Bring on the empty horses Page 5

  ‘I don't want to rush you,' said a calm Texas voice from the entrance hall of her bungalow, 'but we'll be ready to turn over at nine o'clock sharp… it's not quite eight thirty now… we'll go on where we left off last night.'

  'Okay, Chuck,' she called, 'I'll be there.'

  'Which gives you about five minutes more, Frankie,' added 'Missie'. 'How're we doing?'

  'The pink net's just going on, sweetheart,' said the hair stylist with a last flourish of the curling iron, 'tell Vergis to wash you tonight—it's getting awful dry.'

  'It's those damn arcs,' said 'Missie'. 'Nobody's ever used so many as this guy… he's baking my scalp.'

  'He's a lousy cameraman,' said Frankie helpfully. 'Why didn't you ask for Daniels or Stradling or Mate… you know what they do for girls.'

  'I did,' said 'Missie', 'and I also asked for Cukor or Franklin to direct because they're good for girls too . but they'd all been put on other pictures.'

  'Missie's' heart gave a little lurch as she said this — she knew she had made a big mistake… by evening it would be all over the Lot that she was slipping.

  Before she left her bungalow, 'Missie' examined herself carefully in the long three-way mirror. Carl and Frankie had done a masterly job, her morale rose and she climbed into the back seat of Alvin's Cadillac. As the car wound through the studio streets to Stage 23, many workers waved a cheery greeting. 'Missie' sighed and thought of those happy days when everyone at the Studio had protected her, and cosseted her and made it their business to approve or disapprove of her boyfriends, and to watch with pride the development of her early-blooming figure.

  'Missie's' portable dressing-room, a large cubicle on wheels, complete with dressing-table, mirrors, a telephone and a comfortable couch, had, like her bungalow, been decorated to her taste. It had been towed to a quiet corner of the sound stage, conveniently close to the brightly lit activity where the day's shooting would soon take place.

  Marie, from the wardrobe department, was waiting at the door. They kissed 'Good morning'.

  'Afraid the costume weighs a ton, honey,' she said, 'and there's no way you can sit in it without creasing round the middle. I've asked "Props" for a slant board — he's gone to get one.'

  'Let's go, hon,' she added. 'The Creep's already looking at his watch.'

  'The Creep' was the nickname of the unpopular Director. He was a brash but indecisive young man with a penchant for bullying those least able to defend themselves. The day before he had not endeared himself to the crew by standing two feet away from a quailing young actress and shouting, 'No good… do it again… and this time, for Chrissakes… RELAX! !'

  'The Creep' had a couple of successful low-budget films to his credit and had been given the break of directing 'Missie's' picture by its youthful producer (known behind his back as 'Coat-tails'), a nephew of the studio head.

  'Think positively,' Missie' told herself as she slipped out of her slacks and stood naked in the cubicle.

  Marie ordered 'Missie' to breathe in and hooked her into a Merry Widow which gave her a nineteen-inch waist, jutting bosoms and acute discomfort. The basic hoop and petticoats came next, and at last the costume itself. Marie had been right — the weight was horrendous but the result was spectacular and 'Missie' made a few pirouettes to watch the skirts swirl and fall.

  'I hope my tits don't pop out,' she said, 'they're awful near the danger line.'

  'I'll keep an eye on them,' said Marie.

  'So will about fifty guys,' laughed 'Missie'.

  A few last-minute dabs of powder by Carl and sharp at nine o'clock, 'Missie' walked out into the bright lights to start eight slogging, exhausting hours of nervous tension and high concentration.

  Things went well for the first hour, 'The Creep' was calmer and more inventive than usual and the leading man appeared to have bathed in Knize 10, but the head of publicity cornered a resting 'Missie' on her slant board.

  'The Front Office have okayed some visitors today, darling,' he said, 'that dame from Photoplay wants to have lunch with you.'

  'No way,' said 'Missie'. 'By the time I've gotten out of this dress I've less than half an hour before I have to get back into it again all I do is grab a sandwich and call home — it's my only chance to talk to Sharon, She'll be asleep when I get back tonight.'

  The man sighed, he was used to rolling with the punches and he got them from all sides, but he had a plan.

  'Then there's the whole Ohio State Football Squad, they're playing at the Rose Bowl New Year's Day — they just want to come and look at you around three o'clock… they've elected you their "mascot for the game"… it'll mean a few pictures and autographs but tremendous coverage. How's about it?'

  'Okay,' she groaned, 'but don't let me get trapped.'

  'A. deal,' he said, 'I've turned down several others for today, the Boston Globe, the Des Moines Register and the Washington Star, we can knock them off later. The President of the Foreign Press Association wants to come this morning — they're getting very important now, the Foreign Press He's a nice Swede and we might be able to swing an Award from them later — that's getting more coverage every year. Waddya say, darling?'

  'Not today, Eddie,' begged 'Missie', 'we've got a lot of awful tough scenes. Maybe he could take me to lunch when the picture's over?'

  'I'll tell you what I'll do, darling,' said Eddie looking away from her to lessen the impact. 'I'll "can" the Swede — if you'll see Hedda.'

  'Hedda!' Missie' almost screamed. 'What the hell does she want? You mean she's coming out to the Studio? She never does that!'

  'She does when she's on to a story, darling,' said Eddie smoothly, 'and I'm afraid she's on to "Him":

  ‘Oh Jesus!' said 'Missie'. 'What time is she coming?'

  'She's here already,' said Eddie, 'Over on Stage 9 at the moment. Just string her along… She can be a good friend too, you know, and it's better to have her on your team than playing against you.'

  'On the set, please,' said a calm Texas voice.

  'Missie' worked on doggedly but she kept looking into the darkness behind the camera dreading the sight of the icy super columnist. At last, in an interval for re-lighting 'Missie' was confronted.

  'We don't have much time, my dear,' said the spare overhatted Hedda, 'so let's get down to business. I hear that "He" is living with you now. I know what he gets for breakfast and I know he sometimes drives Sharon to school — a Convent school isn't it? Do you think this is good for your image?… and what do you think will happen to your contract here if the Catholic Legion of Decency decides to ban your pictures?'

  ‘Missie's' hand shook as she lit a cigarette.

  'It's my private life, Hedda,' she said defensively.

  'Nonsense,' said Hedda, 'you have no private life — you sold that long ago for a contract and you'll be getting twenty-five hundred a week if your option is taken up next month. you belong to the public: and a lot of people in the country still Ile people in the public eye to lead clean, decent lives and to rear their children in a clean, decent home. They stomached your divorce because they'd loved you since you were a child — but they won't stand for "Him" in your life. I'm warning you.'

  'Are you going to tell them, Hedda?' asked 'Missie', in a quiet little voice.

  The columnist thought for a moment and gazed directly into the big, grey eyes,

  No, my dear, not unless you force me to,' she replied slowly. 'But I’ll tell you something that may make things easier for you. He's a no-good sonofabitch. I've watched him for years; he always was, he always will be … and he's a crook in business, which we all know, but he's cheating on you already.'

  'Waiting on the set, "Missie",' said a calm Texas voice. 'Lines off, please.'

  In a daze and with legs turned to jelly, 'Missie' walked towards the camera. She glanced back and saw Eddie deferentially shepherding the regal figure of Hedda towards the door, then she faced her nervous young leading man, standing in his Gold Rush outfit under the full glare of the lights. It was his cl
ose-up in a difficult emotional scene and he needed all the help she could give him. She put everything she could into it. The boy thawed out and responded, and when it was over he bounded up to her like a big puppy. 'Gee! thanks loads!… you sure did help me!… it's so lonely out there, I've been dreading that close-up ever since we started the picture!'

  Impulsively, he hugged her. 'Missie' burst into tears, ran to her 'trailer', slammed the door and reached for the telephone. Stifling her sobs, she spoke to her secretary.

  'Morning, Pat… did Sharon get to school okay?'

  'Oh yes,' answered the girl, "He" took her — they only just made it — he had a tough time getting up, I guess!'

  'Missie' took a calming breath.

  'Is he there now, Pat? I'd like a word with him.'

  'No, he just left for Lakeside… he has a golf game — said if you called to give you his love… he'll be back around six.'

  'Okay, Pat, you come on out here then.' She hung up.

  A discreet knock and the kindly face of Mac the first assistant peered round the door. Vergis was hovering behind.

  'You okay, little girl? What's upset you? Anything I can do?' 'Missie' dabbed her eyes and controlled herself.

  'It was the scene I guess… sorry, Mac… Ask Carl to come and repair the damage will you, please?'

  'Sure, darling. Take your time there's a lighting job coming up. Call me if you need anything.'

  Carl went to work in silence. He knew better than to talk when temperament was on the boil whatever the cause, but the silence was broken by another knock on the door. Vergis opened it a few inches and relayed a whispered message.

  'It's the man from the Hollywood Reporter… says to tell you they've reserved a full page for your Christmas ad. again this year and to remind you the five hundred is deductible.'

  'Tell him to drop dead,' said 'Missie' and she could feel hysteria rising within her:

  The phone rang. It was her Agent.

  'I'll be out at the Studio today, darling,' said Manny; 'I'll drop by and see you about four. Okay?'

  'It's a tough day, Manny,' groaned 'Missie': 'Can it wait?'

  'Won't take but a few minutes, darling. see you at four.' He hung up,

  'Ready on the set,' came a calm Texas voice through the door.

  Till noon the work was hard and, mercifully, needed the maximum of concentration, endless rehearsals of a long scene that called for meticulous timing and the co-operation of two spaniels and three small children. The 'Child-actor mothers' were the usual mean-faced, grasping, jealous dragons and the dog handler smelled of Bourbon.

  'Coat-tails', the producer, put in a brief appearance. He was full of concern. '

  "Missie" darling — I couldn't come before — I had a budget meeting. But they called to say you were not feeling well — are you better now? The studio doctor should see you during the lunch break — for the insurance you know.

  'Missie' reassured him he would not fall behind by a minute on his precious schedule because of her; but the thoroughness of the studio spy system irked her.

  Just before the one o'clock lunch break, 'Coat-tails" uncle, the head of the studio, paid one of his infrequent visits to the set. At the very sight of him, surrounded by his henchmen, the whole tempo of work quickened.

  The young Director, who had been leaving the intricacies of coping with the dog and the children to the experienced Mac, immediately assumed full and ostentatious command and everyone was scurrying about reeking of efficiency. The grapevine had alerted Frankie and he arrived in time to fiddle unnecessarily with 'Missie's' curls.

  'The Big Wheel' came over. Tall and immaculate in a light grey suit, his high-domed forehead was brown, blotched with bright pink patches where his beloved desert sun had peeled off one layer of skin and been too quickly allowed to burn its tender replacement; the pink patches were permanent. His wife, who baked herself for hours every day at Palm Springs, had achieved the complexion of a heavily worked Western saddle.

  He smiled at 'Missie' through rimless spectacles but the smile only displayed his perfectly capped teeth — it did not extend to his eyes. He put his arm around her.

  'And how's our little girl today?' he asked, not pausing for an answer. 'Everyone tells me the picture looks real great… and you're giving a great performance… wish I had time to see all the "dailies" but with fourteen pictures in production right now you're the least of my worries. You got any problems, darling?'

  'Missie' manoeuvred him out of range of the flapping elephant ears of his entourage.

  'Joe's a great cameraman I know, but he uses so much light. I look like a death's head!'

  'Damn right he's a great cameraman,' said the Studio Head through a quickly diminished smile, 'Tracy and Bogart fall over themselves to get him.'

  'But I don't want to look like Tracy or Bogart,' wailed 'Missie. 'I want to look like me. Couldn't he at least put a gauze over my key light?'

  He patted her shoulder. 'I'll have a word about it,' he promised soothingly, 'leave it with me.' He started away but turned back — 'Oh! by the way, darling, I've sent for that agent of yours. He'll be in this afternoon. I want to have a little chat with him about our little girl's future. Be good, darling, we all love you.'

  He shook a few hands on the set, listened to a few reports, checked the script girl's work sheet and was gone.

  Pat, the secretary, arrived just before the lunch break. She waited while 'Missie' was released from the purgatory of her dress and then accompanied her in Alvin's limousine. 'Missie' gazed absently out of the window as they threaded their way through the crowd headed for the commissaries, some seated in little gaily coloured, awning-topped trolleys, but most on foot, and workmen carrying their lunch pails and radios headed for quiet corners behind buildings or for the vast acreage of the Back Lot. A multitude of extras in the varied costumes of fourteen different productions hurried along, the snooty dress extras in their white ties and tails with Kleenex stuffed inside their high collars for protection against make-up, and the girls with tissue in the tops of their dresses guarding the fabric from underarm stain — Glamour! thought 'Missie'. The writers were headed for the writers' table in the private dining-room, the directors would be huddled together at theirs and the producers would be far removed in another enclave — all preferring the company of their peers in a rigidly class-conscious society. The stars in their allotted limousines were rolling towards their bungalows and a few free souls were bustling off the Lot for drinks and a snack across the street.

  In her bungalow, while Vergis and Pat busied themselves in the kitchen, 'Missie' spoke to Sharon who had a free afternoon The young clear voice cheered her.

  'Mom… I'm going over to Virginia's for lunch and maybe stay till supper. A lot of the kids'll be there. We're going to play tennis and roller skate and stuff… work hard! Try and come home early so I can see you! Bye now.' She hung up with the single-mindedness of youth.

  'Missie' dialled again and spoke to her cook.

  'No, he's gone golfin' — went around eleven I guess — Lakeside I think he said.'

  She called the Club, something she had never done before: Did she imagine an evasiveness about the secretary's voice the other end?

  'I got here late today, he's probably half-way round the course by now. I'll tell him you called when he gets in'

  'Missie' picked dispiritedly at her low-calorie cottage cheese and pineapple while Pat sought to extract some decisions from her about Christmas.

  'I reckon that including the staff at the house, the crew on the picture and the usual studio list, you'll have to come up with around a hundred and thirty gifts,' she said, 'and I'm mailing four hundred cards today and about a hundred telegrams on Christmas Eve. The stores stay open late starting next week. You'll want to pick up stuff yourself, won't you? for people like Manny and Louella and Hedda and, of course, "family"… and don't forget Dan .

  'No, don't forget him whatever happens,' said a hearty voice from the doorway:


  'Missie' jumped out of her chair and rushed to a large comfortable red-faced man in a loud sports jacket who was taking off a raincoat and removing from his head a Homburg bat enveloped in a plastic covering.

  'Radio said rain later on,' he explained:

  ‘Dan, darling!' cried 'Missie', 'do you want some food?'

  'No thanks, honey. I was on the Lot, so I just dropped by to say "hello". I'll take on a little Scotch though if you have some.'

  'I'll fix it,' said Pat. She liked 'Missie's' business manager; he seemed honest and straightforward.

  'Well, Dan, am I broke as usual?' laughed 'Missie'. She was relieved to have something to wrench her mind away from Lakeside.

  'Not quite, darling,' said Dan, 'but I'm afraid we've had a little set-back. The Government's come after you for sixty thousand bucks in back taxes from four years ago; they've turned down a claim for exemptions over the divorce settlement.'

  'Jesus!' said 'Missie', 'have we got it?'

  'We can find it, honey,' said Dan cautiously, 'but we have to watch all the outlays next year. No big entertaining, no gambling on oil wells… No…’

  ‘But all that's deductible isn't it?' asked 'Missie', ‘from Tax I mean?'

  'Honey,' explained Dan gently, 'lots of things are deductible… the 10 per cent of your earnings you pay to Manny, the 5 per cent to me, Pat's salary, your lawyer's fees, your business gifts, clothes, publicity, entertaining, all sorts of things are deductible from tax but you have to pay tax before you can deduct from it, and you don't pay tax unless you have an income. And actresses who don't work don't have incomes: and your contract comes up for renewal any day now. So, like I said, we have to watch it.'

  'Missie' spoke slowly, 'They're not going… to drop me, are they? I mean I've been here on this Lot for more than twelve years?'

  'You've plenty more years ahead of you yet, darling,' said Dan soothingly, 'if not here, then someplace else but the Studios are all cutting their overheads and your option calls for three years' straight at a big raise. Let's pray they pick it up.' He drained his glass and made his goodbyes. 'Don't worry, honey,' he said, 'just keep the positive thoughts.'