PomPoms Up!

by Carol Cleveland

  My next West End appearance came some years later, in Lenny at the Criterion Theatre. Unfortunately this too had a limited run, but not for the same reason. This was a wonderful play that deserved to be seen by a much wider audience. It told the story of Lenny Bruce, the infamous American stand-up comedian, social critic and satirist who died of an overdose in 1966. The role of Lenny was taken by a New York Jewish stand-up comedian and actor called Marty Brill. Marty not only sounded like Lenny Bruce, but he looked like him too. He was perfect for the role and performed it brilliantly. His death scene at the end had grown men crying in the audience.

  What none of the cast could understand was why there were no show posters around the city anywhere and why there was very little media coverage. We actually set about doing our own publicity! I designed a flyer which we all distributed. After a slow start the word got out about how good the production and Marty’s performance was, and we started getting bigger audiences. We were amazed when, two months into the run, we got our one-month closure notice. We were now getting standing ovations! It was only then that we learned the show was never meant to run for more than three months – it was filling in a gap before another show moved in.

  I played Lenny’s wife, the stripper ‘Hot Honey Harlow,’ and my first entrance was doing a strip! I didn’t actually get as far as removing any clothing, as the scene cuts back to Lenny just as I’m about to do so, but there was a lot of bumping and grinding up to that point. A Soho stripper was brought in to choreograph my numbers and she was quite impressed with my bottom shimmy – as were some male members of the audience, it seemed. I’d often get a little round of applause from the front rows.

  There was one evening when the front rows nearly got something else they weren’t expecting. Honey herself had very long hair which was her trademark. My own long hair was put up into a bun, to which I attached an even longer switch that reached down to my waist. After the shimmy, I turned to face front, bent forward from the waist and swung my head around, creating a whirlwind of Titian tresses. One evening, as I threw my head forward, I felt the switch come away from it! I immediately straightened up again and was greatly relieved that it was still on my head and not sitting on an audience member’s lap! I had forgotten to put any grips in and it was only held in place by a small comb at the front. Phew!

  Even though I didn’t need to remove my top during the strip numbers, I was required to do so in one of my scenes with Lenny. The stage was in darkness except for a big double bed in the centre, which was dimly lit. I lay asleep on it, with a thin cover draped across me. Lenny enters, fully clothed, and starts to address the audience while slowly making his way over to the bed. He then bends over to kiss my shoulder, but as he does so I turn over towards him and the cover slips, exposing my bare breast, which he nearly kisses, but doesn’t. I wake up during the scene and we end up with him straddling me on the bed with the back of my head towards the audience in order that he can look up and talk directly to them. It was at this point that we’d sometimes hear the sound of banging seats as people got up and left the auditorium. It was considered to be quite a racy scene then.

  From that scene we moved straight into the next one. The bed was on a movable platform that disappeared off stage right, as another one came on stage left. On it was a dining table and four chairs, with Lenny’s mother and sister seated there. We joined them at the table and, as the lights came up, the scene began.

  All I had on was my black knickers, but I didn’t feel at all naked because my long hair was now cleverly positioned to cover my breasts. Halfway through the scene we three ladies are required to ‘freeze’ in position, looking at each other while Lenny addresses the audience. We’d had some difficulty with this during rehearsals because the actress playing his mother could not hold her look into my eyes without giggling. The answer, we decided, was for me to gaze directly at her right ear instead.

  This seemed to work, until one evening I accidently looked at her eyes for a brief moment before fixing on her ear. Her lips started to quiver. Keeping a straight face, I moved my eyes to look over her shoulder. Her shoulders had started to move. Marty was now aware of the situation and gave her a stern look. It didn’t work and she was making little choking noises. I could see the other actress was now struggling to keep focused. I was determined that, whatever happened I would not laugh! Marty finished speaking and we all came out of the freeze.

  ‘Mother’ was the first to speak her one line. It was difficult to make out the words over her strangled laugh. I looked at the actress next to me, thinking, “Please don’t….” She did! Now it was my turn to deliver the final line. I opened my mouth and managed to get only two words out before the whole scene disintegrated into mirth. The platform was literally yanked off the stage, with us nearly toppling off it! Marty found it amusing, but I’m certain the audience didn’t and I’ve never forgiven myself for this lack of control and unprofessionalism.

  I would meet up with Marty again the following year, when I was in New York City. I was there with the Python team, performing the stage show Monty Python Live at the New York City Center. This was a particularly exciting time for me because, at the same time I was performing with the Pythons, I would also be rehearsing for another production that would immediately follow it. Or at least…. so I thought!

  Two years earlier, I was cast in a play called Kennedy’s Children, playing Carla…. an American actress who yearns to follow in the footsteps of Marilyn Monroe. Shirley Anne Field had played the role in London and I was now going out on a short tour around Holland. This was a great part for me in an interesting play and I was much looking forward to it. Once again, however, the cast had not been given all the information about the production and it wasn’t until our first performance that we discovered we were partly doing a schools’ tour. We had been expecting to play to an adult audience who had paid to see us. Instead, we found ourselves desperately trying to be heard above the din of school children who were forced to watch a play that they were clearly bored stiff by. It was not a particularly happy tour! One good thing was to come out of it, however – the director of the piece, Clive Donner, would later offer me the role again. This time it would definitely be a professional tour around the US, working with two Hollywood legends; Shelley Winters and Farley Granger. Wow!

  At first, I didn’t think I was going to be able to do it because it meant I’d be in New York with the Pythons at the same time the play was scheduled to go into rehearsals in California. Amazingly, the rehearsals were switched to New York and everything seemed to be coming up roses!

  The Python show opened in New York to great acclaim and, after a few days, I excitedly set off to meet the rest of the cast of Kennedy’s Children. The plan was to do a read-through of the play and then discuss it afterwards. Rehearsals would start the following morning. I was feeling a little anxious as I’d heard that Miss Winters could be a bit fearsome but, on the other hand, I was the only one who’d done the play before, so I felt I had an advantage over the others. We were introduced and everyone was pleasant enough, although I did notice Shelley continuously looking me up and down.

  We began the read-through and I purposely held back from giving a performance, but aimed to keep it fresh. Shelley, on the other hand, actually shed tears within minutes of reading her opening monologue. After the read-through we had individual chats with our director, and I was asked if I would be happy to approach the character in a totally different way for this production…. which of course I was. We were told to be there promptly at 10:00 the next morning.

  That evening, just as I was preparing for the Python performance, I received a call from the director. I rushed to the phone.

  “Hi! I’m just getting ready for the show. I’m so looking forward to rehearsals tomorrow!”

  “Eh…. Carol darling…. I’m sorry, but I’m afraid it’s not going to work out.”

  “Pardon? What’s not going to work out?”

  “Err…. You playing Carla.�
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  “What do you mean? Why?”

  “Well…. umm…. Shelley doesn’t think that you sound American enough.”

  “What?! But that was just a read-through! You know I AM American! If she wants me to be more American, then I will be. We haven’t started rehearsals yet.”

  “I know that, but Shelley doesn’t want you in the show.”

  “What?! But… I….”

  “Well…. the thing is, Shelley has money in the show and she has casting approval. I know you’d be great, but there’s nothing I can do… I’m really sorry.”

  I went into the Green Room where the cast and crew were and said:

  “You’ll never believe this! I’ve just been fired by Shelley Winters! I feel like I’m in the middle of that movie, All About Eve!”

  One of the crew members said:

  “Honey, of course she doesn’t want you in it. You’ve got the part that she’d like to play herself…. but can’t. You’re well out of it – she would have made your life hell!”

  He was probably right. Once I got over the disappointment, I started feeling very angry. I was told that the producers would be in touch with me regarding payment. They were well aware that I didn’t have an agent representing me in the US and I would have to deal with this myself. All they offered me was the three weeks rehearsal pay, which I thought was a pretty rum deal! They were fairly taken aback when I said that I felt I was entitled to the full amount I’d been contracted for.

  “Oh no, we can’t do that!”

  Then I remembered Marty was in New York and I gave him a call. In his wonderful New York Bronx accent he said:

  “Hi doll! How great to hear from ya!”

  We arranged to meet for lunch at one of his favourite restaurants in the Little Italy area. It was quite small and intimate, with plain white tablecloths and basic cutlery…. nothing fancy. Only two other tables were occupied, each with two men in hushed conversation. They wore suits and flashy ties and smoked cigars. I looked around at the photographs on the wall. Frank Sinatra and all the Rat Pack were up there, along with stills from gangster films and photographs of real gangsters, like Al Capone.

  I said, “Wow! I feel like I’m in a Mafia joint.”

  The cigar smokers looked up at me and Marty said:

  “Shhhhhh! Not so loud!”

  Oh…. OK!

  I asked his advice as to how I might go about getting the money that I felt was due to me.

  He said:

  “Don’t worry kiddo…. I know someone who can help. I’ll talk to him. You’ll get your money.”

  A few days later I went to see the producers and took Marty with me as my representative. I let him do all the talking and he made it clear we weren’t going to accept their offer. I’m not quite sure how he managed it, but the following day I was asked to return and was handed an envelope containing the full amount we’d asked for. A couple of years later I bumped into someone who’d been connected with the show who told me that it had not completed its run, partly because Miss Winters had trouble remembering her lines. I then wondered if I might have been the ONLY cast member to have received the full payment?!

  Chapter Eight

  A CAR CALLED DAISY

  Valentino’s great passion was cars – fast and fancy ones – and most of his film stunt work was driving cars. He now had a Facel Vega Convertible, which was a rare car to have at the time. I believe there were only about six others in England and they were owned by the likes of Stirling Moss, Joan Collins and Ringo Starr. He also had a rather unusual Italian dog, a beautiful Weimaraner called Rio, with a sleek silver coat and blue eyes. The three of us would go out driving on a summer’s day – Val in his silk shirt and dark glasses, me in a Mary Quant minidress with matching headscarf, and Rio sitting proudly on the back seat. Nothing gave Val greater pleasure than watching other men gather round for a closer look when we stopped at traffic lights. I must admit that I rather enjoyed it myself.

  What I didn’t enjoy so much was the speed at which Val drove! On one occasion, when we were heading down the A23 to Brighton, I insisted that he stop the car and let me out. With screeching tyres he pulled onto the hard shoulder and I leapt out, slamming the car door behind me. Wearing high heels, I then started marching towards Brighton, while he zoomed off. Fifteen minutes or so later he pulled up beside me and we continued our journey together in silence. All was forgiven by the time we arrived.

  Val had now taken up racing driving and was attending the Brands Hatch racing school. I was with him one day when his instructor offered to take me for a spin around the course. It was one of the most terrifying experiences of my life! I was always very nervous after that when watching Val racing, usually covering my eyes with my hands and sighing with relief when it ended. We would often be photographed by the national press, with him inside the car and I draped across it. These were fun and exciting times. Val continued racing for many years and in 1972 he purchased his own Formula 3 Royale RP11, which he did quite well in.

  As for myself…. since nearly running over my leading man Carlos Thompson, I’d rather lost the appetite for driving. Also, I lived in the heart of London with an underground station at the end of the road, so it didn’t seem necessary to have a car. My mother didn’t drive either and never had. Apparently she’d tried driving in Texas but the first time she got into the family car she accidently reversed into a ditch. Hence, I didn’t get any encouragement from her! But now I thought it was time I took it up again and mastered a stick shift – just in case I got another job that required me to do so.

  Val offered to teach me in his car. I knew this probably wasn’t a good idea, having seen how impatient he could be with other drivers, but he assured me that he’d treat me gently. It was a disaster! We both agreed that it would be better for me to learn from someone else. I hadn’t planned on getting a car just yet, but Val spotted one he thought might be right for me. It was a second-hand yellow Fiat 500 and cost £500. I took one look at it and said:

  “It’s cute! I’ll have it.”

  The car was only nine foot, nine inches long but somehow we both managed to get in and Val drove it back to Maida Vale. We parked outside and I dashed indoors to get Mummy. I thought she’d like it, but she walked around it looking rather puzzled.

  Then she said:

  “Why have you bought a car with a left-hand drive?”

  I’d been so keen to have it, I hadn’t even noticed! As it turned out it didn’t matter because I didn’t have the car for very long.

  My little ‘Daisy,’ as I called her, sat outside the house for a couple of weeks while I recorded my second episode of The Saint. This time my character had a bit more bite to it than the naive secretary I’d portrayed in the previous episode. I played an undercover agent who is sent over from America to assist Simon Templar fight off the baddies. The scene that sticks out in my mind is one of those you usually see in an ‘out takes’ TV show. A gangster is holding a gun on Simon and me. He’s distracted and Simon kicks the gun out of his hand. Another baddy reaches down to pick it up but I step forward and stab his hand with my stiletto heel. Well, obviously I couldn’t actually do that, and neither could the actor be expected to trust me to aim my heel in between his fingers. Instead, he held out a false rubber hand. We did two rehearsals, during which I managed to place my heel between two fingers perfectly. Then we went for a ‘take’ and I gave it all I had, slamming down my heel onto the hand, which then shot several feet up into the air! The actor was quite relieved it wasn’t his own!

  No sooner had I finished The Saint than I got a nice cameo in the film The Pleasure Girls. Ian McShane was one of its stars and I had, of course, hoped we might work together, or at least meet up, but it didn’t happen. Instead my scene, which takes place in a casino, was with Klaus Kinski, Mark Eden and Suzanna Leigh, who I later became friends with.

  My little Daisy had now been parked outside my bedroom window without being driven for several weeks. Val and I decided that it wou
ld be good to take her for a spin in the country, where we could find some quiet roads for me to practice on. His family owned a huge manor house near Hastings, which had been empty and derelict for many years. I’d never seen it, so we headed off in that direction. After an hour’s drive we got onto a long, straight A road and Val pulled over. I got into the driver’s seat, managed to get into the right gear, took a deep breath and headed down the road. Finally…. I was driving my first car for the very first time! It was running smoothly and I was beaming with happiness…. for about twenty minutes.

  We smelt something odd and then noticed smoke coming from the bonnet! Val concluded she just needed some water, which fortunately we had with us, so after a rest we set off again, with Val behind the wheel and only a few miles to go. We parked on the gravel forecourt and went inside to view the musty, dusty house that had clearly seen better days. It was surrounded by farmland, with only one other farm visible across a large field. I was studying the view from a third floor window when I looked down to see flames rising from Daisy’s bonnet! We bolted downstairs and, while Val shot across the field to the adjacent farm, all I could do was watch helplessly as the flames spread to the sun roof. By the time Val returned with a fire extinguisher it had all but burnt itself out.

  “Too late,” I said, tearfully. “Daisy’s dead.”