Mr Starlight

by Laurie Graham

  Milo said, ‘They won’t care about refreshments. They’re coming to meet you in person, get their own personal photo taken with you, close up.’

  Those fans brought him so many red roses apparently there wasn’t one left to be bought anywhere in town. But the critics weren’t throwing him any bouquets. The one from the Pleasantville Post wasn’t pleasant at all:

  Further evidence, if evidence we need, that The Change makes women lose what little mind they have. Can there be a more unedifying sight than six thousand matrons slavering over this podgy, powdered, simpering boy? They squeal when he opens his mouth. Heck, they squeal when he puts one foot in front of the other. Just when you thought you walked into a bonny baby contest by mistake, the Wunderkind toddles off into the audience and gives them his breathily insistent version of ‘Tenderly’. Then, while you’re still wondering about this boy in big girl’s sequins, he turns the tables yet again and delivers a wide-eyed ‘Lost Chord’ back to back with ‘Ave Maria’. What a choirboy! Didn’t he do well, Mommy? Feet up, pat him on the po-po.

  ‘Boo-hoo,’ Sel said. He was laughing. ‘Boo-bloody-hoo. I wonder how many handmade suits Mr Pleasantville Post has got hanging in his wardrobe? I wonder how many fan letters he gets through his letter box?’

  It had become quite a topic in the newspapers, why men didn’t like Sel and women couldn’t get enough of him. They stopped people in the street and interviewed them. One man said he’d never heard of Mr Starlight, which was ridiculous. He must just have crawled out of the Burma jungle. Another one said he didn’t care for Sel because he didn’t seem like a normal man and then his lady wife said, ‘Exactly. He’s sweet and polite. And I’ll bet he doesn’t sit around in an undershirt, scratching himself.’

  Of course, she was going by what she’d seen in the magazines. I suppose his fans thought he was like that all the time, sipping tea, wearing monogrammed slippers. One of the ladies’ journals said the question on everybody’s lips was who’d be the lucky girl to win his heart, and then a person on ACLR’s In the Air radio show said Mr Starlight’s heart appeared to belong to his mother, unless anyone had different information. Blow me if the very next day he didn’t take Kitty shopping for a mink stole and who should they happen to run into but a pack of photographers. After all that hanging about, all those years of not showing an interest in girls, then he had to make a move on one of my prospects.

  I said, ‘You’re just doing this to try and thwart me.’

  He said, ‘All I did was to buy her a wrap. I can’t help it if the papers go off and write fairy stories.’

  I said, ‘Well, you know me and Kitty have something going.’

  ‘That right?’ he said. ‘What kind of thing would that be? She come to you for fatherly advice?’

  I said, ‘I thought you were a third-rate crooner. I didn’t realise you’d turned comedian.’

  ‘Cled,’ he said, ‘there are a lot of things you don’t appear to realise. There are pianists queuing up to play for Mr Starlight. You’re only where you are because of me and I’ve only kept you on to stop Mam worrying. You don’t fit in. Look at you. You’re old before your time, old and dreary.’

  I said, ‘I don’t think you are interested in Kitty really. You’re just using her.’

  ‘Bugger Kitty,’ he said. ‘I’m talking about you. I’m talking about a bad comb-over and a dingy old top plate. The chambermaid last night thought you were my dad, not my brother, and I can understand why.’

  It was the toupee business all over again. And dentures. He wanted me to get some of those big shiny American teeth.

  I said, ‘You ought to be glad I keep a low profile. Do you want me to give you a run for your money? Show them who’s the real musician in the family? Eh? I can play anything. And do you think you’re the only one the ladies flock after? When it’s a real man they want, it’s me they come to.’

  He said, ‘You’re small potatoes. If it wasn’t for me you’d still be playing at the Non-Political. Probably not even there. You wouldn’t have got as far as Southampton without me. Mr Starlight is what all this is about. The world’s full of flyblown old club pianists, but there’s only one Mr Starlight.’

  I reminded him I was the one who passed Grade 8 piano.

  ‘Yeah?’ he said. ‘And I got a merit badge for knowing how many beans make five. Stop kidding yourself. You’re no bloody Hildegarde and you’re no Cole Porter, so just be grateful I’m the kind of star who believes in family.’

  I said, ‘I’m warning you, you toy with Kitty’s affections and you’ll have me to answer to.’

  He just laughed. ‘What’s it to be?’ he said. ‘Pistols at dawn? Grow up, Cled. Grow up and smarten up. Get some hair and get some teeth, or sling your hook. What’s it to be?’

  I said, ‘It’s been nice knowing you.’

  He stormed off. He had a car waiting to take him to New York to be interviewed by Ed Sullivan. Kitty went with him. A little fur scarf and some girls are anybody’s. We’d had quarrels in the past. I thought it would all have blown over by dinner time.

  But when I got back to the hotel I had Milo on the phone.

  ‘Cledwyn,’ he said, ‘what the hell is going on? I’m the one supposed to make the announcements around here. You boys had a tiff? You been upsetting Sel?’

  I said, ‘I’m the one who’s upset.’

  ‘Now, now,’ he said. ‘You have to help me here. We appear to have a situation on our hands and I need the facts. Is it true you’re leaving to pursue your own interests?’

  Sel had given it out on live wireless that I was leaving the Mr Starlight team to pursue my own interests.

  I said, ‘It’s a joke.’

  Milo said, ‘It isn’t a joke. He’s given Kick orders to get another pianist for the rest of the tour.’

  I said, ‘Where does that leave me? Are you still my agent?’

  ‘Come and see me,’ he said. ‘Drop by tomorrow.’

  Sel wouldn’t talk to me. He’d locked himself into his hotel suite with that Jezebel, O’Malley, and he wasn’t taking phone calls.

  I said, ‘Milo, two can play at that game. I’m going solo. What have you got for me?’

  He said, ‘It’s a tough one.’ How he’d gone on about me being a class musician. He said, ‘Solo pianist. No gimmicks. I don’t know. I’ll see what I can do. Unless you’ve reconsidered? There’s no shame in improving on the hand Mother Nature deals us. A good-quality hair boost product can make the world of difference.’

  His attitude was annoying me. I said, ‘I haven’t reconsidered. And the other thing is I’m owed money. I was booked for a six-week tour.’

  Milo said, ‘But you were the one who walked out, Cledwyn. You could be sued for breach of contract. Not that that’s Selwyn’s style. Flesh and blood means a lot to him, I know. Show business and family, though, it’s a tricky mix.’

  I said, ‘You’ve changed your tune. You were the one wanted us to be a family act. You were the one who went on about the Betsie Sisters.’

  ‘The Betsie Sisters are like three legs on a stool,’ he said. ‘One’s no good without the other two. You and Selwyn are a different case. He’s big now, Cledwyn. He doesn’t need anybody.’

  I phoned the Conroys.

  Kaye said, ‘I don’t know what to say, Cled.’

  I said, ‘I could do a show for Kaycee. I’ve got some ideas.’

  She said, ‘Well, we’re kinda concentrating on quiz shows right now. But if anything comes up … At least you got Strawberry Ridge. Property prices there are shooting up.’

  But I didn’t any more. Sel had persuaded me to sell my half to Starlight Realty and be a tenant.

  Kaye said, ‘Well, he won’t see you without a roof over your head. Know what? If you’re set on going solo you may find it easier back in the old country. I guess you still got contacts there?’

  Everybody shipped out to Dayton for the next leg of the tour: Kitty, the new bodyguard, Kick Valentine and they never even said goodbye. Bunc
h of Judases.

  Milo said he had a cheque for me if I cared to drop by his office. ‘Selwyn insists on you getting paid for the whole tour,’ he said. ‘I can’t name another star who’d be as generous. So I hope you’ll move on now, make a fresh start, no hard feelings.’

  I said, ‘I have very hard feelings. He’s dumped me, like one of his old suits.’

  ‘Take my advice,’ he said. ‘Don’t be bitter. And know your limits. This kind of money will see you clear for a while, but not if you start talking to lawyers.’

  I said, ‘I’ve never talked to a lawyer in my life.’

  ‘Smart boy,’ he said. ‘Keep it that way. Now, if you’ll oblige with a signature I can give you your cheque. You decided yet where you’re headed?’

  ‘England,’ I said. ‘I’ve got various avenues I’ll be looking into. Various opportunities I’ll be following up.’

  ‘Great,’ he said. ‘Sounds good. Be happy, Cledwyn.’

  I intended to be. There was a certain little bus conductress who might be glad to hear from me, for one thing. The ladies are very susceptible to a gent once he’s been on the television.

  FIFTEEN

  I called in to a place on 50th Street to get a shave and while I was waiting my turn I studied a face I was pretty sure I recognised. I said, ‘Did you ever work on the Cunarders?’

  He looked at me in the mirror.

  I said, ‘Were you on the Queen Mary, about five years ago?’

  ‘Yeah,’ he said.

  I said, ‘I did a few crossings myself, as a bandsman. Before I got into television.’

  ‘Oh yeah?’ he said.

  After that I made it a point to carry a couple of my newspaper clippings in my wallet. People can be very sceptical.

  He said he’d been two years in New York City. He said he’d had enough of being cooped up on a boat, never seeing daylight. ‘Decided it was time to see the world,’ he said.

  But he hadn’t exactly gone far. He was still only two blocks from the pier. He was still lathering chins.

  I said, ‘I played in twenty-nine states.’

  ‘That right?’ he said.

  I had a suitcase sticker from every one of them as well.

  ‘Where are you playing tonight?’ he said. ‘Carnegie Hall?’

  That’s the kind of jesting you get if you stay unassuming, if you don’t allow stardom to spoil you.

  I said, ‘I’ve played venues bigger than that. I was with Mr Starlight.’

  That got his attention. ‘I’ve seen him,’ he said. ‘He’s big. He in town?’

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘He’s in Ohio. We split up. I’m pursuing my own career now.’

  He said, ‘You telling all to the newspapers?’

  I said, ‘I am not.’

  ‘Pity,’ he said. ‘I’ll bet you got some weird stuff on him.’

  I said, ‘How do you mean?’

  He sniggered. ‘Oh, you know,’ he said. ‘He’s not quite right, is he? Puts me in mind of my Uncle Phil.’

  I said, ‘Why? What did your Uncle Phil do?’

  ‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘Never did a thing. He just wasn’t quite right.’

  I said, ‘Do you see any of the old crowd when they’re in town?’

  ‘Dunno,’ he said. ‘I see a lot of faces. You looking for somebody?’

  I said, ‘No. Nobody in particular. I’m sailing home. Just wondered if I’d see any familiar faces.’

  ‘You going on the Mary?’ he said. ‘I wouldn’t. Not this time of year. I’d wait for the Elizabeth. She’s been fitted with new stabilisers.’

  And that was what I did. I stayed at the Edison Hotel but I had my dinners at the Automat, just like the old days. The shop windows were all trimmed up for Christmas and I bought a few bits and pieces from Filene’s for the ladies back home. Woolly gloves in nice cheery colours for the twins, scarves for Dilys and Mam, and a marcasite brooch in case my luck was in with Renée.

  I had a lovely time, strolling the streets, pleasing myself for a change instead of running after Sel. I even went back to the Sinbad Club and introduced myself to the new manager. He was very interested to hear how I’d gone on to greater things after I’d left there. He said if he’d had more notice he might have been able to find a slot for me. The only crimp in my week was not being able to buy copies of our hit single, ‘Busy Being Lonely’. None of the sales clerks seemed to have heard of it.

  I said, ‘You should know your stock.’

  But it was all Rosemary Clooney, Rosemary Clooney.

  One girl said, ‘What label is it on?’

  I said, ‘The Bartine Variety Half Hour label.’

  ‘Hunh?’ she said.

  Ignoramus.

  The Queen Mary was sailing that night. I went down to the pier, for old times’ sake, ate a bag of roasted chestnuts, listened to the whirr of the cables and watched them loading provisions. Then I went to a diner on 48th Street which did a very acceptable all-day breakfast. The more I thought about what had happened between me and Sel the happier I was to be out of it. All those different towns where you didn’t know anybody. Having to play the same old stuff all the time. And that barber had hit the nail on the head. There was something not quite right about Sel. Taking his own knife and fork with him everywhere he went. Getting in a paddy if the help moved one of his figurines half an inch when she was dusting. He was loopy. I was glad to be going home.

  She’d been sitting at a corner table. I hadn’t noticed her. ‘Cled?’ she said. ‘Is it you?’

  It was Hazel.

  Well, the bloom had gone off her, no mistake, and I suppose it showed in my face. I didn’t intend upsetting her. I hate to be the cause of waterworks in a lady.

  ‘I know what you’re thinking,’ she said. ‘What do you expect? Time’s rolled on. I see a difference in you too. What happened to your hair?’

  She sat down opposite me. ‘I saw a picture of Sel,’ she said. ‘Mobbed by fans.’

  Autograph hunters, that’s all. I wouldn’t have called it ‘mobbed’ exactly.

  She said. ‘You working for him?’

  Too many ruddy questions.

  I said, ‘I didn’t work for him. I worked with him. We were a partnership. But I don’t work with him any more because I’m ready for a change. I’m going to be concentrating on my songwriting.’

  ‘Did you fall out?’ she said. ‘You were always falling out.’

  I said, ‘We parted by mutual agreement. I had a hit single, you know?’

  ‘No,’ she said, ‘I didn’t know. That’s nice.’

  I said, ‘How about yourself? Still in charge of delicates?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Though it’s not the same. Ladies aren’t dressing the way they used to. You don’t see as much organdie or beading. There’s not the challenge there used to be.’

  I said, ‘I’m surprised you’re still working the liners. The way you were saving up, I thought you’d have had a chain of laundries by now.’

  ‘Well,’ she said, ‘things didn’t go according to plan.’

  I bought her a slice of pie and a cup of coffee, and she sat and told me her story. How she’d found herself in the family way and been forced to give up her job and go away for a while.

  I said, ‘It wasn’t me caused it, was it?’ I knew really it couldn’t have been. Me and Hazel had never gone quite to that extent. She’d always kept her girdle on.

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘It wasn’t you.’

  I said, ‘Was it that pastry cook?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter who it was,’ she said. ‘He’s long gone.’

  I said. ‘What did you do?’

  ‘Went home to St Asaph,’ she said, ‘looking for a bit of Christian charity, but my dad had got himself a new lady friend. They told me to clear off. My dad told me never to darken his door again, Cled. And I haven’t.’

  She’d finished up in a Methodist home for fallen women and had a little baby girl and put her up to be adopted. Then she’d had to wait to get her
old job back. She said, ‘So that’s what happened to my savings, Cled. And now I’m not bothered. Now I just work to keep a roof over my head.’

  I said, ‘I often thought about you. Wondered how you were going on.’

  ‘Did you?’ she said. ‘Well, now you know.’

  I said, ‘It’s a pity I didn’t see you before I bought my ticket. We could have travelled together. As it is, I’m going on the Queen Elizabeth.’

  ‘That’s all right,’ she said. ‘I wouldn’t have seen anything of you. Not unless you got sauce on your tie. You’re sailing First Class, I suppose?’

  I said, ‘No. I’ve worked too hard for my money to throw it away. And I’ve seen too much of what goes on behind the scenes. You can still find an Elastoplast in your soup, doesn’t matter how much you’re paying. Anyway, I’d have come looking for you. Remember the Ripening Room? I always think of you when I smell melons.’

  ‘Do you?’ she said.

  She looked so washed out. She had a little bit of silver coming in on her temples.

  I asked after Lionel Truman and Massie. Both retired.

  I said, ‘How about Mother Carey?’

  She said. ‘I heard he shut himself in a meat locker, throwing a tantrum over some slight. Nearly froze to death. But it must have happened while I was gone. I don’t know if it’s true. Ginger married a black man from Jamaica. Jim Ganey moved to Union Castle.’

  I said, ‘What about you? Think you’ll ever leave?’

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘I’ll be there till they have to sew me into a sack and tip me over the side.’

  She still had a pretty smile.

  ‘I shall have to be going,’ she said. ‘I’m due back.’

  I walked with her to the pier. I said, ‘It’s funny, I’ve been to hundreds of places now, but nowhere else sounds like New York.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Funny that.’

  ‘Hazel,’ I said, ‘wait for me in Southampton.’

  ‘What?’ she said.

  We were having to shout over the traffic.

  I said, ‘Wait for me. So we can talk.’

  ‘How can I?’ she said. ‘We’ll have sailed again by the time you dock.’