“Miss Shine,” he said with those same puppy-dog eyes his secretary had given me. “I was saddened to hear your news,” he said as he closed the door behind me.
“Yes, thank you.” I nodded, looking down to the floor. I hadn’tprepared myself to speak of what had happened. Just the thought of Archie brought tears to my eyes; I knew I would fall apart if I had to speak his name.
“But you see, your role has already been recast, Miss Shine,” he said matter-of-factly.
“It’s what?” I said, looking at him directly for the first time. I hadn’t planned to speak to him about returning to the show either, not yet, anyway. I needed some time to get myself settled, set up a place to live and mentally prepare myself to face an audience and the girls again. But once all of that was straightened out, I had planned to come back.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I never could have predicted such a change of heart. I had to think of future shows, and we’ve just completed extensive auditions to cast the upcoming season,” he said, returning to his desk chair and resting his elbows on the desk as if to let me know he had work to get on with. “Contracts have been signed.”
“But I was your star in theFrolic,don’t you want me back for that, at least?”
He shrugged. “We have a new star.”
“Who?” I asked rather loudly, shocked that this could all transpire so quickly. But he didn’t dignify my outburst with a response. His face remained expressionless. It took me back to that night in the car—when after refusing his advances, I’d stared at him, trying to get a glimpse of what would happen next. This time I knew there was nothing I could say or do to change his mind.
“Well, that is disappointing, but it’s not the reason I came,” I said, eager to mask my vulnerability. “I was hoping you could write me a letter of recommendation for the Saint Agnes Residence. I need it today so I can stay there tonight. I would also like to ask Howie for aletter if he’s here, and I need a doctor’s note, so I was hoping I could ask the stage doctor for a letter.”
Ziegfeld looked exasperated. “It’s already five o’clock.”
“If I don’t have these letters, I won’t have a place to sleep tonight,” I said. “And if you could possibly not mention that I was a performer, rather state that I worked at the theater, perhaps as an assistant or secretary, I would appreciate it.” I looked to the ground, the humiliation in asking for this almost too much to take. I wondered how many times he’d seen his biggest stars fall from grace. I wondered if he even cared. To him I was just one of hundreds of women who would pass through this theater.
“I’ll have Mrs. Parham take care of these letters for you, but it might take a while, you can wait outside her office.”
“Thank you,” I said, and as I turned to walk out of his office, I felt a wave of desperation come over me, a sudden realization that this might be the last time I’d set foot in the New Amsterdam. I abruptly turned back toward Ziegfeld, who was walking me out of his office, and found myself just inches from him. I placed my hand on his arm and let it run down to his hand, where I stopped and squeezed. “I appreciate your help,” I said, looking up at him. He pulled his arm away, and I suddenly felt sick at what I’d done in a moment of hopelessness. I quickly turned again and hurried out the door, stunned that I could feel even lower than when I had walked in.
“Oh, and Miss Shine…,” he said.
“Yes.” I felt wretched but forced myself to perk up slightly. Maybe he’d had a change of heart about the show.
“Best of luck to you.”
Having sat in humiliation for what felt like hours while waiting on the letters, I returned, exhausted, to the residence and was at last allowed a room. I tried to stay in bed. A week would not have been long enough. But the nuns knocked on everyone’s doors early for breakfast. They wanted doors open, they wanted to peek inside and be sure there were no visitors of the opposite sex, no funny business going on. Most of the women were secretaries and were up and off to work early. Lying in bed with the sheets over your head was not encouraged, so on the third day I dressed and went to the parlor room, where I wrote out a telegram, then walked to the post office to deliver it.
DEAR ALBERTO STOP
I WOULD LIKE TO SPEAK TO YOUR EUROPEAN BOOKER STOP
I NEED TO FIND WORK AS SOON AS POSSIBLE AND CAN TRAVEL STOP
I AM STAYING AT THE SAINT AGNES RESIDENCE IN NEW YORK STOP
YOUR FRIEND STOP
OLIVE
The next day, a messenger boy delivered a telegram to the residence.
MIA CARA OLIVE STOP
MY BOOKER HAS YOUR NAME BUT SHOWS ARE BOOKED A YEAR IN ADVANCE STOP
I WOULD LIKE HE MEET YOU IN THE SPRING IN NEW YORK STOP
WE MEET TOGETHER STOP
PRENDITI CURA DI TE STOP
ALBERTO
