.comment-link {margin-left:.6em;} <body><script type="text/javascript"> function setAttributeOnload(object, attribute, val) { if(window.addEventListener) { window.addEventListener('load', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }, false); } else { window.attachEvent('onload', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }); } } </script> <div id="navbar-iframe-container"></div> <script type="text/javascript" src="https://apis.google.com/js/platform.js"></script> <script type="text/javascript"> gapi.load("gapi.iframes:gapi.iframes.style.bubble", function() { if (gapi.iframes && gapi.iframes.getContext) { gapi.iframes.getContext().openChild({ url: 'https://www.blogger.com/navbar.g?targetBlogID\x3d6672601\x26blogName\x3dTchotchkes\x26publishMode\x3dPUBLISH_MODE_BLOGSPOT\x26navbarType\x3dLIGHT\x26layoutType\x3dCLASSIC\x26searchRoot\x3dhttps://marybishop.blogspot.com/search\x26blogLocale\x3den\x26v\x3d2\x26homepageUrl\x3dhttp://marybishop.blogspot.com/\x26vt\x3d-6426237810827793284', where: document.getElementById("navbar-iframe-container"), id: "navbar-iframe" }); } }); </script>
My Photo
Name:
Location: Connecticut, United States

marybb1@gmail.com

Saturday, January 21, 2006

Grandma's Short Time in Vaudeville


The reason Grandma and Emma ended up in “vaudeville” wearing scanty costumes was all because of William Clarke.

Clarke, or “Crow” as Grandma called him, played the piano at The Graham Academy of Dance. He also played piano at the downtown Majestic Theater – and was an expert at bringing silent films to life with his self-composed piano accompaniments to the soundless, moving pictures.

Clarke had a thick head of shiny black hair, round dark eyes that would flicker from side to side, and a nose that looked more like something you’d see on the face of a bird rather than a man. So Crow he was called, although never to his face.


It was 1927 and silent films were giving way to the new “talkies”. Vaudeville, huge during the silent era, was beginning to die. The Majestic, which once featured a 3 hour vaudeville show, with a short silent film between shows, was now featuring full-length talkies, and only half-hour vaudeville acts between movie showings.

Vaudeville performers were becoming scarcer and scarcer, moving on to other areas of entertainment, as jobs in theaters were harder to find.

But there was one thing that theater goers still enjoyed immensely, and that was the “girl act.” The girl act was just that, usually two young females, not bad on the eyes, dressed in something scandalous at the time, like short skirts or Cleopatra costumes – any costume that would give the theater the excuse to serve up some young females that were showing more leg or chest than one would see on the street, although not much more than could be spied at the beach.

The manager of the Majestic was lamenting the fate of vaudeville acts with Crow, telling him he desperately needed a good girl act to keep the audience happy between movies-- when Crow said he was pretty sure he could find a good girl act for him.

Crow didn’t need to look at the piano keys when he played, so he spent most of his time at the Graham Academy of Dance looking at the young women who were taking lessons.

He had a special fondness for Emma and her blonde curly hair, but he also thought Grandma had the best legs he’d ever seen in his life. And, they were both great dancers and could tap like nobody’s business.

Both Grandma and Emma had full time jobs, but they still took dance lessons on Saturday afternoons – sometimes they helped teach the younger girls too. It was fun for them and by now Grandma’s mother knew Grandma was taking lessons, but she also knew Grandma was paying for them.

At first Grandma was shocked when Crow approached her about performing at the Majestic. But after talking it over with Emma, the excitement of being on stage together was greater than the fear of what their mothers would say if they found out Grandma and Emma were dancing at the Majestic.

It’s not that theater dancers or girl acts were particularly naughty, but there was a stigma attached to performing at the theaters. Nice girls didn’t do it, that was for sure.

Grandma says it was a damn good thing she wasn’t a nice girl, because she remembers her short time on the stage with great satisfaction.

She and Emma and Crow worked out an act based on a dance routine the girls already knew backwards and forwards. Crow wanted them on stage for the next Saturday evening performance.

He looked through “props” and “costumes” in the theater’s basement, and came up with red, satin, boxer shorts and white jersey “farmer” undershirts. (Today we’d call these wife-beaters!)

He found two sets of small boxing gloves and had young Hank, the gorgeous, but deaf, stage manager, whip up a quick, easy to assemble boxing ring made out of the velvet ropes and heavy stands they used to keep the patrons in single file when entering the theater.

Crow showed the girls how to jab and punch without touching each other and tailored his music to the routine that had now been upgraded to a boxing, tap, girl act.

Grandma says the manager loved Crow’s idea and they were hired without even auditioning – Crow’s word was good enough.

The curtain rose and the spotlight went on, and Emma and Grandma were cordoned off in a twelve foot by twelve foot square where they performed their routine, tapping furiously while pretending to be boxers.

Grandma says she wasn’t nervous at all and when the crowd roared with approval she was sure that she was going to become a professional tap dancer. The applause at the end of the routine meant more to her than the money she got after the show.

(Which, by the way --and even after Crow had taken his 50 percent! -- was still more than a week’s salary at the furniture store.)

But it wasn’t meant to be.

At their fifth performance, Emma’s uncle Donald just happened to be at the show that night. He spotted Emma and had a conniption fit. He told Mrs. Caroway what Emma and Grandma were doing and Emma was forbidden to perform at the theater again.

Grandma said there wasn’t much future for one-half of a girl act, so she decided the stage wasn’t for her either.

“Did you ever wonder how different your life would have been if you had decided to continue as a solo act?” we asked Grandma.

“No,” she replied. “By that time I was already smitten with Hank, the stage manager, and learning sign language so we could do more than “moon” at each other.”

“So tell us about Hank? Did you love him? How long did you date him? How come we never heard you talk about him before?”

Grandma looked a bit sad.

“Hank was one of the most beautiful men I ever saw in my life. He had beautiful dark, red hair and the bluest eyes you ever saw. He was tall and muscular and strong.

But, he was deaf and my mother didn’t want me dating a boy who was deaf. She was afraid we’d have deaf children… or that he wouldn’t be able to support me and I guess, she thought, others would think I was so unappealing to the opposite sex, I had to marry a deaf man. It wasn’t a good time for people with disabilities. They were supposed to marry their own kind.”

“Oh Grandma, that’s so too bad, so unfair,” we said empathizing with her, grateful to be living at a time when such prejudices didn’t exist anymore.

“Keep in mind though,” Grandma said, “his own mother didn’t want him dating me either. She thought it scandalous that he even entertained the idea of dating one of the vaudeville girls! I never got to break it off with him, because he did it first.

“So, I don’t ever think about what life on the stage might have been like, but sometimes I do think about what might have happened if Hank hadn’t told me he couldn’t date me anymore. Maybe I would have eloped with him and maybe I would never have married your Grandpa. But that is one thing I’ll never know, and it’s one thing Grandpa will never know about either.”

She gave us the look that said: no more talk about Hank -- and just in time, as Grandpa came in the back door with a big basket of fresh tomatoes he’d just picked from the garden.

11 Comments:

Blogger Closet Metro said...

What an interesting life she lived.

My daughter often asks me to tell her stories about myself. My stories just can't compete with your grandma.

1:37 PM  
Blogger Michelle said...

I love this one. I can picture them boxing on the stage and can imagine how sad your grandma was over Hank. God, you should write a book with her stories in them. She had a rich life.

3:35 PM  
Blogger mary bishop said...

Metro - oh I bet you have some wonderful stories to tell...!! The fact that your daughter wants to know more about you is so precious...

Grandma often said it wasn't the story that was as important as the telling of the story.

Michelle...I am putting these stories down for the express purpose of having them in writing for current and future family members...but who knows...it seems like Grandma is getting her own little fan club. She'd be so proud!

I am so glad you could picture them boxing on stage...I know i could when she told the story to me. I wish I knew how and where Hank ended up...

4:12 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

My goodness, she was a little rebel!

Each time I read a new story, i'm there. I'm so engrossed in it, I really feel like i'm sitting there, listening. I love it!! Your writing captures the whole.

12:50 AM  
Blogger The Egel Nest said...

I love Grandma...as usual...

The way you tell the stories and the intrinsic humor and depth to the stories make them book worthy...Great Stuff!

Favorite line in this one..."Clarke had a thick head of shiny black hair, round dark eyes that would flicker from side to side, and a nose that looked more like something you’d see on the face of a bird rather than a man. So Crow he was called, although never to his face."

I love descriptions like this!

Bradley
The Egel Nest

10:09 AM  
Blogger mary bishop said...

lawbrat - you say the nicest things... I think YOU were there when Grandma told the stories...weren't you the little one, sitting cross-legged with those big gorgeous eyes hanging on her every word?

Bradley - your opinion of these stories means the world to me. You show in your writing such depth and complexity...I thank you for commenting.

You must have been sitting next to lawbrat when Grandma would gather us around to tell her tales...

2:57 PM  
Blogger Irina Tsukerman said...

What a great story! My grandmother was asked to sing in the theater once (she had a rich deep alto and sounded a little like Ella Fitzgerald!), but her mother didn't let her... because nice girls don't do theater! Shame...

4:40 PM  
Blogger mary bishop said...

Irina, just think if your grandmother and my "Grandma" had met up - they could have been a "girl act" together!

I'm still having a hard time figuring out what people had against the theater..or women in the theater.

Glad, so glad it's not the case today.

6:06 PM  
Blogger Echrai said...

I said it before and I'll say it again. You need to make a book out of these. I just love these vignettes from your grandmother's life.

8:33 PM  
Blogger The Egel Nest said...

MB -

Cute newborn baby alert today at the Egel Nest...swing on by dudette! :)

Bradley
The Egel Nest

1:00 PM  
Blogger Unknown said...

Excellent work MB. This was one grandma that wouldn't stand for getting run over by a reindeer!

7:54 AM  

Post a Comment

<< Home