The Chelsea Girls(29)
“Yes. You should play Lina. I never should have doubted you. This role is yours, and I’d be honored to have you involved.”
“The honor is all mine.”
Hazel invited me to sit in on the auditions a few hours later. The morning was spent finding the right actor for the character of the male lead, Matthew, and we had more than enough to choose from—the talent pool in New York was tremendous—but everyone agreed on a man named Jake Simmons, who hit all the right notes of desperation and desire.
During a coffee break, Mr. Canby said he’d invited a potential costume designer to stop by to meet Hazel, so I stepped off to the side to grab a donut, which I almost dropped when Hazel let out a screech like she was being attacked by bees.
She was hugging someone, and as they disentangled, I screeched as well.
Floyd, our artist from Naples. The boy who had done our caricatures had grown into a lovely young man in the past half decade, with an easy smile yet still sporting a slight hunch to his shoulders, like he was afraid of taking up too much space.
Turned out, he’d come to New York after the war, taken costume design classes, and landed a few decent gigs. Hazel’s eyes widened as he listed some of the shows he worked on. “Those costumes were excellent! You’re a real rising star.”
“Well, I owe it all to you two ladies.” He shoved his hands deep into his pockets, while his face turned scarlet. “After the USO shows, I decided I wanted to get into theater, too, and here I am.”
Hazel pulled Mr. Canby aside and they shared a quick whisper. She looked over at us, beaming. “Floyd, you’ve got the job. See you next week at the first rehearsal.”
After we’d all hugged again and he’d taken his leave, we got another surprise guest, Brandy Sainsbury, the girlfriend of the ex-director. Or ex-girlfriend of the ex-director, apparently. She showed up at her appointed time, all meek and mealy, and asked to read for one of the smaller roles. Hazel, that saint, allowed it and Brandy wasn’t half-bad, so I wasn’t surprised when Hazel offered her the part. Floyd’s arrival had put all of us into a good mood.
I spent the rest of the week getting my New York life in order, setting up the room Mr. Bard had offered me down the hall from Hazel’s. Much to Hazel’s relief, I’m sure. She was such a neat little girl, her desk perfectly arranged with her typewriter, a stack of paper, a thesaurus, and nothing else.
At the first rehearsal, I stepped through the backstage door and was handed a key for my dressing room, but before heading up, I snuck into the back of the house to catch my breath. The Biltmore Theatre is gorgeous, with plasterwork like ornamental lace on the walls, and a ceiling that soars high above the balcony seats. Hazel and Mr. Canby were standing at the foot of the stage, waving their arms about and doing whatever it is directors and producers do. How strange, to not be on the same level anymore. Now I was working for her. Still, it was way better than being in Arthur’s clutches, any day.
“All right, everyone, let’s begin.” Mr. Canby clapped his hands.
I grabbed my script and let a stagehand guide me up onto the stage from a temporary set of steps at the end of the aisle.
“We’ll start with the scene where Lina and Matthew are confronted by the other hotel guests,” said Hazel.
Not my first choice, as it gave me no chance of easing into the role. My heart began to pound like I was a newbie. If I didn’t relax, my throat would tighten up and make my voice sound strange, but the very thought made me even more tense. A merry-go-round of disaster.
We did the scene once through. Then again. Jake Simmons, even this early in the rehearsal process, was committed, passionate, while I came off like a stick figure. Both times, Hazel gave us guidance, but I could tell Jake’s advice was only for show, to make me feel better.
“This time, let’s heighten the stakes, okay?” said Hazel. “We can always bring it down.”
That was the problem, though. I only had two speeds as an actress, a shortcoming that I hadn’t really understood until now. On a film set, I could bring it down to almost zero, let my eyes do the work. I barely speak above a whisper, but the microphone picks up my words as the camera captures my every emotion. Does the trick every time, just as it did with Hazel when we read through the scenes at the Chelsea. My other speed is full throttle. Put me out in front of a thousand soldiers and I can make them laugh and sway in their seats as I belt out “That Old Black Magic.” But this play required me to run in second or third gear, and I wasn’t sure how to do that.
In fact, I was completely at a loss. Every line landed with a thud. Hazel’s initial reluctance to cast me had been spot on, she knew me better than I knew myself. I simply wasn’t up to the task.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mr. Canby run a hand over his head and sigh loudly, while Brandy smirked just behind him. Jake looked panicked for me, which only made matters worse.
“Let’s all take a break,” said Hazel. “Ten minutes, please. Maxine, come with me.”
Oh God. A dressing-down my first day on the job. Part of me hoped she’d fire me and put me out of my misery.
As she led me up the stairs stage right, I filled the silence fast. “I’m sorry, Hazel, it’s just a bad day. You know I’ll figure this out.”
She didn’t look at me as she climbed up another flight. “We have to find you another way. Your old bag of tricks won’t work in my play.”