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Kurt Mann Collection - The Story

The Kurt Mann Story

I was born and raised on Long Island, openly and proudly out, even in those dark days before Stonewall.The first time I saw the Jewel Box Revue was in January of 1967. A friend drove us into Manhattan to theApollo Theatre. I was a bit nervous going up to Harlem, needlessly, as it turned out. I was most impressedwith the caliber of the show. It was huge and colorful, a spectacular display of beads and feathers. Theperformers were talented and professional. Afterward my friend hosted a party in his home and I metDanny Brown and Doc Benner socially. Doc was smallish and very business-like, with a neat pencil linemoustache. Danny was grander and more flamboyant. From a bit of a distance he cut quite a figure, aslightly Cesar Romero type. Close up was a different story. He wore a lot of heavy makeup and glue-onhairpieces on the sides where, reportedly, a bad facelift had gone wrong, leaving severe scar tissue. Hehad a brilliantly bitchy sense of humor. Doc, too, had a wicked sense of humor but was more reserved. Iliked them both. I always assumed that they were, or had been, lovers, but never found out for sure.

Sometime later I was out at a local Gay dance bar called The Bay Shore Health Club. This was a straighthealth club by day and a wildly popular Gay bar at night. It was during that period when New York's MayorWagner was closing the city's bars and many guys came out to the island. The place was run by theowner, named Joe, and his wonderfully bosomy, blowsy girlfriend Anita, who for some reason called me"Giselle". I never knew why. They knew they had a goldmine. There, one night, I was introduced to a mannamed Paul Owsley, who had been watching me dance. He suggested that I come and audition for theJewel Box as a chorus girl. I was flattered but told him I already had a job working at Pilgrim StateHospital.

In June of 1967 the Bay Shore Health Club was putting on an amateur drag show and I had agreed to takepart. I remember the date because it was to be the same night that Barbra Streisand was performing inCentral Park and I was irritated that I could not go. Already a trouper. There were about ten of us in theshow, but only two of us actually performed live acts, the others worked to recordings. I did myimpression of Phyllis Diller and was well received. Afterward, someone came backstage and told me thatDanny and Doc were out front and wanted to see me. I thought it was a joke, but, sure enough, there theyindeed were. They told me that they liked what I had done and that I worked clean, as opposed to the otheract who was pretty raunchy. They asked if I would be interested in joining the Revue. I was kind of thrilledand gave them my number. They said they would call.

I waited for what seemed like an eternity for them to call. Finally, a month later, in July of 1967, they did.They asked if I would come up and join the touring company in Albany, New York. I wanted to get a leaveof absence from the hospital, in case things didn't turn out well. It was denied so I quit my job and hoppeda Greyhound. I found it amusing that, not long before, Paul Owsley had asked me to audition for thechorus and now I had been hired as a featured performer. I'd just turned 20.

A Little Backstory: It seems that Danny and Doc had recently had a bit of a dust-up with their star LynneCarter. Lynne was an extraordinarily talented performer. He'd auditioned once for the chorus and was toldhe was too ugly. "Just you wait", he reportedly said, "I'll be back in your show one day...as the star!" Andso it came to be. I don't know what their disagreement was about but I heard that Lynne had thrown a chairat Danny Brown and had been fired. I was to attempt to fill Lynne's pumps as comic. I only met LynneCarter once, outside the famous Everard Baths on West 28th Street. When he heard who I was he coollyturned and walked away.

The show was playing a small club called Scandurra's Latin Club and that is where I met them. Beforeleaving Long Island well-intentioned friends warned me about the nature of drag queens. Trust no one,they are evil and vindictive. I can assure you that, with a few exceptions, this was not my experience. Iknew quite literally nothing when I arrived and they collectively took me under their wings. They gave mehair and makeup to get me started. They taught me tricks of the trade such as blocking out one's

eyebrows and tucking away the genitalia. Everything. Chorus "girl" Nicki Valdez patiently sat with me andhelped apply my makeup. Having met them all that afternoon out of drag it took a while before I couldrecognize them in full regalia.

A Pet Peeve: Although "A Chorus Line" is one of my all-time favorite shows, I've always bridled at theportrayal of the character Paul. That may have been Nick Dante's experience but I doubt it. It certainlywasn't mine and I found it to be absolute bullshit, even if it was only dramatic license. I never met Nick butRobin and Bobby knew him and they also questioned his veracity.

My opening night arrived and I was terrified. The show was a pared down version of the one I'd recentlyseen at the Apollo. The band (piano, bass, trumpet, sax and drums), struck up Duke Ellington's "SatinDoll," the standard overture for our nightclub dates. The opening number was The Ziegfeld Production.Kirk Wilde and Sid Marshall, our male dancers, came out and sang an original song called "You Can't Do AShow Without Girls." Then came the showgirl parade: "A Pretty Girl Is Like A Melody" (Robin Rogers inpurple); "You Are Beautiful" (Bobby Barton in green); "Lovely To Look At" (Chris Moore in pink); "The LadyIn Red" (Gigi Duvall in, well, red), etc. I came out in a red, sequined bikini with a red and white featheredtail and headdress to "You Belong To My Heart (Solamente Una Vez)." The club was packed andappreciative. Robin's act never failed to bring down the house. He would come out in an enormous duster,encrusted in beads and adorned with feathers. He sang in a clear, soprano voice. The second number hesang was "The Masquerade Is Over." Halfway through he would tear off the duster and his wig, revealinghis short hair and tuxedo. This was years before "Victor / Victoria." He would then switch his voice to arich baritone. Always a crowd pleaser. Bobby Barton was a stripper. Chris Moore did Ethel Merman. I didPhyllis Diller. Our star was Mal Michaels, a talented performer with long hair and hormone breasts, usuallya big no-no with Danny and Doc, but the drag world was slowly beginning to change. Mal was openlyunhappy touring and particularly detested Albany. He would walk down the street late at night shoutingepithets and flashing his breasts. On stage he would also put down the city, which he called Albania, andit's denizens. This displeased the management and the audience. He soon left and his spot was filled byour emcee Ronnie Paige.

The middle production number was a two-parter. We started out in period costumes doing "Frankie andJohnny," danced by Bobby Barton and Kirk Wilde, which then segued into "The Swinging ShepherdBlues," danced by Sid Marshall and Nicki Valdez. It lead to Bobby and Nicki having a catfight, ending in agunshot. Robin then came out in a mini dress and sand "You've Gotta Keep Up With The Times" ("What'snew at the discotheques? What's the latest thing in sex? You've gotta keep up with the times!") It thenbecame a disco number. I had a dance solo in a red fringed dress that always got applause.

The finale was "The Oriental." Bobby, Kirk and Sid danced to "Caravan." One slow night they did it in tapshoes and it was a scream. Ann Miller, eat your heart out. Robin then sang "Stranger In Paradise" for theshowgirl parade. Once during the parade our stage manager and lighting man, Bob White, put on a purered spotlight. Like vampires facing the morning sun we turned our backs en masse as red light notoriouslylet's ones beard show through the greasepaint.

An Aside: The Jewel Box Revue, unlike many female impersonation shows of today, hired only acts thatworked live. You had to really sing or speak...No lip-synching allowed.

As Gay icons of the day, we were often invited places. In Albany I remember a Gay bar called the Shangri-La. It had a jukebox you talked to, and it would answer you back. You could make requests anddedications. I requested Ethel Merman doing "There's No Business Like Show Business," dedicated fromPhyllis Diller to the cast of the Jewel Box Revue. Pretty corny, eh? One night a gang of toughs walked inand became surly. Without a word we all casually picked up our beer bottles by their necks, we did notlook like showgirls. The toughs meekly departed. This was before Gay Lib.

The tour continued...Syracuse (Andre's Tic-Toc Club); Rochester (Club El Marrocco); Buffalo (McVan'sSupper Club); Baltimore (Mardi Gras Supper Club). Along the way Gigi Duvall left and I was elevated toThe Lady In Red in the opening parade. I liked the costume much better. It had a voluminous cape with ared feathered and sequined shawl-type collar. It was to be the beginning of my lifelong challenge withwardrobe to trip over. At Baltimore's Mardi Gras we followed risqué comedienne Belle Barth and were heldover because country star Merle Haggard had canceled.

It was soon time to return to New York and begin rehearsing the new production for the Apollo. Robin and

Bobby found me a place at the Landseer Hotel on West 51 Street where they lived. It was, and perhaps stillis, next to the former Mark Hellinger Theatre's stage door. They had a neighbor who was a bit of a busybody named Ruth Hamilton. She'd been a vaudevillian and was the original model for head of theColumbia Pictures logo. The daytime desk clerk was Billy Daye, who had once been with the Jewel Boxdoing Billie Holliday. There was another lovely lady working there who had been a real life Ziegfeld Girland was the model for Psyche the White Rock fairy. Ah, New York!

Whenever the Jewel Box Revue returned to the Apollo Theatre on 125th Street Danny and Doc would hire ablack headliner and more black acts. Whether this was their idea or a request from the theatre'smanagement I don't know. I've always been irked that histories of this theatre neglect the impact of theJewel Box, as if it was something to be ashamed of. The audiences there loved us and came back againand again. The Jewel Box was the only show, at that time, black or white, to play for more than two weeks.The last time I was there we played for four weeks! This time they brought back singer / comedian DodieDaniels as headliner, Don Marshall as an exotic dancer and more male dancers and chorus girls. Asmentioned before, the Apollo show was a spectacle.

By the time I came along it was no longer necessary to apply for a cabaret license. This had long been arequirement by the City of New York for workers in nightclubs, to verify that they were of legal age andwithout a criminal record. I did, however, have to join the union which, in the Jewel Box Revue's case wasthe American Guild of Variety Artists. This was the lowest rung on the theatrical union ladder, coveringthings like the circus, the Rockettes and us. I don't even know if this branch still exists, or if it has beenabsorbed into one of the larger unions. I joined, I paid my dues and thereby officially became KurtMann. As for my name...Kurt is my real middle name and Mann is the last half of my real last name. I toyedwith cutsie-pie androgynous names like Kay, but decided against it.

Rehearsals began at the Jerry Leroy Studio on Eighth Avenue. This was a renowned rehearsal spacewhere you could have the Jewel Box in one room, Flamenco dancers in another and Bob Fosse in yetanother. Here is where I first met the legendary Storme De Larverie, a Jewel Box veteran and the only girlin the show known as "25 Men and a Girl". Of course, she performed in male drag. She was a terrificsinger and one particular favorite of mine was her version of "I'm Beginning To See The Light." She was agood friend to Robin and Bobby and became one to me as well. She had a slight tendency tohypochondria, which came in handy if you weren't feeling well. She knew the cure. She helped me outwhen I had a brush with hepatitis. I was told that she would sometimes wear a brace on her leg that shecalled "Jonah", but I never saw that.

We must have really been a sight, a motley crew of often unshaven men in tights and heels paradingabout to the sounds of a rinky tink rehearsal piano. Occasionally we'd sit about as newbies, I now also aveteran, would audition.

Rehearsals went smoothly. This edition of the show was being billed as the Silver Anniversary Edition,even if it was actually more like the 30th anniversary. There would be a black and white opening, a middleproduction in Hell and the Silver Jubilee finale.

After several weeks rehearsal finally moved up to the space beneath the Apollo Theatre itself. Here we firstheard the musical arrangements played in full by Reuben Phillips and his Orchestra. Wow! What adifference. How exciting.

Soon it was January 1968...Opening Night! Actually opening day, since we did matinees. That weekend wewould do eleven shows. Three on Friday and four each on Saturday and Sunday. Is it any wonder thatRobin and I were always getting laryngitis? We would do a show, which was followed by a movie, thenanother show, etc. The movie this time was a western called "Seven Ways From Sundown" starring AudieMurphy. The movies were usually awful. Danny and Doc tried to get the rights to "Some Like It Hot," to noavail.

I digress...Drum Roll...The Black and White Opening had us all looking like right idiots in tuxedos, with fullmakeup but no lipstick and no wigs. We sang and danced to "You Can't Do A Show Without Girls." As thechorus boys and girls danced, we showgirls had to rush off and quickly change costume, adding lips andhair. I actually missed my opening parade because my costume had a side zipper that came apart like ajacket zipper and I couldn't get it on and there was no one there to help me. This was fixed while the moviewas on and I successfully made my change at the second show. My costume was quite beautiful. I had

good legs so they made me a sequined leotard with a Grecian drape of black and white chiffon. My hatwas a tall cone wrapped in black, white and gray chiffon that trailed out for yards behind me. Cascadingdown the hat like a cornucopia, and also on my left hip, were large bunches of black grapes. This becameknown as my Grapes of Wrath costume. I didn't need to wear a wig as the hat fit like a turban. I merelycombed my own hair down in bangs. The showgirls paraded to the song "You Stepped Out Of A Dream"(from "Ziegfeld Girl"), as we descended high flights of stairs escorted by the Gentlemen of the Jewel Box.

My act as Phyllis Diller closed the first half of the show. Storme made my introduction thusly: "And now,ladies and gentlemen, a young man who does a brilliant impression of one of the most beautiful and sexystars in all of Hollywood...Mr. Kurt Mann". The orchestra struck up Hooray For Hollywood as I ran out likegangbusters. The audience, expecting something else entirely, would roar with laughter. I'd run about abit, blowing kisses, and finally stop at the microphone and let out a raucous Diller laugh. It went well.

For the middle production number Danny and Doc had purchased six large black lights. The number tookplace in Hell. Robin came out and sang Irving Berlin's "Pack Your Sins And Go To The Devil"...Theshowgirls paraded to "Temptation"...and then Paris Todd and the chorus danced to "The Ritual FireDance." The stage was completely dark, lit only by the glow of our costumes and four large fans that blewtattered strips of day-glo material simulating flames. Some of us chose to wear blonde hair that would alsoglow in the dark. Again I was in a leotard wearing day-glo pink tights. The audience loved it and, frankly, sodid I. Sadly, no photographs exist due to the nature of the lighting.

The finale was the big 25th Anniversary Silver Jubilee. For some reason I cannot remember any of themusic or what we did. I do know that the costumes were all silver and white and absolutely dazzling. I wasin a silver sequined leotard with yards of flowing white fabric trimmed in silver, my hat was a huge puff ofwhite marabou with crystals and small round mirrors across the front. I also had long strips of the crystalbeads and mirrors hanging from my hips.

Between shows we usually had about two hours to kill. Danny and Doc let us leave the theatre with thestipulation that we wear sunglasses and remove our lipstick. The dark glasses remained only until we hitthe street. Locals knew who we were, I mean, how could they not. We were a bunch of boys, some of uswhite, in makeup and lashes walking 125th Street. There was a bar on Amsterdam Avenue we wouldfrequent, careful not to get shitfaced before the next show.

We played the Apollo for two weeks and then it was time for a short break before once again hitting theroad.

The Jewel Box Revue was always advertised as "25 Men and a Girl", and perhaps at one time it was thatbig. I think the most we had while I was there were about 18, still quite a large cast.

Robin Rogers, Bobby Barton and I had become very close friends, sort of a Gay three musketeers. Wewere almost always together, carousing around town. One of our favorite places in New York was thelegendary theatre bar on West 48 Street called Big Spender. The clientele consisted mostly of theatrepeople, actors and gypsies. We fit right in. They treated us so well that we gave them a giant framed blow-up of us as the Big Spender girls. It was extremely popular. Bobby and I would also sometimes cruiseCentral Park West together. We'd walk up, separate, do whatever, meet up and walk home. Such sluts.

Between us Robin was the older and had been with the show the longest. He was of Dutch and Cherokeedescent and was originally from Hoboken, NJ. He'd also served in the Navy. Bobby came from a smallfarming community in Pennsylvania. Two of his sisters had been Radio City Music Hall Rockettes. At age20 I was the baby.

My next best friend in the show would have to have been Chris Moore. He was probably about 50 yearsold at the time and had been with the Merchant Marines. He used a special heavy makeup to cover thetattoo on his upper arm. Besides Merman he also did a wonderful Dietrich and, of all people, Alice Faye.He was blind as a bat and wore the proverbial coke bottle glasses. This sometimes presented a problem.Once the Jewel Box played the old Fox Theatre in Detroit. This place was enormous, only slightly smallerthan New York's Radio City Music Hall. The stage was vast and, one night, as he was making his entrance,the huge velvet show curtain wrapped around him in the darkness and dragged him off stage. The theatrewas so big that there was an elevator to the dressing rooms. Our show hats often had feathers supportedby wires. Chris was quite tall and as he got onto the elevator one afternoon the wire from his hat went into

an empty light socket frying the feathers and giving him quite a jolt. I don't know if it was the wig or theheels that saved him. His favorite expression for nearly any occasion was "Mary, how evil!"...Or, if hecouldn't find something he'd ring out with "Mop queen faggots!", meaning it in the kindest possible way.

So once again we hit the road.

- McVan's Supper Club in Buffalo, NY... Lovingly called a Bucket of Blood it was quite literally where "theunderworld can meet the elite".

- The Hawaiian Lounge in Montreal...We rarely played Gay venues but here we were. Bobby fell in love witha Latino named Leon and I fell for a French Canadian hockey player named Alain. There was another Gaybar downstairs called Bud's where we regularly got plotzed on our days off.

- The Blue Orchid in Toronto...This was a converted movie theatre. The downstairs, where we worked, wasa nightclub, the old balcony was a country western saloon. The dressing rooms were miniscule so wewere allowed to come out into the room between shows. Danny Brown hated this. We would sneakupstairs to the CW bar. The guys thought we were whores, gigantic, painted whores. The barmaid of theBlue Orchid was a pretty blonde from Scandinavia named Eva. She developed quite a thing for Bobby andhe had a small affair with her.

- Club Venus in Baltimore...I got tossed from the YMCA for fooling around in the showers and had to moveto the Albion Hotel where the others were. Here we had a new act who did Carol Channing, badly. I forgethis name, he wasn't around for long.

The Lambertville Music Circus in New Jersey...Literally a tent with a turntable stage in the round.

The Howard Theatre in Washington, DC. ...Similar to the Apollo, but smaller.

Jenning's Rose Room in Atlanta...We performed on the dance floor with the band on an elevated platformat the back. Opening day the cleaning service had waxed the wooden floor to a high gloss. During theopening number we started slipping and sliding. Several fell. I fell, landing in a confusion of red turkeyfeathers, my wig and hat in my lap, my gown torn up the back. There were several steps at the back risingto the platform where there was a flimsy curtain between us and the boys in the band. At one point I had toclimb to the top step and pose. Another night I lost my footing and there was nothing to grab onto but thegauzy curtain. I partially disappeared behind the steps, torn curtain in hand, gown again ripped up theback. A real trouper, I finished the number in my tattered dress, with shredded hose and a bleeding leg.How undignified! It was, however, fun, it was exciting and I was now 21.

Another memory...Summer 1969, we played the Around The World Room of the President Hotel in AtlanticCity. It was one of the rainiest seasons on record so we had lots of free time. This was the summer of themoon landing which we watched in the lobby of our hotel. Due to the rain we were often only required todo only one show a night instead of two. The rest of the time we caroused in the Gay bars on New YorkAvenue. Our favorites were the Chez Paree and Ciel's Saratoga. One night we were joined at Chez Paree bymembers of the Ice Capades who had just opened at the convention center. We sent them drinks towelcome them to town. When they heard who the drinks had come from they laughed snidely, turned uptheir noses and hit the dance floor. Robin had to be physically restrained from clocking Billy Chapel, afeatured skater. Fortunately they didn't stay long. They were there for a week but we never saw them again.Another night we met Edie Adams at Ciel's Saratoga. She was in town doing Mame and the cast had earliercome to see our show. She was introduced to us by an actress named Sandy Sprung and was so wastedshe could barely hold her face up from her plate of spaghetti.

Between club dates Danny and Doc would sometimes send out small tab versions of the show. One suchdate had Bobby Barton, Chris Moore and myself booked into the Club Inferno in Utica, NY. We werebasically on our own. It was a good experience for me and a time to stretch a bit. Bobby stripped, Chrisdid Ethel Merman and I was the Master (Mistress?) of Ceremonies as well as a headliner. I got to sing a bitas we opened with a patter song called "Don't Be A Woman If You Can" from a 1946 show called "ParkAvenue." I sang the part about choosing a nail polish and remember it perfectly to this day. I loved it. I alsodid my Phyllis Diller but was able to sprinkle in a little Bette Davis and Marlene Dietrich. The club wassmall but the patrons appreciative. One gentleman, in particular, took a shine to me. He thought I lookedlike a "tough broad". He gave me his name but I didn't recognize it. He later became a famous sport'sfigure, as a player and a commentator, and I'd had him in the front seat of his car in the middle of a soccer

field in Utica, NY. He is now deceased but shall remain nameless out of respect for his family.

There was also a small club in Congers, NY called Fran Bell's that would invite us to come perform. Iworked there with Robin, Bobby and a female stripper named Micki Martin. What a tough piece of workshe was. The club's clientele was mostly lesbian and they enjoyed us. In the "Small WorldDepartment"...Many years later, after I retired and moved to Fort Lauderdale, I became good, close friendswith a man named Peter Fremed. It turns out he quite often would drive Robin, Bobby and others from thecity up to Fran Bell's. How we never met at the time I'll never know.

Time does indeed fly and it was soon back to Jerry Leroy's and the beginning of rehearsals for the Apollo.Over the years we were honored to have several theatrical notables come in to stage the show. Theprevious year had been Broadway dancer Danny Joel and the future would bring Ted Cappy, who laterwould coordinate the tap routines for Ruby Keeler and others in the Broadway revival of "No, No,Nanette"...Bill Bradley, who had not only done Broadway, but had worked as assistant to Richard Barstowfor the Ringling Brothers and Barnum and Bailey Circus, ultimately taking over the directioncompletely...However, my personal favorite was Rudy Tronto, who had appeared on Broadway many timesand would be nominated for a Tony Award for choreographing "Sugar Babies" starring Ann Miller andMickey Rooney.

The new show was to open with a big number reusing the silver and white costumes from the anniversaryshow. They were beginning to look a little shabby up close but probably looked alright past the third row.Again, I cannot remember what the music was.

One highlight was the number "You Gotta Have A Gimmick" from "Gypsy," with Robin as Tessie Tura,Dodie as Mazeppa and Chris as Electra. Robin learned to stand en pointe in toe shoes and Dodie learnedto play a trumpet. A big hit.

Once again taking advantage of the black lights, the middle production took place under the sea. Robinsang "Ebb Tide" and Paris Todd and his sea nymphs danced a ballet to "Clair de Lune." We showgirlsdidn't have to parade as we were saddled with enormous stuffed mermaid tails. I'm sure it was wonderfullooking from out front and the audience loved it. I frankly thought it was slow and just a little boring.

The finale was French. It opened with us all singing and dancing in front of a huge painted backdrop of anocean liner. The song was George Gershwin's "Bon Jour, Paris" from "Funny Face" and we were dressedlike vacationing secretaries and school marms. This segued to Dodie Daniels singing about going to Paristo buy a gown. Then came a sensational singer, new to the show, named Carroll Durrell who sang "ThinkPink," also from "Funny Face." Carroll sang like Aretha and had earlier brought down the house. I wasgiven a bit as well. I was to come out and sing "Ta Ra Ra Boom De Ray." Absolutely nothing had beenstaged so I ran about singing and turning cartwheels...The segment was cut after the first show. Theshowgirl parade was all red and gold. Frank Page had once again outdone himself with the costumes. Itbegan with "I Love Paris"...Bobby Barton, Chris Moore, Don Marshall. Then the music changed. There wasa sort of fanfare and they went into a raunchy, burlesque style version of "Stairway To Paradise." I enteredon the fanfare and did the first part of the music, about 16 bars. Since I was probably the shortest of theshowgirls, and certainly not the prettiest, it was great fun to have something distinctive to do. After theparade came a wild "Can-Can"...Slow curtain.

Over time I had become more seasoned and before opening at the Apollo I decided to have some newcostumes done. There was one very dear cast member named Bruno, billed as Bruno Le Fantastique hedid a sterling half man / half woman seduction act that was absolutely brilliant. In his off time he madecostumes. I had him make up a stiff, sort of rice papery, pinafore with blue sequined appliqués, a wildlymulticolored mini-dress and a gold satin coat with a hot pink satin lining and beaded fighting cocks on thefront. How unspeakably chic. My act was more polished but I still had Storme do the "glamour"introduction. As before, I would run wildly about, stop at the mic and begin with Phyllis Diller's raucouslaugh.

While at the Apollo, Danny and Doc told us of a proposed European tour. We were thrilled. We would openin Germany and travel the continent. It would include a side trip to Japan for a television show. It wouldhave been a breeze for me as my act was a talking act and I would only need to do the productionnumbers. It was said that Danny and Doc asked for too much money and the deal fell through. It wouldtake me another decade or so to make it across the pond.

January of 1970 would mark my last appearance at the famous Apollo Theatre, but it would be for a recordbreaking four weeks. I can't remember what the opening production was but the middle number was ablast, and it was my suggestion. The movie version of "Sweet Charity" had recently opened and Isuggested that we do the "Big Spender" number. I've always been a tart at heart. It was so much fun andthe audience loved it. The number opened in one. From opposite sides of the stage we wheeled out ourrailings. Bobby Barton and me on one side, Brandy Alexander and Toni Lee on the other. Robin walkedbetween us singing the song. We were dressed in wildly psychedelic colors and Afro wigs. The curtainthen opened on the entire cast and we did "Rhythm of Life," halfway through it the stage went to blacklight.

The finale was Mexican. Although the Jewel Box Revue was always advertised as "25 Men and a Girl"there were never that many during my tenure. Usually Storme was the girl, dressed as a man, of course.For the Mexican Finale another woman was hired. Her name was Ruth Hermine, of Hermine's Midgets.They also rented a sweet little burro named Barbara. The number opened with us all milling about singingsomething called "Taco," about a little burro. Dodie entered riding Barbara. Dodie was terrified of Barbaraand the burro knew it and constantly tried to throw Dodie off. Dodie then sang Al Jolson's "The SpaniardThat Blighted My Life." The showgirls paraded to "Guantanamera." I wore a gown of green, purple andblack and a towering headdress. At the end of Dodie's parade he stood majestically posed as RuthHermine popped out from under his gown in an identical costume. It looked as if he was giving birth andalways got a laugh.

Whether it was the rise of discotheques, or merely the changing times, nightclubs seemed to be going outof style and the Jewel Box Revue seemed to belong to another era. It became increasingly harder forDanny and Doc to find bookings for such a large and expensive show. We kept ourselves available buttook small gigs when we could get them. I worked one of Frankie Quinn's drag balls and traveled a bit withChi Chi LaVerne and Joey Tone.

I would occasionally get offers for film work, in and out of drag. The highlight of these was a movie I didfor my dear friends John and Lem Amero called "Blonde Ambition" (1980). I appeared first as myself andlater in drag. It was the first time I'd seen myself in action. The picture was shot in "X" and "R" ratedversions and was in a similar vein as "Gentlemen Prefer Blondes." It was advertised as, "If you like 'DeepThroat' and 'Singin' In The Rain". The wardrobe supervisor went to a rental house to find a costume for meto wear and, surprisingly, came back with Robin Rogers' costume from our French Finale. It was all goldeyelash material with red and gold cabbage roses and worked like a charm. It seems that Danny and Dochad sold all the old production costumes to Jerome Cargill. What goes around, eh? "Blonde Ambition" isnow enjoying a bit of a renaissance, having just been re-released in a deluxe two disc DVD edition, and Ihave recently been the subject of several interviews.

One final anecdote from my post-Jewel Box Revue career...

In the Spring of 1982 I received a phone call from an agent friend, Richard Cataldi. He'd been contacted bythe office of Tommy Tune regarding a role in the upcoming musical "Nine." Mr. Tune wanted to know ifDick had any buxom actresses who might be the right type to play the beach whore Saraghina. Dickcouldn't think of any but asked if perhaps a female impersonator might do. Mr. Tune thought about it and,considering that this was based on Fellini, asked if Dick knew any and, if so, to send them over. I wasalready several years into my new life working at an insurance company but who could pass up such anopportunity? I called John and Lem Amero for moral support and they said they be happy to accompanyme. I got made up at home (I'd kept my makeup kit) and they walked me over. I put my last minute effectsin a bag, donned a big pair of sunglasses and we were on our way. I lived in the theatre district at the timeso a man in makeup wasn't too much of a distraction, unlike those days on 125th Street.

The auditions were being held in the famous little theatre at the top of the New Amsterdam Theatre on42nd Street. This was the legendary Ziegfeld Roof. We arrived and I went directly to the men's room tofinish my makeup and hair. Dick had also sent over my old friend Chi Chi LaVerne. There we were, just thetwo of us. Chi Chi went first and sang Cabaret. They thanked him and then called me. The only photo I hadwas from John and Lem's movie "Blonde Ambition" and they thought that was my name. I corrected themas I strode on stage wearing a very Judy Garland-ish white shirt over black tights and heels. I sang "If MyFriends Could See Me Now." When I was done the composer, Maury Yeston came up on stage. "You're a lotof fun," he said, "but you're really not right for this." I agreed. "However," he added, "in a few months I'll beputting together the musical of "La Cage Aux Folles" and I'd like you to come back. I think you'd be

perfect." I thanked him and left. As luck would have it Mr. Yeston never did do "La Cage Aux Folles"...Itwas turned over to Jerry Herman...He was out, and so was I. I was sorry not to have met Tommy Tune but Ihad performed on the stage of the Ziegfeld Roof.

I haven't seen or heard from any of my other cast mates in many years. Bobby Barton and Chris Mooredied way back in the 1970's...Brandy Alexander was an early victim of AIDS...and the last I heard of RobinRogers he was bartending in a Gay bar called The Stanchion in Springfield, Mass., but that was in 1978.Storme De Larverie will be 90 in December. She lives in a nursing home in Queens, NY. I last saw her at aGay Pride event in the 1980's.