Long Legs and Tall Tales: A Showgirl's Wacky, Sexy Journey to the Playboy Mansion and the Radio City Rockettes (51 page)

During one show, our littlest little person surprised Mary and Joseph by hiding in the wooden manger that was supposed to hold their baby Jesus. They had to keep a straight face the entire number while he was goading them. They had to gaze upon him as if he were their beloved son, while he was making goofy faces. They had to keep from laughing for what seemed like an eternity. Now that was a miracle. The rest of the cast was dying with laughter knowing that Mary and Joseph were in a sticky situation.

After the previous scene, the gold, red, and blue courts walked across stage as if on their way to see the Christ child. This part was extra special, because it was when the camels made their first appearance. We’d be waiting in the wings for our entrance and feel the draft of the cold air wafting through the loading dock, as the three camels were ushered from their pens outside into the backstage area. There was one camel for each of the three royal court processionals, and they and their handlers were dressed in costumes to match their assigned court. 

It was bizarre and awesome to be standing right next to a real camel and to be performing in the same show. We were not allowed to mess with the animals backstage for fear of spooking them, and they were usually well behaved if we left them alone. But one night, one of the more daring Rockettes decided she wanted to ride one. She fell off and was nearly knocked unconscious. That squelched any dreams of wild camel races.

Again, we had to be aware of camel patties as we followed in the camels’ footsteps from stage left to right. Once we reached the opposite side of the stage, we had to run like crazy to exit the theatre and reenter through the back of the house, where we would pass through the audience and march up the stairs to the stage to stand before the Christ child behind our respective kings and queens. All the courtesans knelt on the floor as the lights went out, and video screens dropped down for a reading of “One Solitary Life”—a short but moving summary of the story of how Jesus’s one, humble, solitary life was more powerful than all the armies and kings of the world. This is the time when we cast members could plan our grocery lists, think about what to buy our families for Christmas, or even close our eyes and take a short siesta.

Almost every night, on cue, as soon as the lights dimmed, one of the camels would relieve himself right on stage. As you probably know, camels can store some serious water. I don’t know what moved that humpbacked mammal to empty his bladder at that very moment, but that is what he did without fail. Gross! Anyone in the puddle’s path would try to walk around it without diverting too much from the choreography. The last thing you wanted was your gown trailing through a pool of camel piddle. It seemed sacrilegious to be dodging urine and excrement during the most sacred part of the show, but I guess that’s part of the point—Jesus came to teach us how to deal with the dung of life and still experience heaven by putting our faith in him.

After we bowed in respect as the kings presented their gifts to the Christ child, we took our final pose—a stunning snapshot of the three kings, their extra-long, regal capes extended behind them on the floor, the three queens, and the courtesans standing to honor baby Jesus who, flanked by his proud parents, was still sleeping in the manger on the top of the mountain, unaware that he was going to change the world. It was a tear-jerking moment. 

I was really proud of our show, and my family was really proud of me. As soon as I found out that I was selected to be a Rockette, my family quickly started making plans to come see me in Branson. My sisters, grandmothers, parents, aunts, and uncles traveled days to be there. They seemed as excited as I was. My grandmothers even submitted photos and articles to their local newspapers about me being in the show. One of the best benefits of performing was the many family gatherings it spawned all over the country that would have otherwise not taken place. It was wonderful to perform for an audience of strangers but even more fantastic to perform for the people who loved me.

*******

Our spectacular show called for spectacular promotions. It would have been more fun to do publicity and media events, which were a relatively new experience for me, if I weren’t so completely exhausted and uptight about the show. A publicity expert from New York flew in to give us media training during which we had to learn sound bites and pat answers to reporters’ questions about the show and the history of the Rockettes. More memorization. “Make sure you are in control of the interview and always bring it back around to ‘the
Radio City Christmas Spectacular
starring the Radio City Rockettes at the Grand Palace running now through December 23rd,’” our trainer instructed us. Thankfully, most of the important interviews were given to the veterans, so we newbies could get our act together. 

There always seemed to be a radio, TV, magazine, or newspaper interview happening as well as photo shoots and publicity events. Sometimes reporters photographed us during rehearsals, so we had to be looking and acting our best even then. For the majority of our publicity events we wore our snowball costumes from our opening number.

After every show, a couple of Rockettes, dressed in snowball costumes, were assigned to “Meet and Greet” (sign autographs, schmooze, and have our pictures taken) with patrons in the lobby. The people were thrilled to talk to us in person. We were truly stars in Branson. “Where do you perform the rest of the year?” they’d ask. They couldn’t understand that we all went our separate ways and scrounged for work. We were rich (for dancers) at Christmas, but the rest of the year we may starve! 

One of our grandest publicity events was kicking off the Branson Area Festival of Lights with a Christmas tree lighting ceremony on the steps of the Grand Palace. The official switch was thrown by none other than the great comedian and humanitarian Bob Hope. The ninety-two-year-old entertainer arrived in a tinseled golf cart, to the delight of the fans. Along with famous singers Anita Bryant and Tony Orlando, the Rockettes hosted the event with Mr. Hope in front of a crowd of about 5,500 people. It was an honor to be paired with this legendary showman. I remembered watching both Bob Hope and Tony Orlando on television when I was young. Of course, the papers published wonderful publicity shots of the event, including one of us doing our kickline in front of the theatre. 

Our most large-scale publicity event, however, was performing “Sticks” for the St. Louis Thanksgiving Day parade—not exactly the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade in New York City, but a big deal in this part of the Midwest all the same. Plus, we got paid a good chunk of change for doing it. The downside was that just when we had some sort of control over our bodies and the choreography, we had to learn a slightly different version of the number for the parade. The choreo was different enough to really mess us up. Since our every mistake would be aired on television for all to see, the stakes were high for a clean performance. I coddled, cajoled, and then downright threatened my brain and body to remember the new information while keeping the old in storage for later use. I can’t begin to describe the pressure.

As if our schedule wasn’t full enough already, the night before Thanksgiving we were shuttled to St. Louis after our Wednesday evening show. We rode the bus for five hours overnight, got to the hotel in St. Louis, and slept a few hours, only to arise at five a.m. to be transported to the parade site. We performed, got back on the bus by about nine a.m., and returned to Branson just in time to do two Thanksgiving shows. We were so tired, we could have slept standing up. 

It was a bitterly cold winter day, and we weren’t exactly dressed for it. Our costumes—skimpy white leotards with legs covered in nothing more than paper-thin tights—may have been bikinis for all the warmth they provided. Julie was terrified that we would get injured trying to do high kicks with frozen muscles, so she kept us bundled up in winter clothes and warmly tucked inside a nearby building whenever possible. 

When our time came to rehearse, we were escorted to our performance space—a section of the street along the parade route. Stiff with sweats and coats and hats and mittens and scarves, we marked our moves on the temporary chalk lines and portable number line that had been set up so we could keep our formations clean and precise. Sometimes we had to use cracks in the street as a guideline or just fend for ourselves in trying to keep our lines straight. 

The street was bumpy and uneven making it extra treacherous, hard to turn on, and easy for tripping. It was far from ideal performance condition, but we did the best we could to make it work. Then we scurried back into the building to thaw out a bit before we’d have to do it for real in costume.

At the last minute, when we were to perform, we dropped our winter clothing and ran outside in our little leotards. My fingers were so numb I could barely move them let alone twirl a drumstick. Our saliva froze our lips to our teeth, and we couldn’t smile unless we smeared Vaseline on our pearly whites. I struggled to keep my choppers from chattering. We were Rockettes on ice.

As painful as the experience was for us, it was nearly as painful for the cameraman as well. He crouched down to get a leg shot while we were kicking and barely missed getting walloped in the head. I was relieved when it was over, and I hadn't made a mortal mistake or killed the cameraman. Finally I could dump that goofy choreography out of my brain so I could perform the regular shows later that day without having to keep straight which version I was supposed to be doing.

While dancing half naked on the frozen tundra wasn’t really my idea of a good time, it was exciting to be there for the festivities, and some of the girls got to ride in a limo on the parade route and wave to the crowd. I wished we could stay and see more of St. Louis than just the hotel and the street, but we had to get back to Branson in time for our shows. I did manage to get a photo of the famous St. Louis arch on our drive out of the city.

Since we had to work all day, the company was nice enough to throw us a Thanksgiving dinner party (including turkey and all the trimmings) at a local steak house after our last show, which ended about ten p.m. It was better to pig out when we had overnight to digest than it would have been to perform looking and feeling like stuffed turkeys. These couple of days had been crazy and exhausting, but I truly had reasons to be thankful.

My favorite publicity promotion was our photo and article in the magazine
Midwest Living
. We were all lined up on the grand spiral staircase in the lobby of the theatre in our sexy snowball costumes. Appearing in a gorgeous picture spread in a national publication was so exciting! 

Naturally, with every P.R. event it was fun to be the one featured. We all scrambled to see how we ended up looking in the photos and hoped each photo was flattering. If we looked fantastic, the bigger the shot, the better. If we looked pudgy or ugly, we wished to God we hadn’t been captured on film. Photos could go either way, and it was always a gamble.

*******

Ron kept fairly busy ushering at the theatre while I was working, which was good, because our work schedules were pretty much in sync. Ron’s job wasn’t particularly challenging for him, but it gave him something to do and brought us in a little bit more cash. Plus he got to watch the show for free. Over and over and over again. He knew the show better than I did. Ron used to tell people seated in the front row, “Make sure you duck when the Rockettes kick, or you might get kicked in the head.” Of course, it wasn’t true, but joking with people made his job more entertaining. 

Our condos were so close to the theatre that we could walk to work, and I often did. At the backstage entrance, I’d flash my laminated
Radio City Christmas Spectacular
backstage “ALL ACCESS” V.I.P. pass that hung on a lanyard around my neck. Having a badge that says “I am a very important person and can go wherever I want” was quite the novelty and made me feel extra special. Backstage, the Rockettes were separated into two dressing rooms: The nine stage left girls were in one room and the nine stage right girls were in the other. Because of these logistics I got to know the stage left girls I danced next to better than the others. It was harder for me to make friends, however, because I was also nurturing my new marriage and not rooming with another Rockette.

Ron and I did mix and mingle at the occasional cast parties—both preplanned, lovely restaurant gatherings sponsored by Radio City and/or our producer and spontaneous soirees hosted by cast members in their condos. The little people threw the wildest parties and could drink a big person under the table. One little person favored wearing a Scottish kilt in the traditional fashion (underwear optional) and could be counted on to flip it up and flash us as the night went on. Showbiz parties encouraged wildness and wackiness. Everyone was expected to kiss and hug each other and tell them how hot they looked. It was well within good manners to dance with total abandon and be a goofball and make everyone laugh. No one cared if a cast member dressed overly crazily or wore a funny hat. The more entertaining and attention-getting the better. Zaniness was encouraged. With performers, practically
everyone
was capable of being the life of the party.

Otherwise on my off time, I felt I needed to spend alone time with Ron. We didn’t have a lot of free time anyway—Monday was our only day off; on the other days we had an afternoon show and an evening show. A few weekends we even did three shows in one day. Sometimes we also had publicity events. Still, Ron and I managed to make the most of what little time we did have. We took in as much of Branson as we could, and there was a lot to take in.