(It was Thursday the fifth of June and I had been working in the chorus
of the Casino Burlesque Theater for four days and had gained quite an education
from the chorus girls about men. They had me working on a degree in finance and
banking – learning how to figure a man's profit and loss statement. Peaches had
given me a valuable lesson in muscle control and the art of stripping, but I
was confused. As we sat at the long dressing tables, lined with bright light
bulbs and looked into the mirrors that we shared, I asked the chorus girls over
and over, "Where does love come into this?" I needed to be in love. I needed to be loved. I was sure love,
not money, nor stocks and bonds would make me happy. So, when on Thursday night
during intermission I received a note in the dressing room – my very first note
from a stage door Johnny – I was thrilled. All it said was, "You are
beautiful. Anything you want is yours. Just name it." The note was signed
Jack with a telephone number to call. I ran all over the dressing room waving
the note in the girl's faces. "Look, look," I screamed, "I can
have anything I want. I’m going to call him and ask for White Shoulders perfume
and orchids."
Honey pointed a bright red, polished fingernail at
me. "Wow kid. That must be Jack Kennedy. I heard he was in the audience
tonight in Mayor Curley's private box. He is just about the richest congressman
in D.C. Kid, you just struck it rich.
Forget about flowers and perfume. I told you they wouldn’t pay the bills. Get
diamonds, jewelry, gold, stocks and bonds, anything but flowers and perfume.
When the flowers die what have you got? A bunch of dried up old leaves."
"Yes, but I can press them and put them in the
Bible like Granny does." I had an answer for everything.
"Oh my God! She can press them and put them in
the Bible. Where have you been all these years, in a convent? Wake up. This is
the forties honey. The war is over. Women need to be independent. Take charge.
That takes money and brains. Start using your little money maker to get you
where you need to go – up!"
"I don't know. I don't think I could ever let a
man kiss me if I didn’t love him. I can't imagine selling my love to
anyone."
"Oh kid, you are hopeless,” Honey said and walked away.
I read the note over and over. I remembered Jack
Kennedy as he walked the streets of Boston. Up and down Beacon Hill to the
South End, the North End and the West End canvassing for votes. Granny and all
the family had voted for him. He was a naval hero of World War II. I couldn’t
imagine any man sending me a note like that when he could have Peaches Queen of
Shake or any one in the chorus. Why me? Why was I so special? I had to know. I tucked the note into my net
panties and dreamed all night of the handsome Jack who had written and told me
I was beautiful.
I got up early the next morning to call the number
on the note. A man answered and I asked to speak to Jack.
"This is Jack. Who's calling?" His voice
made my knees weak.
"Lily Ann Rose. I received your note at the
casino last night. Do you remember me?” I tried to keep my voice from
trembling.
"How could I forget you, beautiful girl,"
he answered. “I won't be in town much longer. Where do you live? I can send a
car for you right now. How about it?”
My heart
pounded – my mind raced. What’ll I wear? What’ll I say? What’ll I do? What if
he doesn't like me? What, what, what? My head was spinning. Jack Kennedy wants
me. Jack Kennedy thinks I’m beautiful. Six months before my fifteenth birthday,
one week after my debut in burlesque at the Casino Theater, and already I was
in love with the most handsome man in Boston, Jack Kennedy.” I said. “We have four shows and no breaks. I
can meet you after the last show."
I was afraid he could hear my heartbeat over the telephone.
"My driver will pick you up at the stage
door," he said and hung up.
All day was a blur. I thought the night would never
end. Every act, every scene, went on and on. It seemed that every stripper
would be on stage forever. I didn't say a word to the girls because I knew they
would hound me about stocks and bonds and jewelry. What did they know about
love? This man was in love with me. I was in love with him. It would be the
most beautiful moment in my life. I knew he would change my life forever. He
would make me his own, and I would be his. Jack would carry me away in his big
black sedan. What do these chorus girls know about love? All they know is
stocks and bonds and a man's financial worth. I have found true love.
After the finale, I slithered into a black strapless
dress with thin black straps that crisscrossed over my neck and tied in back. I
touched up my make-up and shadowed my blue eyes until they looked like pansies
and brushed my hair until it shined half way down my back but left the
pompadour that swept up over my arched darkened eyebrows. Gold earrings, the
longest ones I could find in my jewel box, dangled from my ears. I left my net
panties on and my bra off and rouged the curve of my breasts so he would be
sure to notice how firm and pointed they were. I had made a mental note that my
breasts were more perfect than the other girls in the chorus. I wanted him to
fall in love with me as I