“You don’t have to do that. Your mother probably needs you here.” He shoveled a forkful of eggs into his mouth and washed it down with coffee. “I don’t know if you should wander around Manhattan unescorted.”
“Actually, it was Mother’s idea, and now that I’m finally here in New York City I’d better catch up and learn how to get around, don’t you think?”
The truth was I hadn’t a clue how to get around Manhattan, but there were streetcars and taxicabs and I had a feeling I would know exactly where I needed to go.
It was a cool March day and the energy of the city was pulsating. My father’s office was on Wall Street, so I asked the driver to drop me near Lord & Taylor.
Men in blue serge suits and charcoal pinstripes walked past me in a hurry, everyone tipping their hats against the chilled spring air. The men in this town were well dressed and handsome. Fifth Avenue was dominated by streetcars, which shared the road with the occasional horse-drawn carriage. I looked up at the enormous ten-story building, which took up an entire city block from West Thirty-eighth Street to West Thirty-ninth. I’d never seen a store so large. When the wind calmed for a moment, I felt the rays of the sun shining between the buildings that sprouted up from the concrete sidewalks. A warm summer wasn’t too far off; I could feel it.
Walking through the glass doors, I was amazed to see that people were already browsing and shopping. A dazzling selection of beaded evening purses, sequined headbands, tiaras and hair clips sparkled up at me, and I felt a thrill as I pictured the costumes and headpieces of the stage. I could feel it, the pressure of the headpiece, the contracted abdomen, the pinch of the dance shoes, as I walked toward the audience, arms outstretched, receiving the applause.
“Welcome to Lord and Taylor.” A lithe young woman startled me. “Can I assist you with the accessories, miss?”
“Oh no,” I said, “I was just passing through, I’m not here to shop.”
“Of course. Luncheon will be served on the tenth floor at elevenA.M.in the Wedgewood Room, and afternoon tea will be served at twoP.M.in the Mandarin Room.”
“I’m not here for that either, actually. I’m heading to Times Square,” I said, suddenly feeling the urgent need to get out of the store. She pointed me in the right direction, and I walked, faster now that I knew I was close to the New Amsterdam Theatre.
CHAPTER FOUR
After my disappointing meeting with Mr. Ziegfeld, I left the theater, dashing out of the grand lobby, past the two enormous gold peacock sculptures, letting the doors slam behind me. The bright sunlight blinded me after having been inside, but I just started walking. After turning on Broadway, cars whizzing by, people dashing past with somewhere to go, I realized I had no idea where I was going. Advertisements for “Squibb’s Dental Cream” and “Coca-Cola—Delicious and Refreshing” and “Arrow Collars” all loomed above me. An immense image of a man smoking a cigarette looked down on me with the words “I’d Walk a Mile for a Camel,” but I couldn’t walk another block. I just needed to sit down for a minute—I felt deflated. Mr. Ziegfeld hadn’t picked me on purpose, just to knock me down a peg or two; I was sure of it.
I moved away from the busy street, leaned back against the wall and closed my eyes. I had to plan out my next move. I’d promised tomeet my father and his driver at three o’clock and it was only elevenA.M.There were theaters and vaudeville houses all along Broadway and West Forty-second Street—some big-time charging $2 a show, some small-time charging ten cents and showing six times a day. TheZiegfeld Follieswas $10 a ticket, making it a real special occasion to see.
I didn’t know what to do. I hadn’t considered the idea that I might not get cast; it hadn’t even been a possibility. I’d gotten through the previous eleven months by picturing the moment when I’d walk into Ziegfeld’s office and claim my spot on the stage. This was simply not how I’d imagined things. I walked back to Lord & Taylor glumly and spent the afternoon alone in the Mandarin Room.
The next day, I went back to the city and found myself in the dingy little office of theatrical agent Moses Sherman. I’d seen a tiny ad for him in a free paper I picked up outside the vaudeville houses. There wasn’t an open seat in the cramped waiting room packed with other young men and women, so I stood by the window surveying the crowd, waiting for someone to call my name. In the far corner was a tall, slim woman draped in an armchair, her limbs all right angles, her facial features masculine and sharp, yet she was striking in the most unusual way. She caught me staring, and an enormous smile grew across her cheeks. She looked amused, as if she could tell immediately that I was new in town. Oh, I might be new, I thought, but I’m as determined as they come, just you wait and see.
A couple of men were seated by the door, dressed in identical pin-striped three-piece suits, bow ties and straw fedoras. There weredancer figures, and opera figures, and a few who looked as if they’d come in off a night on the street.
Eventually Mr. Sherman called my name. He was short in stature and round everywhere: his head and chin formed one blob, his chest and belly formed another.
“All right, Miss McCormick…” He looked up at me and wrinkled his nose. “You’re going to have to change that name if you want to be in showbiz.” He glanced at the paper I’d handed him that listed my performances and training. “So you can sing and dance?”
“That’s right, Mr. Sherman.”
He seemed in a hurry to be done with me.
“Okay, head over to the Olympia Theatre this afternoon. It’s a thrice weekly variety show. One of the girls dropped out of a three-person act, got herself knocked up, or a sinus infection, or something.” I held my breath as he said it. “Anyway,” he continued, “she’s out, and they need someone who can learn fast, two days fast. Can you do that?”
“Of course,” I said. “Just tell me where to go.”
He scribbled down the address on the back of the paper. “Come back here after you’re done, and I’ll let you know if you’re in. We’ll sign contracts, and if it all works out you start in a couple of days.”
“That sounds perfect,” I said. “Thank you so much.”
He was already walking past me to his door. “Miss Leggington?” he called out.
I quickly picked up my handbag, my coat and the paper with the address and hurried toward the door.
“Oh, and Miss McCormick,” he called out. “Change the name—you need something with some pizzazz, something that sounds likea star, not some woman who should be at home cooking her husband a lamb chop.”
I nodded, a little taken aback, and he shut the door.
I auditioned for the part while their rehearsal was in session. I met the two girls I’d be performing with, Eileen Ray and Doreen Williams, and watched them dance their number. They taught me a short part of the sequence, then I danced it with them right there and then.
“You’re going to have to learn the rest of this choreography in a jiffy,” the director said.
