[Juliana 02.0] Olympus Nights on the Square

by Vanda

  “It seems awfully complicated,” Virginia said.

  “It is.”

  “Now dis is your antenna. A vital piece of yer equipment. Ya use it fer adjustin’ yer pitcher. If ya don’t get dis set right on top of yer TV, you ain’t gonna get nothing but fuzz. Why don’t we put it on? Ya ready?”

  Virginia and I sat at the edge on the couch, breathless.

  Dan smiled and waved his hand over one of the buttons, pretending like he was going to press it, but he didn’t. The suspense was killing me. Finally, he pushed it, and light came from the screen. We waited. I was going to watch a TV show from my very own TV set! A screen full of white speckles came on. “What’s that?” I asked.

  “Oh, dat means nuttin’s on.”

  “Nothing’s on?” Virginia and I said, disappointed.

  “Dere ain’t so many shows on durin’ da day. Most stations got shows on from 7 p.m. to 11 p.m. at night. You’re gonna like dem.”

  “I work at night,” I said.

  “Oh. Well, uh …” He looked at his watch. “I know. Dere’s a show startin’ right about …” He turned the selector knob. “Yeah, dis is it.” A man dressed like a train engineer sat on a log with a girl of about nine. “My kids love dis one. It’s called ‘Mr. I-Magination.’ You see dis train guy here? He takes kids on make-believe journeys.”

  It wasn’t a terribly interesting program. It had cardboard trees and paper mache bridges, but it was a still a TV show on my very own TV set. We didn’t watch long, ’cause Dan went on to teach us about what to do if the picture rolled in a horizontal direction, or what to do if the picture got streaks in a vertical direction, or what to do if the picture got double and triple images on top of each other.

  After a while, I wanted Dan to be done. My head was getting too filled up with images of static and rolling pictures. At last, he said, “Well, dat seems to be it. Da rest is up to youse.”

  I walked him to the door. “Thanks, Dan. You’ve been very informative and—”

  “Of course,” he said, standing in the doorway. “If she blows a tube, or sumpin’ serious like dat, Leonard’s Radio is a phone call away.”

  “Thanks, Dan.”

  I almost got him out the door when he turned back. “You blow a tube and we come over and put in a new one.”

  “That’s nice of you. Good-bye.” I gave him a gentle shove.

  “Unless, of course, it gotta go to da shop. Dat might be some days. Maybe even a week.” He chuckled to himself. “Dat darn near kills some customers. Can’t stand bein’ away from deir TV. Oh, but yours is brand spankin’ new, so dat’s a long time aways.”

  “That’s good,” I said, pushing him out the door.

  “My goodness, that man can talk,” Virginia said.

  “Only doing his job. I spose. But Virginia, I own a TV! Me! Just like Juliana.”

  “Yes. Her.”

  “We gotta watch something,” I said.

  “But there’s nothing on but that Mr. I-Magination.”

  “That’s pretty boring.”

  We sat on the couch admiring the blank screen.

  Chapter 20

  MAX STILL SEARCHED for Scott, the boy he fell for while he was in the army. He actually hired an honest-to-goodness real private detective like Humphrey Bogart in the Maltese Falcon, but he still hadn’t found him.

  I began work on Juliana’s career. After making my preliminary plans and talking them over with Max, I met with Richard for afternoon tea at the Palm Court. I would’ve rather met over a cup of diluted coffee and a greasy cheese sandwich at Hector’s—would’ve wasted less time—but Richard needed an elaborately expensive setting where he was served elaborately expensive food to concentrate. We ate scones and were allowed to choose from a variety of specialty teas from around the world. I wore my usual suit jacket and skirt, but I had my hair done up with a few curls, making it less severe than usual.

  “Richard, I want to make sure you understand that Juliana still thinks of you as her manager.”

  “Thank you for that, Al.” He placed his napkin on his lap. “I don’t know how to express my gratitude to you. You want a car?”

  “No, Richard, I don’t want a car. I want you to listen to me.”

  “Of course.”

  Our scones arrived on a silver tray. Richard took one.

  “I’m the one who’s going to be calling the shots,” I said. “I’m going to tell you what needs to be done, what personnel needs to be hired, what contacts need to be made, and what money needs to be brought in. I expect you to follow my directions.”

  “What am I in charge of?” Richard leaned forward eagerly, taking a big bite from his scone.

  “You’re in charge of making sure Johnny doesn’t drink. If he does, you come and tell me right away.”

  “Wait.” He reached into his inside pocket. “Let me get this down.” He took out a leather billfold, removed a piece of paper and a pencil, and scribbled on the paper. “What else?”

  “That’s it.”

  “But—”

  “Basically, all you have to remember is that I’m the one who is really in charge, but you’re going to get the credit.”

  “That doesn’t sound manly.”

  “That’s how it has to be, or else, I can’t go further with this. And Juliana will probably leave you.”

  “It’s that serious?”

  “Yes. So, tell me now. Are you going to follow my instructions or not?”

  “Anything for my Julie. You’re the one with the experience in this business, but could I make one suggestion?”

  “What?”

  “Have you ever thought of wearing, well, something more feminine? I don’t mind, but I’m sure you’d like to get married someday, and dressed like that, well—”

  “Our meeting is over.” I threw a twenty-dollar bill1 on the table and walked out.

  1 Twenty dollars had the same spending power as $204.60 does today.

  Chapter 21

  AT THE END of the month, I called a meeting with Juliana, Richard, Johnny, and Stan Devenbach, a well-known musical director. Stan was coming at a high cost that I had convinced Richard to pay.

  I rushed in to join the men and Juliana who were already seated around a long table, my folder under my arm. The men stood as I entered, and they sat when I did. We huddled together, sweating into our Coca-Cola bottles on the hottest afternoon in August. The windows were high up and opened only a few inches. The ceiling fans did their best to slosh through the humidity.

  I wore my women’s suit jacket and skirt and kept the jacket on. If the men had to sit in that room in their jackets, so would I. I was determined to make them forget my age and my sex; they had to see me as competent. I had to see me as competent, but as I took my place at the head of the table, I wasn’t at all sure of what I was doing. Only Juliana looked cool and comfortable in her striped, multicolored, cotton shirtwaist dress with a flair. She smiled at the men and they smiled back.

  Richard pulled on the lapel of his jacket. “Ladies?” he asked.

  “Yes, please,” Juliana said, indicating to the men that they could remove their jackets. Only Stan didn’t remove his.

  I wasn’t sure where I fit in this dichotomy, but I used it as my opportunity to remove my own jacket. Sweat stains clung to the men’s shirts, which was to be expected. Expected in men, not in women. I wondered if I was showing the same marks and should replace my jacket to hide them. What were the rules for being a woman in a man’s business? I hated being distracted by things like sweat stains. The men weren’t.

  As I was about to begin, Johnny left the table to play the piano. We turned to look at him. “Johnny,” I called, “we’re ready to begin now.”

  “You start.” He ran his fingers down the keys. “You don’t need me.”

  “Yes, we do,” I said.

  “No, you don’t.” He ran his fingers back up the keys.

  “I’ll talk to him,” Juliana said, starting to rise.

  “No,”
I said. “I’ll go.” I put my folder under my arm and walked across the floor. I had to bring him back with me, or the return trip would be a long one, indeed. The group’s respect for me would melt into the summer heat.

  “Hey, Johnny,” I said, standing next to the piano. “We’re having a meeting and we need you there.”

  “No, you don’t.” He began playing a melancholy tune I didn’t recognize.

  “Of course we do. You’ve been working with Juliana for years. She counts on you.”

  “Then why are you standing here and not her?”

  “She was going to come, but I’m in charge now.”

  “So, you’re my big boss now, huh? And where do I fit into your plan, big boss? The piano player? I’ve been directing Juliana for years, but now I see I’m out ‘cause you got yourself a big shot director, and you didn’t even have the guts to tell me, Big Boss.”

  “Stan has Broadway musical theater credits, so I thought—”

  “You wanted the best and I’m not it? How do you know what’s best? You’re a kid.”

  I could feel the sweat dripping down my sides as the room got hotter. I didn’t hear talking, so they must be waiting for me to do something. I wished Max was with me. He’d know what to do. “I’m older than I look. I’m twenty-six. And I may not know as much as you, Johnny, but I know these songs are good.” I slipped Johnny’s songs out of the folder. “I want to use them in Juliana’s new act.”

  Johnny took the sheet music into his hands. “Where’d you get these?”

  “Does that matter? I got them. I want more. I want you to do the musical arrangement for Juliana’s whole act: some your songs, some old favorites, some modern pop and showtunes. So yes—I do need you.”

  “You want to use my music. No kidding?”

  “No kidding. Now, are you going to walk back over this floor with me so those people staring at us don’t walk out?”

  He grinned. “I had you going, didn’t I? You were scared, kiddo. Thought I’d leave you flat.”

  “Yeah, Johnny, I was scared. And I don’t ever want to be that scared again. You think you can deliver that music?”

  “In my sleep. Let’s get this party going.”

  I didn’t think it was a good time to mention his drinking.

  Back at the table, I started breathing again. “Here’s the gist of what we’re doing,” I said. “Johnny’s arranging the music, Stan’s directing the singing and dancing, and Richard, we need you to bring in the money, and—you can work with Stan and me on hiring the new male dancers.”

  “Why do we need new male dancers?” Juliana asked. “Riley and Warren are my friends. I don’t want to dump them.”

  “Don’t. Keep them as friends. But for the act, we need new dancers because—I guess there isn’t any nice way to say this—”

  Johnny grinned. “They're fairies, Jule.”

  “Well, I was trying to come up with something a little nicer,” I said.

  “You don’t mean they’re—homos?” Richard asked in sincere shock. “But I’ve had them in my home. I’ve introduced them to my nieces. They can’t be degenerates. My wife would never associate with homosexuals.”

  “I had no idea, Richard,” Juliana said. “Really? Are they?” She looked at me for confirmation.

  I had to look down at my notes so I didn’t laugh. “No. I don’t think they’re like that. They’re just a little too—sensitive for the act. We need to hire a couple of rough and tumble dancers. The new act is going to be about—I don’t know how to say this in mixed company, so I’ll just say it—sex.”

  “Al, mind how you speak in front of my wife,” Richard exclaimed.

  “Shhh, Richard,” Juliana said, patting his arm. “I’ve heard the word before. Listen.”

  I looked away from Juliana so I could continue. “Juliana is going to be seductive with the audience, the men. She needs to wear long gowns that hug her body, sometimes slits on the side, plunging necklines.”

  “Ooh, I like this,” Juliana said.

  “I don’t,” Richard said.

  “We need to hire a top-notch costume designer,” I continued. “There needs to be a subtle tease to everything she does. The way she moves, dances, sings, but nothing openly sexual. Sensuous. Seductive. Secretive.”

  “You’re pretty good with those S’s,” Johnny said. “Maybe you should use them in the PR campaign.”

  “Maybe,” I said, rolling the idea around in my head.

  “I don’t like putting my wife’s body on display like that,” Richard said.

  “She needs roses.”

  “Roses, not violets?” Juliana asked.

  “…No, roses.” I couldn’t believe she said that in front of everyone. Violets were secret love flowers between women. “Roses are for flirting with men. Maybe use them to touch men’s faces.”

  “Hmm, interesting,” she said.

  “But she also needs to relate to the wives and girlfriends. It would be deadly to alienate them. They’re the ones who drag the guys to the show. Maybe she could leave a rose or two for a woman to show it’s a game that women play. Stan, you can fine-tune it.”

  Stan nodded over his notebook where he busily jotted notes.

  “Besides dancing with our male dancers,” I continued. “She’ll dance with a few men in the audience.”

  “Definitely not,” Richard said. “I cannot allow my wife to flaunt herself to strange men and—”

  Stan held his glasses in his hand and leaned into the table. “It’s good, Alice. We keep it subtle. It’s all about what 'might' happen, but never actually does. We create a fantasy around Juliana.”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “No,” Richard said. “What if one of those men grabs her, tries to hurt her?”

  “All the clubs have bouncers,” Stan replaced his glasses and sat back.

  I looked over at Juliana. “It’s worth a try,” she said.

  I had hoped for more enthusiasm from her.

  “What?” Richard was aghast. “You’re my wife. Your reputation—”

  A crash of thunder exploded into the room, shaking the windows, followed by a flash of yellow and blue light.

  “Phew, that was close.” Johnny laughed.

  I gripped my chair seat. Everything had gone so well. Why did this have to happen now? Now, I was about to make a fool … Another crash, louder than the first. Memories of the lightning that had pierced the radio, then burst into flames when I was twelve flooded me. I had to restrain myself from crawling under the table. The men rushed to the windows.

  “We’re going to have a heck of a downpour in a few minutes,” Richard said.

  “Maybe it’ll cool everything off,” Stan said, standing.

  Only Jule still sat at the table with me. I stood up. I had to move, go somewhere. I walked toward the wall near the door. Another crash and I clung to the molding around the doorway. Jule rushed over to me.

  “Don’t let them see me,” I whispered to her. “Please don’t let them see me like this.”

  “Hey, is Al all right?” Richard inquired.

  “She’s fine. A dramatic ending to a dramatic meeting. Sound effects and all.”

  Johnny led the group of men toward us. “So that’s it? We’re done for now? Let’s go downstairs and stand under the awning and watch the rain. Then we can take a cab downtown to McSorley’s for a beer. What’d ya say, girls?”

  “Certainly,” Juliana said, “except for the fact that McSorley’s doesn’t admit women.”

  “You’re right.” Johnny snapped his fingers. “I forgot.”

  “As if you, of all people, forgot that,” Juliana said.

  “Let’s go some place where the girls can go,” Richard suggested. “How about the Starlight Lounge? It’s right around the corner.”

  “Not me,” Stan said, checking his pocket watch. “I have to get home to the little woman before she sends for the Pinkertons.” He picked up his briefcase and swung a closed umbrella out in front of him like a c
ane; he was the only one of us who had thought to bring an umbrella.

  “We’ll catch up with you later,” Juliana said.

  “You sure Al is okay?” Richard asked.

  I must have looked strange hanging onto the doorway like I was trying to keep the wall from falling down.

  “Fine. Al and I are going to talk.”

  “Oh, girl talk,” Richard said. “That could go on for hours. Yakitty Yak. Let’s go, Johnny. We can down a few brews before they get there.” He threw his arms around Juliana and kissed her on the cheek. “Don’t be too long, dear, and be sure to walk in between the drops.”

  As the men were exiting into the hallway, there was another crash of thunder. I dug my fingers deeper into the molding. “You can go,” I told Juliana. “I’m okay.”

  “Oh, yes, you look fine.” Juliana laughed. “I can wait.”

  “I feel like a jerk. I’m supposed to be big-time, hiring big people, dealing with contracts and large sums of money, and a little thunder and lightning turns me into this quivering—”

  There was another crash, followed by a series of loud rumbles and then blinking colors. “Oh, damn.” My fingers gripped harder. “I don’t want you to lose faith in me. That I can’t manage your career, because I can.”

  “After today, I have no doubt,” she said.

  “Thanks. You want a drink. You don’t have to stay here. I’ll come soon.”

  “I’m going to stay here until that racket stops. I wish I could hold you.”

  “I wish you could too.” I tried to laugh.

  She peered around the door into the hallway. A few men stepped off the elevator, shaking umbrellas. Their footsteps were heavy as they stamped the water from their shoes. “What a downpour,” I heard one say.

  “I can’t,” Juliana said. “But I am here. You aren’t alone this time.”

  “I know.”

  Chapter 22

  “NO, YOU CAN’T do it that way,” Stan Devenbach, our musical director said, shaking his head. “It’s flat.”

  “I do not sing ‘flat,’” Juliana said, indignant. “I happen to have perfect pitch. How dare you say that to me? Al, get him out of here, or I may do something you’ll regret.”