Mitzi of the Ritz

by Lee René

  David sounded as if he was pleading with Mr. Roth. “Ben, I know you’re angry, but you’ve seen the early rushes. We’ve got something.”

  “Yeah, and we need to talk about that ‘something.’ All these close-up and soft focus shots of Mitzi, that’s your doing, not Willy’s. What’s going on between the two of you?”

  I guess his words blindsided David. He didn’t answer, but I could have told Mr. Roth what was going on with me and David Stein—a big fat pile of nothing.

  “David, you’ve gone sappy over that little girl, haven’t you? You can have any broad on the lot and you pick her? Yeah, I know she’s a cute kid, but screwing a Jewish girl is like sleeping with your sister. Oh, well, you’re young and full of fire. Just keep it in your pants, at least until after we finish this movie. Oh, and that scene by the lake? I’ve thought it over, and maybe all is not lost. Have some pretty girls take a midnight swim. Fellows like that. We’ll keep the raunchy patter and can probably get away with showing some body parts, as long as they’re not Mitzi’s. Make sure you cut that kiss between Mitzi and Chick, while you’re at it. The guy’s laid everything except the Atlantic Cable.”

  Atlantic Cable? What did the Atlantic Cable have to do with anything? When I first read the script, I’d done a back flip because I’d finally get to kiss Chick. Maybe it would be in front of a crew and our lips wouldn’t really meet, but beggars can’t be choosers. Now my kiss had gone down the drain, and I could barely keep from bawling. Mr. Roth might as well have hacked out my heart.

  When I returned to the hotel that evening, I asked Leah what Mr. Roth meant about Chick laying everything except the Atlantic Cable.

  Gosh, I wish I’d kept my big mouth shut.

  ****

  After working like pack mules all day, the gang usually ended up in Chick’s suite to blow off steam. In addition to disliking Chick, Leah disapproved of me mingling with the crew after hours and hated the idea of me attending his soirees.

  “Those parties last all night. I hear they drink bootlegged liquor, smoke reefer, and the fellows try to make as many girls as they can. I worked at Roseland and had my share of guys like that. I don’t want my little sister rubbing elbows with those mugs and their loose girlies.”

  “Leah, everyone goes to Chick’s parties. I’m having such a bum time.” Finally, after a great deal of cajoling and pleading, she gave in and decided to join Edna and me.

  It thrilled me to have a chance to don my prettiest summer frock. Leah wore a snazzy floral print, and Edna looked cheery in a Hawaiian-style dress. The elevator doors opened as we reached Chick’s floor. Someone had strung up brightly colored paper lanterns in the hallway, and hot jazz music spilled out of the rooms. A girl in a disheveled dress darted from the suite with a grip running after her. Both their lips were smeared with her lipstick. She simpered as she ran from him. “Roscoe, you’re a devil.” The guy caught her, and they shared a passionate kiss before he threw her over his shoulder and took off. Leah rolled her eyes but didn’t say a word.

  The place roared like a house on fire. Cab Calloway blared from the Victrola as Buster demonstrated a few new dance steps to some of the crew.

  “You want to see what they’re doing in Harlem? It’s called the jitterbug. Watch Uncle Buster and learn.”

  One of the boys grabbed Leah, and they began dancing up a storm. Edna jumped into it with an assistant cameraman. I looked around for the host and managed to make my way past a group of kids passing around bottles of homemade wine. “Say, can somebody tell me where Chick is?”

  An extra gal tittered and pointed to a closed door. I moved past lovebirds spooning in a dark corner, took a deep breath, and opened it. Two young couples sat on the floor, passing a strange-looking, strange-smelling cigarette back and forth. A kid inhaled deeply, then handed it to the girl sitting next to him. Sharing a cigarette seemed awfully unhygienic to me, but no one cared. Another fellow hand-rolled another cigarette using what looked like dried herbs instead of tobacco.

  Chick reclined across his bed like the Grand Pasha of Istanbul, but jumped up the moment he saw me. “Hey, Mitzi.”

  He looked at the kids on the floor and grinned sheepishly. “They’re smoking Turkish cigarettes.”

  For some reason Chick’s guests started laughing. “Yeah, Turkish cigarettes.”

  He hushed them right away. “Show some respect, you mugs. This is my leading lady.”

  The smokers waved in greeting, and went back to the cig. Chick sauntered over to me. “Sugar, you know what? You look good enough to eat.”

  His remark brought on a round of lewd snickering, and he glared at his friends again. “Can it!”

  He moved closer, and I thought I would faint. “Don’t mind them, baby.”

  “Baby!” Chick called me “baby” as if I were his girlfriend!

  Someone put “When I Take My Sugar to Tea” on the Victrola. He pulled me close, and I forgot about the Turkish cigarettes and his smirking friends. I’d practiced with Leah, and the thought of dancing with Chick was the most thrilling thing I’d ever imagined.

  He put his cheek next to mine and sang into my ear. “When I take my sugar to tea, all the boys are jealous of me.”

  I felt the warmth of his breath, smelled his cologne and the smoke from that funny cigarette, but I didn’t care. This must be the way you feel when you’re in love.

  “’Cause I never take her where the gang goes, when I take my sugar to tea.”

  He pulled me even closer and whispered, “Baby, you know what?”

  “What, Chick?”

  “I think about you all the time. How about I throw these bums out and you and I have a real conversation?”

  My heart pumped a million miles an hour. A real conversation? That would be fabulous. “Yes, Chick, just us.”

  He moved his mouth closer to mine, and I knew he wanted to kiss me. I shut my eyes expecting the most important experience of a girl’s life—her first kiss.

  I’d waited an eternity for this moment. Seconds passed and nothing happened. I felt Chick move away and opened my eyes. I found myself looking right into David Stein’s smiling face.

  “Sorry, Cinderella. The clock just struck midnight. The ball is over, time to go.”

  I wished him to the frozen wilds of the Yukon. The clock said half past eight. I was dancing with the man I loved. Romance perfumed the air, along with Turkish cigarette smoke.

  “I’m not going anywhere. Chick and I are about to have a private conversation, and that means you’re not welcome.”

  David’s jaw tightened, his eyes flashing a vitriolic shade of green. He looked as if he wanted to slug Chick. Instead, he grinned in a very disturbing way.

  “Private conversation, huh? Gosh, I’m afraid that won’t be happening anytime soon, Dollface. Chick, how about you and I having our own private conversation later tonight?”

  The kids started their snide giggling again. “Chick, better watch your step, the boss man’s sore!”

  Although both men continued smiling, they looked like they were about to come to blows. “Okay, Stein, you win, this time.”

  How could he give up so easily? “But, Chick, I don’t want to go. Please tell him we were going to talk. Please.”

  Chick stroked my face. “There’ll be plenty of time to talk later, baby.” He kissed my forehead and threw himself back onto the bed.

  David grabbed my arm and dragged me out of the room. Leah stood in the hallway, a silent witness to my mortification.

  “Leah, you’re a Benedict Arnold!” I swiveled toward David. “David Stein, you’re a big drip. Please let me stay. I don’t want to go.”

  He pushed me ahead of him. “I’m taking you to your room.”

  How I hated the guy. “You’ve ruined everything. Now Chick and I won’t have that talk, and it’s your fault.”

  This pill didn’t have an ounce of romance in him. “Yeah, well, I can guess what kind of talk Chick had planned. Did he get you to smoke any of that marijuana?�
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  What a silly man. “You don’t know anything. Those were Turkish cigarettes. And no, I didn’t smoke one. Smoking is bad for the voice, and besides, those cigarettes smelled horrible. The way they were passing them around looked unsanitary.”

  The jerk had the nerve to laugh, and it angered me. “Mr. David Stein, for a smart guy, you are one dumb cluck. Do you know what everyone calls you around the studio? The Icebox.”

  He grabbed at my arm once again, but I pulled away and stood my ground. “You’re just a big Gloomy Gus who never gives anyone the time of day. It’s really quite simple. When some poor sap says, ‘Hello, Mr. Stein,’ all you have to do is say ‘Hello’ back to them.”

  I stood before him, humiliated, lovesick, and strangely famished. “Say, David, would you happen to have a cookie or maybe a Hershey bar on you? Don’t know why, but I’m awfully hungry.”

  The nudnik started laughing again. “Baby, when you hang around hop-heads smoking marijuana, you get an appetite.”

  He took me by the shoulders and looked me in the eye. I expected a tongue-lashing, but he didn’t say a word. Instead, he stroked my cheek. I guess he wasn’t really angry. “Mitzi, if you only knew.”

  From the way he gazed into my face, I knew what he wanted. I tossed my shoulders back. “David, I don’t have the energy to fight you off. If you’re going to kiss me, go ahead.”

  He tilted his head as if he were going in for a smooch. I closed my eyes, and stood still. I waited, but nothing happened, not even a peck on the cheek.

  “No, Mitzi. Not like this.”

  He took my wrist and marched me down the corridor. I didn’t know what had angered him, but there wouldn’t be any kissing that night. We arrived at my room, and he handed me over to Leah, who had already arrived and was waiting for us.

  “Leah, your sister needs to rest now. She’s had too much excitement this evening. I’ll go find Edna.”

  The bum had the nerve to wink at me. He went off to search for my lost friend, and I searched for some chow.

  “What kind of sister are you, Leah? You betrayed me. I’ll never forgive you. David Stein is a dreadful man and a terrible killjoy. I hate him very much.”

  She didn’t say a word when I dug through our larder and devoured two peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches, a banana, and a nectarine. Later David returned with Edna. I really wanted to give him a piece of my mind, but I’d caught sight of the most fabulous chocolate cake.

  Poor Edna staggered in looking a bit worse for wear, followed by a smirking David Stein. “I’m afraid Edna drank a bit too much of the local wine, but she’ll be fine tomorrow. Get the girls to bed. It’s an early call.”

  David turned, a smile dancing on his lips. I would have made a biting comment, but I couldn’t stop eating that divine cake. Maybe it was because of those Turkish cigarettes, but by a quarter past nine I was out like a light and slept through the night. The next morning I bounced out of bed ready for work, but poor Edna woke up with a horrible headache.

  “I want to die. Please, someone, shoot me!”

  She was right as rain after she drank two cups of black coffee and tossed her cookies.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  La Rosita

  Five days later, our time in Carlisle ended. Ida marched into our room, bristling with nervous energy. She cut quite a striking figure in her double-breasted ice cream suit. For once, she had opened her silk blouse at the collar.

  “Time to go, girls. Can’t keep Mrs. Carlisle waiting. We’ve been invited to lunch, and I expect you to make a good impression.”

  Leah had left for the Carlisle mansion an hour before, and Ida acted as our chaperone. We dressed lightly while the merciless summer heat beat down on us. Edna donned pale green cotton, and I wore white. Ida turned me around, scrutinizing my dress from every angle.

  “Very nice. White goes well with your complexion and dark hair. Rose should get some lovely photos. Now girls, listen well. Dagmar Carlisle is a lovely lady, but she’s a bit, shall we say, eccentric. In the old days, she made a few stabs at a movie career, but returned to Carlisle a sadder but wiser girl. It didn’t hurt, since she married the heir to the Carlisle raisin fortune. Her mansion, La Rosita, is as famous as her rose gardens. Regal filmed The Southern Belle on her estate, and the good citizens of Carlisle talk about Clarice Dumont to this day. By the way, Mrs. Carlisle fancies herself a singer and will probably serenade us, so no smart comments.”

  Edna tittered, Ida shot her a dirty look, and she stopped snickering. “Who, me? I’ll be good, I promise, Miss Cohen.”

  Ida continued lecturing us on proper etiquette as we walked to the limousine. “Be polite and ladylike and, Edna, no wine. Mrs. Carlisle is keen about movie folks and even invited Buster to her little fiesta. Her driver is waiting, so let’s shove off.”

  ****

  How do I describe La Rosita? I’d seen grand estates in the Hamptons. Los Angeles was chockablock with sprawling manor houses on great tracts of land. La Rosita, however, was unique. Before we set eyes on the great house, an overpowering fragrance hinted at the wonders awaiting us. Acres of roses bloomed in every imaginable hue. La Rosita loomed high on the horizon, a massive Queen Anne mansion. With eight oversized gables and two mammoth towers painted in shades of green and fuchsia, La Rosita dwarfed the adjoining guest cottages and hunting lodge.

  Our driver stopped and opened the doors of the motorcar. A metallic soprano voice singing “Ah, Sweet Mystery of Life” assaulted our ears. I looked at Edna and bit my tongue.

  We walked into La Rosita through an intricately carved portal. Everything about the place screamed gargantuan, from the piazza to a mahogany hat rack that dwarfed the ones in a haberdashery. I stopped in front of two enormous portraits, obviously the works of a master. One was of a demure young blonde, the other a mature gentleman with a steely gaze.

  Ida whispered, “John Singer Sargent painted them when Dagmar and her husband honeymooned in London.”

  Did she say “honeymoon”?

  “Gee, Ida, she looks awfully young to be a bride, especially to a geezer like him.”

  Ida chortled at my remark. “Mr. Carlisle always got what he wanted. Dagmar was sixteen; he was a forty-year-old robber baron. To quote Dagmar, ‘He came, he saw, he conquered.’ All things considered, she did well for herself.”

  Yes, I’d say she did well for herself. The vestibule was probably larger than our whole apartment. The architect had utilized the rose motif throughout and even had the chandelier globes blown into the shape of Mrs. Carlisle’s beloved flower. Stained glass windows bathed the rooms in a delicate, rosy glow.

  Our hostess wore her wealth with great elegance. Mrs. Carlisle dressed in billowy organza, her finger-waved hair lightened into a tasteful lemon parfait coiffure, her makeup understated. Her diamonds, though large, weren’t the least bit vulgar.

  Mrs. Carlisle’s voice, however, was brassy enough to make a lullaby sound tawdry. Mr. Roth had instructed everyone to reward the lady of the manor’s efforts with lavish applause. After her final song, we all stood for an obedient ovation. She threw her head back, gave a hearty laugh, then blew us all a kiss.

  “Thank you, thank you so much, my friends. Trapped here in the hinterlands as I am, it’s a pleasure to host true aficionados of my art. You shall be rewarded.”

  She nodded to her accompanists, a harpist and pianist, and began another song. We stood in silence, smiles frozen in place. I avoided looking at Edna for fear we’d both collapse into giggles. Leah’s shoulders already shook in amusement. We endured another ten minutes until, mercifully, Mrs. Carlisle concluded her concert. Rose’s camera snapped away as we lined up to greet our hostess.

  I couldn’t wait to ask Mrs. Carlisle about Uncle Baron, but just as she turned to me, a woman’s voice called out, “Dagmar!”

  All eyes turned to the vestibule where Jill Carpenter posed. Rose snapped her, and she entered, followed by Betty, dressed in a white maid’s uniform, and a harried local fellow car
rying her luggage. Betty glanced at me and rolled her eyes to the heavens. Working with Jill Carpenter must have been sheer torture. Still, despite the heat, I had to admit Jill was a vision in her cream-colored linen suit.

  “Dagmar, it’s me, your little Jilly!”

  Jill Carpenter became the center of the universe and everyone, including Mrs. Carlisle, rushed to her. Well, almost everyone. Leah and Omar walked me onto a veranda as large as the First Class Promenade of the Titanic. My pulse quickened when Chick came in and took his place near the entrance, a cigarette dangling from his lips. My heart nearly jumped out of my chest when he looked at me, but Jill waltzed over and flung her arms around him before he could say hello. He dropped his cigarette and threw her into the air.

  “How’s my girl?”

  So she was his girl, and I meant nothing to him. Leah’s lip curled in a sneer whenever she saw him, and I’m sure his choice overjoyed her. I figured it was time to vamoose. David and Mr. Roth were deep in conversation off in a corner. I made myself inconspicuous, because I didn’t want to acknowledge the pill, also known as David Stein. Unfortunately, the moment my blabby sister caught sight of the two, she called out to them, “Yoo-hoo, Mr. Roth. Hello, David.”

  Mr. Roth gave her a polite wave before returning to his conversation. David bowed to Leah and leered at me, obviously remembering our last encounter. I hadn’t spoken to the crumb since that night in Chick’s room. How could I have ever thought of letting him kiss me? I needed my head examined. Telling him off that night did have a silver lining, though. People said the Icebox was a changed man. All of a sudden, he acted like a swell guy, greeting everyone by name from the lead cameraman to the lowliest gaffer. On occasion, he even smiled. The word soon got out—the Icebox had thawed.

  I still wanted to chew him out for messing things up with Chick, but decided on the silent treatment instead. His discussion with Mr. Roth finished, David sauntered over and greeted Leah with a kiss on the check, a mischievous grin on his face.

  “Hello, Leah, it’s grand to see you. Hello, Mitzi.”

  When I turned up my nose, the bum had the nerve to laugh. I refused to let the worm annoy me. A bell announced they were serving lunch. I grabbed Leah and flounced off while Omar strolled behind us.