Superstar in a Housedress: The Life and Legend of Jackie Curtis (7 page)

PETER

What’s wrong with your “t’s”?

NOLA

They’re not movie star “t’s.” You know that. Don’t get vague with me!

PETER

What’s with you and this movie star mystique, anyway?

NOLA

(with mounting hysteria.)

Peter, I never lied to you. We both got into this thing with our two eyes open. I never led you on, and it’s been that way ever since that heavenly night in the paddy wagon. I always had a weakness for paddy wagons, you know that …

(SHE drops her cigarette and stamps it out.)

Ahh, never mind! When I met you, I forgot about the others. I thought you were my chance, My ticket outta the misery I was in. But now, when you show me two tickets to St. Paul … I can’t go with you to St. Paul to meet your sister and brother-in-law.

I just don’t think I’m the type of girl you could bring home to your sister … your brother-in-law, maybe … but not your sister. What would they think of a … a … a …

PETER

A stripper?

NOLA

An artiste!

(NOLA cries)

Ahh, I’m just a little nobody. What do I have to offer? A facade, a glittering facade?

(SHE regains her composure)

I can’t go to St. Paul with you, or anywhere else. I gotta go to Hollywood. While there still is a Hollywood.

BLACKOUT.

The follow spot comes up on TOULOUSE.

TOULOUSE

The train was leaving in forty-five minutes, and on it she made it her business to be. But for some odd reason or another, it never did reach Hollywood. It came close.

BLACKOUT.

The stage lights come up on NOLA, in a dressing room.

NOLA

A split week in Maryland is pretty close, isn’t it?

There is a knock on the door. NOLA begins singing, bumping and grinding into the mirror.

NOLA (CONT’D)

ALL RIGHT, ALL RIGHT,

I HEAR YA, I HEAR YA

AND I WANTCHA TO KNOW

I’M COMING, I’M COMING,

I’M COMING!

Mrs. Gerald Freedman, the WIFE, in a black dress, white gloves, and a pillbox hat, rushes in suddenly.

WIFE

Nola Noonan?

NOLA

(Still singing.)

I’M COMING! I’m COMING!

(SHE speaks.)

Yeah?

WIFE

I’m Mrs. Gerald Freedman.

NOLA

I gave already!

(SHE turns back to the mirror, and resumes her singing.)

I’M COMING, I’M COMING

(The WIFE has not left. NOLA turns back to her.)

Won’t you come in?

WIFE

Thank you. How do you do? I’m Mrs. Gerald Freedman.

NOLA

How do you do? Ya mind if I make up while we chat, Mrs. Freedman? I got a show to do in less than ten minutes.

WIFE

You go right ahead. I know all about “the show must go on.”

NOLA

(SHE sings to herself in the mirror, with a big bump.)

PROLIFIC, PROLIFIC …

(SHE turns back to the WIFE.)

So, What can I do for you? Er … Mrs. … Mrs. …

WIFE

Freedman, Gerald Freedman … I am Mrs. Gerald Freedman.

NOLA

Well, now, what could you possibly want from a poor show girl like me? Oh, excuse me where are my manners? Won’t you sit down, honey?

(SHE becomes pre-occupied with herself in the mirror.)

Now, where were we, Mrs. Freeman? Sorry I can’t offer you anything to drink, honey.

WIFE

That’s quite all right. I wanted to be as brief as possible. Anyway, I just had coffee.

NOLA

I lost that new hip flask that Roy gave me down at that new speak down the block. What’s the name? The Pink Paa … the Green Gaa … the Blue Baa …

(A beat, then NOLA gives up.)

All right, hit it!

WIFE

Only this. I’m afraid I have heard some rather discouraging gossip …

NOLA

HA! Well when ain’t it, hey, toots?

WIFE

(Bravely.)

About you and my husband, Mr. Gerald Freedman.

NOLA

Now wait a minute. You did say discouraging, didn’t you?

WIFE

It’s absolutely disgraceful. Everybody knows what a girl like … you … wants from a man in his position. You know perfectly well what this could do to him socially and politically. If not for my sake, then for his …

I beseech you, Miss Noonan.

NOLA

Oh, a beseecher! One of those!

(SHE hooks the sleeve of THE WIFE’S DRESS with her finger.)

Lane Bryant?

THE WIFE is insulted and pulls angrily away.

NOLA

All right, all right … let’s not have a scene here. These furnished dressing rooms are very touchy, you know. So what is it? You want him back? Well, he’s yours. No strings attached, no sneaky deals, nothing. Just get him off my back, huh?

The WIFE bursts into noisy tears, blowing her nose into a hanky.

NOLA (CONT’D)

Hey, what’re you crying for? I figures it this way. If you was any kind of a good wife to begin with — and you know what I mean by ‘a good wife’ — none of this “I got a headache tonight” shit. He would never have stepped out on you for me in the first place. If you know what I mean!

The WIFE slaps NOLA, but quickly regains her composure.

WIFE

I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

NOLA

Why be sorry? I was outta rouge. You done me a favor, got a little color in my cheeks.

Well, like you say: “One good favor deserves another favor,” and I’m gonna do you the favor of cuttin’ this little drama short, so tell me something, Mrs. Freedman … are you through?

WIFE

Why, you’re just cheap, tawdry and vulgar!

NOLA

Yeah? What else did he say about me?

WIFE

You haven’t got a streak of decency in you.

NOLA

Listen, bitch, I don’t go around showin’ my good points to strangers. Now, I’ll kindly trouble you to get the hell out of here!

NOLA shoves the WIFE out the door, and then returns to the mirror. GERALD FREEDMAN enters. HE is a milk man, and carries bottles of milk with him in a wire container.

JERRY

Nola! Nola! Nola, baby!

NOLA

Did anybody see you come here?

JERRY

No.

NOLA

Good. Then no one will see you leave. Get out.

JERRY

Nola, what is it?

NOLA

We are through, done with, finished, all over with, Mr. Freedman. Is goodbye one word or two?

JERRY picks up a document from the top of the trunk.

JERRY

Nola, what is this?

NOLA

It’s a timetable … railroad’s put ’em out. Listen, squirt, go peddle your cow juice somewhere else. I’m fed up with you … you’re never gonna get me anywhere. That wife of yours was just here, and she begged for you back.

JERRY

But Nola, I can’t live without you.

NOLA

(SHE takes a container of milk and puts it on her vanity table.)

A man in your position, you’ll manage, sweetie. Listen, hurry up and say what you gotta say … y’know, I got a show to do. There are people waiting for me, hundreds and thousands of people.

JERRY

Nola, where did I go wrong?

NOLA

Don’t get personal. I hate probes.

JERRY

Y’know, you’re just cheap, tawdry and vulgar.

NOLA

Don’t you ever say that again!

JERRY

Why?

NOLA

Because you just said it, and a thing like that gets around!

There is a loud knocking on the door. We hear an offstage VOICE.

VOICE

Three minutes, Noonan!

NOLA

Yeah, yeah, I’m coming. Well, Jerry, do you understand English, or do I gotta draw you a picture of how a girl makes the rent? Now blow!

VOICE

C’mon, Noonan, you in there?

JERRY takes a wad of bills out of his pocket and throws it all in NOLA’s face.

NOLA

What’re you doing?

JERRY

Trying not to bore you. This is what you want, isn’t it?

NOLA

Get out! Get out! You know I’m not mercenary by nature.

HE has left. The door slams and NOLA runs to it. SHE kneels down to stuff the bills carelessly in her bra. The knock on the door grows more insistent.

VOICE

Hey, Noonan, get out there, they’re playing your music! Noonan, let’s get movin’. Get those tits on that stage, Noonan!

NOLA

Nola Noonan never misses a cue!

BLACKOUT.

(END of excerpt.)

Craig Highberger

Jackie received excellent reviews for
Glamour, Glory and Gold
when it opened in 1967 at Bastiano’s Theater on Waverly Place. The New York Times reviewer wrote, “It is written and played with the outrageous broadness of a Gay Nineties melodrama, and in its heartless, campy ramshackle way it is fun.” The
Daily News
reviewer called it “… an amusing spoof of Jean Harlow, the studio chief he-man who is actually effeminate, and all the absurd demi-gods the system created,” and recommended the play as “an excursion in high camp.” The 1974 revival at the Fortune Theater was also applauded. The
New York Times
reviewer wrote: “Jackie Curtis can write. The star can also act, bruising friend and foe alike with tense credibility.” calling the play “… a savage, wise farce.” The
Soho Weekly News
called Jackie’s performance “… the performance of the year, in one of the scripts of the year, and Ron Link’s carefully honed direction makes it one of the productions of the year.” The
Village Voice
had high praise for Jackie’s performance as Nola Noonan: “His talent is ineffable and contradictory – he is somehow truthful and touching even when the material is trashy and patently false; he is graceful in his clumsiness, beautiful in his plainness, in control of his knockabout freedom; he plays a woman without pretending to be a woman.”

Andrew Amic-Angelo

The most challenging part of my role as Arnie the director in
Glamour, Glory and Gold
was an incredible ten-minute monologue, really a long tirade where I criticize my screen goddess Nola Noonan endlessly. I threaten her and lash out at her over and over again enumerating all her failings and she just sits there and absorbs every insult until I finally wind down and then she rises up indignantly. It is a brilliant scene. The power shifts completely to her and it really is a brilliant piece of writing.

Scene Excerpt –
Glamour, Glory and Gold: the Life and Legend of Nola Noonan, Goddess and Star
A comedy by

JACKIE CURTIS

© 1985 The Estate of Jackie Curtis

(From Act II – Arnie’s angry monologue after drunk Nola Noonan behaves outrageously on the set during filming of
Goddess of the Reich
.)

ARNY

(Bending NOLA’s arm behind her back.)

Nola, sweetie, honey, baby, darling, poopie … get this! And get it straight. Your language is costing the studio valuable prestige. This is not the old days, and it’s not like old times when Nola could come in and bitch to just anyone living … no. These are hard times. People are forming bread lines.

NOLA

(Breaking free of ARNY’s grasp)

Let ’em eat cake!

ARNY

Look at you! Take a good look at you!!

(NOLA quietly sits and listens to ARNY.)

You’re beginning to smell like a rummie … a lush. You already look like an aging character actress on her way to the glue factory. You’ve forgotten what it means to have to have continents at your pretty, pedicured, perfumed little feet. … look at those feet. Look at those fucking feet! If they’re not swollen, they’re black and blued or you got them in ace bandages so tight … I ought to slap the shit out of you and bind those fucking feet!

You’re amazing … I’ve never seen such a pig! And what do you do, Porky? You sit around on your ass all day watching
I Love Lucy
. Ah, yes. Stars are stars, and stars will have outrageous private lives … so outrageous that even I can’t keep them out of the newspapers! I warned you once. I warned you twice. I warned you three … four times after that, I remember. And yet, what does the property man find in your purse? Gin, gin, gin! Gin-soaked, rotting, smelly, sweaty Nola Noonan … how does that sound? A diseased camel smells better than you do! But you go right on, pouring that cheap, French perfume allover your clothes. It’s getting so bad I can hardly distinguish the perfume from your unbelievably offensive B.O. And I don’t mean Box Office, bitch! And when was the last time you shaved your legs? Brushed your teeth? Gargled … chewed a piece of sweet smelly tasty chew gum … and when was the last time you went to the confession, Nola?

But they say with age, there comes the closest relative: senility. Get it, sweetie? Senility’s setting in with you. Face it, Nola, you’ve had it! Even Toulouse says you’re through. You’ve changed, Nola. You’ve lost a great deal of that innocence you displayed so early in your career. … but soon replaced by a cute drinking habit.

Boy, what plans I had for you … You were gonna be big time, big top, honey! You and that schmuck sidekick of yours. I’m speechless, Nola, absolutely speechless! You turned out to be a real hard case, how do you say … a real mean motherfucker! Wow, am I hurting. Well, get this and get it straight, just in case you forgot … your silver lining is tarnished … shot.

Go on and shake, you rat bastard, drink, drink, drink, smoke, let them feel your legs up. What the fuck do you care? You’re stoned and out of your head most of the time. You can’t remember whether you’re walking on air, a tight rope, or thin ice. But I’m warning you, Nola, and I’ll be brief … watch out … just watch out … you can only push me too far before I bust. I’m a regular kind of a guy. If you’re a regular kind of a girl … Then we understand one another? Then, we do business.

Your fans don’t want to pay five bucks to see a pair of sagging tits on a smelly slob in pink sequins. Bad enough we have to put up with those friends of yours. The loudest queens in the Hollywood. Do you know what I heard the grips call your costars? “A couple of talented cocksuckers,” how do you like that? But I put up with them … why? Because your name alone on any flyer, kiosk or marquee anywhere in the world today evokes such a devastating and intoxicating spell for millions of men everywhere.