Voices Behind the Curtain

by Gordon Zuckerman

  Somehow, George’s talking about the theater and old friends lit a spark of curiosity. For more than 2 years, Natalie had managed to block the musical stage, her theatrical friends, and any curiosity about new productions from her mind. Here I am talking about the theater, considering returning to the stage, and anxious to visit with old friends. What has changed?

  The memory of her earlier conversation with David flashed through her mind. Didn’t we talk about the possibility of developing the musical stage into what we referred to as the “Fifth Estate”? Doesn’t George’s idea represent a more pragmatic discussion of the same concept? Why couldn’t the American musical stage become a continuous running satirical voice designed to tell the story of the past, present, and future reoccurring Power-Cycle threats? What an excellent opportunity to inform the American public about what was and is really happening in our world of ever-increasing concentrated wealth and power.

  CHAPTER 41

  Aren’t You Going to Say Hello to an Old Friend?

  GEORGETOWN, NOVEMBER 1949

  Normally, Jordan McWilliams prided himself on being disciplined about time. He seldom found it necessary to rush. Over the years, the nature of his work required him to hide any emotion or excitement he might be feeling. Sitting in the back of the cab, he knew it was only going to be a matter of minutes before he would step out of the cab and join his old friend Vic and Sweet Amanda. Something is different. For the first time in days, I am not feeling the constant pressure of the burden I have been forced to carry. Could it be, the farther I get away from New York the more relaxed I become?

  Having previously made the same trip, Jordan estimated the amount of the fare and, after adding a generous tip, he paid the cabby prior to his pulling up to the curb. Stepping from the cab with his overnight bag slung over his shoulder, a grinning man quickly approached the revolving front door, waved at the doorman, and walked directly toward the elevator bank. Impatiently waiting for the elevator to arrive, his attention was focused on watching the hand on the floor indicator’s gradual descent. He was only vaguely aware of the woman standing beside him.

  When the elevator arrived, Jordan waited for the woman to proceed before entering the elevator. As the car began to rise, he heard her say, “Jordan, aren’t you going to say hello to an old friend?”

  Caught completely by surprise, Jordan quickly took notice of the woman standing next to him. She was tall, probably 5 foot 10, with an olive complexion, short, curly black hair, and was dressed in an old maroon sweater, well-worn Levis, and dirty-white tennis shoes. On first impression, he judged her to be one of the Georgetown law students who frequent this area. After taking a second look at the face of the smiling young woman, he realized it was Mercedes, the glamorous former Miss Universe he had spent such an amazing night with in Acapulco.

  He said, “Mercedes! What are you doing in Georgetown? I thought you would be in Mexico making movies with Manuel.”

  Before she could answer, the elevator stopped at the ninth floor and the door was beginning to open. She paused long enough before she stepped through the open door to shake his hand and say, ”Jordan, the next time you are in Washington, why don’t you call me. We could catch up on old times.”

  * * *

  IF THE VISION OF MERCEDES HADN’T GONE THROUGH HIS MIND, THE 3-day cruise would have been exactly what he had envisioned. The days were warm and sunny. The conditions were perfect for lounging on deck, scuba diving, or playing gin on the covered deck. He consistently won at the high-stakes gin game they had played. The scuba diving off a new reef provided him with the opportunity to swim among a variety of colorful fish and photograph the coral structures, replete with their own habitations of fish and plant life.

  The carefully planned meals and the quality of the served wines were only improved by the constant amusement that came from the witty conversations with all; each of the other men were self-made men who had founded and managed their companies. They were high-energy problem solvers who lived their personal lives in a similar way they managed their companies. The excitement of gambling, spending time with beautiful, younger women, and partaking in fine food and rare wines were an important ingredient to how they spent their private time. But it was the wide-ranging witty conversations about things of importance that made the 3 days at sea so unusual.

  Wives were never invited on Stanley’s stag cruises. The younger female companions reminded Jordan of some of the women he had met, over the years, during his prior visits to Acapulco. Everyone on board was there to have a good time. There was no room for business talk, complaining, or talking religion or politics.

  During the day, his growing awareness of Amanda and her interest in the stories he would tell, her occasional participation in far-ranging conversations, and her suggestions of what they should do next, pleasantly contrasted with what he had learned to expect at home.

  Laughing her hearty laugh, Amanda said, “I wondered how long it would take before you asked me the question everyone wants to ask: ‘What’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?’

  “What alternatives wait an attractive, intelligent, career girl from the Midwest, a graduate of a small Ohio college and George Washington Law School, who is employed as a paralegal normally have but to submit to the attention of young men of limited interests who want to get married, raise children, and employ their wives as behind-the-scenes home managers?

  “Don’t misunderstand. It’s not as if I don’t look forward to marriage and children, but this moth just wants to fly closer to the flame of a more exciting life before settling for a lifetime of more serious living. How else would a woman like me have the opportunity to spend weekends on such a fabulous yacht, meet such interesting men, and enjoy the comfort and excitement of your marvelous lifestyles?”

  * * *

  ACCUSTOMED TO RISING EARLY IN THE MORNING, AMANDA AND Jordan were enjoying breakfast at a two-person table situated on the rearmost portion of the deserted aft deck. Following an evening of passionate lovemaking well punctuated by periods of personal talk, Jordan and Amanda had discovered almost endless topics of conversation they both could relate to and enjoyed discussing.

  For 3 days, Jordan felt like a free and reborn person enjoying the lifestyle of a younger, carefree man. It wasn’t until they were returning to port when he began to think about New York and the different world to which he was returning. For a brief moment, he considered what the consequences might be if he failed to return. Do I really believe the people in my world would understand why, as the mature, middle-aged, managing partner of a leading New York law firm, I would choose to resign, sacrifice a lifetime of building up a world-class group of prominent industrial clients, in an attempt to learn how to best apply my talents and experiences to something else, something that would have more meaning?

  * * *

  KNOWING SUCH AN ABRUPT CHANGE WAS PRACTICALLY IMPOSSIBLE for reasons he couldn’t explain, he started to think about Mercedes. After I leave Stanley’s condo, why don’t I accept her invitation? If nothing else, a pleasant conversation would provide me with an excuse to delay returning to New York.

  * * *

  WHEN STANLEY’S YACHT WAS FIRMLY MOORED TO HIS PRIVATE DOCK, Jordan arrived back in Georgetown physically refreshed but mentally disturbed by the prospect of having to return to New York and the problems that would be waiting for him. When they entered the lobby, Jordan, feigning fatigue, asked if he could excuse himself, and get an early start to the airport. After waiting for his host and his friends to disappear into the elevator, he walked over to the bank of mailboxes imbedded in the opposite wall of the lobby. Remembering Mercedes had exited the elevator on the ninth floor, he crossed the lobby to inspect the names. There was an M. V. Ordonez, listed for apartment 908.

  Taking a deep breath, he marched back to the elevator, rode to the ninth floor, and rang the bell of apartment 908. When she opened the door, he was surprised by her transformation. Dressed in workout clothes, not wearing any
makeup, she hardly resembled the beautifully dressed and carefully made-up woman he remembered meeting at Manuel’s movie night party. Looking past her, he could see stacks of books and papers scattered all over the living-room floor.

  Noticing his look, she said, “Oh, don’t mind the mess. I’m studying to take my entrance examination for law school.”

  To break any awkwardness, he asked, “Mercedes, how would you like to buy an old sinner a cup of coffee?”

  Thirty minutes later, Jordan was quietly listening to Mercedes describe her exit from Mexico, her problems with Manuel, and her experiences with Natalie Cummins. Watching the way her face lit up when she started to describe her work in Europe, her thoughts of becoming a qualified international casting agent, and her interest in law school, it caused him to focus on what he had been considering 2 days ago. Fascinated by her tale of personal reinvention, he was thinking, If this young woman, who was so terribly mistreated, could rebuild her life, why can’t I do the same thing?

  Two more cups of coffee and an hour later, her story was winding down. Taking notice of the time, Jordan knew it was time for him to leave. Standing awkwardly, contemplating how best to say good-bye to his new-old friend, he was relieved when she firmly embraced him before kissing him gently on the cheek. As a parting comment, she said, “Talking with you about my problems has been most enjoyable. Do you think we might become just good friends?”

  CHAPTER 42

  Dinner at Sardi’s

  NEW YORK, NOVEMBER 1949

  George White, his wife Betsy, and their two celebrity guests had arrived at the theater early. They needed to provide George with the extra time he would need to pick up the four, third-row-center complimentary house tickets. The three ladies were standing near the right-hand wall of the theater entrance, well away from the anxious people who were crowding their way into the soldout theater performance. Talking quietly among themselves, they failed to notice the people who had recognized Natalie and were alerting anyone who happened to be standing near them, and who were pointing in their direction.

  Tickets in hand, with the assistance of a special usher, they entered the theater. It didn’t seem to make any difference whether they had been spotted outside or by members of the audience who recognized George or the surprise appearance of the famous star of New York’s musical stage. Their progress down the aisle and past the other seats was constantly interrupted by fans and old friends of Natalie’s who wanted to say welcome home. The unexpected commotion only started to subside when the orchestra in the pit began to play the overture.

  For the next hour and a half, Natalie and Gloria’s uninterrupted attention was focused on every detail they could possibly absorb of the three acts. Miss Merman’s performance, Irving Berlin’s words and lyrics, and the satirical message had been laughingly accepted by the approving and appreciative audience.

  Emotionally drained by what she just witnessed, her hands sore from clapping, Natalie turned to whisper to George, “Why don’t we sit here for a few minutes before leaving. Maybe we can avoid some of the earlier congestion?”

  Flashing his infectious grin, George said, “Oh, I don’t think that will be necessary. Ethel and Irving are waiting backstage to say hello to an old friend, thanks to your old friend, Walt Matthews, and your efforts to help Hollywood solve a very nasty problem. As you are aware, Hollywood and Broadway are two very separate centers of entertainment that are somewhat connected by similar investors. Although it’s never been discussed, there is the unspoken fear that the anti-Communism inquisition might extend to Broadway. Apparently, they have been following your progress with your ‘Bridge’ attempts to limit the damage in Hollywood. In addition to spending time with a valued and respected colleague, they are anxious to hear what you have learned.”

  An hour later, the six exhilarated friends arrived at Sardi’s an hour late for their reservation. Somewhat familiar with the hectic demand for late-night tables at the famous after theater restaurant, Natalie was surprised when the six of them were warmly greeted by Vaughn, the maître d’ and grandson of the original owner of Sardi’s, and were escorted to the celebrity table located in the center of the restaurant. As she was preparing to sit down in the chair Vaughn was holding for her, Natalie felt the touch of George’s hand on her arm, followed by, “Before you sit down, let’s examine the walls and see if your picture is still hanging on one of them.” Remembering the approximate location of George’s three-person table, Natalie was slightly amused when he insisted they begin their search on the opposite side of the restaurant.

  Seeing the cartooned images of old friends, actors, directors, and prominent theatrical angels was bringing back many old memories. Even when their progress was impeded by their having to stop and say hello to familiar friends, Natalie didn’t mind the interruption and the attention. They had completed their inspection of two walls and were beginning to work their way along the third wall, the wall that would eventually lead to George’s table, when she suddenly realized, she was no longer upset by the fact that she was being recognized for her theatrical success. Could it be with my recent accomplishments, I am no longer so sensitive about not being recognized as a serious woman interested in solving serious problems?

  About the same time she had become aware of her unknowing transformation, they arrived at George’s personal table. His picture hung directly above it, and her picture still hung next to it. Instantly, she realized keeping her caricature next to his was his way of expressing how much he still cared for her and respected her both as a friend and a talent.

  Ignoring the public attention they were receiving, she turned to George, and after kissing him softly on his cheek, whispered in his ear, “I will never be able to express how much I treasure your respect and friendship. Seeing my image still hanging next to your caricature means more to me than you can possibly understand!”

  Before they headed toward their table and their waiting friends George pulled her to one side. “Natalie, knowing you and working with you has been the single greatest experience of my theatrical career. I want you to believe me when I say, nobody could be more proud of your recent accomplishments and nothing would give me greater pleasure than building a show around all the marvelous things you and your friends have been able to accomplish.

  “Before we join the others, I should warn you, I’ve taken the liberty of informing Ethel and Irving about our idea. Get prepared; you are about to become part of what I suspect will be one of the most exciting dinner conversations you will ever have.”

  George was right. The dinner conversation was one of the most intelligent and far-reaching discussions of the contemporary musical stage Natalie and Gloria had the privilege of participating in. Natalie was convinced. Listening to Ethel Merman speak in private was the second best thing to attending one of her performances. There were times when she was having difficulty distinguishing between what the reigning queen of the musical stage was saying and the character she played in Call Me Madam. Only a strong willed, intelligent woman with a booming voice could have so convincingly portrayed the life of Perle Mesta, a widowed, very rich contributor to the Democratic Party who had been appointed by the president to be the United States of America’s ambassador to Luxembourg.

  She would always remember Ms. Merman saying, “Listen, honey, when they told me I was to play some rich babe who would use her influence with her friends in Washington to provide all the money needed to acquire the cooperation of a small country, I thought everybody was nuts. I watched in amazement when they didn’t censor out the best lines and insisted on adding new material that would more fully emphasize the underlying theme of the play. And here we are with the hottest show on Broadway.”

  “She not kidding,” said Irving Berlin, the composer. “Can you imagine my reaction when they gave me the script to study? Did they really expect me, long associated with the production of patriotic musical plays, to compose the music and lyrics for a story that cast American diplomatic practices in
such a questionable light? Although the play was set to take place in a small fictional country somewhere in Europe, the references to current practices in the United States were unmistakable.”

  Fascinated by Irving’s revelation about the play, Natalie asked, “Tell us how you were able to produce a play that informed audiences about serious problems and didn’t upset them?”

  “Aha, that is the trick, or if you will, our secret magic sauce,” George answered. “We learned, some time ago if the entertainment quality exceeds the audience’s expectations, and you avoid any practice of malice, they will concentrate of the entertainment quality they are witnessing and not immediately think about the less obvious message they are being exposed to.”

  Intrigued by the conversation, the animated discussion continued until the last of the other patrons had long since departed. If Vaughn had not politely informed them their taxis had arrived, they might have failed to notice the waiters silently standing motionless, not wishing to distract the remaining guests with their late-night cleaning chores.

  Natalie, still consumed by the dinner conversation, only stopped talking when the last of her friends had said good night and stepped into one of the waiting taxis. At the last minute, she paused and said, “I prefer to walk. The Algonquin is just a few blocks from here. Maybe the walk will give me an opportunity to reflect on all the things we have been discussing. One thing for certain, you have started me thinking. I haven’t been so excited since we started talking about some of the ideas that became the foundation of the ‘Bridge.’”

  * * *

  SOMETIMES AT NIGHT, WHEN THE CONCEPT OF SLEEP DIDN’T SEEM probable, she would wander into the Algonquin Bar to see if she could join any of her old friends for a final-final and talk of old times in the theater. Tonight was one of those nights, when she hoped to be able to discuss George’s new ideas with her theatrical friends and witness their reactions. “Maybe a drink and good conversation will make it easier for me to go to sleep.”