allotted ninety minutes, so our elected A.G.V.A. reps kept a record of what time the show started and finished each night. We got paid extra for overtime, so there was a lot of clock watching.

*******

Most of our days were pretty routine: wake up at noon, eat breakfast, go to Harrah’s, do yoga, do the first show, eat dinner, do the second show, go back to the condo. My roommates and I could never fall asleep after our second show so we always stayed up until 3:00 a.m. watching reruns of
Thirtysomething
and munching microwave popcorn. Then we’d sleep until noon, eat something, and start the cycle all over. Without a car, we were stuck at the condo or Harrah’s much of the time. So when my family and friends announced that they were coming to visit, I was as happy as a clam (a Florida clam, not a New Jersey clam, because those poor mollusks had to survive the harsh, Northeastern winters, and I’m quite sure they weren’t all that cheerful). My mom, dad, grandma, Great Aunt Violet, Aunt Jean, and Uncle Terry came to see the show as did my sorority sister and her husband. It was such fun having them in the audience and then getting to introduce them to Juliet and Rip and the rest of the cast. We gambled a bit, ate salt-water taffy on the boardwalk, visited the Trump Taj Mahal Casino, and picked out the streets found in the Monopoly game. Atlantic City was a happening place after all.