by Anne Girard
“Lloyd Bradshaw, as I live and breathe.”
“At your service,” he said with a nod.
“My, my, well, it has been a while.”
“Haven’t won many roles lately. Honestly, I’ve been struggling a bit.”
“Haven’t we all, Lloyd, haven’t we all. They’re saying talkies are about to change everything. They seem to be looking for different types now than they were when you and I were working a lot.”
“Change would be good, if there is a paycheck to be had. When I audition now, though, they keep saying my accent is too distinctive and isn’t right for the part. My voice, my accent...all we ever cared for even a couple years ago was our facial expressions and how that came across on-screen. Don’t get me wrong, though, work is work.”
Harlean thought how Lula’s dignified tone matched the image she projected, Lloyd Bradshaw’s high-pitched Bronx tenor did not. That could not bode well for his future in talking pictures.
They shot the scene again and then someone shouted out, “Take ten, everybody.”
Harlean stood to stretch her legs. She had a cramp in one of her calves. Lula stood beside her. “Not a fan of brassieres?” Lula asked as she glanced at Harlean’s chest.
“I loathe them, actually. Anything constricting makes me want to run the other way,” she admitted, and then she felt herself blush. “I was ill with scarlet fever when I was a child, and confined to my bed. After a while, it began to feel like a cage, the bedding felt like prison bars. It made me panic. Ever since then, I’ve been kind of a free spirit, I guess you could say.”
“Good thing you’ve got a small bosom, then, beauty that you are. I’d cause a riot if I tried that.”
They had a chuckle together at that. It was easy speaking with her. There was something about Lula that reminded her of her mother. Not her looks, it wasn’t that. Rather, it was seeing a gutsy woman’s more human side, a hint of vulnerability. The monotony of sitting there for all those hours had created a bond, as well. Women could talk of just about anything when that happened. This surely was not the glamorous side of Hollywood.
Harlean’s gaze then landed back on Lloyd Bradshaw who was cautiously swilling from a silver flask, then stuffing it back in his coat pocket.
“Poor Lloyd. I knew who he was the moment I saw him. We go way back. You might have guessed he’s a bit overly fond of the drink.”
As Harlean sat back down, waiting for them to call an end to the break, she noticed an extra across from them whose auburn hairpiece had slipped just slightly, revealing coils of gray beneath. He quickly adjusted it and then pridefully tipped up his chin. She had been struck by others in the group of extras, too, but to her he symbolized the struggling young actors, hopefuls and has-beens that permeated the movie industry. Perhaps she could relate more to these people than she had initially thought—they had their own insecurities, just like she did. There was weakness and pride, such dimension to all of them, once she really looked.
Filled with the newfound realization, Harlean sank against the chair as, once again, crew members began adjusting the lighting. Lloyd’s hands had stopped shaking, no doubt courtesy of the contents of his flask.
“Since it looks they’re going to be a while, tell me about the picture you did together,” Harlean asked Lula and Lloyd with genuine interest.
“It was Hearts and Spurs with that cute young Carole Lombard, if memory serves.”
“Why, yes, that was it!”
“I played a gambler. You ran the saloon,” he recalled with a broadening smile.
“We shot it in the Santa Monica Mountains. I had my own trailer on that picture.”
“We both did.” He let out a nostalgic sigh. “I thought I was really on my way to being somebody back then.”
“All right, everybody, places!” the assistant director finally called out on his bullhorn again.
For Harlean the tedium of the process was balanced by the entertaining company surrounding her. She was fascinated by the stories they began to tell, and she felt relaxed with them both. No one here knew who she was, that she had been so sheltered her whole life—or that, until she met Chuck, she had considered herself a loner and a bookworm. Nor did they care. They seemed to be taking her at face value. Today, she was just “Jean,” a new girl in the business, one who could use some advice, and camaraderie, from two seasoned professionals.
During the lunch break, as they ate bologna and cheese sandwiches and drank lukewarm coffee, she could hear a murmured conversation between the two assistant directors as they looked at her then looked away. She could see that Lula heard it, as well.
“Now, see that one, Harry, the blonde over there? I’m tellin’ you, the camera loves her. She jumps at you right through the lens. I saw it for myself when we were setting up the last shot.”
Even though they spoke in low tones, Harlean did not miss a word of their conversation. She drank it in, savored it and thought of how she might use it to her advantage. Touch the line without crossing over it—she was learning for herself that was the key.
“No fooling. Who is she?”
“How the hell should I know? She’s some extra, for now, anyway. But if she’s got an ounce of ambition, we’ll be seeing her again.”
Lula took a swallow of the cold coffee. “They’re talking about you.”
Harlean felt a sly grin turn up the corners of her mouth. Their compliment was flattering to her.
“I didn’t think I’d like this whole picture business, but I actually kind of do. Around here, no one is judging me.”
“My dear, everyone is judging you. It’s just that, for the moment, it’s in a good way.”
“How can I do what he said, come around again, get more work?”
“For that, you’ll need to be smart, and stand out for more than your looks.”
“But how can I do that?”
“To begin with, make sure your shoes are clean. Assistant directors always look at your feet first. And another thing, if you really want my advice, invest in a few smart-looking hats. You can fake clothes, but you can never fake a stylish hat.”
She thought for a moment. Those things would be easy. Her mother had given her a strong sense of fashion and her grandfather had long funded it. “Sure, I can do that.”
Lula reflected for a moment on her own advice as extras began to stand up and toss the remains of their lunch boxes into a garbage can at the end of the table. “And watch your makeup. You’ll never get a close-up if your skin isn’t flawless.”
“A close-up?”
“I assume you aren’t going to want to do extra work forever. That dress of yours alone is worth more than a lot of these folks earn in a month.”
“I hadn’t thought...”
“Well, you’ve got to think ahead. Believe me, your competition does.”
She hadn’t fully considered that it was a competition—but Lula Hanford was right, that’s just what Hollywood was—one great, big, tumultuous competition. But suddenly, the prospect actually seemed more exciting than frightening.
* * *
It had been a long day and Harlean was dragging by the time she arrived back at the house, toting her evening dress in a garment bag. Marino was making pasta and her mother was sitting at the kitchen table filing her fingernails. A lively Duke Ellington tune blared from the radio, threading through a conversation between Jean and her husband. Finally, at least it wasn’t opera she had to listen to.
Chuck came in a moment later and stood in the doorway.
“Where the devil have you been all day? I talked to Ivor and he said Rosalie hadn’t seen you.”
“No, I wasn’t with Rosalie,” she confessed.
The nail file stilled in her mother’s hand as she glanced up.
“Well, at least you’re not planning t
o lie now,” he grumbled.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Chuck, is that really necessary?” Jean sighed as she rolled her eyes. “Sit down, Baby, and tell us about your adventure today.”
“How the hell do you know what my wife was doing?”
“Best to watch your tone, my boy,” Marino interjected matter-of-factly as he stood stirring marinara sauce at the stove.
“A mother’s intuition, is how I know, and a mother is always right,” Jean replied in a curt tone.
Harlean sat down beside her mother as Chuck sulked around the kitchen. “It was an adventure, Mommie, an amazing one.”
“There, you see, Chuck? So, Baby, you got a casting call?”
“I went to Paramount. They called me in when you were all still asleep, and then I was chosen from a huge herd of people. Gosh, you wouldn’t believe the size of the crowd, people were everywhere and it took the whole day to shoot the one scene. It was for a picture they’re going to call Moran of the Marines. Richard Dix is the star. I saw him, Mommie, I was as close to him as I am to Marino! I made seven dollars all on my own, and they gave us a box lunch.”
“Insipid title. Sounds like Moron of the Marines.”
“Don’t be rude, Charles. Clearly, the directors could see how exceptional your wife is, the way I have seen it all along. She was picked from an enormous crowd,” Jean boasted with an overabundance of maternal pride.
“I can’t believe you went behind my back.”
“It was early, Chuck, and I just didn’t want to wake any of you, that was the only reason, honest.”
“Well, seven dollars won’t even buy a pair of those fancy buckle shoes you insist on wearing, so I sure as hell don’t see what all the fuss is about,” Chuck grumbled.
Marino set down the wooden spoon and pivoted away from the stove. His blue-black hair shimmered in the light from the milk-glass ceiling fixture. “Good gracious, boy, can’t you be happy for the Baby? She had herself an adventure. Why would you begrudge her that?”
“She’s not a baby, she’s my wife, goddammit, and I don’t see why either of you would want to get her hopes up. Particularly not you, Mrs. Bello, since you know how tough rejection is in Hollywood. You sure got enough of it yourself during your failed attempt at becoming a star.”
Jean shot to her feet. “Impertinent prig.”
“That’s enough, both of you,” Harlean said, trying in vain to run interference. “Come on, Chuck, take a walk with me till dinner’s ready.”
“Tell me this first, did you get another job?” Her mother interjected as Harlean walked over to Chuck and clutched his hand.
Harlean saw Chuck’s deep frown. His face had flushed crimson with pent-up frustration. She wanted to tell him first, and privately, once they’d gotten some fresh air and he had calmed down a bit. She knew he was already tolerating so much by having her mother and Marino here, and with her mother still needling him at every turn. Harlean was disappointed she had yet to take command of that, although she was trying.
“Well, did you?” Jean repeated anxiously.
“The assistant director took a liking to me and introduced me to a casting director before I left. Joe Egli.”
Jean gasped. “You actually met Joe Egli?”
“That’s how I got the next job. He called over to Fox where he knew they were hiring. I have a call tomorrow. It’s a prison picture called Honor Bound. It’s just another crowd scene, but it’s more work!”
“Oh!” Jean exclaimed as she drew her daughter to her chest and wrapped her into a tight embrace. “That’s my Baby! I knew if they could just see you this would happen!”
Harlean and Chuck walked outside after that and stood beneath a bright quarter moon in a breeze that was balmy and soothing. Chuck had tried to pull his hand away from hers, but Harlean had only clamped onto it more tightly, her determination overpowering his strength in the moment. She reached up and cupped his chin in the palm of her other hand. His jaw quivered at her touch.
“They’ll be gone soon. Mommie said she had an appointment lined up tomorrow to look at a house for rent.”
“God, how I hate when you call her that,” he groaned as he looked away.
“Listen, Chuck, you know how sorry I am about your mother but you don’t have to take it out on me because I still have mine.”
Harlean heard her own harsh tone the moment the words left her lips, and she was instantly sorry that she had allowed her frustration to lead her.
“I’m sorry, that was cruel of me,” she said. “There’s just so much inside you that you won’t share with me. Sometimes it’s difficult to know how to reach you, especially when it comes to that subject.”
“I don’t like you talking about her, or my father, either. I think I’ve made that pretty easy to understand.” She heard the sharp defensiveness in his tone, and she was even more ashamed of herself. She willed her next words to be spoken slowly and tenderly.
“But it might do you some good. People need to grieve, Chuck, or it’ll be like poison. It’ll tear your heart up inside.”
“How the hell would you know?” he snapped at her.
“I lost my daddy.”
“Mont Clair Carpenter is still breathing, doll,” he shot back. His tone was still harsh but now it was fragile, too. She hated how easily she could imagine him shattering. “You have no idea at all what my grief feels like.”
She put a hand on his shoulder. “I’d like to, though. I want to share everything with you, even that.”
“Well, you can’t. No one can.”
“I can’t because you won’t let me.”
“Because I can’t let you! I refuse to feel that pain, or even think about it, because there’s not a damn thing I can do to change it!”
Harlean saw tears suddenly shining in his eyes. “Do you think maybe that’s why you lash out sometimes, though?” she asked very gently.
She hoped he wouldn’t lash out at her even more for suggesting it.
Chuck ran a hand behind his neck and took a deep breath. “I just don’t have a good feeling, Harlean, that’s all. It feels like a premonition and I can’t shake it.”
“About the jobs? I won’t do it if it makes you unhappy,” she said still very tenderly, but not certain even as she spoke if she actually meant it.
Harlean had really liked the experience she’d had as an extra and secretly she couldn’t wait to do it again. There was a bold new sense of adventure beginning to ripen and strengthen inside of her since the day she’d watched Rosalie at that Brown Derby when a world of possibilities felt opened up to her. That sense was increasing little by little every day. It was a powerful thing that had begun to shape her into what felt like two distinct people. One was an ambitious young woman with a new zest for adventure, a girl who wanted to take chances. The other was a teenage bride, still content in the comfort and security of a great first love. Despite what she had told Chuck after they’d first arrived in Hollywood, Harlean had begun now to want both.
She just wasn’t sure about how to have one without risking the loss of the other.
“It just seemed fun, that’s all, and to tell you the truth, I was already bored to death going to lunch every day with the girls, and endlessly shopping. It’s not enough for me.”
She could see him fighting a smile hearing that. “That would be pretty dull, especially with Irene Mayer leading the pack. God, she’s a raving bore.”
“There, you see? Now, how can you consign your wife to the company of dull women while you’re having a grand time around town with the guys?”
His smile broadened just before he pulled her against his chest and wrapped her so tightly up in his arms she almost couldn’t breathe. But, God, how she loved the sensation of being so close to him, and the anticipation of what she knew would follow. She had missed eve
ry other sensation he made her feel when they were alone like this.
Chuck kissed her then, pressing the lean length of himself tightly against her. She knew how desperate he was for her, as they stood together like that beneath the moon, and she thought again how desperate she was for him, too.
“You know...” she said seductively as his mouth found her throat and then the lobe of her ear. A shiver worked its way down her spine. “It’s amazing how many uses there are for the seat of a car, when you put your mind to it. You taught me that.”
He stopped kissing her for a moment as he realized what she was proposing. “Marino is making dinner, you know.”
“So he is. But that’s the great thing about spaghetti. It tastes just as good cold. I’m sure that moon looks even brighter right now from Griffith Park. Shall we take a quick drive and see?”
Harlean held his hand tightly as they headed toward the car. Suddenly everything seemed a bit brighter to her. She was so glad they had cleared the air, and worked things out. It was awful when they quarreled, but they were moving forward now, and doing it together. He held the car door for her and she felt a spark of delight when she realized that her optimism and determination might actually be paying off, if only she stuck with it. Suddenly now, she could hardly wait to see what tomorrow would bring.
Chapter Eight
A background scene in Honor Bound did come next, and then a two-reel comedy called Chasing Husbands. As spring fell fully into the summer of 1928, each job brought another, and over the next few weeks, Harlean was ever more drawn to the bustling atmosphere around the studios, and the interesting collection of people she found there. She was gaining confidence that she did have something distinctive to offer in this competitive business, so long as she was patient and very smart.
For a time things were less volatile at home between her mother and Chuck. Harlean placated and satisfied him in every way she could in order to keep him from flying off the handle. But his greatest reward came a month after their arrival when Jean and Marino Bello announced they had finally found their own house to rent nearby on Maple Drive.