he: A Novel(84)

Ben Shipman puts away the newspapers. Ben Shipman wishes to set them alight, but not before piling them around a stake and immolating his client in the resulting inferno.

Don’t call me again, says Ben Shipman, not until you’ve regained your senses.

It is January.

He regains his senses.

It does not take much: only further exposure to Vera, and Countess Sonia, and Roy Randolph. They encourage him in his lawsuit against Hal Roach; of course they do. Countess Sonia, when intoxicated, promises that she can arrange for him to be buried in the family vault back in Russia, where he will be surrounded by princes and they can all be together in the next life, just as they must remain together in this one. He does not ask if Roy Randolph will be included in this posthumous arrangement. Neither does Roy Randolph. Perhaps the Dancing Master is afraid to hear the answer.

Meanwhile Vera, when intoxicated, continues to sing, her repertoire now exclusively devoted to lays of disappointment in love.

But he has no money, and as yet Hal Roach shows no sign of bending the knee. If he cannot work in pictures, he must return to the stage. Even Ben Shipman agrees that this is a deft way to improve his finances. He still has contacts on the circuit. The Roosevelt in Oakland is booked for two nights, and two further dates are arranged for Seattle and Vancouver in February. He will be able to pick up more; he feels certain of it.

He assembles a cheap bill: Commodore J. Stuart Blackton from Yorkshire, who founded Vitagraph Studios at the end of the last century, but lost all his money in the crash of 1929 and is now reduced to lecturing on old pictures in mellifluous tones; Eddie Borden, a bit part player who came up through vaudeville; and James Morton, who is a gentleman actor of the old school, but suffers from myocarditis and could do with the work. Nobody can call it a star-studded line-up, but it will suffice. The Audience is coming to see him, not the others. All that is missing is a singer: someone inexpensive, someone who will be glad of the exposure.

The announcement is made.

He will be joined in his return to the stage by His Famous Wife, Illeana, Singing Russian Ballads.

Ben Shipman asks his secretary to bring a cold compress for his brow, and takes to his couch.





163


The tour lasts only two nights. It never progresses further than Oakland.

He and Vera get through the first night without excessive drama, although the appetite of the Audience for Russian folk songs proves limited, even if they are being performed well.

Which they are not.

Vera takes this as a personal rejection.

Which it is.

By the second night, Vera is inebriated before the curtain rises. He cannot prevent her from going on stage – without her, they have no singer – but he makes it clear that bad reviews here will affect the prospects for bookings elsewhere.

A lot of people are watching to see how this works out, he tells Vera. Some of them would be happy to see us fail.

– I think that you would be happy to see me fail.

He assures Vera that this is not the case, but he knows Countess Sonia has been pouring poison in Vera’s ear: Countess Sonia, and the Dancing Master. He sees and hears them, these strange courtiers, whispering and plotting in the recesses of his home.

I think that you are trying to sabotage my career, says Vera.

– I don’t have to sabotage your career. You’re more than capable of doing that unassisted. But I won’t have you sabotage mine along with it.

– What career? Show me this career. You don’t have a career. You are nothing, a fucking nobody. Go lick Chaplin’s boots. Go talk to Chaplin of this career. Maybe Chaplin will give you a nickel for it.

Vera moves to pour herself another glass of liquor. He tries to stop her. They struggle; they fight. Vera strikes him, over and over, but he does not return a blow. He will not. He has brought this upon himself, and if the reparation required for his failings is to be here in Oakland, wrestling with a drunk over a bottle, then let it be made, and made in full, so that the debt may be cleared.

This, he thinks, is as low as he can descend.

Vera leaves, and does not return.

Finally, he is purged of her.

In February 1939, Vera is arrested for singing anti-Communist songs at the Balalaika Café on Sunset Strip while intoxicated. Vera also accuses the California state liquor administrator, George M. Stout, who happens to be in the Balalaika at the time, of being a Bolshevik.

He would find this diverting were it not for the fact that Hal Roach has responded to his lawsuit by accusing him of a breach of the morals clause in his contract through his behavior with Vera.

It’s smoke and mirrors, Ben Shipman tells him. Hal wants you back. Babe wants you back. But your wife is the problem. Hal can’t risk any more bad publicity. Frankly, neither can you.

In March, Vera sues for alimony, and Hal Roach offers him a new contract contingent upon a full and complete separation from his wife, which is hardly the most onerous or unwelcome of conditions. The news is made public in April. He and Babe are to be reunited. He would have a drink to celebrate, but he is trying to keep away from alcohol.

Babe calls. He asks Babe about Harry Langdon. He does not want to see Harry Langdon on Poverty Row over this.

Harry’s okay about it, says Babe. Hal is giving him a contract as a writer.

– And you?

– I’m okay with it, too.

That month, the latest alimony hearing commences. Lois, his first wife, is dragged into the proceedings. Testimony is offered to the court by Vera’s attorney of the proposed honeymoon cruise with Lois to Catalina Island, of evenings he has spent with Lois at her home, reminiscing and regretting. He cannot deny any of this. He is still in love with Lois.