The University of Houston

The City That Care Forgot

An Honors Thesis submitted to the Honors program

in candidacy for the degree of Bachelor of Science, with Honors

Department of Biology

ByJody Lee Duek

Houston, TexasAugust, 1975

This paper would have been impossible had it not been for

the advice and assistance of my Thesis Committee: Mr. Karchmer

Dr. Chafetz and Dr. Henderson. The support and encouragement

of many friends was also Invaluable. I would particularly like

to name Kaye Sykes, and thank her for ideas, favors, and

friendship. Thanks go, also, to Tamra Massengale for her

superb eleventh-hour typing, and to Dr. Knopp, Director of the

Honors Program, for helping me pull everything together.

Additionally, a special thank you to Michael Gillis for his

proof reading and his Invaluable exclamation points!

This foreword is being written as an afterthought, to answer some of

the questions posed by a small but faithful readership of friends.

Obviously, most of the places and many of the people and events

described are real. There really is a Keith Hefner who interviewed young

women for jobs with Playboy in Los Angeles in the early sixties. Chapter

VI is a verbatim account of my experiences during a few sad days in 1963.

I travelled to New Orleans with another woman, but she was nothing like

Sunny. There was never a Bubble Club nor a Charlie’s, nor a Gene. Many

events are real, though several are embroidered. The cancer scare may be

a bit hackneyed as an excuse for a novel, but it was a very real and

frightening event in my own life.

No, this is not written in my usual style, although I have indeed

noticed my vocabulary shrinking and my grammar deteriorating since the

beginning of this project. A typical scene with a friendly reader:

"Do you really think Jo would know and use a word like ’desultory?’"

"Well, no, but it’s so descriptive...."

Scratch one more word. Also, while I do know that Endymion and

Helios are mythological figures, I had more years at U. C. L. A. than

our heroine.

There really was a Nicky, given to me by a wonderful friend, Gary

Nickerson. She was one of the finest creatures I have ever known. She died

a few years ago during a neighborhood animal poisoning by an unknown person.

She had been my companion for nine years, and I miss her very much.

The University of Houston

The City That Care Forgot

An Honors Thesis submitted to the Honors program

in candidacy for the degree of Bachelor of Science, with Honors

Department of Biology

ByJody Lee Duek

Houston, TexasAugust, 1975

Abstract

This is a novel, which takes place In New Orleans during

the sixties, about the growth and change of a young woman.

It shows her Initial innocence and subsequent disillusionment,

set against the backgroup of the French Quarter; Bourbon Street,

Mardl Gras and the Inner workings of the New Orleans Playboy

Club are all show in depth.

I.

Well, it’s been another long night. By the time I got

off work it was nearly five, so me and some of the other girls

came to Charlie’s for a drink, and before I knew it, the sun

was out. Now I don’t want to leave here; face the gaudy

street with all those sun-glassed, suited people scurrying

to work in those giant proper-folks office buildings t’other

side of Canal Street. They all look wilts at me, like I’m

some kind of trash waiting to be swept up with the beer cans

and butts in the gutters. Even though they’re wearing their

Superior Dark Glasses I can feel them staring disgust at

my bare shoulders in my fancy dress, and my hairdo. Goddamn

Dennis, anyway...you finally find a good hairdresser, and

what’s he do? Has a fight with his fella...I told him Sam

wasn’t any good...and he up and leaves town. Now I’ve got

to put with with Gene, and he’s just too spray happy for me. I

like a do to last, but his would last out a hurricane.

Anyway, I’d rather stick here in Charlie’s for a couple

more hours til the pure folks all hie themselves to work.

Then I’ll jump a taxi for the six blocks home, so I won’t have

to see any fancy ladies visiting Royal Street aunty-que shop-pees.

Charlie’s. Quiet, dim, kind of that eternal dusk you

read about in those romantioal novels. Jeez, I been coming

here a long time. Ever since I first hit town. I was really

-1-

something then. Year and a half of college under my belt, and

not just your old community college, neither. UCLA. Would

have maybe stayed and graduated, though I doubt it, but had

a surfing accident - yeah, me, a California surfer. Huh.

Anyway, Daddy had cut me off the year before; he and his

new wife had a couple kids and she was drinking pretty hard,

so Daddy wanted me to give up the college foolishness arid

help at home. No dice, man. I was going to make something

of me. So I made it that far in school, then run out of

dough getting my noggin sewed up where I busted it open. Well,

just for laughs, I went and applied for a job at the brand new

Playboy Club on Sunset Strip.

Yeah, gee, I remember being nervous on the bus, smoothing

out my long, sun-blonde hair into the pageboy style I used to

wear then, fidgeting with my pleated skirt, being careful

not to soil my white gloves. It was only a joke maybe, but

it was still the first time I’d ever applied for a real job.

Sunset Boulevard, the Playboy Club Building, swanky

elevators, a room with a hundred girls...Oh, No! I tried

to turn around and leave but this girl at the door caught my

arm. Was I ever out of place! All I saw was decollete'-,

black lace nylons in 4-inch heels, fancy hairdos, eyelashes

out to there, and huge books that I figured had to be modelling

photos. Boy, did I feel lost. But the chick holding my arm

was nice, and reassured me.

-2-

I asked her how many girls had applied during this well-

publicized week of interviews.

"Oh, at about ^00 a day, I'd guess probably twelve to

fifteen hundred and this is only Thursday."

I swallowed, feeling outclassed, outflanked, outguessed.

"But don't you worry, honey, Keith Hefner interviews

everyone personally and he's just nice as can be."

I flashed on an image of him bursting into laughter at

the sight of me, in my flat shoes and prim, long-sleeved white

shirt-blouse, telling me to go home to Ma.

In shock, I filled out the application, let her give me

a number, and sat down, feeling surrounded by heavy perfume

and cigarette holders.

In about half an hour my number was up. Four of us

walked together to His office, stood, turned, posed, walked.

We were then told to go back and put on our swim suits or

leotards and return. The others all had fancy lace suits

and low-cut’ ballet costumes. I felt ashamed of my plain,

sturdy surfer tank suit.

He saw us again as a group, then asked to speak to each

of us alone. As I walked in. He smiled, leaned back and asked,

"Nervous?"

"Yes, sir, a little." Ho, ho. Me in a swim suit in

front of a Hefner. Nervous? I felt like a lamb chop in front

of a lion. .

-3-

"Well, don't let me scare you. Relax, and tell me a bit

about yourself."

I thought of lying, saying I'd modelled and such, but

was afraid He'd see through me and know the truth. I gave

Him a few details, feeling foolish, while He looked over my

application. Then He stood up.

"Tell you what. You go on back and change clothes. If

anyone asks you what I said, tell them I said we’d let you

know in a week or two, by mail. • Then come back down to my

office and go into the door across the hall and wait. All

right?"

Not knowing what to say, I nodded and stumbled out. The

dressing rooms were full of noise and underwear.

"Wha'd he tell ya?"

"Aw, said they'd mall a postcard..the don't call us

routine, you know."

"Yeah, geezus, I sure hope, I could use the loot."

"Hey, what'd he tell you, kid?"

I mumbled about a postcard, and the girl turned away

with a scornful laugh. "Yeah, honey, right."

I slipped quietly away from the room, and stealthily down

the hall. Feeling like a spy or thief I paused at the door.

Images of white slavers lurking on the other side. I shuddered

and opened the door. A nicely appointed waiting room. Empty.

I sat and fidgeted for 15 or 20 minutes. Slowly, I began

-4-

to realize it was a sham, Mr. Hefner had played his own trick

on the girl who had applied as a joke. Suddenly, the door

opened, and He walked in.

"Congratulations. I have personally interviewed nearly

1500 girls this week, and you are the 12th one I’ve hired

on the spot. Where would you like to work?"

"Ah, uh..."

"Well, you’re under 21 so you can’t work in California,

but you can go to New York, New Orleans, or Chicago. Which

would you prefer?"

All I could think of was Bourbon Street, The Mississippi

River, The Basin Street Blues, the French Quarter. Magical,

mysterical names. The sunny South with Spanish moss and mint

juleps. I knew immediately my joke had backfired, and I was

a goner.

But that was a long time ago. I spent six years at the

Club, made a lot of cash. Then I got involved with a no-good

guy, met him right here in Charlie’s. This is where the

Bunnies all used to hang out, and he was a musician from a

cheap joint down the street, came up here with some of the

other street people one night to check out the Bunnies.

Left the Club to follow him when he got fired for drinking

too much and went to Biloxi to a pretty low-class dive.

He kept on drinking,and we started fighting all the time so

I cleared out. But the Club didn’t want me back, I had a

-5-

name as a bad risk. I modelled free lance for about a year,

and nearly starved to death between catalogues and fashion

shows.

So I went to work at the Al Hirt Club as a Goddess.

Instead of "Good evening I’m your Bunny Jo," it was "Good

evening, I’m your Goddess Lila," Even the names changed to

protect the innocent. Ha.

The money wasn’t near as good, and neither were the

managers. I had a couple of fights with the bastard of a

bartender, and finally quit after about a year.

The 500 Club was next. Fanciest strip joint on the

Street. Linka Kirby, the featured girl, is the greatest

I’ve ever seen. I just pushed drinks, which paid pretty well,

but Larry La Marcotta, the owner, kept trying to get me to

strip, or at least B-drink, and I didn’t want any part of

that stuff, not then.

-6-

II.

The real people are probably all at work by now, so guess

I’ll take my chances and. head on home. Settle up with Rock,

the bartender, scuttle out into the sun like a beetle from

beneath my cold, damp rock.

Not a cab in sight. Well, time was I loved to walk. I

remember walks with fellas out by Lakeshore Drive, in the Park,

along the River. Walks across the Tulane campus to a frat

party or football game my first few years here.

But after a while, a walk meant to the current hangout

with the gang. Joe’s, Harry’s Place, La Boucherie, Cosimo’s,

Ruby’s, Charlie’s, the King’s Room. Stopped going home after

work, getting to sleep early, and getting up and going out

afternoons. Now it was out drinking all night with the kids,

seldom home before 9 or 10. Sleep all day, get up and go to

work by 7.

Now a walk is to the laundry, home from work, to Guy’s

Grille around the corner for meals.

The muggy air hangs heavy as a blanket, one block and

I’m sweating like mad. I can already hear the honky tonk

tumbling over itself pushing its way out the doors of the

joints down the street. NOLA, the city that never sleeps.

You can see a girl strip or get a drink any hour, any day.

-7-

Down the street I can already hear Johnny, the street

man for The Bubble Club, hooking a couple. Sailors, looks

like - from Pensy no doubt - come to Sin City their first

leave, paychecks padding their pockets, looking for the big

time.

"Look right here, fellas, step inside, into the air

conditioning and have a look-see. 25 beautiful girls, two

different girls strip for you every half hour. C’mon in boys,

you’ve never seen the like of Lovely' Lydia I! !"

They talk it over, I can see from here they want to go

in. Craning their necks, they try to see around Johnny and

peer into the gloom inside, check out the action.

"Sexy Suzie will be on stage in just five minutes, boys,

she can drinka glassa champagne with no hands!!! C’mon in,

the show*s about to start..."

The boys hesitate. I could tell them Suzie’s 40 plus,

and Lovely Lydia’s pushing 200 pounds, and that’s about the

best they’ll see this hour of the morning. They shake their

heads and move on.

Standing at the corner I watch them walk down the street

in my direction. I sure feel tired and sore. Suddenly

Patter stumbles out of a doorway, blocking their path. Damn.

Trying to walk straight, he manages only to lurch unsteadily

up to them. I know this routine by heart.

"Hey, boys, in from Pensacola, eh, my God, I was

-8-

stationed there, back in, um, well, I’m just a mate on a

vessel in port this week, the uh. Sea Queen...Hey, you heard

of her?”

”No, no," the boys exchange looks, I can read their

alarm at this dirty, unshaven old coot before them.

"Hey, well, I got leave last night, just last night, and

came into town for a bit of fun, mighty hard on them freighters,

boys. Lonesome. Hey, well, had just a little bit to drink,

you know, just having fun, but somebody rolled me, took all

m’money. Couldya spare a mate enough money to get him back to

his boat, boys??? They’re leaving this morning and I just

gotta get back. Jus 504;, boys, please, hey?”

I watch Patter rub his haunch with his right hand, a sure

sign of his lying, as usual. The only thing I can ever figure

out was his being afraid of getting whipped for lying as a

kid. Sure as he tells a story, he’ll start patting and

rubbing his behind.

The one fella, he gives his Pat O’Brien souvenir

Hurricane glass to the other, and starts digging in his

pockets. 01 Patter has struck it this time. The boy

fishes out some coins and hands them over.

"Thankya, boys, thanks, hey, from an ol mate. My

capn’ll thankya too. Thanks, boys, hey." Patter staggers off,

still mumbling thanks, heading for Larry & Katz, the cheapest

joint in town: 54: for a glass of burgundy, 104: for a glass

-9-

of bourbon. We used to go there for a lark, years ago, for

a cheap Sunday drunk with the over sixty set. They’re really

a liquor store, so they can serve drinks for the same price

as the bottle would cost, long as they follow the city rules:

no tables or chairs - just a few crates by the wall - and

blacksand women have to get served outside at the street

window.

First time I tried to order my own drink there and was

told I’d have to go out to the window with the blacks, I near

had a fit. Wonder what them Ladies Libbies would think of

that.

It’s an okay place to go for grins, but it would sure get

old fast if that’s all there was.

The boys cross over to my side of the street just as

Jingo and his brothers round the corner at a dead run. They

nearly trip over themselves stopping when they see the sailors.

Now they’re runningvrp to them like puppies in a pack, fawning

and yapping. I can almost see their tails wagging.

”Hi, Mistuh, where y’at? Shine, suh? Lemme shine yo

shoes, oh, please, suh, I just shine dem shoes so purty, oh

please, ony a quartuh, please mistuh," They chant their

litany, jumpin up and down, drooling and dancing around in the

street, eager to do business.

The sailors agree, and self-consciously swagger to the

sidewalk, standing proudly, trying .to look casual. Betcha they

-10-

never had anybody shine their shoes before. Big men on the

town. The little black pickaninnies swarm in around their feet.

"Got sum chewir, gum mjstuh? Oh, kin j.h have some chewin

gum. Please suh. Kin ah have a cigretuc too? Oh, please.

Here, watch me do hambone." Jingo jumps up and does the famous

jig while his brothers clap time. Cloppety clop clop (clap)

"Hambone111" kids all shout and cheer as he finishes.

They close ranks around the boys again.

"Wasn ah good, huh? Gimme a dime for hambone, huh mistuh?

C’mon, please huh."

The sailors laugh, and once again the Hurricane glasses

switch hands. Geez, they’re giving them kids a dollar.

Soft touches. The blacks chatter happily and vanish, shoe

kits and all, back around the corner.

Trying to look casual the sailors are wandering up the

street, glancing in doors; hoping for a glimpse of a girl

on stage, no doubt.

I pat my hair, smooth my dress over my still slender

hips. Whatever else, at least I’ve kept my good figure

through the years.

Well, they seem easy marks, and I wasn’t sleepy yet anyway.

Here they come. I guess it’s my turn.

-11-

III.

Sunday morning, 5 a.m. The sun’s just coming up, the

last revellers are on their way to bed. Bourbon Street stinks

of beer, cheap wine, and cigarettes. As I walk slowly down

past the fine restaurants - Vieux Carre, Chart Room, Royal

Orleans Rib Room - and move deeper into the strippers’

section the stink of garbage and urine begins to hit me from

alleys; the smell of Saturday night vomit lingering in a

doorway already blending and fading with Sunday morning aura

of beer and cigarette smoke filtering out of the many still­

open bars. Still open. Ever open. The City that never

sleeps.

Scooter is just going home. We smile at each other

softly, weariness of a long night showing. He picks up his

hat with the few coins thrown him, places it on his little low

platform, in front of him where his legs should have been, i

and slowly wheels himself off down the crazy broken sidewalk

to whatever he calls home.

A bit too early yet for proper folk to be up, but soon

the bells of the St. Louis Cathedral will be chiming, calling

the Catholics and the tourists to her.

The kids’ll be out, too, playing guitars and harmonicas

in Jackson Square, sharing fruits and homemade bread, joints,

wine, and love with all who care to join. Used to spend some

-12-

Sundays that way, watching the artists watching the tourists,

and the fags watching each other.

I remember when Jack Conley was one of the big artists

on the Square; not just a weekend space renter, actually had

his own studio a couple of blocks away. Spent many a Mardi

Gras on Jack’s balcony over Royal Street, watching the fancy

parades and catching the trinkets they’d throw from the floats;

doubloons, necklaces and the like.

Spent a lot of time watching Jack with the customers.

A real honest artist, no hustle like some of those crumbs;

no cheap pastel portraits in 30 minutes that’d fade in 2 weeks.

He painted what he felt, and had no trouble selling'.it.

Way I met Jack was seeing a painting of his, a ship in a

storm. I’m not much on art, but I saw that ship, and how she

leaned into the wind, fought the ocean with her sails up so

proud, never minding, just doing what she had to do, and

knew I had to have her. I was doing some modelling jobs

then, not many, and barely kept enough in the bank to pay the

monthly service charge without an overdraft notice, and she

was a $100 Fancy Lady.

I watched her hang on the Jackson Square fence Sunday

after Sunday, while jobs grew scarcer and I wanted her more.

Dread grew weekly that somebody would buy her and she’d be

gone, lost to me for good. Every Sunday I’d get up soon as

I was awake, throw on some jeans and hightail it the 8 blocks

-13-

to the Square, excitement building. Even Edith Piaf tinkling

out the Boucherie door mixed with charcoal sausage and Bloody

Mary smell wouldn’t entice me - time for that later. Past

old Zula Mae Frick’s Button Shoppe - crazy place, I was in

there once, but never saw anyone looking like they might be

named Zula Mae - past the Exchange Bar where the slavers used

to do business, past Napoleon’s Bar, where they say he stayed.

By the time I reached Harry’s Place I’d be all excited -

but trying to be casual - stopping to see who was there, and

only that last two blocks left to the Square. Looking and

not wanting to look. Slowing down deliberately, to stretch

it out. Jack always set up at his.spot on the corner, by the

Pontalba Buildings and the Cathedral. I’d finally stop by the

corner of the Pontalba office side. One block-long row of Old Quarter dedicated offices; museum offices, Vieux Carre2

Commission offices. Civil War Commission offices and whatnot.

They stand sentinel to Jackson Square, facing their majestic

two-story twins across the way, which are still used for- their

original function - apartments. The oldest apartments in

the U. S. All renovated, but in the old style, and well kept up.

I’d settle a casual attitude around my surface, hiding

a King’s X stomach, and saunter across the street to Jack’s

stand. Whew. Yes. Still there again some more once more but

what about next week maybe....

When I finally couldn’t stand it any more, I approached

-14-

Jack; first a casual comment, trite but effective. Admiring

his stuff. Said he’d seen me around a lot. Lump in my throat.

Yeah. Well, here goes. And I told him I’d been coming to

see her - the painting. Wishing I could afford her price.

Laughed casually, ho ho. Didn’t expect an answer, just

politeness, but he surprised me.

"Well, I really appreciate that, I like her, too, and I

spend every Sunday kinda hoping no one will buy her, because

most tourists just want a souvenir;-, and wouldn’t care. It’s

pretty obvious that you care, though. I’ll sell her to you

for...$60.00"

My heart started up, then stopped again. Even $60.00

was way beyond me.

"I...I’m sorry, but I guess," I began slowly, then the

thought came to me, and words poured out in a rush, "unless...

unless I could, um, pay you a, you know, a little at a time...?"

Silence. Oh, I shouldn’t ever have started this.

"Well, sure, if that’s how you can do it...it’s a bit

unusual, but...yeah, sure."

Wow’. Excitement popped out all over me. "Oh..." I

struggled to keep cool. Even at twenty-six something as

awesome as my own painting was hard to be casual about.

"Look, here’s...here’s $5.00, and I’ll bring more, whenever

I can. Often. This is really great’." My first real painting.

My painting. The kind of thing the upper crust does; buy

-15-

expensive paintings on Sunday afternoons. Real. Solid.

Valuable. I felt specially selected, gifted, for weeks. I’d

never known anyone who owned a painting, I mean a real one,

not something they’d done themselves in a class, or cheap

prints and posters.

I spent the next endless chain of weeks, saving quarters

and dollars, every Sunday taking Jack the money I’d saved,

looking at her so proud, hanging on the fence with her "SOLD"

sign. My sign. I was buying her. Never more than seven or

eight dollars a week, but after an endless summer she was

mine.

I was tempted to sell her a time or two, when money got

short, but I’d always feel ashamed.

Stayed friends with Jack a long time, too. Spent many a

morning drinking coffee and talking at the Coffee Pot,, next

to Pat O’Brien’s across from Jack’s studio on St. Peter. He

moved to Europe last year; hit it big and left us for better

things.

It’s been a long night but a pretty good one, and I’m

beat, but almost home.

-16-

IV.

Sunday afternoon. Just woke up. I guess by now you’re

wondering why the hell I’m telling you all this.

Simple. I always thought, like everybody else I suppose,

that I could write if only I had the chance. Well, if I

don’t do it now I may never do it, so here I am. It started

when Dr. Abrams examined me a couple of months ago and said

I had a bad test. Might be nothing, but might be a cancer.

Some kind of breast thing. Needed some more tests to be sure.

Said if it was, though, that he could perform something,

a...mastoidectomy. I looked it up. Take both my tits off,

and maybe that’d stop it for a while. Maybe. For a while.

No promises.

I could just see me, in a low-cut dress, with no boobs,

trying to convice some guy to buy me a drink. Ha. Even if I

could afford the operation I’d starve soon as it was over,

well or not. I really panicked. He said he had to run some

more tests, but didn’t hold out much hope. And I had to wait

three months before he could test again.

That really did it for me. I figured I probably had a

year or something like that guy used to who was on TV. Only

he had some money. Well, I could at least do all the things

I’d ever wanted to, right? Sure. Like go home to Daddy.

-17-

Take a world tour on my savings. Or become a missionary to

some little backward but quaint country and gain sainthood —

an Angel of Mercy, dedicated, tireless, serving others with

never a thought of herself. Right.

So I decided I wanted to write. About me. Trying to

find out how, when, where I started, and why I'd ended up.

Ended down?

After a bunch more tests, biopsies and shit, guess what.

The Doc says, surprise, you’re okay» the first test must have

been wrong. Jesus. Just like that, you’re on, you’re off.

Being a doctor is. like playing God. And it changed me a lot,

the shock I mean. So I’m going to try to do everything like

I might never get the chance to do it again. And this is

first on my list. Write down everything so far, and see

where I want to go from here.

In high school everyone always told me I had a brilliant

mind. My dad, my teachers, counselors. ’’You’re not working

up to your ability.” ’’You have so much potential.” "You

can do anything you set your mind to."

They all believed it so firmly - showed me test scores,

Stanford whatsis, PSAT, SAT, NMSQT, MMPI, lowas, and all that

junk. I had been trapped. We took those things all through

junior and senior high school They used bunches of us from

my area to run these tests on, like guinea pigs, I guess. We

didn’t care, it got us out of class, so we took them. Even

-18-

once in grade school they gave us some week-long thing with a

lot of blocks and picture puzzles.

So here they’d drag all of these scores out, and wave

them in my face. "We know you can do it." "Won’t you just

try a little harder?"

Well, all they knew was I could take tests good, but I

couldn’t convince them of that. I don’t mean like I failed

stuff, but I was happy passing, just C’s and a few B’s, maybe

an A in gym or something. They acted like I ought to have

all A’s. But the stuff was so boring who could be interested

enough to ever spend valuable time trying to study the junk?

Jeez it was so much more fun to go outside and work in the

garden, check the strawberries out, and weed the carrots,

look for the fat tomato''worms to squash. Or to take a book -

not some dumb school book but something decent from the

library, Steinbeck and Bradbury were my favorites - and go

sit in the apriedt tree in the sunshine, reading and eating,

stuffing myself full of warm, sweet, golden apricots. Makes

me hungry thinking about:it. And they always wondered why I

never ate dinner after.

Anyhow, two of my teachers ganged up on me, insisted I

oughta try to go to college. One of them was doing some work

at UCLA, and had some kind of connections, so he talked them

into accepting me on probation on the test scores. I sure

didn’t have the grades.

-19-

I went along with 1 a^ ’' fuss because it seemed like a good

chance to make something out of my life more than just getting

married and having kids like everybody else I knew. I had

enough of little kids at home, and sure didn’t want any of

my own any time soon. Besides, college had kind of a mystical

thing about it, and I figured even if I got kicked out my

first semester I could at least say I’d been. I’d try any­

thing once.

I’d have done okay's too, if it hadn’t been for all the

shit going on^at home. Ann had another kid, and Psychology

homework and 2 a.m. feedings just don’t mix. At least

Ronnie was out of diapers now so I still only had two asses

to wipe, but it wasn’t what I wanted to be doing with my

spare time. Besides, I was learning about boys. And beer.

And surfing. We were some of the first surfers, way before

it caught on, back in the late 50’s. Now it was easier to

reach a beach - just a few.miles from campus - and surfing was

beginning to catch on like some kind of new fad.

Anyhow so now I’m trying to see if maybe all those

people were right, I really can do anything I want. Only

there’s not much I want any more. But maybe if I can put all

this kind of stuff down I can figure out something I do want.

It’s been a long time since I did anything more literary than

sign somebody’s birthday card so I’m not sure how it’s gonna

be. I got this little recorder off of Johnny, the barker from

-20-

the Bubble Club I told you about. Belnp; a bouncer at those

clubs doesn’t pay much. Most all the guys have got a sideline:

horses, girls, drugs, goods.

This is small enough I can carry it around long as a cop

doesn’t pick me up for talking to myself. But I can just talk,

like remembering things, then write it out after. Maybe it’ll

make sense then. Maybe I’ll make sense then. Maybe.

-21-

V.

Tuesday morning. Monday’s always a slow night, so I

knocked off early and came home, crawled in bed, and started

thinking about how I got here. There’s a million things

I want to say, all at once, but I guess the place to really

begin is back in California.

After getting the job - me, really, me...why me? - I

kept asking myself. Simple. They didn’t want proven

professionals with portfolios as thick as their eyelashes;

tough as nails and after the dough. They were after the

simple look, untrained so they could build us in their

’’image.” I figured that out when I saw the two other girls

they hired the day I was there. They could’ve dressed out

of my closet. Pleated skirts,blouses - one even had a

Peter Pan collar. We were the in thing as far as they were

concerned. Malleable is the word that comes to mind. Also,

dumb. Dumb to what was going on. "Fresh” was the word

Hefner used for us. "The fresh look” was what they wanted.

Their names were Sunny and Barbara, and they were both

under-age too, and with almost one voice we had all chosen

New Orleans. Something about that city, I guess.

We all left the building together, eyes shining, holding

each other’s hands and practically jumping up and down in the

-22-

elevator. Show business, fame and stardom was spread before

us as our futures. We felt marvelous. Sunny had her car and

said she'd drive us both home since we'd both taken the bus.

She had a convertible, a pink '55 T-Bird, and that suited our

mood just fine. Who wanted to ride a bus after being dis­

covered as a future star. We drove down Sunset Boulevard

singing and yelling, waving as we passed pedestrians, certain

that everyone would know we were star material, or think we

were royalty or something. I guess if the cops had seen us

we'd be in jail yet.

That night I casually broke the news to my date.

"You're what!"

"You heard me."

"No shit! You?"

"Gee, thanks..-.-;”

"No, I mean, you just, like, um, well. Bunnies are...-"

"Yessssssssssss....'"

"No shit!"

We celebrated. Berry was old enough to buy, so we hit

the nearest liquor store and bought one of those humongous

brandy snifters you could take a bath in, and enough pink

champagne to fill it. That was in October.

Within a week I was a campus hit. Word spread fast and

guys I'd never thought would give me the time of day were

suddenly dropping by my apartment, calling me up, and just-

-23-

happening-to-be-walking-my-way-to-class-and-would-I-like-to-go-

out-tonight?

I think the word is notorious, not famous, but it was

okay with me. I’d always had plenty of guys around, but not

the kind that were coming around now. It was great; I felt

really big-time already with boys lined up for every night,

taking my pick. I got'taken to football parties by the

football heroes, frat dances by frat presidents, pep rallies

by head cheerleaders.

I stopped going to most classes. I wasn’t gonna finish

school ever anyway, or if I did it’d be lots different, I’d

have enough cash saved to go in style - not scrimping like

this - and classes had lost their excitement. Besides, I was

too tired from parties every night. I’d make it down to the

Coop (Student Union Coffee Shop) around noon, and spend the

day at the "head" tables, two large, round tables seating 8

or 10 each, more at peak periods. They were just inside the

entrance to the Coop, and commanded a view of the doors and

the crowd. They were the place to see and be seen. Out of

24,000 students, maybe 100 joined the chosen ranks sitting at

these tables. We were IT.

We’d play bridge by the hour, changing partners with

changing classes. The sense of power, the elite of campus,

was strong. I felt on display, singled out. Even freshmen

would look reverently on, understanding a little of the mighty

-24-

forces at play here, hearing the lilting sounds of laughter

from the soft, pretty, sweatered girls, and the deep, assured

voices of the boys. I was drunk with power, and loved it

whenever any of my acquaintances from classes would walk in,

and I could condescendingly nod and smile.

-25-

VI.

Homecoming Week that year was an event no one will ever

forget - a week of festivities, dances, parties, capped with

a big parade Friday night with floats from all the Greek

houses, dorms, social groups and so on, and the SC-UCLA game

Saturday in the Coliseum. The biggest crosstown rivalry in

America. We’d gone to the Rosebowl the year before, and it

was still anybody’s guess who’d go this year.

It was amazingly cold all week, for California, and I

remember a lot of spiced cider, sweaters, and hot buttered rum

in flasks while working on floats and attending pep rallies.

Friday morning was crisp and cold. We were up early to

finish the floats, going up to the Coop in shifts to warm up.

Nobody could believe the weather. Not in warm. Southern

California. But it was clear and beautiful, no smog, so

nobody really wanted to complain.

I hit the Coop around 10 to play cards and goof off a

while. I got.involved in a long rubber and the time passed

quickly, enjoyably; thinking of the weekend, the game.

Thanksgiving Holidays coming up, some of us thinking of

going to San Francisco for the vacation and staying with a

friend at Cal. All the activities spread out before me like

the cards in a good bridge hand, all aces and faces, brightly

colored.

-26-

Then one of my favorite bridge partners wandered in, and

walked slowly up to our table, looking glum. "Hey, I might

stay another hour or so and flirt with Ron if he’ll stay and

play a rubber or two,” I thought gleefully, "and maybe just

mention about going to Cal next week, see if he’d like to go

with me, that’d be really neat."

My partner must have read my mind, or maybe the look in

my eyes, as she stood up and said "Hi, Ron, listen, sit down

and take my hand, will you, I’ve got to get back and help

finish the Tri-Delt float."

Ron looked up at her and spoke softly, "Did you hear the

President was shot?"

"No..." we all replied cheerfully, waiting for the

punchline, "what happened then?" All we got was silence.

"That’s not much of a joke, Ron." I said, smiling up

at him.

"No joke," he replied, "they just announced it on the

radio."

Cold settled in. Fear. No, come on, hey, it’s

Homecoming Week and almost Thanksgiving. There’s a big party

tonight at the Phi Kap house after the parade. Kennedy shot?

No way. He’s out playing football on the lawn with his kids.

Or sailing in the Bay with Jackie. Or something.

As word quickly spread outward from our table like cracks

on thin ice the silence grew. Low, confused murmurs, but

-27-

that was all. A boy ran into the Coop crying.

’’The President’s been shot!" He yelled it out, then sat

down on the floor and cried. Everything stopped for a long

moment, just the sound of his sobbing, until the P.A. broke in.

"May I have your attention, please. The President of the

United States has just been shot in Dallas, Texas. We are

turning on all Public Address systems in all rooms on campus,

and are hooked up with the radio to broadcast continuous news.

All classes are cancelled. We repeat, all classes are

cancelled. Please stay calm, and stay where you are. If you

must travel on campus, please do so quietly and in an orderly

fashion so that order can be maintained. Thank you."

Everyone sat stunned, in shock. People cried softly;

some put their heads down on their tables and bawled. The

news droned on. Police reports. Secret Service reports,

hospital reports, F. B. I. reports, eyewitnesses stammering

through their tears. Then the final blow, after what seemed

like hours of numb dread. Hours of Please God, no. God, no.

Don’t let him die, God. Oh please. No.

"I have here, I, I have just been informed. Oh, God, The

President of the United State, John F. Kennedy, is dead." The

announcer faltered, broke off for a minute. At least he was

human, too, that made it easier to bear, somehow, than some

cold disembodied voice might have been.

I got up and wandered outside. Everywhere people sat

-28-

looking vacantly off into the distance. A few, zombie-like,

wandered aimlessly, lost, across the hilly campus. I walked

slowly up the hill to the Quad, by Royce Hall and the Library.

Solemn and majestic, looking down from their years, as if

trying to lend me their sense of proportion to view the

tragedy. Looking back down the hill I could see the beautiful,

almost-finished floats; abandoned, and never to be used. Soon

to be carted away, half-finished forever, as trash, no longer

useful.

Days of sadness wore on; homecoming cancelled, the game

postponed, dances called off. A party on Sunday was held, but

it was more like a wake. • The keg of beer stood untouched, no

one had bothered to tap it. We sat around the Fiji house and

watched TV. The Funeral. News. Announcements. And the

second final (finaler) blow, as before our eyes the suspected

assassin was himself murdered, on national television. I

felt old, and jaded.

-2cj-

VII.

But we forgot even that sorrow, as life went on. Thanks­

giving came and went - no one wanted to go to Cal after all -

I stayed home and sat in my one room apartment and stared at

Liz, my roommate, and she sat and stared back. We both studied

sporadically, and even cried in each other’s arms once. But

things got better. The SC-UCLA game was held (they won),

parties began again, and my popularity (notoriety) continued.

The glares of the girls were far outweighed in my scales by

the attentions of the boys, and I almost didn’t want to leave.

Nothing lasts forever, though, and it was getting harder

and harder to say goodnight when I was ready. If it hadn’t

been for Liz I’d have lost more than one battle. But she’d

always pop out of bed on cue, in curlers and robe, to get

some tea. She’d crankily intimate we’d awakened her, and my

would-be seducer would wilt in front of her sulky glare.

Since the only place left for privacy was the bathroom, that

would be the end of the evening. Liz and I would put some

water on the hot plate to boll and sit and giggle over our

tea as the vanquished suitor made his way home.

It was a pain, though, if either of us ever did want some

privacy with a guy. We’d had the place six months, since I’d

split from home after a miserable first year of college,

and though we were good friends we were beginning to get on

-30-

each other’s nerves. We had one room with two beds, two chairs,

two bureaus. A half-refrigerator with a hot plate completed

the ensemble. Plush. With two people in it you couldn’t turn

around without hitting something. There was a big closet

and we had dishes, glasses, silverware and a pot at one end,

with a few cans of soup and beans. All on deluxe bricks and

boards bookcases.

Next to the boxes of Kraft’s macaroni and cheese dinners

were our schoolbooks, and the few remaining feet of closet was

reserved strictly for clothes. The exciting thing was that to

get to the John you had to go through the closet. So you

always knew if your clothes were there. No clothes burgler

could have gone undetected for long in our place.

As the sink in the bathroom was too tiny to wash any

but the daintiest saucers and glasses the first one to shower

at night did the dishes. Quite an experience.

The time Liz took up smoking we almost had a Civil War

break out, and we spent many an hour arguing over how we

would work it so one of us could have the place alone for an

evening; til midnight, say. Especially since she had a

steady fellow now, a frat man; with four roommates at his

place, ours was the natural choice, me notwithstanding.

None of this was going to work indefinitely, and my

departure date gradually began looking better and better.

I still wanted to finish up my semester at the U, before

-31-

splitting for New Orleans, Sunny wanted to finish at Valley

State, and Barb worked, so she was ready to go anytime.

We wanted to leave right after Finals for Sunny and me in

mid-January, and before Mardi Gras in February. When we got

in contact with the New Orleans Club we were told that they had

plenty of experienced help being flown in from Chicago and

New York especially for Mardi Gras and wouldn't need us from

then til Easter because of the Lenten slump. New Orleans is

the most Catholic town there is and deadsville during Lent.

They said they'd expect us in April, with a couple weeks

to train us and for us to get a place to live before starting

work.

April? That would mean a year until a Mardi Gras! No way.

We made up a story for our folks so we could leave right after

school got out.

Well, Barb's parents smelled a rat and said no. They

didn't like the idea of her going clear across the country to

be a cocktail waitress anyway. Neither did her boyfriend,

even though she'd promised to Write him every day and only

stay til she'd saved enough money to go to Europe for their

honeymoon.

Sunny's mom was kinda suspicious, but said d'kay', and my

folks of course didn't know from nothing anyway. I'd already

moved out long since, and what I did was my business.

I remember the words we had. Daddy and me, over my

-32-

wanting to leave home to live at school, and it makes me glad

I didn’t have to tell him I was leaving home to go to New

Orleans to work in the Playboy Club.

I’d waited til after dinner, hoping he’d be in a good i mood. It was the week before school started for the Pall

semester.

’’Daddy, I’ve been looking at apartments, over by school,

you know, and....”

”No. You’re not going to get an apartment."

"But it’s such a pain catching rides back and forth all

the time, and I think...."

"I said no. You’ll stay here and help Ann with the kids

and house. If it’s too far to the damn school, then quit.

That’s final."

"But Dad, quit school, I...."

"Go to Valley State, then. It’s a good school and not

far. In fact I think that’s a good idea. I think you should

go to State regardless. Now that’s enough. I don’t want to

hear any more of thi^ young lady, or you won’t get to go to

State, either. Don’t forget who pays the bills in this

house. You’re not old enough, anyway, to be out on your own.

You’re not going anywhere because I said so." He picked up his

"Field and Stream" and went back to reading. The subject

was closed. Drat. And here I’d waited til after supper so

he’d be in a good mood, too. Well, here we go again.

-33-

”Uh, Daddy...;-"

"That’s all I have to say on the subject. Now drop it."

"I, uh, I found a really nice apartment, and..." uh, oh,

here it comes.

"Do you hear me!"

Quick, or I’ll never say it. Never get the courage up.

"...I put a deposit down on it today."

"WHAT! Well just GET IT BACK’.! You’re NOT going. Just

what do you think you’re trying to pull? And where did you

get the money* You’ve gone too far this time, girl."

Anger was setting in. I’d never defied him before, and

it was feeling good. The fear was losing it’s grip. He was

shrinking in size as I figured out that there was nothing he

could do to me short of physical violence, and he’d never

touched me since I was 13 and didn’t cry when he spanked me

for breaking a window. It’s always been some other punish­

ment since then, and now there was nothing he could do.

"I’m moving in next week. Daddy. You don’t scare me any

more. I’m 18 and can do what I want." There was a shocked

look on his face as he stared at me, realizing I was right.

He had only empty threats and loud words, and they wouldn’t

work on me any more. I’d become as hard-headed and stubborn

as he was. He made the only reply he could.

"All right, then, get out. Get out now, tonight. Go on.

Just don’t come whining back here when you need help. Think

-34-

you’re so smart, then get out! Get out now!"

Somehow this wasn’t what I’d planned, but I guess I’d

known this was what would happen. I’d saved my money from

working all summer in a department store, and figured that

since I could type and stuff I’d get a job at school, but I’d

hoped Daddy would agree to continue supporting me through

school.

Yeah, I typed a bit. But most of the jobs called for

electric typewriter skills and I’d never touched one. And

they wanted you to know shorthand. No soap. So I got what

I could, a bit of typing, somebody’s paper or something, but

it was mostly odd jobs... ugh...ironing shirts. Or washing

dishes. Double ugh. I could have stayed home and done that

j unk.

-35-

VIII.

• Sunny and I decided on a bus as beinp; the cheapest route

to New Orleans and picked February‘1'to leave. We packed our

gear with great excitement, feeling part Horatio whoosis

setting off to conquer the world, part Mamie Stover, evil

woman gonna make a fortune and come home in triumph, and part

Hansel & Gretel, seeing the big gingerbread house but scared

of being lost and witches.

Her mom saw us off with tears and waves. I felt sad,

nobody saying me any goodbyes. None of my fellows of the past

four months had even bothered to call to say good-bye. I

felt like past history. Well, I’d show them all. Just wait’ll

I come back to visit, dripping with furs and jewels. They’d

be sorry. Just wait.

We staked claim on the back seat and spread out. We

were in high spirits, excited about the adventure and eager

to see what lay ahead. Our enthusiasm soon faded, though,

as we passed town after town, taking on winos and women with

10 kids. We had to abandon most of our territory to invaders,

and ended up jammed elbow to kneebone on one end of the back

seat. We’d have been better off in a regular seat.

We talked and read, then talked some more, chattering

excitedly, making plans for an apartment. What would it be

like?

-36-

"I’m so excited," Sunny murmured for the thousandth time,

"we’ll just get a little place at first, til the money starts

coming in. Then a big bachelor pad, in the French Quarter

maybe. What do you think the French Quarter is like? I’ve

seen pictures, but I don’t know for sure. Anyway, a place

with a balcony, and a fireplace that works. We’ll get a maid

to clean and do laundry, and maybe a cook when we have company.

How much money do you think we’ll be making, once we get past

being new, I mean?"

"Gee, I don’t know. Couple of hundred a week, maybe.

I sure would like to have a maid. I hate housework. Besides,

we won’t have time for that stuff, working nights and sleeping

days, partying on our time off. How far is it to the ocean

do you suppose? It was hard to tell on the map in Liz’s Atlas."

"I’m not sure. Do you think there’ll be any surf? I

gave my surfboard to my brother, but I could have Mom send

it if there was. And a bar. I’d like an apartment with a

built-in bar. I knew a guy in the valley who had one. It

looked really neat."

"Oh, yeah. And we could stock it with all kinds of

weird stuff, brandies and things. What do you think the

Bunny school will be like? I’m kind of scared about that.

What do you suppose we’ll have to learn? I don’t know beans

about alcohol except how to tap a beer keg. I learned that

at a frat party at the Phi Belt house once."

-37-

’’Well, we have a week to learn everything in, so maybe

it’ll be okay. And since we’re going to get there so early,

maybe they’ll let us have the Bunny Manual to study before

we go through the course. Then we’ll be ahead. I know about

gin. Johnny used to drink Beefeater’s and said it was the

best there was. It tasted terrible, though. I like bourbon

better, bourbon and coke or 7-U.p. But I don’t know anything

about the brands and. stuff."

"Oh, Sunny, I’m so scared. What if we run out of money

before we start work? Do you think we could get jobs any­

where, I mean it’ll be two or three months, and I’ve only got

a little money from selling all my books and stuff."

"Listen. I told you my Mom would send us some if we run

short. I’ll just tell her we’re not making much since we’re

new, they’re only letting us work one or two nights a week

to start, or you know, something. And I’ve got five hundred

that I’d saved from last summer; that’ll last a while. Don’t

sweat it,. Umean you can always pay me back once we get

started. Are you going to use your real name, or something

else? How does Yvette sound, or maybe Yvonne? I think

they’re both kind of sophisticated sounding...French."

"Well, they don’t sound like you, that’s for sure. What

about something like Bambi, or Kitten? They sound cute."

"No, I don’t like that. Maybe Lola or Gigi; they both

sound pretty good, too."

-38-

’’I kind of like Sunny better for you. I don’t know what

I’ll do. What do you think of Mike? How does that sound,

Bunny Mike?”

’’Mike, that’s weird. Positively weird. With your

figure you ought to be Bummy Flame, or Maya, something really

exotic."

"Yeah, maybe so. But I like Mike. Has a neat ring to

it."

By midafternoon we were both bored with names, and as

there was nothing to see but California desert we tried to

doze but it was awfully bumpy. We had fried chicken and

cookies Sunny’s Mom had made so at least we wouldn’t die of

hunger, just boredom.

The bus made a brief pit stop for dinner somewhere; cold

sandwiches wrapped in plastic with potato chips. Three and a

half days of this? Oh good grief, what had we gotten ourselves

into?

Around 4 am. we stopped for a 40 minute layover in some

town that believed in cold water only in the Johns. It had

been a long day and we wanted to wash. We tried the bus

station, and the two service stations on the corner, but no

luck, so we washed our faces and gave up.

-39-

IX.

I woke up slowly in the morning, feeling warm and com­

fortable. Suddenly, aware of where I was, I stopped snuggling

and jumped up. The huge black woman in whose lap I’d been

nestled laughed softly and told me to hush, child, it was all

right. She said I’d been so peaceful looking she hadn’t wanted

to disturb me, but that she hadn’t minded at all. And if I

was still sleepy, not to be embarrassed. I must have turned

bright red because I could feel the hot flush on my face, and

stammered my apologies.

I dozed on and off all day but was careful to aim myself

at Sunny in case of slippage. Sunny thought it was hysterical,

and kept telling me to hush, child. I poked her in the ribs.

The dinner stop was around nightfall, and in another

cold water joint. But we were determined (and smelly) so we

took turns guarding the john while the other stripped and

washed with cold water and those awful hand towels that’re

made of used sandpaper or something. God. About the only

thing it helped was our morale since our clothes hadn't changed.

We smelled just the same as before; diesel fuel, cheap boozer

sweat and bad breath permanently impressed our clothing, along

with a number of wrinkles.

Later that night was the first really memorable landmark

after miles and miles of miles and miles, as the saying goes.

-40-

We hit Texas.* El Paso to be exact. At’.4a.m# In the snow.

Sunny and I ran and played in the snow, laughing like

crazy. Snow was a rarity in Southern California, we only saw

it on week-ends when we went to the mountains in winter. Then

we did another Spartan shower number in "the cold water John and

went inside the restaurant (I use the term loosely) for a

cup of coffee to warm up. We weren't dressed for snow and the

shower room sure wasn't thermostatically controlled. What

with that and the absorbency, or lack thereof, of our throw­

away brown bath towels, we felt clammy to say the least. The

Juke box on the table looked inviting, something to treat our

ears, give them a rest after the steady roar of the bus. All

the titles were Mexican, except for one number. Marty Robbins

"El Paso." We- nearly fell out of our booth laughing. "Out

in the West Texas town of El Paso, I fell in love a Mexican

girl..." we played it over and over until time to leave.

The third day is only a haze. I remember wishing I could

sit upwind of myself, and being disgusted when a drunk

heaved on the seat in front of us. He dropped his bottle in

the process, and it broke, showering our shoes and feet with

the lingering perfume of cheap wine. Ugh. The bus driver

casually rolled to a stop and walked back toward us. I thought

he was going to clean it up, but he only threw the drunk off

the bus. We spent the rest of the day trying to breathe

through our mouths.

-41-

Around 5 or so we pulled into San Antonio for dinner.

We ran inside to Inspect the wall map, and sure enough,

discovered that the Alamo was only about 10 blocks away. We

decided to run for it. We kept asking directions, and finally

spotted it. Wow. It wasn’t as big as I’d expected, but every

bit as awesome. It had already closed and they wouldn’t let

us inside, so we just walked around and peered through the

gates. Sunny took a picture of me standing in front of the

main gate, then I used her camera to take one of her.

We took a deep breath and headed back. We arrived with

seconds to spare, but the bus driver gave us a dirty look

like he’d been waiting all week for us. Or maybe he’d just

got wind of us and didn’t like the smell. I didn’t blame him.

I didn’t like it either. I vowed never to ride a bus further

than across town. I fell asleep not long after, but was

awakened by a nudge from Sunny.

"Hey, wake up, lookit. Look there."

"What, were are we? What?"

"Look over there. We’re in Houston, and that’s gotta be

the Astrodome. Look at it."

"Oh, wow. Yeah. Boy is it lit up. I’ll bet it’s- really

something Inside." I decided I’d like to come back and see

it on the inside one day. It looked all glittery and fine,

like someplace I’d enjoy.

Next morning we hit New Orleans. We’d told the Club we

-h2-

were coming and they’d made arrangements for us to stay in.

a hotel near the Club for a few days until we could find an

apartment. The hotel was owned by Abedreenly, a friend of

the Club manager.i

We strutted out of the bus station and confidently

caught a taxi. All the excitement and glamour was back; we

were here. Our bedraggled, smelly clothes and rumpled hair

couldn’t hide our natural air of superiority, poise and calm.

Look out. Crescent City, here we come.

-43-

X.Wowee, it’s gonna be a good day’. Just got up and it’s

clean and clear and crisp out. I can hear the St. Louis

Cathedral bells chiming noon, and the little brother voices

of all the others tagging along behind like unruly echoes

trying to keep in step.

It’s Monday, slow night last night and even slower

tonight, so I’m going to spend the day relaxing and doing

chores.

Already had a cup of tea - coffee gives me the shakes -

and feel ready to give it hell. First a load of laundry to

be washed, groceries, and then play, or maybe t’other way

around. We’ll see.

Almost nobody here in the Quarter has a car, it’s a

waste of money. Nowhere to park; narrow one-way streets

overloaded with traffic and plenty of vandals to swipe a

hubcap or bust your radio antenna if not worse. Friend of

mine moved here and while he was apartment hunting his car

was broken into. They took his suits, slacks and shoes. He

was really up a creek. And two days later, parked in the same

spot, somebody relieved him of the rest - shirts, underwear,

and his dirty laundry.

Me, I get around on foot or by bus. Much as I hate buses

for cross country they’re okay for city stuff. They’re only

-114-

a dime here; you can go anywhere in town for that and five

cents transfer. Not that I go much of any place any more.

Used to go to the lake or out to the park by Tulane but just

never seem to find the time these days.

Well, off down Conti Street with my wash and cleaning.

Those three flights of stairs ain’t as easy as they used to

be. Along Chartres here, by the Wildlife and Fisheries

Building. Ho ho. It’s been used for the U.S. Circuit Court

Building ever since I’ve been here. "Temporary headquarters”

the sign says. They tried that Rap Brown dude there, back in

’68. Boy that was something else. Cops of every description

crawling all over the place. Federal cops, state cops, city

cops, military cops, looked like a parade for all the uniforms.

Bunch of us were curious and tried to go one day, but

got hassled when they wanted ID’s - were gonna search us -

and told us to write down our names, addresses, occupation,

and what we wanted. Sheesh. No way. Don’t remember what

he was tried for but there was an awful lot of worry some­

thing bad might happen there, what with Black Panthers

holding meetings and things going on all over. They were

having a street meeting one time just ouside the Quarter,

when I walked by coming back from lunch with Bambi and

Candy. Was kind of curious so I walked over to hear what was

going on. It was pretty interesting, had sone things to say

about what they wanted and why. Said they’d scheduled the

-45-

meeting to be held in the community church, but some white

men came and locked the church doors so they couldn't get in

and they were holding it in the street for everyone to hear.

Bad weather, too, that day, windy and cold. It started

raining but I had my poncho so I pulled it over my head.

Nobody left. The little kid in front of me started shivering

in the cold so I took off my poncho and put it around him.

He smiled at me, and I felt good inside. .Suddenly I felt a

man's hands on my shoulders. "Uh, oh," I thought, "should

of minded my own business." I turned and saw a huge black

man looking down at me.

He smiled. "Thank you, sister." He said gentle, "Not

many as would do that for a child. Here." And he took off ■

his jacket and put it around me, then turned back to the

goings on. I felt about ten times warmer, and ten times

closer to the people around me. Looking about, I saw every­

where people sharing coats and umbrellas, without words,

without thought. I wanted to cry.

Anyway, I heard they threw the book at him. Brown I

mean. The jury spent forever to decide, then gave some

wishy-washy verdict. Not guilty on one count, guilty on the

other, and said for the judge to go easy on him since there

was a lot of doubt. But the judge let him have it. I felt

kind of sorry for him. I mean, sure, he was stirring up

trouble and all, but it seems like to me that folks would

-46-

figure out that when a fellow gets pushed down, he doesn’t

Just stand up again and leave it go. No, . he pushes the

other one down to be even. All this backlash and riot stuff

you hear about is just .both sides trying to get even before

quitting. Wish they could just have a fist fight or some­

thing, though, and leave all the innocent ones out of it.

Anyways, I’ve gotten to the cleaners and dropped my stuff

off. That’s one down. This part of St. Peter Street is one

of the places you always see in the paintings and photos and

movies and stuff. All old-timey, narrow street with second

and third floor balconies. Even the A&P at St. Pete’s and

Royal looks kind of quaint.

The streets are almost clean at this hour; the sweepers

have already been here and the bars aren’t doing enough

business yet to dirty them back up. It even smells okay

what with all the ritzy restaurants letting out their lunch

odors, hiding the stale booze and cigarette stink of last

night’s fun.

Think I’ll avoid groceries for a bit yet and stomp over

to the Lemon Tree and buy something silly. Lord knows I’ve

not much to throw around, but hey, it’s sure fun to do.

Around the corner onto Bourbon Street and here comes

Peter Pan, smiling as always.

"Hi, Petey, how are you today?"

"Oh, hello. Juse FINE, thank you. Look you’ve JUST GOT

-47-

to see this." He starts unfolding a well-thumbed "physical

culture" magazine. Oh, no, this month’s love. "Just look at

that. ISN’T he something...those MUSCLES, oooooooo." He

shivered and smiled coyly.

"Very nice, Petey" I reply. At least he has good taste

I wouldn’t mind a bit of that either. Peter Pan’s delicate

features make a strange contrast to the huge proportions of

the muscle freak. "What are you up to, these days?"

"Oh, honey, I have a NEW job! And you’ll NEVER guess."

"No. Tell me."

He looks positively ecstatic about it and bubbles over

telling me. "I’m working one of those hot dog concessions...

you know...and you’ll be so surprised, sweetie...! got the

one RIGHT in front of the Exile!"

I should have figured. Lafitte’s in Exile is the place

for the male gays in the Quarter. I had known that the

regular dude who had that stand had split - they never last

long. It would be a great sport for him, and an easy way to

meet the new gays as they’d come around. Getting paid for

having fun.

"That’s great, Petey. Really. But do you make much in

that racket?"

"No, and it’s a lot of walking," he sighed. "Picking

the cart up, walking it to your spot, and then having to walk

it back at night." He brightened. "But I think I’ll like it

-48-

anyway, for a while. Say, have you seen Candy and Bambi?" His

tone had switched, was confidential.

"No, not in a while..."

"Well, they had THE biggest fight over Casey, seems they

were BOTH seeing Case on the side, and you know Casey, she

HAD to brag. Bambam found out about Case and Candy, and she

REALLY lit into poor Candy. Gave her a black eye and some

awful bruises."

"Oh, no’." I exclaimed. They had been good friends of

mine when we all worked at the Playboy Club years ago, and I

was still fond of them both.

"That’s not the worst, honey. Two days later Candy heard

about Bambam and Case, and..." he dissolved into wide eyes and

a big shrug.

"Petey, that’s awful. Goddamn Casey anyway. She always

did have a big mouth."

"I think Casey is a nasty bitch. Ever since she called

me all those names that time. Just who is SHE to talk?"

I was amazed. "Peter Pan, I don’t think I’ve ever heard

you say.anything bad about anyone... not," I hastily added,

"that I blame you about Casey."

He was silent a minute, toying with his pale-blonde hair

which framed his pixie face. Easy to see where he gets his

name. He looks like a fairy-tale elf. Nature played a cruel

trick making him a him. He’d be a beautiful, dainty girl

-119-

with dozens of fellows after her. He couldn’t hurt a fly with

his gentle nature and I’ve rarely seen him without a smile.

"I guess I don’t really mean it," he said sadly, "I do

like her, sometimes. Only she did hurt me SO that time in the

bar. Those DREADFUL things she said." He looked close to

tears.

"I know," I said gently, "but she gets all messed up on

all those pills she takes and then goes drinking and doesn’t

even know where she is. She prob.ably doesn’t even remember."

"That’s true." He cheered up again, then went on. "Any­

way, Candy and Bambi had it out but GOOD, and then they both

decided to quit seeing Case and made up."

"So everything ended okay, anyway?"

"Oh, yes, you know those two, a couple of lovebirds even

if they do have their fights. I only wish Blacky and I got

along as well." He looked forlorn. Up and down his moods

go, never the same, but always a smiley hello. And living

with Blacky has to be pure hell. I don’t know a meaner

person. Someday I’m afraid he’s going to kill Peter. In

one of his rages, he’s so big, he’ll crush Petey like a bug.

I guess he brings out!;the mother in me he’s so tiny and kind

of innocent.

"How are things with you two?"

"Oh, well, you know. About the same." He paused, then Ishifted to a happier topic. "Anyway, I’ve got to run or I’ll

-50-

be late. Bambam and Candy have asked me over for lunch.

They’ve bought some new clothes I’m dying to see. Good to

have run into you, love. Bye now.” And he was off, dancing

almost, dodging in and out among the slow, bulky tourists on

his way to lunch with the girls.

I can smell the Lemon Tree from the end of the block.

Tourists coming out carry the smell with them. Lemony candles,

lemony soaps, lemony creams, perfumes, and powders, all

wrapped up to take back home. And the shop is always lit

up like a Catholic church or something with those tiny-

squatty candles in pretty glass holders. They must burn

twenty or thirty lemon candles a day. I always feel like I’ve

walked into Fairyland with the pretty goodies and nice smells',

and the lovely tinkly music they always have on. It’s one of

my favorite places, tourist trap or not.

It’s such a hard decision, what to buy here. Everything

looks and smells so dainty and nice I want it all. I guess

I’ll buy a couple of the lemon candles, some of their special

lemon bath oil, and some sour lemon drop candies. I’ll have

a lovely afternoon with these.

They’ve got some new clothes in the window of the Sleek

Boutique, but I’m short right now so I’ll walk on past and

not look and drool. Well, just a peek. Mmmmmm, there’s a

new dress that’d sure look snazzy on me. It’s red, which

is always the men’s favorite, and goes good with my blonde

-51-

hair. Slinky, too, tight and low-cut, with long sleeves.

Just the kind that wows them. I won’t stop now, but maybe

next time by, tomorrow afternoon or something. I’ll check it

out.

On to A&P. Ugh. Well, don’t need much. Instant coffee

for company, canned milk for the same. Eggs and cheese for

quick meals since they’ll keep in the fridge, and a couple

of apples to munch. It’s not much but at least it’s not

junk. I don’t get all that frozen trash, or canned junk.

Don’t see how anybody can live on TV dinners and Hamburger

Helper with canned string beans and corn. Ugh. Guy’s Grille

isn’t Antoine’s, but the food’s decent and cheap, and what I

eat at home is real food, not packaged and processed to pieces.

Home again, nearly, with goodies for me and some Little

Friskies for Nicky Kitty. They’re cheaper than cat food and

she loves them. Now for a long bath, with scented candles

and lemon drops and a novel for company. Easy living. Wonder

what the poor folks are doing right now.

-52-

XI.

It*3 a quiet rnoi'nlnp;. Didn’t work last nlf.ht and couldn’t

sleep so here I am at 3:30, wide awake. Too late to go out,

too early to get up. The kind of dark, alone time that can be

warm and snuggly with someone nearby, or fun and somehow

daring sitting up with chocolates and a book. I love to read

in bed with lots of blankets, and Nicky curled up next to me

asleep. The little niggling thought of what if I’d done this

at home - it was forbidden to ever stay up this late - and I’d

catch awful trouble. I guess that’s what makes it fun and

daring.

It’s also the time when I get thinking of the past.

Things and people and words just fill up the whole room being

remembered, and I’ll cry over them all; the good cause I miss

them, and the bad cause they still hurt. I’ll cry til Nicky

wakes up and comes to nuzzle my neck, purring and licking

my face to comfort me, tell me she loves me and it’s all

right.

I get an ache then, so bad, deep in my gut, about Daddy

and home and wanting to be there. To tell him I know I hurt

him when I left, and he hurt me, but mostly because we loved

each other and didn’t know how to get it straight. He held

too tight and I struggled too hard, and we nearly tore each

-53-

other up getting away.

Oh, Daddy, and now you’re dead and I’ll never get to say

I love you, and I’m sorry.

-5^-

XII

I want to go back to when Sunny and I first got here, go

over what happened then.

The taxi drove us through New Orleans to Abe ..Greenly ’ s

hotel, and • us gawking out the window all the way. It was

all downtown though, no fancy homes or French Quarter or even

a glimpse of the Mississippi. Driver said we were only a

couple blocks from the Quarter and pointed the direction.

When he let us off we were amazed. The hotel looked like

the original building in New Orleans, some kind of ancient

firetrap flophouse. But, well, it was only for a day or two

so we went on in. It was clean, okay, just worn out. Like

the dude at the desk. He could have cared less if we stayed

or went. He gave us our key and we went up. I'd never stayed

in a hotel before, just motels and stuff with my Dad on

vacations so I felt pretty good in spite of the third rate-

ness of the joint. Was our room ever a surprise, though.

Walked down the dark, dingy hall, thinking, well, at least

it’ll be a private room, just us, and we can bathe and sleep

a week if we want. We opened the door and gasped. It looked

like a bed warehouse! It seemed to be some kind of dormitory

or something with a bunch of rooms with rows of beds. There

were a couple of women in there already; one in bed, covered

-55-

with a greyish, dirty-looklng sheet, and a fat one standing

looking out the window. She turned from the window, looked

a little surprised. "Well, hello ladies. Welcome to The

Fleabit Arms. Make yourself to home." She began coughing

like she was gonna lose her innards and nearly turned purple.

"I’m Wanda, and this here’s Maureen.”

We mumbled hello, put down our junk, and backed out

hastily for a consultation in the hall.

’’What’re we gonna do,” Sunny yelped, "we can’t stay

here, with... them!’’

"Hey, we don’t know anywhere else, and it’s cheap. Let’s

just stay tonight and find a place of our own tomorrow. We

can manage just one night, c’mon."

"Well, okay, I guess," Sunny conceded, then she cheered,

"Wow, I want in the tub first."

Nothing could have held our spirits down that day. Even

when we found no tub, only a dingy cramped shower. And there

was a large, shadeless window in the bathroom that looked out

on the central court of the building, and on all the other

bathroom windows in the hotel which were also large and

shadeless. It was a Peeping Tom’s paradise. We found an

old newspaper in the trash can and wedged it in the window

with bobby pins while Wanda chuckled at our modesty.

We were dead with all the bus riding and stuff, but

some things are more important than sleep. After checking

-56-

directions with the lifeless clerk we took off on foot to go

see the Club and the French Quarter.

We were a block from St. Charles Avenue when we heard a

rumbling, and then saw a trolley - far out! I hadn’t seen

trolleys since the time I went to San Francisco. "Hey, bitchen,"

I yelled to Sunny as I streaked for the corner, "come on, let’s

hop a ride!"

"A real trolley, far out," Sunny laughed.

"Ten cents, please," said the'conductor.

"Do you go to the Quarter?" I demanded.

"No, but it’s only a block from the Canal Street end

of the line." He looked us over. "You tourists?"

"Uh, uh, we just moved^here to work at the Playboy Club!"

Sunny announced.

"Oh, yeah, well good luck." Gee, I thought, is that all

he can say, he oughta be more impressed than that. He contin-

ued* "I’ll tell ya where to get off. Ten cents please." He

went on with his business as others crowded on behind us.

Hmmmph, well, just wait’ll we had lots of money and could

afford to buy trolleys like his, instead of just ride on them.

We rode giggling and excited until he told us we should

get'kTff. At least he was efficient. Canal Street. It was

really wide, running from the Mississippi River to Lake

Ponchartrain. We could see where it dead ended into the

river from where we were but rather than walk down and check

-57-

it out we had to see the French Quarter first. It was like

being tugged in fifty directions at once. Did we want to see

Bourbon Street, or the Club, or the River, or a tree with

Spanish moss, or a house with those balconies, or or or...?

We settled on The Club first, and Bourbon Street. We

crossed Canal and walked down it a block or two towards the

River. Then, there it was. Bourbon Street in person.

"Oh, pinch, me," Sunny whispered, "I think I’m in

California still, dreaming all this. I can’t believe it,

that we’re really here. Are we, really? I mean, really?"

We walked down one block, and there, from the corner

of Bourbon and Rue d’Iberville, we could see it. The Bunny

logo stood out on the awning draped from the second story

balcony. Bunny head pennants flew from the walls, and the

words "The Playboy Club" were emblazoned on our eyeballs.

"Should we go in?" Sunny queried, "Maybe just walk by

and open the door at least, you know, just peek in?"

It sounded tempting, but what if we got caught. "Naw,

we’ll be here tomorrow for our interview with Casey Collins

the Bunny Mother, let’s not take a chance today."

We moved on down Bourbon finally, 'having feasted on

all there was to see of the Club. We tried to take it all

inside ourselves, all at once, pointing out strip joints to

each other, and jazz places, and fancy restaurants. Rolling

names on our tongues. Rue d’Iberville, Rue de Bienville, Conti,

-58-

Old Absinthe House, The Bayou Room, Papa Joe’s, Lafitte’s

in Exile - strange name - The Original Old Absinthe House

further on - what’s the difference, we wondered - Your Father’s

Moustache, and glimpsed down a side street, Pat O’Brien’s.

Finally, sated with gawking and walking, we wandered

back up to Canal and emerged into the real world again from

the tangled jungle of foreign places with foreign names, where

foreign things occurred.

We hopped another trolley and went back to the hotel,

where even musty smells and greyed sheets couldn’t keep us

from a long refreshing sleep.

Next morning we jumped up, dressed and ran outside to see

if the city was still really New Orleans. Yep. No change.

VJe went to a corner for breakfast and to plan our day. The

Club didn’t open until 10 so we figured we’d apartment hunt

all morning and go to the Club for our interview in the

afternoon. We bought a paper. The Times-Picayune -I’d never

heard of a paper called the Picayune and we laughed about

that a lot; I still think it’s kinda strange - and we began

hunting. We decided we needed something either in the

Quarter or on a trolley or bus line so we got a map from the

hotel clerk and I think it was the first time he’d moved in

two days. I believe he slept in that same spot behind the ।

desk and never left the lobby, ever; he looked like part of

the furniture, kind of old and shabby like he could stand a

-59-

good dusting and maybe being left outside for a day or two

to air out and get shut of all the mildew he probably was

carrying in all his secret corners and pockets.

We didn’t want to go back up to that room, as Wanda had

come in real late, drunk and stumbling around, and was up

there snoring like crazy. So we walked to St. Charles and

then up a few blocks to a little grassy square we’d seen

before. There were a lotta old frowsy looking tramps sitting

around but we plunked down on a bench and began marking ads in

the paper which had prices we figure we could afford. We

didn’t have much loot between us after the bus tickets and

shipping our gear, and if we weren’t going to be working for

a month or two we needed to save all we could.

We found a bunch of spots which had prices we thought

were reasonable, and were right off St. Charles which sounded

pretty good, so we decided to take the trolley out to the

farthest one, then walk back.

The places were alT dark and old, though, and most had no

air conditioning; many had no heat either. And you were

expected to eat out or buy your own stove and refrigerator

as the kitchen was bare of both. No wonder they all were

so cheap. After four or five we called a halt and began

to look up places on the same route which we had counted out

before as being too expensive. I mean there’s a limit to

what we could live in. Finally we hit one in the 3000 block

-60-

of St. Charles. 1 br, lb, Ir, full kit w/dshw, cntrl ht and

ac, pl & Indry fac on prem, Ise $180.

We stopped in front and saw a modem two story U-shaped

complex surrounding a large, inviting swimming pool

"Oh, yeah," I thought to myself, "this is it, kid!"

The manager was Mr. Phillips, a dried up looking old

c,6ot.

"Now, we run a nice, quiet, respectable place here, girls.

I want you to know that," he cautioned as we delighted over

the luxury of the apartment, sheer elegance after the others

we’d seen; running from the dishwasher to the huge picture

window overlooking the pool to the large, pretty bedroom with

loads of closet for all the fancy duds we’d soon have.

"Oh, yes, sir, we understand" I smiled at him to show

what nice, quiet, respectable girls we were.

"Now one thing," he continued, "I know you’re both good

girls, and" you wouldn’t want talk."

"Oh, no sir," Sunny broke in.

"So when you have your gentlemen friends come calling

for you, to go to dinner and the like, and I know you will,

two nice young ladies like yourselves, if they come in for

a minute to wait while you pretty up you’ll just keep your

drapes open so’s everyone will know you’re fine young ladies

and no one can think any evil of you. You girls will do that,

now, won’t you?"

-61-

At that particular moment we wanted the place so bad we’d

have promised to invite him up to chaperone us.

"Yes, sir, of course we will,” I turned on my most

sincere look, "we understand completely, sir, and we adore the

apartment, and want to live here.”

So papers were signed; a year ’.s' lease gave us a scare -

what would happen in a year? - but we gulped and signe.d it.

Checks and receipts and keys changed hands, and we left

bounding in the air, proud owners of our very own swanky

pad in the most exciting city there was, with the greatest

job in the world.

The fact that we were almost out of money didn’t even

occur to us until the next day.

After signing the papers and junk we rode the trolley

back down St. Charles feeling like old hands by now, recog­

nizing the names as they went by — The Ponchartraln Hotel,

The States-Item Building, Seamen’s House with all the uniforms

going in and out. United Fruit next to it.

We packed our stuff at the hotel, glad to be nearly out

of there, and left it in the lobby with that same dusty clerk

while wh went to our interview with Miss Collins.

We walked the several blocks to the Club so we could

look the area over some more. We went down Royal Street andi

saw the Penny Amusement Arcade — open 24 hours. It was a

kind of a whirlpool of noises and colors. All flashing

-62-

lights and neon peep shows and changing angles^ clanging slot

machine bells, pinballs spinning around to make you lose your

balance and topple in, even from the street.

It was attractive and repulsive all at once. Pictures

twenty-five cents; hundreds of tiny faces in rows of four,

with tongues out, smiling, leering, eyes closed, eyes open.

Make a souvenir coin — I did need one, didn’t I? One

of those round ones with the star in the middle, and Print-

Your-Own stuff around the outside.

I felt like hanging onto the sidewalk in a panic, to

keep from being swept in with the current, yet wanted to let

go, drift in and be lost. Known only to the gypsy fortune­

teller and the bear who would turn and run each time I fired

at him.

We managed to slip by without being sucked in but I

promised myself that, one day...;

Cheap looking antique shops and news stands flashing

thighs and breasts at me from magazine covers littered the

first block, with the narrow one-way street jammed with cars

running in between, and people overflowing everywhere.

When we finally reached the Club we hesitated at the

fancy, wooden door, gulped a breath and walked in. We were

in a small, carpeted, plushy reception sort of area, with

double doors in front of us. The rug had tiny orange bunny

heads all over it.

-63-

Sunny looked, at me. I smiled.

"You look fine."

"Oh, do you think she’ll like us?" Sunny moaned. "I

mean, what if we’re wrong or something, she says no they don’t

want us, what then?"

Let’s worry after it happens, not now, okay?" I smiled

and we opened the door.-

The sight of more orange bunny head rug stretching out

forever struck me first, and struck me funny. I fought off a

giggle, tried to hold it in as I looked around, in the dusky

room. Everything looked elegant: glossy wooden walls, the

carpet along one side and then beautiful fitted-stone floors.

I heard, water running somehwere, saw a row of tiny elegant

tables with little sofas on each side. Wow what a place!

Subtle, upbeat music completed the scene. This was it, they

just had to take us.

A gorgeous girl with long curly brown hair and wearing a

dark blue bunny costume walked up. I’d seen the outfit before,

but gee, what she did■for it. I hoped it would look half as

good on me. I decided I could circle her waist with my two

hands and have plenty of thumb left over. She had a little

button on her hip that said Penny.

"Good afternoon, welcome to the New Orleans Playboy

Club," a low warm voice, too1,: and a nice smile. I liked her

immediately. Her eyes made me feel at home. "May I help you?"

-64-

Would I ever be that soft, that casually sophisticated, that

polished? I began to doubt.

"Uh, we, we have an appointment with Miss Collins," I

managed to get out. Ugh, my inside said, did you hear your

voice? What are you, some kind of hick come to the big city?

Stop croaking, you sound like a frog, jerk. She smiled at our

good fortune, never noticing my ghastly sound.

"You must be the two California girls we heard about.

This way, please, she’s expecting you." She opened a tiny

side door on the left that I hadn’t noticed, and gestured.

It was like night and day. A low-ceilinged cement room

with voices and buzzing instead of the lively music.

"Just go up the elevator to Three, and get off, go

straight down the hall to the end, to Miss Collins’ office.

You can’t miss it. Good luck." The door swung shut behind us.

An ancient black metal switchboard hulked on one side

of the tiny space, with a plump woman busily talking and

pulling long cords around like twisting snakes pushed in and

out of holes, flipping switches, pushing buttons.

The room was really just a long corridor which stretched

off into eternity, with sounds of clanging and yelling at the

far end. Next to the switchboard was a long table with a

shelf of huge black notebooks above it.

Directly in front of us were two squat, orange elevators.

I pushed the button and waited as the noisy thing groaned

-65-

slowly down to us and opened.

The third floor was brightly lit and the walls were

covered with framed photographs of bunnies doing things -

riding golf carts, holding children or baseball bats, smiling

at men.

The door said Bunny Mother. We knocked.

"Come in," deep, almost musical, but with a harsh under­

tone. In we went.

A small plush office, a medium height woman with long

brown hair curled at the ends. A tight smile. I felt

nervous.

"You must be our California girls. Welcome, I’ve been

expecting you."

I felt at a loss for words.

"Sit down, how was your trip, is the hotel all right?"

"Yes, it was, uh, fine. The trip was..."

"That’s good. Just great. Well, I suppose you want to

know all about the Club?"

"Yes, ma’am," Sunny began, "we really..."

"Well, first, let’s see, yes. I have your folders here.

Which one of you is...oh, of course, I can tell by the

pictures. You’re Sunny, and you’re Jo. Just call me Casey.

Have you looked for a place to stay yet?"

"Oh, yes. We looked all over and finally..."

"Good. I had an awful time when I first got here. It’s

-66-

just so hard to find a good place to live that’s convenient to

the Quarter. Why, I remember - Oh, are you hungry? Let’s

go have a bite of lunch and you can tell me all about it."

I felt helpless, slightly lost, but didn’t know why.

Over a delicious lunch of rib eye steak - I’d never

heard of rib eyes in California, and spent a few minutes

wondering what it was - and french fries - which Casey

declined on account of her diet the doctor had put her on,

very strict she said - we got lots of bits of informationI

about Casey, and a few about the Club.

She gave us a brief tour, from elegant room to elegant

room, and we finally ended up back in her office.

"Well, I had hoped to be able to give you Mother’s

Lecture today, but there just isn’t time."

"Oh," I felt disappointed, "well, uh, when..."

"Of course you know we won’t be needing you until April,

we’ve got several excellent girls flying in from Chicago to

help with Mardi Gras; and after it’s over there’s very little

business until Easter, on account of Lent, you know, so we

really needn’t start you in Bunny School for a while yet."

"Yes, we knew," Sunny said, with a heavy note. My heart

sank, I’d kept hoping we would be put on now. Our funds

were awfully low and we would never make it until April

without some kind of a job.

"However, let me give you your Bunny Manuals. You can

-67-

take these home and study them, and be all set when school

starts.”

"Oh, thank you. Thanks." We accepted the gifts she

offered. I clutched mine.. a real Bunny.. .. I was a real

Bunny. I could prove it now.

"School will last one week, and then you will be tested

on what you’ve learned. Then, if you need more time, we may

extend school another week. But I’m just sure the two of you

will have the entire Manual perfect and will have no trouble

at all."

"Yes, ma’am, thank you." I wondered whatever in the

world was on all those pages, what exotic things we would learn.

"As soon as you have an address and telephone let us

know. And we’ll expect to see you then, the first week of

April, for Bunny School. Goodbye."

We made our way to the elevator; excited, dejected. We

were real Bunnies, but out-of-work ones. Two months! How

would we ever last til then?

Downstairs in the plush entry way The Living Room, I

knew now - Penny smiled at us. "How did it go?"

"Oh, well, okay. We can’t start until April, on

account of Mardi Gras and all, but..." I began.

"Wow, that’s going to be tough. Maybe something will

happen, though, between now and then. Anyway, I’m Penny, and

I’ll see you again soon."

-68-

’’Thank you. I’m Jo.”

"And I’m Sunny.”

We exchanged hellos and goodbyes, and Penny wished us

another warm good luck. I wished she were Bunny Mother.

She’d never let us go broke. As we left. Penny laughed her

soft laugh, and said something I’d never heard before, and

I’ve probably heard a million times since.

"Y’all come back now, hear?"

We stopped on the way back and picked up our bags at the

hotel. I gleefully said my last goodbye to that awful clerk,

and we hopped.the trolley to our new home. Soon as we got

home we whipped put our goodies that Miss Collins had given

us. There were two things: a Cocktail Bunny Study Guide,

and a Bunny Manual. We flipped through the manual and saw

everything from insurance and absenteeism to dating guests

and the merit-demerit system, whatever that was.

The Cocktail Bunny thing was scary...all sorts of stuff

like different bar checks, kinds of keys, drink information,

how to set up a tray, all the bar terms, and how to do the

Bunny Dip, Bunny Stance, and Bunny' Perch. Sounded like new

dances. Whew! If we ever learned all that....

"Oh, wow, it even tells exactly what to do, no matter

what happens," Sunny gasped. "How to say hello, how to serve

the drink, and how to get the money if the customer pays cash.

Good grief. I’ll feel like a robot...." She held her nose.

-69-

’’this Is a recording!”

We laughed and talked for hours, reading both books

through, until my stomach let me have it.

"Oh, Sunny, I’m starved. Let’s go get something to eat.”

"Okay, yeah, I’m hungry, too. My stomach thinks my

throat’s cut. Uh, how much money have you got? I’ve just

got five dollars or so left after that huge deposit plus a

month’s rent in advance."

"That about did me in, too. I guess we ought to talk

about it, but let’s do it over dinner."

There was something called Krystal Palace not far away,

which turned out to be ten cents a hamburger! I’d never seen

a ten cent hamburger before. The buns were square, and about

the size of biscuits, with tiny meat patties and a pickle in

the middle. They were definitely different. Also cheap.

The orange juice was fantastic, though. Squeezed as you

ordered it, rich and thick.

"Hey," Sunny mumbled around her third Krystalburger,

"I’ll call my mom from here, collect, and get her to send us

some money."

"Super, if you think she’ll do it, if she won’t mind."

"Naw, I’ll pay her back soon as we start working. No

sweat."

"That’ll really help out. Sunny. Oh, and plus, tomorrow

we’re supposed to pick up the rest of our junk at the bus

-70-

station, and I packed all the canned stuff I had left from

the apartment.”

"Canned stuff like what?"

"Mostly tuna, some vegatahles I’ve had for ages, and

Vienna sausages. Plus a bunch of those macaroni and cheese

dinners."

"Really, you really packed all that?"

I got defensive at her tone, but continued. "Yeah, and

wrapped up all my other things, too; ketchup, mustard, salt

and pepper, my canister set with flour and coffee and sugar...

hey, what’s so funny?" I felt a little embarrassed, like

I’d been selfish and got caught, but I hadn’t wanted to throw

the stuff out and I’d figured we might need it if money got

short at first and we wouldn’t be able to afford to buy all

that kind of thing.

"Well, it probably cost more to send it than it was worth,

but since it’s here, that’s great; we can eat it. But I can’t

believe you really did that."

I felt kind of proud I’d done it, then, but still kind

of embarrassed and defensive. But at least it meant we’d

have food tomorrow, so it didn’t seem so dumb to me.

We finished chow and then Sunny called her mom from the

phone booth outside the restaurant. She told her we were

doing okay, but had just started Bunny School, whibh wasn’t

exactly a lie - we did have our manuals - and we needed some

-71-

cash to tide us over. Her mom was sweet about it, and said

she'd send some right off.

We split on back to the apartment, and after an argument

over who got the bathrub first we did the number and hit the

rack for the night. I felt totally exhausted after my first

full day in New Orleans, but looked forward to the next one.

-72-

XIII.

The next day was Wednesday and we went down to the bus

station to pick up our gear. The day went by in arranging

sheets, dishes, pots and pans, and Sunny's stereo. We took

a couple dollars and went to the store for milk, eggs, and

butter. Well,, margarine actually, this time, but we decided

that soon as we could afford it, no more cheap margarine in

our house...real butter only.

We feasted on a Kraft's macaroni and cheese dinner with

tuna in it, and spent the evening talking and playing records.

Thursday was warm for February, and sunny, so we broke

out the old swim suits and lay out by the pool with my portable

radio. Aaaah, now, just a mint julep to finish it off and

life would be complete for the two ladies of leisure. But

no mint juleps just yet - eating came first.

Thursday and Friday we stayed home and fixed tuna

casseroles and warmed Vienna sausages, and devilled ham on

toast. We also studied our manuals like crazy, just in case.

"Okay, Jo,, what's CO?"

"Canadian Club, it’s Canadian whiskey. It’s usually

with water or 7-Up...like CC and 7...and served in a highball

glass, with ice and stirrer. Highball setup is shot glass

for whiskey, highball glass with ice and stirrer, water

-73-

carafe. Poured at the table.

’’Right." Sunny scanned the list. "What’s Ambassador?"

"Scotch Whiskey, same thing as before, highball."

"And...?"

"And...? I don’t know.H

"It’s a gin, too, remember?"

"Oh, yeah. And Gilbey’s and Gordon’s are gin and vodka

both, right?"

"Right. Do you think we’ll ever get all this down?

There’s so much....'"

"Yeah. Hit me on some garnishes, will you. Sunny?"

"Okay, martini."

"Rock glass, with or without rocks - ’straight up’ means

without - and a martin-I take an ol-I-ve."

"Very good. Gibson."

"Gibs-ON gets an ON-ion."

"Rob Roy."

"Oh, crumb. Sunny. Wait, let me, I’ve got it,...two R’s..

a cherry, right?"

"Got it, two R’s, R-ob R-oy gets" a che-RR-y. Jo,

you’re really getting those."

"Well, they’re easier than a lot of this junk, especially

with all the hints we’re figuring out to remember them with.

But I’ll never, ever remember all those keys. Celebrity,

cash, party, temporary black, temporary rose, oh God."

-74-

"Yeah. I wonder what all this stuff tases like. Soon

as we get some money I want to try one of everything."

"All at once? VJhat a blast that would be. You’ve

never been smashed like you’d be smashed then."

"Aw, Jo, you know what I mean. They all sound so exotic.

A Singapore Sling. Wow."

"What about a Zombie? And a Rabbit Punch?"

"Yeah, those, too. All I’ve ever had is screwdrivers

and bourbon-and-y' at parties."

"Ugh, it’s so sweet; I hate bourbon. And I tasted my

dad’s liquor once, he had gin and Old Overholt in a cupboard

over the refrigerator. The gin tasted like drug store

perfume smells, and the Overholt was like fire. I coughed

til I thought I’d die, and could taste it for hours."

We studied and talked late both nights, and lay in bed

all morning.

By Saturday we were tired of sitting around studying,

and decided it was time for more adventure»

-75-

XIV.

Early Saturday afternoon we caught the trolley to the

Quarter to spend the day. The money from Sunny’s mom had come

but it was a check. We’d tried a bank close to us but they

said no on account of we didn’t bank there. Well, we didn’t

bank anywhere, that’s what the check was all about.

Anyway we’d figured they’d cash it for us at the Club so

we’d called and they said sure, come on down.

Penny met us at the door and said she’d expected us.

She was so sweet, it was like she really cared what happened-

For the umteenth time I wished that she were Bunny Mother

instead of Miss Collins. Penny got the money from the gift

shop cash register for us and talked for a minute. We told

her we were going sightseeing so she said to be sure and go

to Pat O’Brien’s. We said we’d heard of it so she told us

where it was. We thanked her and left.

Fifty bucks sounded like a lot but we had called the

phone company and they wanted twenty-five dollars deposit.

That was half of it down the tubes right there. We promised

each other we wouldn’t spend any money, just look, and set

off down Bourbon Street.

There were people all over, and guys would crowd around

the doors of the strip joints to look in until you could

-76-

barely squeeze past on the sidewalks. We kept trying to see

over people’s heads to see the stages as we went by but I only

caught glimpses of girls in there, moving to the tinny noises

that sounded like all the strip music you’ve ever heard in

cheap movies. Every place had a man in front trying to get

you to go inside. He’d let you look for just a second, then

close the doors slowly and invite you in.

We were afraid to stop, but walked slow so we could see

as much as possible without letting''on. I noticed a lot of

other people doing the same thing and wondered what it was

that made it so awful just' to stop and stare? I mean they

were getting paid to be up there showing themselves off

publicly and then people were afraid or embarrassed or something

to even look at them.

The Old Absinthe House was our first stop. The building

looks about a million years old, wooden, tall ceilings,

high narrow doors with skinny glass panels. It had several

doors, and seemed dark and dusky, yet light and airy all at

the same time. We stood outside and stared in. "Hey,'let’s

bend our rule just a little and get our first New Orleans

drink here,'right now," I pleaded.. Sunny nodded instant

assent, and we walked in, enchanted.

It was a curious setup like I’d never seen. In the

very center of the room was a kind of huge cabinet maybe

fifteen feet long with rows of shelves full- of bottles and

-77-

and glasses of all shapes and sizes on both sides-of it. The

bartenders walked around the cabinet making drinks,

producing blenders and ice machines and shakers and stirrers

whenever necessary. They looked like a floor show and did

everything with extra flourishes and stuff to make it

interesting. The bartenders were then enclosed within a kind

of square ring of a bar made of some heavy, dark wood, which

in turn was surrounded on the outside by a row of tall bar ;

stools. Tables and chairs were crammed in a few corners but

most of the customers preferred the bar.

The wall and ceiling really got me though. Dark old

wood, looking as though they'd seen a million customers

drinking a million drinks. And covered with cards. Business

cards, slips of paper, announcements. All tacked, taped,

stapled to the walls and- ceiling. Thousands of names,

companies, openings, weddings, left there like leaves of a

history tree fallen to the damp and fertile ground. Each

leaf telling a story, confirming a life. Bearing witness

that it's owner exists, and .has passed this way.

We walked in and looked around, sidled up to the bar and

sat. Neither of us had ever gone in a bar without a date

before. In California 21 was the limit so unless you were

with a date who could take you some fancy place where you'd

pass, or some .cheap place they wouldn't ask, you just didn't

go.

-78-

"Yes, indeed, ladies. Good afternoon. What'll you have?"

Old man, might be fifty or seventy. Spry, though, with a

nice twinkle in his eye. He popped napkins down before us

with a chuckle. "Well?"

We had decided first things first, we were going to spend

some of our small hoard of money for a drink, and the South

could only suggest on thing.

"Two Mint Juleps, please."

"Yes, ma'am, right away." He stepped off, reaching for

glasses and bottles, mint sprigs and ice.

"Wow, just look at all the cards," Sunny breathed,' trying

to be unobtrusive so everybody in the place wouldn't know

we didn't come there every afternoon for Mint Juleps, "there

must be thousands of them."

I turned around on my stool to face the wall, trying to

keep one eye on our bartender to learn the ingredients and

measures. "Sugar, water and mint in the bottom of the glass.

Cards on top of cards were tacked up, with every imaginable

name and business. Stir well and add bourbon. I was lost

for a minute, staring at the words, building people and lives

around each tiny card. The sound of glasses bn the

bar brought me back. Drat, I missed the end. I'd have to

ask somebody first chance I got at the Club.

"What do you think of our collection, eh?"

"Incredible," I shook my head, "How many years...I mean

-79-

how long do they...

"Once they’re up, they stay. Oh, some fall off and get

swept out, or somebody’ll take ’em down I reckon, to use the

tack. But that’s all. .We just leave ’em."

I reached for my glass, pulled it to me. Then gave in.

"Do you use a ladder for the ones on the ceiling?" I

had to know, and couldn’t chance that no one would do it while

we were there. Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction

brought it back.

"Nope."

Drat. Informative man, wasn’t he. I tried again. "Oh.

Well, urn," I gave up. "How..?"

"Show the ladles, George," butted "in a man next to me.

Big and busy-looking in his dark, expensive-type suit, his

friendly face made me think of the cheerful drunk in the

TV skits, sodden and happy. "G’wan, here’s your money, and

wait a minute," he fumbled with his wallet, "here’s a card."

He handed George a business card and a fifty-cent piece

from the pile of bills and change on the bar in front of him.

George smiled. "You already have more cards on the ceiling

than any six people I know." He turned to us, adding "But

he loves for me to show tourists and new folks how it’s done."

He reached under the bar and produced a tack which he

stuck through the center of the card. I watched the beads of

moisture run down my glass which I had neglected in my interest

-80-

about the cards. I reached for it and took a sip.

Ugh! I forgot the card as I coughed and choked. It

tasted like sweet bourbon. I didn’t want to let on, and tried

to swallow the heaving sensation my throat was creating.

This was the tall, cool beverage they sipped on verandas in

the evening? Yechhh. I muffled myself, trying to keep tears

from forming, and gritted my teeth, hoping no one had noticed.

George had placed the coin in the palm of his hand,

oblivious to my troubles. The card and tack were on top of

the coin, tack point up.

"Ready?" George asked, like some kind of theater per­

formance .

"Rrrrrrrready!" the about-to-be-immortalized drinker

mumbled. He apparently hadn’t seen me either, as he was deep

into his own glass at the time.

"Here goes!" And he hit the heel of his hand a sharp,

hard blow "with his other hand.

Eyes from all over the bar followed the flight of coin,

tack and card. Up to the ceiling, where the coin drove the

tack in. Then, shining, the coin tumbled back down. George

reached out and it fell into his palm once again. Then quickly,

into a large glass full of change and bills while he pulled

the rope that rang a bell marked "Tips." Applause from all

corners.

George turned to us and smiled. Tipsey said "How about

-81-

that, ladies? Pretty good, eh? Here, lemme buy your drinks.

George! How much for their drinks?" He waved a couple of

bills in the air.

"Is this all right with you?" George raised his eyebrows

and grinned our direction. "You don’t mind? He’s okay, just

likes to talk."

We glanced at each other. Sunny shrugged. We couldn’t

really afford it anyway, and we had promised we wouldn’t spend

any money. "Yes, sure." I nodded, "Thank you." to Tipsey.

"Quite' all right, ladies. Drink up. George! Another

round here!"

Whoa, not so fast, I couldri’.’t take another one of these.

"Oh, no thank you. We have to be going."

"It’s so early, you don’t need to be anywhere yet. Why

you ladies just got here." He flourished his glass. "Stay

awhile, have a few drinks and keep me company."

I looked at Sunny. Nope, she didn’t want to stay either.

Quick, how to get out of this nicely.

"Well, we, we’d like to, sir, but we’ve got to get

back." Hope that’ll do it. I felt like I was trying to

squeeze under a door and just couldn’t ooze quite low enough.

"Naw, not yet, honey," he was wheedling now, "you’ve

barely touched your drinks. What about you?" He swung and

focused on Sunny. "You don’t want to go yet, do you?"

"Well, we do need to get back, sir. Thank you, though."

-82-

"Back where?11 Oh, oh, I’d been afraid he’d ask that.

”It can’t be so important you can’t stay and chat with an old

man, eh?”

Flash. Got it. "We’d really kind of like to stay, sir,

but our parents are waiting for us back at the hotel."

"Um, what?" He sat up from his bar-slouch and looked

at us closer. It was all I could do not to bust out giggling

at how effective the word "parents" was.

"Yes, sir," Sunny chimed in, picking it up "we’re going

to visit our Aunt Ida for dinner."

Our words, were as magic as all the abra cadabras ever.

His eyes narrowed as he tried to judge our ages, suddenly

fearing the worst. I tried my best to crowd my 18-year-old

body back at least a year or two, and look innocent.

"Oh, sure, yeah. Well, if you’ve got to. Goodbye.

Goodbye." He turned away. "George! Another whiskey!"

We picked our purses off the bar and scampered out into

the warm February sunshine, laughing softly.

"Wow, that was bitchen," Sunny laughed, "what a great

line. We’ll have to remember that."

I felt proud. "But what about that mint julep?" I queried,

"I noticed you didn’t finish yours." Sly. "Didn’t you like

it?"

"It was awful." Sunny grimaced, remembering. "And I

didn’t notice you being eager for another.”

-83-

”1 thought it was awful too. How can they drink those

things? Ugh."

We were now approaching Pat O’Brien's, a big fancy

looking place just off Bourbon St.I

There was a long dark corridor of arched brick, smelling

damp. On either side were large, dim bars full of people and

wood. Very old fashioned and elegant with all kinds of beer

steins hung from the wood rafters.

Then at the end of the corridor a huge patio, sunny and

full of pretty, wrought iron tables and chairs. It was all .

landscaped with lots of bushes and trees and flowers, and you

could hear birds singing.

In one corner was a covered veranda with an organ. The

organist was playing a soft tlnkly tune that seemed just

right for all the people we saw.

There weren't any empty tables’though. We walked around

once and saw no place to sit, so we were about to leave when:

"Excuse me, would you like to share our table?"

Two okay looking guys were smiling at us, and one had

stood up and was indicating the two empty chairs across from

them.

We exchanged glances, shrugged - I mean, what can happen

in broad daylight, right? - and sat down.

We traded names and the fellow who’d stood up said,

"Would you like a drink?"

-84-

"Well, I...1’ Our budget. A promise is a promise. And they

did look tall and cool. I wanted something to rid me of the

awful taste of that mint julep.

"C'mon, let us buy you a hurricane." They each had a

huge, hurricane-lantern-shaped glass in front of them, full of

a bright pink, liquid. We’d heard about hurricanes at Pat

O’Brien’s even in L.A. Sunny looked eager, too.

"Okay. Please."

The waiter appeared and took the order, was gone and back

in a flash with two of the huge drinks. They tasted like

fruit punch, but somewhere at the back of my tongue I could

feel a warning taste of alcohol as it went down. It was a

whole lot tastier than the Mint Julep, though.

We talked for a while as we drank in hurricane and

atmosphere, and tacitly Sunny and I set up the same story -

we were sisters, visiting here with our folks. They were

sailors stationed at Pensacola, Florida - a six hour drive.

Finally Sunny and I nodded an "it’s time to go" look

at each other, and asked the time.

"Oh, we’d better hurry to get back to the hotel. Thank

you so much for the drinks. They were neat." We got up and

started to leave.

"Hey, don’t you want your glasses?"

"Glasses?"

"They come with the drink - a souvenir." Of course.

-85-

I’d seen lots of people with them, but had just assumed they’d

swiped them like you do ashtrays.

"Oh, for certain." I came back and picked them up.

"Thank you!"

We said goodbyes and took off, heading for the corridor

and the entrance.

The corridor was packed with people, and it took a long

time to ease through. Just in front of Sunny a man and

his wife were having an argument as they oozed through the

crowd.

"Mary, you have too damn many of these things already and

you know it. They’ll never all fit in your suitcase."

"But darling, you know I have to have one for each of

the children, and two for Sue’s girls. And Sharon would feel

slighted if I didn’t bring one back for her..."

"Now look. You’ve already got presents for everyone.

Take those damned glasses in and get the deposit back on them.

Now’."

Sunny did an about-face to see if I’d heard. I had.

"Deposit." My eyes lit up. Money.

"Yeah," she replied.

We followed the still-arguing couple into the bar and up

to the counter.

"Please, Tom, let me keep just two of these, at least.

For Linda and Bobby."

-86-

’’All right, Mary, all right. Just turn the others back

in.”

She surrendered part of her armload - had the two of them

drunk all that? I had barely finished one - and the bartender

gave her several dollars. Free money.

They moved off and we stepped up. I tried to look casual

and handed him our glasses. He didn’t even notice me as he

grabbed the glasses and handed me two one-dollar bills then

turned away to someone else.

We snaked through the crowd to the street and then paused,

exhiliarated.

"What do we do with it?” Sunny asked.

"Eat.”

’’Yeah. ”

We found a little homey restaurant named Guy’s that had

a seventy-nine cent special. And dug in.

"jo?”"

"Yeah?"

"What if, what if we did it again?”

"You mean the glasses thing?"

"Yeah."

"I thought that, too. I don’t feel bad about it, I mean

I don’t feel dishonest."

"It’s not like stealing or anything."

"They didn’t have to buy us a drink, they offered."

-87-

"And we could sure use the money."

"Yeah."

-88-

XV.

Sunday morning we got up, went out and lay by the pool

and studied some more.

After an hour or two of not saying It, Sunny finally

spilled.

"Well, are we going?"

"Yes."

We ate tuna fish and crackers - God was I getting tired

of tins - and got ready to go.

If anything Pat O’Brien’s was even more crowded than the

day before. We hung around a while, and finally grabbed a

table as a family left.

We hadn’t reckoned on the waiter.

"Yes, good afternoon, ladles. May I bring you something?"

Very polite. You’d have to really enjoy being a waiter to be

that polite, as many people as you had to serve every day.

"Oh, no thanks," I said sweetly before thinking.

"I’m sorry, but you must order something If you are

seated." He Indicated the crowd milling at the entrance to

the patio. "There are customers waiting." He was still

polite but icy around the edges.

"Oh, well, we’re just waiting for our parents, they’ll

be here In a minute and we’ll order then." Our handy dandy all

-89-

around excuse.

’’Certainly. Excuse me. I’m so sorry. I’ll return .when

your parents have arrived.’’ He was all politeness again. He

nodded and left.

Whew, that was close,” Sunny smiled. "But now what?"

"I don’t know. Find a couple guys, change tables, or

split. We sure can’t order anything."

We sat for a moment wondering what to do.

"Hi. Can we sit down?"

Eureka!

It went pretty much like the day before. The waiter

gave us a dirty look but we Just smiled Innocently at him and

he said nothing.

We decided to try an oyster bar with our two dollars and

walked up Bourbon Street looking for a good one.

We chose Felix’s Oyster Bar and Restaurant. We’d never

had raw oysters, but it seemed the thing to do so we figured

to split a half dozen. I mean three of almost anything surely

wouldn’t, kill us. There were no tables. Just a long stand up

bar. We walked up to it. The menu was printed on the wall.

Oysters. And beer.

"Are you ladles ready to order?"

"Yes, sir. A half dozen oysters, please. And two beers."

"A half dozen each?""No, sir. Just one order." I hesitated; the truth

-90-

couldn’t hurt. ’’We’ve never tried them before.” '

The fellow next to Sunny perked up. ’’Never tried oysters?

Where have you been?”

’’California.”

’’Well, I always thought that was a screwy place and now

I’m sure of it. No oysters!” He shook his head. ’’Will! Do

these girls up right. One dozen apiece. On me.”

I tried to protest but Will just nodded and kept shucking

oysters.

Behind the bar was a huge tub, full of oysters. He’d

select one, wash it, and insert the corner of his oyster

knife under the edge of the shell. It would pry open and he’d

toss half the shell away, cut the smooth soft flesh free

of the other half shell, rinse it, then plop half shell and

pale grey meat down on a tray. They were alive! I could see

some of them in the pile squirming. Alive! Oh my God.

I tried to make conversation to keep from thinking

about what I was about to do. ’’You come here to Felix’s

often?”

’’Where?” he laughed.

Confused, I repeated my question. ”Do you come here to

Felix’s much?” I pronounced it like Felix the cat, the

cartoon character I used to see on TV.

’’You mean F’-leek-ses?" Laugh. ’’Certainly, every day

for lunch.”

-91-

"F’-leek-ses?" I said tentatively.

"Yep."

”0h.” Weird name.

Two dozen pink and grey animals, living flesh on pearly

shells slid across the counter toward us, followed by two

Dixie beers.

I gulped.

There was a little paper cup of sauce, so I figured I

could at least drown the taste. But the taste of what? I

grabbed a fork, snagged the smallest oyster I could find. I

swear it jumped when I stuck the fork in it. I slathered it

in the red sauce and popped in in my mouth. And chewed.

Cold slimy. And sand gritty. That was the worst part.

The sand. A chill went down 'my spine like nails on a black­

board as my teeth grated on wet sand.

I managed to swallow it, and looked up at the eager,

expectant face of our benefactor.

"Uh, I..." I noticed Sunny begin to choke and guessed she

was having the same experience I’d just been through. My

stomach contracted in sympathy and I think I felt the oyster

flop over down there, loking for a way out.

"Well?" he beamed.

"Not,1 um, not quite what I expected." That’s putting iit mildly.j Slimy cold rubber rolled in wet sand. Gastronomic

hit of the week.

” -92-

’’Don’t chew It, just swallow. Feel It glide down your

throat,” he advised, ’’that’s the real pleasure."

I could feel the first one trying to glide back up my

throat, but didn’t tell him so. I mentally hitched up my belt

and swaggered back to the attack. A quick swallow was easier,

the sand wasn’t noticeable. But half way down I could feel

it wiggle and it almost got stuck as my throat constricted in

panic. Two out of ten. And our host still beaming in

ecstasy at introducing this delight to us. Sandy looked pale.

After a long, agonizing time I got them all down, with

much sauce and more beer. We thanked our host weakly and

beat it for the door, and home.

I managed to hang, on til we got home, then threw up all

night. Sandy kept hers down, but looked sorry about it.

I decided I would be pretty near starvation before I’d

eat that poison again.

i

-93'-

XVI.

Monday we laid in bed and fought Impulses to be sick. My

stomach could hold little besides soup and tea. I kept thinking

of squirming, grey oysters covered with red sauce and sand

fighting their way out of my stomach and up my throat.

By Wednesday we both felt lots better and had minimized

the Incident as much as possible. But I've never touched

another since.

Thursday we went back to Pat O'Brien's and had no trouble

at all finding a couple of nice guys to sit and talk and buy

us hurricanes. Our luck was no good Friday, but Saturday we

made out twice. It took a lot of nerve to decide to try that -

what If the early ones came back and saw us? - but It worked

out fine. We ate at Guy’s again and even had chocolate

cream pie for dessert.

We really had our routine down by now, and our only fear

was that the waiters would get wise. So far we'd apparently

managed to blend In with the mob, but I was afraid It wouldn’t

last.

We met a lot of nice guys,.and had agreed that If we met

any we thought super, we’d signal each other. If It was

unanimous, we would go out with them and just enjoy our­

selves. Otherwise, strictly business. We’d had a couple of

-94-

offers of dinner tut "wanted to stay in control and felt

confident of being able to handle things at Pat’s. -In some

guy’s car, or miles from familiar territory in some restaurant

without a knowledge of the bus lines we’d be more vulnerable

than we wanted. So we stuck to Pat’s and hurricanes.

Sunday we met a couple of airmen from Biloxi and were

just beginning our drinks when I began to daydream. I wished

we’d meet some really special guys so we could relax and go

out. This was fun in a way, and a big challenge, but it was

hard work to keep straight. We’d vary the story a lot - who

was oldest, where we were from, our names, and had to be

careful to.remember what was up. I

I glanced at the patio entrance still daydreaming, and

saw a figment of my imagination. Two tall, tanned guys, in

white jeans and madras plaid shirts, with surfer blonde

hair and tennis shoes. I hadn’t realized until that moment

what it was I didn’t like about the boys we’d been meeting.

They were drab. Their clothes were nondescript, and they

had pale skin. No healthy, outdoors look.

These two even walked different. Casual, yet alert. I

wanted to dump the two guys we were with in the nearest

garbage can and start over. Then, as they walked closer,

I realized who they were. The tallest one spotted me at the

same time.

”Jo’0 1

-95-

"Ken! Dan!"

They walked up. I could see Sunny practically.drool oh

the table. It was all I could do not to jump all over them

myself. They were two of the guys from the crowd I was so

homesick for, back at school. The boys we were with looked

unhappy. I felt a pang of shame, then quashed it.

"What are you guys doing in New Orleans?" I demanded

from the bottom of Dan’s embrace.

"Looking for you. Jeez you’re hard to find. We went to

the Club but they wouldn’t tell us much, just that you weren’t

working yet."

"Yeah," Dan^added, ."but some really nice chick who

answers the door told us you’d probably be sightseeing. She’s

trying to find your address for'u^ but hasn’t had any luck."

"How long have you been here - Why - how long are you...?"

"Whoa," Ken laughed.

The two boys we were .with were on their feet and looking

glum. Ken stuck out his hand and introduced himself and Dan.

I introduced Sunny. Sunny just drooled.

Ken and Dan pulled up chairs and began to explain. They

had dropped out for the Spring semester, and were on their

way to Europe. They hitchhiked to New Orleans hoping to

catch a freighter and work their way across. They knew I had

come here to work and had been trying to find me for the

past three days. They were sleeping in an awful fifty cent

-96-

a night dive, trying to save what little money they had for

Europe.

The other two fellows gave up gracefully, surrendered

us, and melted Into the crowd. I felt sorry for them but was

too happy to see familiar California people to let It bother

me for long.

’’Well, it’s all decided,” I stated. ’’Let’s go get your

gear and you can come and stay at our place til you leave.”

”If you’re sure..,,”

”0h, yes’” Sunny backed me up. I could see she was just

as sick of only my company as I was of only hers.

We walked to their hotel, and I use the term loosely,

and then took the trolley to our place. That night we sat

up talking of California over peanut butter sandwiches until

everyone fell asleep on the living room floor exhausted.

That sure changed life around our place.

Now that we had somebody to be with we wanted to see all

the sights. The four of us rode the bus to Tulane, to the

parks, the levy. Lake Pontchartrain. We rode the free ferry

across the Mississippi to the west bank and wandered up and

down the banks looking at the refuse that would wash ashore

after a trip from Chicago, or St. Louis, maybe.

We haunted the Quarter, peering In all the fancy places,

wandering through Jackson Square.

Arid we'ate tuna fish and macaroni. Canned yams and

-97-

Vienna sausage. We splurged and bought hot dogs or a pound

of hamburger.

I think we could have gone on for months If It hadn’t

been for the food. We were all.happy to see each other and

clung together like a family In a strange land. To be

truthful Ken and Dan hadn’t exactly been my closest friends

back in California, but here I needed all the companionship

I could get.

-98-

XVII.

One day, Ken came up with The Idea. We had just finished

another canned lunch and our bellies were full but our

appetites lingered on.

’’Sure would enjoy a big dinner at one of those fancy

restaurants in the Quarter,’’ Sunny mourned, ”I’m so sick of

beans and hot dogs.”

’’Lot’s of luck," says I, "not on this week’s budget."

"What if, what if we just, you know, went and ate and

couldn’t pay for it?"

I speculated on that.

"I mean," she continued, "what could they do to us? I’d

wash dishes for a week just to eat a steak." She sighed

reminiscently, no doubt remembering her last steak. I couldn’t

recollect mine.

"What," Ken began slowly, "if we ate and then, you know,

snuck out or something?"

"All four of us? Good luck." I laughed, but the seed was

planted.

"Well, no. We could sneak out, and you girls could, urn,

play helpless. You know, cry or something like we’d stood

you up." Ken began to sound excited. "Sure, that’s it. We’ll

find a place with a couple of doors, so we won’t have to both

-99-

go out together. Those big places never watch you close

anyway.” ,

"And .I’ll bet they can afford It, the prices are so high

at most restaurants." Sunny was eager now, too. "Come on,

Jo, let’s do It. Let’s do It tonight!"

So we planned our masterpiece* There was no way they

could know Sunny and I weren’t telling the truth, we would

just be two poor kids who’d been suckered. The guys had to

run the risk of getting caught. This made It seem daring

and exciting to me - not having to sweat getting nailed

myself, yet doing something I knew was wrong. And I had

every confidence In Ken’s and Dan’s ability to pull It off.

We rode the trolley to the Quarter, and hung around the

fanciest restaurants we could find, playing tourist. We

checked out Antoine’s, Moran’s and Le Vieux Carre, but we

finally settled on Arnaud’s. It had two exits with a phone

by one of them and the men’s John by the other. We went

home to dress and plan the menu.

i-100-

XVIII

We arrived at Arnaud’s at nine o’clock, dressed to the

teeth and starving. Sunny and I looked fancy, but nice,

cause we wanted to seem sincere and honest later on. The

fellows had on dark suits which, with their tans and sun-

blonded hair, made them look terrific. We were knockouts.

We began with cocktails. The guys ordered scotch and

water. Sunny got a martini, and I decided on a stinger. I

used to order stingers In California so places wouldn’t

figure I was under 21. It sounded like a real drinker’s drink.

Next we got appetizers: shrimp remoulade and crabmeat cock­

tails. Then a chef’s salad. If we were going to do this.

It had to be done right. All the way, with class.

Then came the steaks. The biggest they had. With bakbd

potatoes and sour cream, and Sunny got asparagus on the side.

Oh, God, what a feast. I thought I was In hog heaven. And red

wine with meat,, naturally, It tasted pretty okay though I

like some water with my food and then a few sips of wine

between bites. They brought hot French rolls and butter, too.

I thought about swiping them for later, but decided against It

In case the waiter would see.

The waiter was very attentive and we were super nice

to him, hoping he’d remember that when he got no tip.

-101-

We ordered strawberry cheesecake for dessert. It was

almost time to begin the plan. When Dan had almost, finished

his, and the after dinner brandy and coffee had arrived he

got up, saying he needed to n.ake a phone call. He

asked the waiter where the phone was and ambled off.

We finished our cheese cake, though I had a tough time

getting mine past the lump in my throat. What-if’s kept

crowding my head. Halfway through the brandy, which burned

my stomch like crazy though I never let on, Ken mumbled

a good luck under his breath and asked where the men’s room

was.

We were alone.

We sat and chatted and laughed over our brandy, and I

felt very grown up on the outside and very scared on the

inside. After some interminable time the waiter drifted up to

inquire how we were. Here goes, I thought.

”0h, we’re just fine, this has been so nice. We’re new

in town, and I don’t know anyone, we’re looking for a job and

just met these two fellows today sightseeing. They’ve shown

us all around, and then brought us here to eat.” Whew, I

thought. Hope he falls for it.

He did. He smiled back, and I saw he was kind of young

and nice looking, though awful skinny. He must not eat here,

I thought.

’’Well, I’m glad you ladies are enjoying the city. Can

-102-

I bring you anything else?"

"No, thank you." Sunny answered. , .

The waiter went away again and we stared at each other. Then

I noticed him in the entrance hall talking to some big man in

a dark suit who was holding menus and gesturing our way. The

head honcho, no doubt. Gulp. Here it comes. Very soon.

The wditer disappeared towards the men’s room. In a

minute he came back and talked to the man some more. We

fidgeted and tried to look innocent. The waiter walked back

over.

"Ah, ladles, do you know where your, un?# escorts are?"

"Oh, Dan went to make a phone call and Ken is in the

men’s room," Sunny gurgled, looking sweet and wide-eyed.

"I, ah, am afraid that I have to inform you that, ah...."

he hesitated a long moment, "that your escorts have left

the premises."

Sunny and I stared sl.gwly at one another, and at him.

It was out, and I found myself really believing it, feeling

Indignant and scared.

"What? What do you mean?" I turned a worried face to

him. "What do you mean, left? Sunny Just told you where

they were..." I trailed off.

"Well, ma’am, we, ah, we’ve been worried about them,

about you I mean to say, and we checked in the men’s room

and all around the restaurant. They, ah, they are not on the

-IO3-

premises at this time."

"But..." Sunny began, "but, they, they wouldn’t just

leave, I mean, they couldn’t, that Is....oh..." she faded off

with a moan.

The heavy man In the dark suit hurried up. "Is there

some problem here?" His smooth, deep voice sounded firm and

assured. "What is the matter?"

"I just informed them that their gentlemen friends were

absent," the waiter explained.

"I see." He had it under controL He turned to me. "Did

you know the gentlemen well?"

I tried to blush. "Oh, no. That is, I...we met them

this afternoon. We’ve just been here a week, looking for a

job, and they were so nice," I blurted it out beginning to

really believe it "and we haven’t eaten much all week, trying

to save, I mean, oh, how can we ever, will we have to, I mean,

how much is it, do we have to pay?" I began to be frantic.

"Sunny, how much have you got, I’ve only got a couple of

dollars...."

"Now, just a moment," the big man eased "John, you go and

get the check and bring it to me." John brought him the

check. I cowered.

"How, much is it?" I wavered.

"Sixty-four eighty-two, plus tax." Oh my god, I thought.

We really did it. How could it have been that much...but a

-104-

tiny voice in the back of my head said yipee, wow, and was it

delicious!

"Oh," I said aloud, "Oh, Sunny, no. I’ve only got..."

I began to rummage in my purse and she did the same. The

waiter and the big man stood, looking uncomfortably at the

scene. People at the next table were watching. "Only three,

three-fifty, four, four twenty-one, two, seven. Four thirty-

seven." I finished counting and looked up.

"Oh, we, we’ll pay for it, if you can just wait until we

get jobs," Sunny was actually sniffling. "We will, really.

Please, just don’t call the police or anything." She looked

really scared.

A number of other customers were watching now.

"Well, you young ladies didn’t do anything wrong. We

certainly understand that. Please don’t be upset." He was

becoming more and more aware of our audience. I grinned inside.

We had him now. He couldn’t be anything but nice with all

those people watching.

He took the check and turned it over and wrote something

on the back. He handed it back to the waiter. "Don’t you

young ladies worry about it. It’s all taken care of. Just

you be more careful in the future what kind of young men you

associate with." He shook his head, being fatherly for the

benefit of all the customers, so they could see what a good

man he was. "Do you ladies have a way home?"

-1C'5-

"Oh, yes, sir, we live on the trolley line, up St. Charles."

I smiled a tiny smile. "But, you mean, you. It’s okay? We

don’t have to pay?"

He laughed a low, fatherly chuckle. "No, ma’am. It’s all

taken care of. It was not your fault, so we certainly could

not require you to pay."

"Oh, thank you, thank you so much," Sunny cooed..

"Yes, thank you very much," I added. "I don’t know what

else to say. Thank you."

We both rose from the table. The man escorted us to the

front door. "Now, don’t worry about this. It’s all right."

He reassured us again.

"Thank you so much. Good-bye. Thank you."

Amid a hall of thank yous, good-byes, and you’re welcomes,

we exited. We walked around the corner slowly and with

solemn dignity.

"We did It!" I whooped. Sunny did a little dance.

"Whoo. I can’t believe It!" she said. "Come on, let’s

go find the guys. Oh, wow’."

The fellows were at the Bayou Room a couple blocks away.

We walked In and they waved and hollered at us.

"Hey, over here. Took you long enough. We were really

getting worried," Dan said.

"Yeah, we figured they had you washing dishes by now."

Ken laughed.1 "What a dinner. What happened to you?"

-106-

We described our scene with the waiter and the manager,

stifling giggles as people around us gave us dirty looks;

They then told their side, how neither of them had any

problems getting out. We all went home in high spirits, and

for once my tongue was as happy as my stomach.

-107-

XIV.

After our feast we languished in the memory of the food

and our cleverness for days, not even minding the interminable

diet cf beans, nacaroni and hot dogs. Then the Club called,

and said there had been a problem. Some of the Bunnies flown

in from Chicago had gotten sick and had gone home. They

wanted to know if we’d like to start Bunny School next week.

Would we! Wow! We’d even been scanning the Want Ads

that week, realizing that we were getting close to the last

of our money. We spent the weekend with Ken and Dan quizzing

us on the drinks and mixes, glasses and garnishes, keys and

procedures.

Monday morning we showed up scrubbed and polished, with I our swim suits in hand so we could practice the floor pro­

cedures. Penny met us at the door, smiling.

"Hi. I heard you wer'6 going to start Bunny School this

week. Are you excited?"

"Wow, are we," Sunny agreed. "We’re just about at the end

of our funds, so this just came in time."

"Well, good luck. Let me know how it goes. I know it

can be hard at first, but don’t get discouraged."

We ducked through the side door into the familiar little

switchboard room and stood by the elevators, looking down the

-108-

long hall at the young fellow who was busily looking things

up in the big black books we had noticed on our first trip.

The elevator finally arrived, creaking and complaining, and

we shoved the door open and scooted in.

Casey sat us down in her office and gave us Mother’s

Lecture. It was really thorough and pretty Interesting. We

learned about all the other employees...there’s even a club

seamstress who tailors your costumes... about the Bunny Room,

getting free meals - wow- what a lifesaver that could be!

She talked about the monthly Bunny meetings and the

Bunny Council. Then came a shocker - the Merit System. You

could get Merit points for stuff like working extra at the

Club’s request, or doing promotions or something, and if you

got 100 Merits you got a $25.00 check! However, if you got

caught eating or smoking on the floor, or if you came late,

or ’’no-showed” or said a bad word on the floor you got

Demerits! And 100 Demerits*would get you canned! It was

like gold stars in kindegarten, but it immediately appealed

to me because I knew I could get those bonus checks just

rolling in.

We could not give out personal info to a customer, nor

go out with him. That was also grounds for getting fired.

We also couldn’t date other Club employees or the entertainers,

but we could date anyone with a C-l key. Casey.didn’t explain

who they were.

-109-

Then she told us about Willmark. The Club employed a

"shopping service" called Willmark to come In and check up on

us, like spies, klnda. They would act like a regular customer,

but would report back to the Club on everything you said or

did. The ultimate disgrace would be to agree to date a

Willmark man who was posing as a customer. Zap - no Job.

And then... and then... she’d talked about... shaving. A

couple of places! Not only would hair show on your legs

through your tights, but also up a few feet, where your

costume was designed to show off a lot of leg and hip. So we

had to shave a bit on either side. I felt a little embarrassed

about that, and I remember thinking It was probably going to

hurt, and Itch like crazy. I was right.

Wow. After all that, I was kind of feeling discouraged

and overwhelmed, ready to give up. But then Klko came In and

was Introduced to us. She was to be our Training Bunny. She

was Oriental, with long black hair to her waist, and lots of

makeup. She was the first person I’d ever seen up really

close with false fingernails and false eyelashes. Somehow

she seemed hard, and she scared me. I wished Penny could

have been Training Bunny. Why weren’t they all as nice as

her?

Klko gave us a slide show, all about Bunnies and what

a super Job it Is, and how Important, exciting and glamorous

a Job It Is. I almost forgot about Willmark and shaving.

-110.-

It really sounded super. Next she had a slide show about

Cocktail Bunnies. There are other jobs, like Gift Shop Bunny,

Camera Bunny, Door Bunny (like Penny, I thought) and Pool

Bunny, but first everyone had to be a Cocktail Bunny. The

slides showed all the positions described in our study guide,

the Bunny Dip, Bunny Stance and Bunny Perch, and explained

why you were supposed to use them. The Bunny Perch and Stance

I could understand. The Perch was sitting on the edge of a

chair back - Bunnies on duty NEVER sit IN a chair - with one

foot solidly on the ground, the other foot pulled up in a

graceful position, tray in place. Bunnies NEVER put their

trays down except in the service area. You looked alert,

ready to jump up and serve, yet relaxed. The Bunny Stance

was like a model’s pose, one foot slightly in front, pointed

forward, both feet pointed slightly out, weight on the back

foot, tray in position, ready to serve.

The tray was something indispensable. It’s round, and

has your tip tray, cocktail napkins, matches, lighter for

lighting customers’ cigarettes, sponge for cleaning tables,

money to buy cigarettes for a customer (you never asked a

customer for money in advance) ashtrays, bar checks and a

pen, all arranged in an ingenious little pile. Your tray

was like an extension of your left hand. Assuming you were

right handed. Anyhow it was always on your left hand, and

held at your left side, so the customers could admire your

-111-'

pretty waist.

The Bunny Dip, however, was really something else. It’s

what you had to do to serve a customer. Obviously, if you

just leaned over a table, tray and all, to serve a drir,K it

not only looked awful from any angle, but you were in danger

of spillage, and I don’t mean just drinks. And if you did

spill a drink, it would go all over your customers. Bad for

tips. On the other hand, if you stood almost with your back

to the table, right hip nearly touching the table, left hand

and tray away from the table in case of an accident,"and:served

a drink by bending your knees slightly and literally bending

over backwards with a kind of clockwise motion of your right

arm, you could serve a drink and look graceful and somewhat

acrobatic at the same time.

If you did spill your tray it would probably be on

some other Bunny’s customers, and if she helped clean up and

stuff they might not like you much but they’d still tip her.

At least that was the theory. I wonder who in the world

ever came up with such a thing as the Bunny Dip. It made

sense, I guess, but it sure sounded a lot harder than just

plain serving a drink, even if it did look better that way.

Then we had a session on the bar checks and how to use

them; the notations for drinks and things. Since we had

already read our manuals. Sunny and I both felt pretty con­

fident about this part. Then Kiko showed us all the kinds

-112-

of keys. There were the regular silver and black key-sized

keys, and also a whole variety of big paper keys for different

kinds of customers. One was for a new member, til he got his

regular key, one for celebrities who weren’t regular members,

one for people who paid cash, and several others.

By the time we were done I felt exhausted from trying to

keep all the keys and procedures straight in my head, taking

keys, writing names and key numbers on the electrowriter to

be checked in back for credit (that’s what the little room

with all the big black books by the elevators was all about),

showing cash keys to the Room Director before serving the

people their drinks, letting the Room Directors total the

checks (I guess they thought we couldn’t add), and having

the customer sign the check. It sounded as though I’d spend

all my time bouncing between the Room Director, the bartender,

and the electrowriter, with occasional side trips to the

customer.

Kiko seemed awfully impatient with our questions, and I

felt kind of scared that she’d really get mad and give us

bad marks if we weren’t perfect.

”0h, hell,” Sunny moaned on our half hour break, ”I’m

never going to get all those keys straight. I thought I

almost had it down at home, but then when Kiko started

explaining them and asking questions, well, I just forgot

everything. ’’ 1

-113-

’’Yeah, I know, I’d think they’d have somebody more

patient than her to train new girls. Maybe it’s Just a bad

day for her, or something.”

’’What do you think about, ah, shaving you-know-where?”

"I wish I had an electric. The thought of slipping...

uhhhh. ’’

”Brrr, that would be awful...you can borrow mine, it’s

pretty good. I’m worried about my suntan, though. You know,

she said to be careful about acquiring ’stripes’ in funny

places, and mine are kinda distinctive.”

’’Yeah, that’s right.” Sunny was one of those people who

tanned like crazy. Not me. A whole summer’s surfing would

net me a light apricot color which would fade in a month’s

time to my usual pale tone. Nowadays, with these hours, I

look like I live under a rock.

’’Maybe you could use, you know, makeup or something to

hide the strap marks." We both giggled at that thought then

straightened up as Kiko walked in the Bunny Room.

"All right, girls, did you bring your leotards or swim

suits? Good. Put them on and let’s go back down to the

Penthouse and begin." Boy, she was no fun at all, not even

a smile.

Sunny and I.iput on our swim suits in silence, and I

remembered vividly being embarrassed about wearing this same

suit for my interview in Los Angeles, ages and ages ago, or

-1114-

so It seemed.

We trudged to the Penthouse in silence. It’s one of the

two showrooms, where they have the entertainers at night,

but at this hour it was cool and deserted.

First Kiko talked about the costume, the shell, she

called it, and the high heels (that was when high skinny heels

were still the in thing)', black hose, name rosettes, collar

and cuffs, ears and tail.

Then we tried the Bunny Stance. Not too difficult. We

stood in front of the full length mirror in the ladies room,

feeling very silly. Next the Perch, which was easy and felt

good. Finally we were ready for the topper, the Bunny Dip.

First we went and got trays from behind the bar, and she

showed us how to carry them on the.fingertips and palm of the

left hand. Then, with empty tray in hand, we tried the dip.

"No, no." Kiko looked exasperated. "Not that way. You

look like a dying duck. Yqur knees aren’t right, your elbows

are sticking out, your tray is tipped. Try it again."

Sunny sighed and tried again. She did look awkward,

trying to lean backward over the table and serve. And Kiko

wasn’t much help.

We each tried it several times, and I began to despair

of ever getting it right.

"All right, all right," Kiko sighed, "Practice at home and

we’ll try again tomorrow."

-115-

I looked at Sunny and shrugged.i

’’Let’s talk about your tray. There are a lot of-things

on your tray at all times.” She proceeded to go through the

list Sunny and I had already studied, and then took us to the

service bar to build our trays. She signed out bar checks

to us, showed us how to use them, and how to write on the

electrowriter machine to check a guest’s credit. Then we

looked, for the first time, at the bar area. All the stuff

we had talked and read about was there, an Incredible array.

Behind the shiny-topped bar were rows and rows of bottles;

Wild Turkey, VO, Anisette, Orange Curacao., White Horse,

Courvolsifer, Old Forester. The regal names of mysterious

alcohols In fantastic bottles of all shapes, colors. The tall,

stately Galliano bottle, the fat, sturdy Haig & Haig Pinch.

The graceful brown B & B, the delicately porcelalned Vandermlnt.

And blenders, mixers, ice-bins, sinks, stirrers, pourers,

knives. Corkscrews, cash register, refrigerator, bar rags,,

shakers, strainers, and a dozen silver Implements I’d never

even Imagined, for cutting orange or lemon peel, separating

egg white, skimming foam, or whatever other esoteric purpose.

That was the other side. On my side of the bar were

bottles of soda and 7-Up, coke, gingerale and tonic (Schweppes,

but of course). There were water carafes and fruit picks,

stirrers, straws and glasses galore, a big cube-ice chest,

and still more glasses. All the glasses pictured'In the Study I-116-

Guide, each multiplied a hundredfold. Rock glasses, pony

glasses, highball, champagne and shot glasses, brandy snifters,

sherry and Irish Coffee glasses, black Playboy mugs, collins

and wine glasses, crowding the shelves and threatening to fall

on me. It was overwhelming me, I’d never do it, never learn

them all. Kiko was babbling on about marrying soda bottles

when you had several that were half full and cleaning ash

trays, but I didn’t hear it all.

Then suddenly she was herding us back into the Penthouse

and we were going to take our first order. Who, me? Oh, no!

I would never, but never, remember it all. Okay, here goes.

I see my new party, I smile. I walk up cheerily. Establish

eye contact with Kiko, my imaginary four customers.

’’Good evening, I’m your Bunny Jo.” Oh, napkins, dear.

The Bunny Dip. That’s it, over, over, almost, yes. Now

the next place, logo on the napkin facing the customer^

uh, huh, yes...oh...my tray....

A clatter of ashtrays and a flurry of napkins and matches

hit the floor.

’’Try it again."

I start over. Better this time. Don’t tip that tray.

Good. "May I see the member’s key, please?" Pause, take

key, "Is the key listed in your name, sir?

"Yes."

"May I have your name, please?"

-117-

"Smith, Joe Smith."

Careful, remember, "'Hew do you spell That, siri”

”S - M - Y - T - H - E."

Ah, ha, thought you’d catch me. A moment’s triumph. Then

I realize I’m standing there like a dolt. What comes next?

Oh, she did catch me! Oh, of course.

"May I take the ladies’ cocktail orders, Mr. Smythe?"

Hurrah*.

"Yes. She’ll have a scotch and soda, and this lady would

like a martini."

"Would you care for that martini on the rocks, ma’am?"

Wow, what an expert.

"Yes, she would. And he will have a VO and water, and

I’ll take a scotch-soda." I wrote them down, using the

shorthand I’d learned. Sc/So, mart 0 , VO/W, Sc/So.

"Yes, sir. I will return with your order in just a

minute, Mr. Smythe."

"Wait. Havep’t you forgotten something?"

Oh no. Sinking feeling. I think back. "Oh, will you

be dining with us this evening, Mr. Smythe?"

"No, Bunny."

"Thank you, Mr. Smythe, Til be right....’’

"What else did you forget?"

I looked wildly around, then noticed the ash tray where

Klko had just stubbed out her third cigarette in twenty

-118-

minutes.

"Oh." I walked back, readjusted my smile, and-tried

gracefully to cap the ash tray with a clean one, transfer it

to my tray, and return the clean one to the table.

"Tcj're cute,"" T-azpei, with g-^tteral La^rr., "let’a

get together later.”

"Oh, sir. Bunnies are not allowed to see customers outside

the Club." It was bad enough, did she have to make it worse?

"C’mon, sweetie, I bet you wouldn’t let that stop you.

Where do you go after work? I’ll just happen to meet you

there."

"I go home after work, sir. I’ll be right back with

your drinks." Whew.

I could hear Kiko laughing as I walked off.

By the time I got to the service area and began setting

up my tray, Kiko was behind the bar, waiting for me to finish

and order. Let’s see, two. scotches, so two shot glasses

touching, first, with two highball glasses behind them, full

of ice, and with stirrers. A bottle of soda. A shot glass

for the VO, highball glass like the others, a water carafe.I

Rock glass with ice for the martini next, in line with the

shot glasses at the far edge of the tray, left to right, for

the bartender to pour into. Oh, and a highball glass with

ice for the martini waterback. Garnishes? No. Straws, no.

I moved to the service area.

-119-

"Ordering."

"Yes."

"Scotch, VO, martini."

"Martini? In there?"

Oh, a martini needed an olive on a pick*. I turned in

haste to get it.

"Don’t leave your tray on the bar ever’. Take it with

you!"

I returned for my tray, back to the garnishes for an

olive, back to the bar. I hesitated, okay, try again.

"Ordering."

"Yes."

"Scotch, VO, martini."

Kiko poured water into my glasses, and reached for my

check. Oh, the check. I hastily marked 4B on it for four

beveragesand passed it to her. She rang it and handed it

back.

I picked the tray up off the service area and turned to

leave. "Coming out." My God the tray was heavy. It teetered

precariously on my left hand, threatening to topple. I

managed to make it halfway to the table before the weight

became unbearable. I grabbed at the edge of the tray with

my right hand to steady it. Kiko’s disapproval showed loud

and clear as'she walked past me and sat back down at the

table.

-120-

"Scotch and soda for the lady," I began, smiling, as I

sat the highball glass down on the first napkin, next, to-the

logo. "May I pour your scotch?" I balanced the shot glass

above the rim of the glass.

"Yes."

I poured, and nearly half of it flew over the glass onto

the napkin and the table.

"Oh, I’m sorry!" I exclaimed. Kiko made a noise deep

in her throat. "Should I, should I change her napkins?”

"Of course."

I picked up glass and soggy napkins, sponged the table,

replaced a fresh napkin, then the glass.

"Say when on the soda, please."

"Stop."

One down. "Martini on the rocks." I put the waterback

glass behind the martini and poured the water into it from

the carafe. Oh, my wrist.. The tray. I grabbed the tray

for a second. C’moh, Jo, you’re halfway through.

"VO and soda." Highball glass down. "May I pour your

VO?" Shot glass poised.

"Yes."

Ah, better pour this time.• "Say when on the soda, please."

I felt like I was embedded in one of those sticky nightmare

situations where you’re miserable, and you can’t get out,

and it goes on forever. My wrist was a flaming hurt,-121-

my back was tight from this ridiculous Bunny Backbend, Klko

obviously hated my guts, I couldn't do or say anything right.

How did I ever get here? How would I ever get out?

"Scotch and soda" My arm was trembling. "May I pour

your scotch?" My voice was trembling now, in sympathy with

my arm.

"Yes."

Oh, missed again. Pain. "Say when on the,.on the

soda, please." Oh, please, soon, say when soon, I could feel

tears of embarrassment, pain.

"That's enough."

I grabbed the tray with my right hand just before it

tipped over. I held it against me and twisted and flapped

my left wrist. The pain subsided.

"Your Dip is terrible. You've got to learn to hold

your tray. That's nothing, just four drinks on it. And be

more careful with those shots; you spilled that last one all

over me."

Sigh. Would I ever get better?

"Sit down. Sunny, it's your turn." Sunny went through

the same order, with about as much luck. Her long blonde

hair swung into a glass as she leaned over the table to put

it down. Kiko really got her for that. Then she grabbed a

highball glass by the top. Wow, what an explosion. Kiko

said something rude about not wanting to drink after Sunny's i -122.-

finders, not knowing where they’d been recently. Sunny looked

ready to cry.

It was finally over, and we were sent off to the Wardrobe

Mistress to find some costumes. Kiko acted as if we were

the dumbest pair she’d ever seen, but Marie, the wardrobe

lady. Just laughed after Kiko’d left and said not to pay her

any attention, it was just her way. We got fitted into some

old costumes, with only a couple of alterations. We would

get our own new costumes made for us after we’d been there

three months. I got a pretty dark blue, and Sunny’s was

bright orange.

Putting them on was really exciting. I began to feel my

spirits rise a little. They were like satin, only with

lots and lots of stays. Thirteen, in all, running from below

the navel most of the way up the rib cage. My twenty-three

inch waist I had always been so proud of now looked to be about

eighteen inches, the way the costume pinched in, then flared

out over the hips. It was slashed over each hip almost to

the waist, and then laced up, to look sexier, I guess. Quite

an engineering job. And my ample topside looked positively

tremendous In the pushed up, well-built cups.

We went to Casey’s office, and she Inspected our new/old

costumes. She Issued us bow ties and cuff links; the first

pair was free, but after that you had to buy them. Then she

sent us; back to the Bunny Room where Marie gave us our lockers.

-123-

sold us each a pair of black tights at $2.60 a pair, and gave

us bunny ears to match our costumes and a bunny tail. We had

to have used tails, too, until we got our new costumes, but

they were still pretty,.just not very big from having been

brushed and combed and washed so much. The white cotton yarn

had frizzed and fallen out and what remained looked slightly

bedraggled.1 Well, at least we were now official.

We walked to Maison Blanche on Canal and bought the

regulation 3-inch high heels. We had swatches Marie had

given us and we gave them to the saleslady to match. She

said it would be three days to have the shoes dyed. We

spent some of our dwindling hoard of money for the shoes,

and caught the trolley home.

We recounted the day’s adventures for Ken and Dan as

we took turns in the bath. Whew, it had been a long, tiring

day.

We spent the evening,,after another terrific tuna dinner,

practicing with the trays we’d brought home, trying to dip

and serve gracefully. Bedtime came early as we were both

more exhausted than we’d'realized.

Nine o’clock the next morning found us back at the Club,

in our new/old altered costumes, and preparing for Kiko.

”1 just can’t get these darned ears to stay right,”

Sunny pouted; ’’they make my hair look silly.”

”1 know. I’m just not teasing the top of my hair at i

-1211-

all, and wearing them over my hair like a hair band." The

ears were on a satin covered platlc band which ran almost

from ear to ear. My real ears, that Is. So you kind of had

to settle your hair around them. No jewelry or hair clips

were allowed so you had to plan hair carefully to keep

bobby pins and stuff from showing.

Klko began the day'by going over the kinds of keys again,

and showing us how to sign out a customer. Then we began

taking orders again. Things went pretty smoothly for a while; colllnses and whiskey sours, beers and brandies slid

by without too much trouble. Klko even let up a little as

our Bunny Dip improved. Sunny nearly dropped her tray once,

but otherwise It wasn’t too bad. Then we took an order for

CC/So, Cutty/w, G/T and a ginger. I did It first, and did

fine til I got to the tray setup. Three shot glasses, three

highball glasses with stirrers, a 14-ounce glass for the

ginger ale. Ice In all four glasses. Klko looked for a long

minute when I moved up to order, then asked If I’d ever

drank a gin and tonic.

"No." I’d heard of It a few times, but never knew any­

body who’d drunk one.

"Okay. Set up four glasses. Put 7-Up In one, ginger

ale In one, soda In one, and tonic In one."

I did so.I

"Now try each one."

-125-

The 7-Up was just 7-Up, ditto the ginger ale. Familiar

tastes. Sunny sipped each, too. The the Club soda,. . Bland

but okay. I picked up the tonic and took a big slug. UHGGGGHH!!I

I nearly spit it all back out. Ghastly bitter taste. YUKKKKK.

I watched as Sunny cautiously tasted it. She wrinkled up

and made a prune face that fit the way I felt. Who would

ever want to drink that vile stuff?

’’Now, do you know what goes in tonic? A lime wedge.”

Kiko was almost gloating. She’d really enjoyed our walking

into that trap. I picked up a lime wedge and added it to the

highball glass behind the gin shot. Maybe it had been awful,

but I’d never forget a lime wedge in a tonic drink.

After finishing the order we practiced signing out checks

and talked about all the stuff you were supposed to do if

you aren’t busy. Put up clean glasses, put fruit on Buuny

Picks, marry half-full wash bottles, refill water carafes,

clean ash trays, help another Bunny if she’s really busy.

Place napkins in front of new customers on another girl’s

station if she’s busy and hasn’t gotten to them yet, so they

know we know they’re here. And if all that was taken care

of check your tables for proper literature, make sure your

candles are lit, ash trays clean, matches on the table,,

customers happy. If all that was done, perch or stand some­

where near your station and look pretty. Whew. I didn’tI

think I’d ever have time for that.

\ -126-। ।

We went.to the kitchen and had lunch; some kind of a

stew with noodles. The kitchen was huge, high-ceilinged and

broad across, with gigantic black metal stoves and monster

refrigerators lining the back wall. Gigantic pots and pans

bubbled and sizzled with rice, vegetables, fried chicken,

and goodness only knew what else. Several cooks in real

chef’s hats moved briskly back and forth among the delicious

smells.

We took our food up the narrow back stairs to the Bunny

Room on the third floor to eat. Penny came in. while we

were there.

"Hi, how are you doing?” She smiled as she kicked her

shoes off and sat down.

"Oh, okay,” I said; "it just seems so, well, there’s so

much of it."

She laughed a low, warm laugh. Nothing like Kiko’s

harsh cackle.

"Sure. Well, as you start working, it’ll all make sense.

Like the call order. If you ordered a beer or a pink lady

first, by the time you got all your other stuff they’d be

flat. But if you order shots first, it’s more logical."

"Yeah," Sunny said slowly, "that makes sense, but why

a liquor order? Why the bit about ’Scotch, Canadian, Bourbon

and blend. Rye, Irish, Gin, Vodka, Rum...?"

"The bartender has his bar set up so that scotches are

-127-

at one end, rums another, with other stuff in between, so it’s

an efficient setup for him. No wasted motions." • ■

"Oh, I get it," I joined in, "that makes it reasonable.

But you don’t have to do any of that, as Door Bunny, do you?"

"No, but I have other things. Every hour I do room

counts, liquor and food sales in each room, and record the

number of customers who’ve come in on that little clicker

thing I carry around. And I have to be here early to help

Diane open the Gift Shop and take her morning inventory, and

then issue the banks to the bartenders and help with their

requisitions. And if someone who’s not a member wants to come In

I have to handle him...."

"Okay," I laughed. "That all sounds hard, too. And

I’m sure the Gift Shop is no better."

"Lord, no. Diane has to do opening and closing

inventories, plus her cash register, and order stock - that’s

a real pain. And polish all that glass all the time after

people spill drinks and get fingerprints all over It."

So much for my dream of an easier spot. It all sounded

hard.

Klko walked In. "You’re late."

We jumped up hastily. Penny winked at me as I passed

her.

"See you later. Good luck."

"Thanks. ’’

-128-

Kiko spent an hour or so quizzing us on stuff. We were

getting worse and worse, so she finally let us go for the day.

"You’d better study that stuff. Your exam is on Thursday.

We’ll review again tomorrow, but, boy." She shook her head.

On the trolley I finally spoke my thoughts. "I don’t

think I’d do so bad if she didn’t make me so nervous. We’ve

studied this stuff, but when she asks a question, and sits

there looking at you, with a ’you dummy’ kind of look, I just

forget everything."

"Yeah, me too. I’d like to get her on a surfboard for

twenty minutes. Then I’d see how fast she learns."

"She probably can’t swim. Her eyelashes’d fall off and

her mascara’d run til she couldn’t see anything." We both

laughed at the thought.

"Anyway, let’s study like crazy tonight, so we can be

good in the review tomorrow."

"Right," Sunny agreed. "Ken and Dan can play customers

and we’ll practice on them.” When we got home they were out

lying by the pool. What a life, while we worked. We ran

to change and joined them. Ken had sprung for a six pack of

Dixie. It wasn’t bad, kind of a nice, light beer. Aaaah, a

cold beer by the pool, our pool, on a lazy warm February

afternoon. I figured it was still forty degrees or maybe

fifty back in California.

The Sunny South. Kiko was forgotten as we relaxed in

-129-

the sunshine.

We’d only been in town less than a month, and. things

were really going okay. We’d have a paycheck soon, cause we

got paid for Bunny school hours, and then we could start eatin

decent again.

We did study that evening and practiced our dips and

lines on the guys, who ate it up to be waited on by two

almost-bunnies. I guess it was as exciting for them as us,

to be living, even as ’’buddies,” with two Bunnies. I suppose

I haven’t exactly mentioned our arrangement. Sunny and I

shared the twin beds in the bedroom, and the guys racked it on

the living room carpet. They’d never given us any hassle

about that; I guess they’d figured we were their only hope of

a free roof in a strange city and they’d better not blow it.

They were still trying to ship out to Europe, but they weren’t

very interested in leaving before Mardi Gras, which was just

another two weeks off, and, we were- happy to have them around.

-130-

XX.

All Wednesday morning we reviewed with Klko. She quizzed

us on glasses, keys, garnishes, taxes, brand names, what to

say when, and so forth. We were lots better, and even she

seemed impressed with our improvement.

In the afternoon we took more orders, for up to six

drinks instead of the four at a time we had done previously.

My wrist felt like it was going to revolt; I had barely

begun to get used to the four-drink load. Klko told us of

serving twelve, fourteen or even sixteen drinks at once, by

clearing all the ashtrays and napkins off and using the

whole tray, carrying water and soda bottles in the right

hand. It didn’t sound possible.

Then she talked about ways to get re-orders from a

party. You could never ask if they wanted another drink, or

even pick up empty glasses "unless serving another drink. But

you could change the ask tray, pick up stirrers, change the

wet napkins under a drink, or chat with the party in hopes

they would re-order.

We went to see Casey and she quizzed us a bit, and then

we were taken on a tour of the rest of the Club.

It was in a three story building which was undoubtedly

really ancient. It was owned by Tony and Jimmy Moran, who

-131-

also own Moran's restaurant next door, and the Absinthe House

which is on the same city block, but around the corner on

Bourbon Street. I heard people say that all three places

were connected by an underground tunnel, but I never found out

for sure. I do know that there was an underground tunnel,

but I never got a chance to go in it. It was dark with old

brick walls, and came up in the kitchen. Most everything in

the Quarter has brick walls which is probably why it hasn't

burnt to the ground before now.

I'd already been all around the first floor, which was

the street level. There were two street doors, we found

out, one grand, huge one for customers, that we'd been coming

in every day, and a little, inconspicuous door on the left

for employees that we were told to start using. Inside the

big door was the Living Room, and the Playmate Bar to the

right. In the Bar were pictures of past Playmates, and you

could sit at five or six tables, or at the bar.

In the Living Room was an oval fountain and pool with a

wide marble lip like a coffee table affair for setting drinks

on, with long couches around it which could hold sixteen or

twenty people. Then there were tables with tiny couches

to hold two people along the left side of the room, and some

really little tables with regular chairs along the wall

adjoining the playmate Bar. The piano was in the far right

corner,.and was also set up with a ledge so five or six people

-132-

could sit around it and drink. The extreme left side of

tne .-ccid tr.e 31ft c.-.zj, Kr.er-e - c* —2

Bunny head cuff links, ties, polo shirts, glasses

pajamas, golf clubs, sweaters, and on and on. Next to it was

the Cartoon Corner, with cartoons from the magazine on the

walls.

Past that in the far left corner at the tack xere the

ladies’ and men’s rooms - Playboys and Playmates, natch - and

the buffet and service area was directly in front of that

corner. The buffet was an L-shape setup where they served

lunch,, dinner, and then breakfast, daily. Behind the buffet

and near the restrooms was our rest area, where we had a

mirror, and could kick our shoes off, put our trays down,

and drink a coke or smoke a cigarette. The electrowriter was

also there, and the check dater which we ran our checks

through to imprint the date and room on them.

To the right of the service area, behind a wall closing

off the piano bar area, was the service bar with glasses,

ice, and bartender with his liquors and mixers. Behind the

rest area was the door to the kitchen. Or you could go through

the Gift Shop as we had done on our first day, and walk past

the elevator/telephone switchboard room, past the key room

where they checked credit and down the long narrow hall to

the kitchen.

At the right of the Living Room and the Playmate Bar

-133-

were doors^opening into a hall with a stairway to the upper

floors. This was the route a guest would take to the showrooms.

We, of course, could use the elevators, the back stairs by the

kitchen, or these front stairs.

The second floor had the two showrooms, the Penthouse on

the right, open every night for three'shows, and the Playroom

on the left, open for two shows on Friday and Saturday.

Both had tables crowded in as close as possible for maximum

seating. I later developed semi-permanent bruises on both

legs at chairback height from navigating through the dark in

those crowded rooms.

Behind the Penthouse was its service area, but the

Playroom’s Bar was open to the customer’s view, so there was

nowhere to go to take your shoes off or relax, but you were

usually so busy there it didn’t make much difference. The .

walls in the Club were mostly wood, and hung with Leroy

Neiman prints, though the .stairs had lots of Femlin pictures

hung over them.

A door on the right side of the Playroom and one in the

back of the Penthouse Bar each opened into a service area,

which ran around behind the Showrooms, and connected with

the elevator and the kitchen stairs. Also it was the way back

to the entertainers’ dressing rooms and the seamstress, whom

we would get to visit when we got our first really new

costumes. These rooms in back were all kind of musty and

-134-

old, all wooden, and laid out In a line like going to the

back of a narrow building. I seldom got back there,- and ‘have

no idea what else was there. They could have had the pro­

verbial whorehouse or gambling casino many customers firmly

believed we had; there was sure plenty of room.

At the head of the main stairway leading up to the

third floor was a small room used as a meeting and conference

room. Every so often you had to chase an amorous or In­

quisitive customer out of this room, or back down the stairs

which led to the thli-d floor. That was strictly off limits.

The third floor was where the General Manager and

Bunny Mother had their offices. Across the hall from them

was the Bunny Room. Later on there was also a beauty salon

at the end of that hall and up a couple of stairs, and later

still that’room became the new Bunny Room, with the Bunny

Mother’s Office next to it, and the old Bunny Room was remade

for the seamstress, to move her In from-nher exile at the

back of the building.

The main stairs continued up one more flight, but I only

went up them once, and I was so knocked out I can’t be sure

I really saw what I remember as having seen, but I’ll tell

about that another time.

After the tour Casey told us that ordinarily Bunny

School took a whole week, but we had done so well, and theyI i

-135-

had been in such a hurry to get us trained, that we had

finished in three days! They were going to give us our .

exams tomorrow, Thursday, and if we did okay we could ’'follow”

another girl Thursday and Friday, and have our own stations

by Saturday night. That brought our spirits up, and how!

Then she told us about the test. First was an oral exam,

and then a written test. You are supposed to get 100% on

the call-in order, glasses and garnishes, taxes and checks,

and only miss a few brand names. She asked if we had our

shoes yet, and when we said they were supposed to be ready

today she let us go early to pick them up, but not until she

gave us a lecture about appearance on the floor. Because

it’s so dark in the Club a Bunny has to wear lots of makeup,

not to look ”washed-out,’’ so she talked about eye liner and

shadow, and even false eyelashes, which she just happened

to sell. She said to wear rouge, too, and if we wanted,

nail polish and false fingernails which she also sold. She

discussed hairpieces and wigs, which she sold, and said that

we should experiment with wearing our hair piled up on top

of our heads in fancier hair styles as it looked more glamorous

and kept it out of the way and neat. Then she reminded us

to study hard and we left to get our shoes and buy bikini

panties at Woolworth’s.

We studied hard all Wednesday night and were really up i Ifor the test. And excited at the prospect of money coming

-136-

in soon

"Hey, Jo, watcha gonna do with your first money?" Sunny’s

voice cane muffled from the s'nower where she was washing her

hair.

I pulled the towel from my damp hair and began to try to

comb the tangles as I studied my complexion in the steamy

bathroom mirror.

"I dunno, buy some decent food I guess. How about you?"

I worked on an exceptionally difficult snarl, one of the

pains of long hair.

"I want to get a wig, like the black one Casey had. I’ve

always wanted to try being a brunette. And that red one.

Wow! I think I’d make a great red-head. What do you think?"

"With your tan I guess you’d look good in either one."

I piled my hair on top of my head and tried to imagine a

fancy coiffure. I’d never worn my hair up, except in a pony

tail in Junior High and High School before they went out of

style. Long hair on my shoulders had always been my style;

when it was a mess, a pony tail was the answer.

"What about you, what color would you like?" Sunny was

climbing out of the shower, towelling her hair.

"Oh, I don’t know, maybe one close to my own color, so

I’d have something to wear when my hair was dirty."

"Don’t Vou want to experiment? Try other colors? How

about champagne blonde? That’d look great with your eyes."

-137-

I laughed, trying to Imagine myself with a champagne blonde

hair, ’’What am I doing here?” flashed through my head. Grimly.

I clamped down on the thought, shoved it back out of sight.

I was here to make my fortune, meet my Prince, show Daddy I

c-ojld get along without him, prove I was worth something,

worth a lot. Prove it to the whole world. If I had to

become a champagne blonde to do it, okay.

I began rolling my hair in my usual pattern, thinking

I’d like to try some styles later, with a hairdresser, when

I had plenty of cash.

"Well, how does it feel to be shaved?” Sandy giggled.

’’Thank goodness for your electric razor. It was bad

enough; I can’t imagine my old safety razor....’’

"Yeah, it pulled a little, but not too bad. Ugh, I

don’t looki forward to that every week."

I-138-

XXI.

Thursday morning we were really excited. The fellows

wished us luck and sent us off after making us promise to

call after the exams. If we passed we wouldn’t be home until

late, but they said they’d wait up.

Penny was in the Bunny Room on a break when we got there.

”It’s not so hard, don’t worry, you’ll both do fine.”

She smiled. !

’’Thanks," I replied, "I hope so. It’s just, all those

brand names...." She laughed.

"Those are hard to remember at first, but you’ll get

those down later, and they aren’t so important on this test.

Glasses, call order, and procedures are what count. I’m due

back on the floor, but good luck again. Let me know how you

do."

I pulled up my costurtb and reached around to zip it up.

I squatted a bit to reach the zipper, then stretched upward,

sucking my waist in, pulling the zipper up as high as I could.

Funny how contorted you can get doing something like that.

Then I reached over my shoulder to pull it up the final inch,

standing on tiptoes, which helps somehow, I’m not sure why.

Then both arms in back to fasten the two sets of hooks and

eyes at waist and costume top, to hide the zipper. Then

-139-

bending over to ease into the costume top properly, and fitting

in the satin-covered push-up foam pads we were issued. Later

on I’d use old nylons, kleenex, or anything else which came

to hand, as did everyone else; that stuff could be pushed

into shape to fit you as an individual - the fcan. pads kind

of made you fit them and it was pretty uncomfortable.

I straightened up, checked myself in the mirror, and

hiked up my black bikinis on the right side where the hip

part showed below the cut of the costume. My legs looked

twice as long as usual in the black hose and high cut co'stume.

I put on my new dark1blue shoes and turned in front of the

mirror. Not so bad, old kid. Sunny was already fastening

her ears in. She had done her hair up in a kind of large,

soft bun on top of her head, with sausage curls down over

each ear.

I set my ears atop my smooth page boy and fastened them

in with a large bobby pin--on each end of the band and one

where each ear fastened to the band.

"Okay, let’s try to really fluff these up." Sunny had

brought our tails from our lockers and sat, bending over hers

working on it with her brush.i

"I saw one of the girls using a metal comb on hers first,

a little piece at a time, to get it all smooth, and then

brushing it up at the very end with a brush."

”1 think that’s for a new tail, though," Sunny replied.

-140-

looking speculatively at the one in her hand. ’’This one

already has all the yarn unwound and smoothed out, only the

very middle of the base still looks at all like yarn.”

I picked mine up and stared at it. The white fibers

were all separated and formed a fluffy mass which from a

short distance resembled a tiny, puffy cloud.

We spent a few minutes brushing our tails and then patting

the fibers into a soft, rounded shape. I craned my neck over

my right shoulder • and arched my back to watch as I fastened

the three hooks on the tail into the three eyelets sewn on

the base of my costume. I decided you had to be a contor­

tionist to dress yourself for this job, as .well as on the floor.

I went into the next room to the cabinet and got out two

sets of collars and cuffs under Marie’s watchful eye. She

had to wash, iron and account for them so she was pretty

careful about how many you took how often.

’’Getting ready to go on the floor today?" She watched me

from behind her ironing board.

"Yes, ma’am. We take our Bunny tests today, and follow

tonight if we do all right."

"Oh, the girls always do all right, honey, don’t worry

about it none." She chuckled softly as she pulled another

collar from the huge laundry basket by her side. "They need

you too bad, they’ll let you work. We’re awful short

handed now, and this being right before Mardi Gras and all.

-141-

V> n ’ t y t, u >/ f, f (-J , »

I did not know what to say but nodded and backed out of

the room, trying to fasten the buttons on the collar around

my neck. I handed Sunny her set and grabbed my clip-on

bowtie out of my locker. Then came the cuffs and cuff links -

with the bunny heads on the links facing each other. That

was everything. I momentarily felt a bit silly in the

collar and cuffs with a satin swim suit, but the feeling

passed. Too glamorous an image was built into place with

that costume.

I sat down at the mirror and counter, which ran around

three walls of the Bunny Room, and got out the makeup Sunny

and I owned. We sure didn’t have the cash to buy any more

yet, so we’d pooldd^ what we had until we could afford some

more.

I put on Cornsilk liquid makeup, some of Sunny’s baby

blue shadow, and carefully, applied what I considered a

fairly thick line across my upper lids in light brown eyeliner.

I’d used liner a couple of times in college, for parties and

such, but was pretty unsteady about it. Then I used our

brightest lipstick, a pale peach color. I smeared some on I

my cheeks for rouge and carefully filled in my lips. I

stared (at the painted face in the mirror as I applied my

light brown mascara. I looked at least twenty-two, even

with my same old long hair hanging down. Sunny with her

-142-

hair up really looked elegant.

Kiko stuck her head in the door. "Aren’t you guys ready

yet, we’re running late..." she broke off and stared at us.

"Is that your idea of makeup?"

I wasn’t sure what she didn’t like, but her disapproval

was evident.

"Well, I, we didn’t have...Is it too much?" I thought of

my pinky cheeks, how they must look dumb.

"Too much? Oh, brother’. Shit no. Here, come and sit

down!" She pointed to two chairs at the section of mirror

close to her locker. She opened her locker and got out a

flowered plastic zipper bag with tubes and bottles spilling

out the open top. She plunked it down and started pulling

stuff out.

She turned to me and began by adding rouge from a

tube to my cheekbones, chin and forehead. Then a dark blue

shadow my my eyelids.

"Close your eyes and hold still," she rasped, and she

drew a thick black line atop my upper lashes and a thinner

one in the crease of my lids. White eye shadow just below

my brows. Then dark brown pencil arching my eyebrows and

another black line below my lower lashes. I looked at her

eyes close to mine and narrowed in concentration as she

worked. I hoped all the makeup wouldn’t give me a look as

hard as hers,. Thick black mascara completed her work. She

\ -143-

stepped back and nodded critically. "You need some false

lashes. Casey will sell them to you."

"I, that is, we don’t have any money," I began.

"She’ll give them to you on credit, this time. Go and

get some while I work on Sunny."

I got up and turned to go, glancing out the corner of

my eye as I went to catch my new face. Oh my God, was that

thing with the black eyes me? This was going to take some

getting used to.

Casey gave me two plastic boxes containing the false

lashes and wrote our names down on a list. I returned just

as Kiko finished with Sunny. Then she showed us how to

attach the lashes with the tiny tube of glue provided in the

boxes. They felt really funny but sure made my eyes look

bigger, I had to admit. Then she handed us a dark red lipstick

to put on.

The face I now saw in the mirror looked more like

twenty-eight than eighteen. I wondered briefly why they

hired young kids like us who wore pleated skirts and no

makeup and then did this to us.

Sunny whirled excitedly in front of the mirror. "Oh,

look at me. Hey, some dish." She laughed excitedly. "Come

on, let’s get those tests over so we can start work." IWe walked across the hall to Casey’s office and knocked.

"Come in."

-144-

Gulp. Well, here went nothing. I grabbed Sunny’s hand

and squeezed quickly, for luck. . .

We went in and sat on the edge of two chairs facing

Casey’s desk, being careful not to mash our tails. Kiko

told her about our makeup, and they laughed. Casey had us

stand up and turn around and gave her approval.’’Well', they both look all right now. You girls will

have to remember that light makeup will just wash out down on

the floor. You’ll have to always make up this way.” She

turned back to Kiko. ’’Why don’t you go get us a couple of

coffees, oh, and a pack of cigarettes. I’m almost out.”

She reached for her pack and removed the last one, lighting

it with a Bunny head lighter. Kiko nodded and left as Casey

blew out a long stream of blue smoke. She turned again to

look at us. ’’Well, are you ready for your oral exam?"

We both nodded.

She asked us questions then, about every aspect of the

Club, our behavior, ways to serve a customer, Bunny Room

operations, duties of a Room Director, and on and on. Kiko

came back in a while with their coffee and cigarettes, and

they sat and sipped and smoked and both asked us questions,

every so often exchanging glances between themselves.

Finally they seemed satisfied, and Casey handed us each

a several page exam and said to go across to the Bunny Room

and sit there to take them.

-145-

An hour later as I was just finishing up, guessing on

the last few brand names, not remembering whether they were

scotches, bourbons or llguers, Klko came in.

'' ' ! > ... .

Sunny scribbled one last answer as I flipped quickly

through mine. That was It. We’d made It or not, but It was

all over. Klko said to go down to the kitchen and eat while

they corrected them. Red beans with sausage chunks over

rice was the employee menu. We each dished up a plate full

as I wondered how they expected us to fit Into these costumes

when they fed us such starchy foods. We maneuvered back up

the narrow kitchen stairs and back to the Bunny Room,

balancing our plates like trays for practice. We plunked

down In the folding chairs by the long mirror and put the plates

down on the counter running beneath It. The chairs weren’t

great, but they had no back In them at tall level so we

could lean back and relax without squashing your tall. It

was a detail I hadn’t noticed until now. And no, that’s

not a pun.

’’What Is a White Horse, for Pete’s sake?” Sunny

mumbled around a mouthful of beans.

”Y<pu know we went over that. All the white’s are scotch...

White Label,,Black and White and White Horse."

"That’s right. I forgot. Damn. Johnny Walker Black is

scotch too, pight?”

\ -146-I

"Yes, and Jack Daniels Black, and Green, are bourbons.

along with Jim Beam...." . .

"And John Jameson Is as Irish as they come," Sunny

finished, "And that leaves Remy Martin and Paul Masson, the

snobbish brandies." Our system had paid off; we had remembered

mostcf the brand names, glasses, and garnishes pretty well.

After what seemed like ages Kiko finally came to fetch

us. We went back to our uncomfortable seats on the chair

edges and fidgeted. Casey finally broke the long silence.

"Congratulations, girls. You both did very, very well on

your exams. Jo, you only missed two brand names and Sunny,

you missed four brands and one of the keys. You can both

follow tonight. We’re very proud of you." She took a long

drag at her cigarette, paused, and blew a thin'stream of smoke

in the air. "I suggest you spend the next hour or two in the

Penthouse practicing your dips and carrying trays, then

report back here at 6:30 for floor inspection, and assign­

ment to a couple of lead Bunnies for tonight. If all goes

well tonight and Friday we’ll give you a station in the Living

Room to share on Saturday, and put you on the schedule for

next week.

After calling the guys with the good news we did as she

suggested and carted glasses and soda bottles around until I

thought my arm would fall off.

-14?-

XXII.

At 6:30 she introduced us to Bambi and Candy, the Bennies

we were to follow. Bambi had just transferred up from the

Jamaica Club with Diana, another Bunny, and Candy had been

at the Club about a year. They were roommates, we found out,

and did most everything together. They both had fluffy

blonde hair, though Candy’s was almost white. They took us

down the elevator to the switchboard/key room and asked David,

the boy who checked credit, to make us name tags out of a box.

’’What names do you want?”

"Monica." Sunny said determinedly.

I looked at her in'surprise. "Monica?" I echoed.

"Yes. Sunny sounds kind of dumb. What about you? How

about, urn, Yvonne, or Suzette, that’s cute."

"I don’t know, I hadn’t really thought about it. I guess

Til just stick with Jo." -

"My name was Mary Sue," Bambi volunteered. "I was really

sick of that. I like Bambi much better."

"I was, are you ready...Agnes," giggled Candy, "ugh. I

hated my folks for that."

"See, Jo, everyone does it, come on." Sunny took her

tag from David, and fastened it to her name rosette which

she hooked in place on the right hip of her costume. Davidi . :

looked at me expectantly, tag in place in the engraving

-148-

machine

’’Well, maybe,” I wavered. "How about Mike? Bunny Mike.

I still like that."

Disbelief showed on Sunny’s face. "Mike? Yuk. What

about Suzette? Don’t you like that at all?"

"No, not really. I guess I’ll just stick to Jo." I

smiled at David, embarrassed. He gave me a boy-are-you-'chicks-

dumb look and turned to the machine.

"Here y’are." He handed me the tag. I thanked him and

stuck it in place. We walked through the little service

door and into the lobby of the Club. Penny was there with a

beautiful Bunny I hadn’t seen before. She had a white face

like a china doll, with Oriental features and softly waved

black hair. Penny introduced us to Gina, who was the night

Door Bunny. She smiled a pale, soft smile. I could see

why these two had been chosen for their job; the customer’s

first and last impressions..of the Club were one of these two

beautiful women, one vivacious and one delicately beautiful.

We walked up to Mr. Thibidoux, the night-Room DirectO-r.

"You must be the two new girls, from California, right?"

"Yes, sir. I’m Jo, and this is Sunny."

"Monica," Sunny corrected me.

"Oh, sorry, Monica."

"Well, Monica, you follow Candy, and take station one.

Bambi and Jo; you take station five. Good luck. If you have

-149-

-Lr.y Just asfc.w walked off to greet another

Bunny arriving for the night shift. We went behind-the buffet

to the service area to put down makeup kits and set up our

trays.

"Hey, come on, I want to go home! Who’s got five already

so I can sell my checks?” A tired looking brunette slammed

her tray down disgustedly. Bambi pulled several bills out of

the top of her costume.

"I do. What have you got?"

"Okay, there’s a deuce on the first fourtop; Kincaid.

That’s four drinks for six bucks, it’ll be ninety cents. Then

the really plastered dudes at the far fourtop; Waterton.

Four rounds is twenty-four dollars, that’s three sixty, for

four fifty total. Here." She threw the checks disgustedly

on Bambi’s'tray. Bambi handed over a five. "Shit, I don’t

have any change. Hey, you got fifty cents?" She addressed

a huge buxom redhead who had just walked up.

"Sure, honey, here." She handed over the change to

the brunette^ whose name I noticed was Lanya. Lanya handed the

change to Bambi.

"See you suckers later," was her parting shot.

"Hi," the redhead smiled at us, "I’m Billie." We

introduced ourselves, and then we all went to the bar to sign

out checks and meet Ned, the bartender. I could tell right

off that Billie and Ned were going to be two of my favorite

-150-

people there. They both had smiles that made me "feel really

good. Ned looked fortyish, kind of short and slim,, and really

gentle, like he enjoyed his work. His eyes crinkled when

he sailed, and he said net to be afraid of making mistakes on

account of we were only learning.

Bambi got a pack of twenty checks, and showed me how to

date them, writing in the name and station at the top. Then

we walked over to our station to check things out.

"Good evening, Mr, Kincaid, I’m Bunny Bambi and I’ll

be serving you for the remainder of the evening. Is every­

thing all right?" She deftly capped and changed the ashtray

as she talked.

"Why yes, everythings fine." He turned to the woman

with him. "Do you want anything else, dear?" She shook

her head and he turned back. "How come there’s two of you now?"

"This is Bunny Jo, and she’s a new Bunny who has just

finished Bunny School. Shp is following me this evening, and

will be a full-fledged Bunny by Saturday."

Mr. Kincaid turned and smiled at me. "Hello, Bunny Jo.

Congratulations. Was Bunny School hard?"

I smiled and shook my head. If customers were all like

him it wasn’t going to be so bad. We walked around to our

other seated fourtop after telling Mr. Kincaid we’d check

back with him. Bambi went through her lines again.

"Hey, well, you sure are mighty cute, Bunny Bambi, but

-151-

what happened to Lena?"

"Bunny Lanya is off duty, and we have taken her customers

for the rest of the evening."

"Well, two Bunnies are better than one, anyway1." They

all guffawed. Even if one is just a Baby Bunny. Hey, Baby

Bunny, have you met Peter Cottontail yet?" Bambi gave me a

good grief look, then turned, laughing and smiling at the joke.

"We’ll check back with you later to see if everything is

all right."

"Aw, don’t go way, honey," they began as we walked off.

Bambi checked our other tables for literature, ashtrays

and matches. We had the group of four tables between the

L-shaped buffet and the piano bar, plus the piano bar. She

showed me how the room could be broken up into five, six,

seven, eight or nine stations, depending on the night of the

week and the time.

Sunny/Monica walked past with a tray of drinks, followed

by Candy. Candy winked at Bambi, and made some remark about

this not being so bad after all. Then a party of four was

seated at one of-our tables. I watched Bambi go through

the whole bit with the customers, after which she asked me

to set Up my!tray for the drinks, a mart Q , V coll, wh sour,

Cutty/so. I set up a shot glass for the Cutty Sark, highball

glass behind it; rock glass for the martini, highball glass

behind it; rock glass for the whiskey.sour, and 14-oz glass for

-152-

the vodka collins. Ice in all but the sour glass, olive in

martini, cherry and orange slice on a pick for the .sour and

the collins, stirrer in the Cutty. Bottle of soda and a

water carafe. She nodded approval. I moved to the bar and

ordered.

’’Ordering. ”

Ned picked up the check, read 11^ nodded and rang it up.

’’Okay, baby, shoot.”

"Cutty, martini, whisky sour, vodka collins.’’

Ned’s hands flashed as he poured, stirred, blended and

poured again.

"Okay, Jo, it’s all yours."

"Coming out." I moved away from the bar, shielding the

full tray with my right hand. Bambi wassbeside me.

"Okay, you go ahead and serve the drinks," she whispered.

"Hl be right behind you if need me." I did all right, served

them just fine, and didn’t, even spill any of the Cutty shot

when I poured it.

The rest of the evening blurred into a continual round of

orders, signing out, clearing tables, new parties, orders

again. A few times we stood behind the buffet in the service

area while Bambi took a smoke and I removed my shoes. That

beautiful flagstone floor became treacherous after four hours

of walking on it in high heels. Every crack felt like a

burning coal underfoot, like blacktop on bare feet in summer.

-153-

and nowhere to go, walk slowly, look casual, as the bottom of

your feet reddened, blistered, charred.i '

"Your feet will really kill: you for a while, but it gets

better." Billie stood behind me, hands on hips. "Here, let

me get you something." She reached into one of the lower

shelves where we kept our makeup bags and pulled out an empty

2c-c2 coke bottle from the machine by the elevator on the

second floor. She laid on its side in front of me. "Roll

it with your foot."

I gingerly placed one burning foot in the curved hollow

of the bottle’s side and rolled. The small, cool, hilly

undulations of the bottle burned relief into my arch. I

cried out with the pleasure/pain of the experience.

"Oh, it hurts so good!"

Billie laughed. "They all say that. It really relaxes

the muscles, it just hurts so much doing it. It’ll feel

lots better in a minute when your foot stops burning."

"It feels like my whole foot’s on fire. This floor is

unbelievablei"

"You’ll get used to it, but it’s miserable for a while.

And it’ll always be bad when you’re tired, like after a long

busy Saturday night. Dinah, the night wardrobe woman gives

foot massages for a dollar when we get off. They are really

terrific."

I switched feet and again experienced the painful ecstasy

1 -154-

of flaring, blazing agony dying down to sweet cool relief of

aching muscles and tender flesh. •. .

”1 hate to bust this up, ladles,” a sarcastic voice began,

"but there are some people out there waiting to be served.”

Mr. Hanlan, the upstairs Room Director, gave us all a sneer and

walked off. Cigarettes hit ash trays as mumbled curses and

trays clattered softly. I stepped back into my shoes. Uhnh...

oooooooooh...all the good I had just done my feet disappeared

as I stepped out on the floor again and hit a crack like a

hot wire. Yiiil I began walking with my head down, trying

to avoid the cemented joints between the rocks, weaving

carefully across the room.

The rest of the night was agony and ecstasy as I

alternated between walking and bottle rolling. A twenty min­

ute break came and went like magic; over far too soon, it

seemed. Bambi let me have one party all to myself, and

they left a three dollar cash tip which she insisted was

mine. I sure didn’t argue. I showed Sunny the coke trick

and we shared time on the bottle after that. She said Candy

had told her to buy shoe cushions, two pair, and they would

help, too.

My arm was really sore as well, but nothing like the

pain in my feet by the time we got off. Billie made sure

we got to Dinah for a foot rub before she did too many others,

and Dinah spent a special long time with us. First we soaked ! -155-

in warm, soapy water, then she towelled our feet off slowly,

between the tees and all. Next she put a creamy lotion •

all over a foot and massaged calf muscles, ankle and foot.

Pure heaven. I began to think I really might make the three

blocks to the trolley.

’’How’d you do?” Sunny eased her feet into her sandals.

”Okay, I got to wait on a couple of parties on my own

and one left me three bucks, cash money.”

”Wow, that’s great. Candy kept me busy waiting on

customers, but I sure never got any tips out of it. Itm"

not sure my feet are gonna live. Ned’s really nice, huh?”

’’Yeah, he acted like he didn’t even mind that you were

slow, or made a mistake. He kept saying, ’.Think it through,

honey. It’s all right. You’re bound to make a few mistakes

at first.’ And once when another girl, Connie I think,

acted really impatient he told her to shut up and wait her

turn, that she’d made lots-of mistakes when she was new."

"He’s great. I just hope the others are that nice."

Sunny wiggled her toes carefully and stood up, wincing.

"Billie said he was one of the nicest. That Bob’s

kind of sassy, Frankie in the Penthouse was hard but good,

and um, whatsis. Les I think, in the Playmate Bar was just

plain nasty." I stood up gingerly. "Oh, I hope my feet

adjust soon, this is murder."

We rode, home chattering about customers, mistakes, andI

-156-

new acquaintances ancng the Bunnies.

We both agreed Candy and Bambi were kind of snotty and ** * V *. V- 5 n I -* c. "* "* */ V 1 r.c_ 'j-* V- A "f *" P — C*

y?i~a SDrt, of way. Ken and Dan were waiting up, so we gave

them a blow by blow account of the entire evening before

crashing In bed at sunrise.

We slept all day, and woke around three. The guys were

out lying by the pool as usual, but they came In and made us

dinner which was really nice of them, even If It was' only

tuna salad and Iced tea.

-157-

XXIII.

Friday night was the same, only more so. It was busier,

louder, and seemed longer. Our already tender feet had nearly

outgrown our shoes, which on Casey’s advice we had bought a

half size larger than normal. We had the foam inserts, which

helped a lot. Billie loaned us her makeup since we didn’t

have the cash to buy a whole new set, and she said we could

use it until we bought our own.

I got to follow Billie on the floor and Sunny/Monica

followed a bouncy little Bunny who reminded me of Little

Annie Fanny from Playboy Magazine. Honest, she could have

been the model, except her boobs weren’t as big. But the

huge eyes, fluffy hairdo and ’’dumb innocent blonde” attitude

were all there. And she shrieked. Instead of laughing she

did this cute little squeal, ooooooooooooh, ending in a kind

°f giggle, which was only cute the first ten times. The

customers loved her, but as it got later and later I began

wishing she’d shut up. And she had a mouth on her. Cute as

pie and adorable innocence with big eyes in front of the

customers, but, boy, behind the Buffet she could cuss to make

a sailor blush.■

She came slamming back there one time when I was resting

and threw her tray down disgustedly.

I -158-

"That qocksucking asshole better keep his frigging hands

off my ass or that shiteater’ll goddamn well wind up-with

a twenty pound tray in his motherfucking balls!"

I mean how do you reply to a remark like that? Billie

was great, though, she just laughed Dede (that’s Miss Squealy

Foulmouth) off, and was super about explaining stuff to me.

And Billie warned me about some of the regular guys who came in

and would really put the hustle on the new girls. She said all

they wanted was to ball. It took me a while to figure out that

she didn’t mean just ’’have a good time." I’d never heard the

term before, but it’s really a common one in New Orleans for

getting laid. I asked her about dating customers and she laughed.

"Most customers you wouldn’t want to date. There are a

few that are really sharp, but unless you’re sure they’re not

Willmark, it’s at your own risk. You can tell a Willmark most

of the time, though. Something about the way they dress

and act. The regular customers, who come in all the time,

are friendly with everyone and know where we hang out after

work, and they date the girls a lot. Just be careful

who you choose. I date Leo Blumberg right now, he’s in

real estate, and he’s really nice to me and my future."

"What do you mean?"

"In addition to some really good jewelry he’s given me I

a car and a pretty little house with a half acre of land

across the river."

-159-

"He gave you...a house?"

"Yeah, he’s loaded. And I figure, well, I ain’t gonna

be good looking all my life, so a little security for my

future should be paid for by the men who enjoy me as I am

now. My own personal retirement plan."

"Well, when you put It that way. It makes sense." I

was mystified. Why hadn’t I ever thought of anything so

logical?

"You’d better remember It, honey, cause we’re all getting

older, and you can’t be a Bunny all your life. I’m thirty-

one now, and a year past the supposed limit. I guess they’ll

keep me on as long as my face and figure hold out, but the

money I save Is only a drop in the bucket compared to what

I need to live on the rest of my life. And guys like Leo

don’t want you any longer than the Club does. When your face

and figure go, you start looking too much like their wives."

Before I could think--this over - there seemed to be a

flaw somewhere, and I needed to digest the bit about Leo

being married - we got a new party and had to discontinue

the conversation. I decided I still llked_Billle, no matter

what, and I was going to have to spend some time thinking

about what she'd said.

I heard the Baby Bunny bit Innumerable times, and the

Peter Cottontail joke twice more. Billie said to wait

another month for all the Easter Bunny jokes. I didn’t make

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any cash tips, but Sunny- did, $5.60. So instead of going home,

after vie paid a dollar each for our foot rubs we Joined Billie,

Dede, Candy, Bambi and the others for a drink at the King’s

Room.

This was the place, Billie explained to us, where

everyone went after the Club closed. On Fridays we closed at

three. That meant that by the time you undressed, dressed,

made out your tip sheet showing the number and amount of

charge tips you have received, turned in your checks and tip

sheet in the box by the accounting office and left the

building it was 3:30 or later. Unless you were one of the

lucky ones who got off early as the crowd thinned out.

The girls from the Penthouse, which always finished

its last show and closed down by 1:30, were already there

and drinking steadily, along with the Penthouse combo, the

comedian, and the piano bar group. The Room Directors and

bartenders showed up just..before we did. We nearly filled

the place. Billie walked up and sat down at a table with

some Bunnies I hadn’t met and invited us to Join her. She

introduced us to the Penthouse Bunnies, Tiz, Mary, Patti,

Janie and Suanna.

’’How were the shows?”

”0h, all right,” Suanna spoke, softly, with a slow sad

smile. ’’They Just seemed longer than usual.”

"Shit’”1 Tiz exploded, whirling the clear liquid in her I -161-

short glass around. I turned to look at her. She was pretty

in a kind of bland way; pale, pale bouffant hair, heavily

made up pale face. She looked like a sophisticated model.

Her eyes were dull, and vapid was the word that came to mind.

She waved her cigarette holder. "Hanlan gave me that crappy

station three again. That’s the third time this week. That

mother is out to break my ass.”

’’Now, Tiz," Suanna cajoled, "you know you told Hanlan

you were having a hard time with your feet, and he probably

figured he was doing you a favor giving you the closest, easiest

station." .

"Yeah, well, my bunions won’t hurt nothing like Hanlan’11

hurt if he gives me three again tomorrow night. I only

made sixty lousy bucks."

I gulped. Sixty lousy bucks on Friday night. I wondered

what a good night was for her. Sunny nudged me and gave me a

gloating look. I nodded. - The Penthouse must be the place to

work. Of course, there was a cover charge, and most people

ate dinner, so your checks were usually lots bigger, making

far bigger tips. Also, the big plus: it was carpeted.

A waitress appeared.

"Chivas neat." Billie suddenly looked grim and tired.

"Another double Tanqueray, straight up." Tiz held up her

glass. The others.ordered more drinks that all sounded like ।

serious drinkers. Patti ordered, a white elephant.

-162i-

’’What’s that? It sounds good.” I wanted to try something new but not pure alcohol.

"Kahlua and milk. It’s delicious."

I settled for one and Sunny ordered a Beefeater martini.

Billie insisted on putting our drinks on her tab. She said

once we were getting pay checks we could return the favor.

When they came and I tasted mine it was delicious, as Patti

had promised. Like chocolate milk almost.

Dede’s squeal broke through the cigarette smoke and

tinkle of glasses. Tiz threw a disgusted look across the bar.

"Just once I’d like to shut that bitch up. She makes me

nauseous. ’’

"Yeah," Mary chimed in, "I had some people tonight who’d

sat at her station and they were really surprised when I

told them they didn’t have to get all drinks in souvenir

mugs. She’d told them everything came in a mug. At twice

the price, of course. They had a whole tableful of the damn

things. I really had to talk fast to convince them they

hadn’t understood her correctly, and that they really ought

to keep them and not turn them back in."

"Why?" Tiz chuckled. "It’d serve Little Smarty right,

to get caught in one of her acts."

Mary shrugged. "Aw, we all pull a stunt sometime. When

she gets in trouble, I don’t want it to be because I ratted."

Billie wanted to buy us another round, but we shook our

1 -163-

heads, said our goodbyes, and split. It was after five when

we got home, and the guys were long asleep. We tiptoed over

their bodies on the floor and wearily threw ourselves into

bed.

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XXIV

Our first real night on the floor. We opened at four

o’clock, and Sunny and I were told to be two of the early

girls. Since we were open four to four on Saturdays the

early girls got off after the crowd thinned out, usually

around 1 or 2 a.m., and the late girls, who came on at 6

and 7 p.m. stayed until 4:00.

For a station they gave us the fountain, usually done by

one girl, and let us each take half. Not much different

from the other two nights. My feet still burned, my arm

still ached, but I was working for myself now so that made it

easier. Billie wasn’t around, so I guessed she was in one of

the showrooms. Suanna and Mary were downstairs with us, and

Suanna seemed nice in a quiet, vague sort of way.

Sunny and I helped each other a lot all night. I’d

carry extra glasses and soda or water carafes for Sunny, and

she’d do the same for me. We each made several dollars in

cash and looked forward to getting off early to go to the

King’s Room to try some more drinks. When we got off the

girls from the Playroom were already down and that included

Billie. They had to come downstairs and break the Living

Room girls before they went home, because the Playroom was

only open 8 to 12 for two shows. Since they were going to

-165-

let us go we didn’t get a break, so Billie and I got a chance

to talk.

She said she’d made about eighty dollars for the two

shows, and that was pretty good for the Playroom. I looked

through my charge tips and guessed I’d made about twenty. She

said that was because of the small station, and I was new and

slow. It would get better. I kept hearing that phrase.

When the girl she was breaking got back Billie said

she was going to get some breakfast, and did we want some?

"What do you mean?" Sunny asked, looking up from her

bottle rolling.

"We can get scrambled eggs and muffins from the

Breakfast Buffet for free, and If Clarence Is In a good mood

he’ll sometimes hide a slice of pizza under the eggs, though

It’s against the rules." Billie walked around to the front

of the Buffet and asked Clarence to fix up .three breakfasts.

We weren’t officially off yet, but Mr. Thlbldoux had said we

could go as soon as Sunny’s last party signed out. He’s been

seating new people on other stations so we could be the

first to leave. .

J'>>.1 . 'z d ? S" h '.'Z V.T,- VZ '-.ZZA' V".'X

walked up to' where I was perched by the piano bar and said I

could go If my station was clean. I’d already wiped my ashtrays

and replaced some literature, so I headed for the service

area. Billie and I went upstairs, but Sunny was still stuck

-166-

with her party, and cold eggs. Sure enough, there was a

slice of pizza under the pile of scrambled eggs and muffins.

It was gooey and delicious.

After breakfast and a foot rub - those were fast becoming

addictive - Billie and I went to the King’s Room to wait for

Sunny. I left a note on her locker to tell her where we were.

One of my customers had ordered a Ramos gin fizz, which

had looked awful good. It had egg whites, cream, and lemon,

and some delicious smelling stuff Ned said was orange

flower water, so I ordered one of those. It was super, really

tall and refreshing, and hardly tasted alcoholic at all.

Sunny finally arrived nearly an hour and two gin fizzes

later, looking angry. She flopped heavily into the booth

and grunted disgustedly.

"I waited an extra hour for those six people to sign out.

Thibidoux said I could sell the check if I wanted to leave,

but no, I stuck it out. Then. Then’. After four rounds,

souvenir mugs, breakfast, and lots of attention and clean

ashtrays, what do I get? Stiffed! The guy winked at me on

the way out, said he knew I was paid well just for being there,

and didn’t need any of his hard-earned money just for sitting

and looking pretty. I could have belted him one.”

Billie chuckled sympathetically.-, ’’There’s a lot of them

like that, kid, especially on Saturday night they seem to come

out of the woodwork. That’s really tough though.”

-167-

’’Yeah,” Tlz snarled, ’’every hick in Louisiana hitches up his

tractor and drives to town on Saturday night. And-they’all

end up at the Playboy Club.”

Mary chimed in. ’’You can tell them by their brown shoes

and white socks.” We all laughed, but I remembered the joke.

I’d seen several men in black or dark blue suits with white

socks but hadn’t paid any attention at the time.

”1 once got so pissed at one of those jerks, I decided

to get even,” Tlz began, "so I very politely walked over and

said, ’Oh, you dropped your napkin,’ and reached down to

pick it up. Then I said, ’Goodness, it’s your sockl I’m

so sorry! He was so dumb he didn’t even understand, but

Suzanne and Beth went into hysterics."

We all chuckled at that. I could just imagine sophis­

ticated Tlz giving some guy a frosty stare and saying'oh, it’s

your sock.

Did you hear what Dede- pulled tonight in the Penthouse?"

We all leaned toward Janie. "Well, some guy kept grabbing her

tail as she walked by, and she gave him the ’ouch’ bit,

which put him off at first, then the ’please don’t do that

sir,’ and she finally got really pissed and told us to watch

her fix him. She had an order for six creme de menthe frappe's.

She added six water backs and filled the water glasses at

the bar to increase her ammunition. She walked by him really

slow, §nd as; close as she could without being obvious. Sure

-168-

enough, he gjrabbed for her. She let out one of her squeals and

jumped, and dumped the whole tray In his lap.11 . .

Everyone cracked up. I felt kind of sorry for the guy,

but I suppose it served him right. We weren’t allowed to

talk back to a customer, so the only defense we had was an

"accident” but it sounded kind of mean.

Sunny and I slept until four Sunday afternoon, then went

out and joined the fellows by the pool. We had enough cash

from tips to buy a few groceries so we feasted on fried chicken

and potatoes with a green salad. Our second decent meal in

weeks.

We sat around and played records all night and talked

about the Club. Dan asked if we could get permission for

them to come and see the place. We promised to check.

Our schedule for the next week was fairly light and we

were to work lunches, from 10 to 2, on Monday and Tuesday,

thgi the full day shift Wednesday through Friday, and then

Saturday night early shift again. There was also a letter

from Casey on. the front of the mimeographed schedules, talking

about Mardi Gras,. She said that because it was right before

Mardi Gras, we would be open all day on Sunday - when we

were usually closed - all Sunday night, all day and night

Monday and Tuesday and we would not close until dawn Wednesday.

The Club would be open from Saturday afternoon to Wednesday i

dawn. We would get the schedule around Thursday, and were

-169-

advised to come in Friday and plan on staying at the Club until

Ash Wednesday since transportation would be impossible with

the crowds. They would have cots set up for us and we could

use the showers by the entertainer’s dressing rooms. We

would probably work eight on, eight off, and could bring a

suitcase of street clothes if we wanted to go out during

our time off.

That got us all excited again about being in New Orleans

at Mardi Gras time, and set off speculations about how much

money we’d make. We planned to go to parades as much as

possible. We’d missed all the ones this weekend, but they’d

be happening all week long.

Monday lunch was unbelievably hectic. I ran my hose

on a table and had to work with a big rip in them because I

was too busy to leave the floor. The doors opened at 10

a.m. and by 10:30 the place was packed with hungry, thirsty

people. Sunny and I.each had a full station, though we had

the smallest. It was murder.

We got off at nearly 2:30 when it finally slowed down,

but by the time we got back downstairs it was after 3 and

Ken and Dan were really impatient.

’’Where’ve you been?” Ken wanted to know. ’’The parade’s

already on Canal Street and should be here soon.”

We ran to Royal Street, making our way through the crowd.

Masses!of people were everywhere. The street itself was

-170-

roped off from the sidewalk, but little kids lined the street

in front of the ropes. Cops on horseback patrolled the street

to keep it clear.

It was hot and muggy and really unbelievable, being jammed

in with all those people. We tried to squirm up to the front

with no luck, only dirty looks and shoves from the people

around us. Music drifted faintly down the street amid the

crowd noises. A little lost kid was sitting on the curb

across the street and bawling like crazy. A fat woman in a

dark dress with a string of pearls at her throat elbowed her

way past us, towing a short, embarrassed man.

’’Come on,” I heard her snap at him, ’’hurry up so we’ll

get a good place. Did you remember to put film in the camera?”

His mumbled reply was lost in the crowd. Somebody near me

hadn’t bathed, and somebody else had gas. Phew. As if

the usual garbage smells weren’t bad enough. Someone behind

us made a ruckus and began puking. What a sound. And smell.

’’Daddy, Daddy. Please put me on your shoulders. Please.

I wanna SEE!” A whiny kid hit at her daddy’s leg.

”No. There’s nothing to see. SHUT UP, now, or we’ll

go home.”

”1 wanna seeeeeeeeee!” ending in a sniffle and a few

beginning sobs. Sound of a slap, a gasp, and silence.

The first band, turned the corner. All attention was

riveted on the beginning of the parade. Several little black 1 -171-

kids were prancing down the street ahead of the band. When

people threw coins the boys ran to pick them up, dancing and

clapping in time to the music. Next came several blacks

dancing and carrying torches. Flambeaux I found out they

were called. Left over from before electricity and street

lights for night parades.

Next came the floats, with masked riders waving and

throwing stuff. I had seen Rose Parades in California, and

had thought this would be similar. Boy, was I mistaken!

These floats were papier mache^ not flowers, and the people

on them were all men, all in mask^.all drunk, and all throwing

trinkets. As I drew up abreast of us, the cry rose. I

"Throw it here. Over here. Here, Mister. Throw me

something. Mister!" Rising from hundreds at once, hands

raised, jumping up and down.

A handful of coins showered over us. A mad scramble

ensued and dozens of hands grabbed. My legs were hit from

all directions as little kids ran to the spot to grab a

coin off the ground. I could see they were the size of

silver dollars, and some were silvery, some golden. Dan

scrambled for one but lost it to a quick little kid who put I

his foot on it. Another shower covered us. This time of

colored beads. I grabbed and felt my fingers close on a

row of beads. I pulled it to me. I was a necklace of white,

turquoise, pale blue and dark blue plastic beads of various

-172-

shapes and sizes. The plastic catch was like those plastic

snap-together beads that were a fad in the late fifties or so.

It said nMADE IN HONG KONG" on it. I laughed happily and

dangled it in front of Sunny.

"See? I just caught it!’1 A hand reached out of nowhere

and snatched the beads from my open palm. I whirled around in time to'1 see a small girl disappear through the crowd.

Sunny cracked up. I was furious but I knew better than to try

to follow anybody in this crowd. Ken shook his head and

laughed, and we all turned back to wait for the next float.

We each caught some beads; Sunny got some really pretty

green wooden ones, and Dan got a medal. They were aluminum,

I guess, because they were awfully light, and stamped with

the name of the parade and the year. Much later I found out

the parade clubs were called Krewes, I don’t know why, and the

coins were sovereigns. Some of the Krewes were about 100

years old, like Comus, Momys, and Rex, and some were relatively

new such as Iris and Freret. Most of the names were likb

nothing I’d ever heard before, such as Endymion and Helios,

but lots were nambd for mythical people and things, like

Proteus, Pegasus, Bacchus, Venus and Zeus. Then there was

Coctaw, and Zulu - the black’s parade - and Pete Fountain’s

Half Fast Walking Club.

Once when I grabbed for some red and white beads the fat

lady in the pearls grabbed the other side of the strand. I

-173^

could see a huge diamond on her finger.

”Leggo,” she snarled at me, ’’they’re mine’.”

I started to let go, then got belligerent. She sure

didn’t need them any more than I did. ”No*. ”

She gave me a dirty look and yanked. Red and white beads

flew In all directions. She shot me a triumphant sneer and

turned away. She’d rather the necklace be ruined than let

somone else have It. How generous.

The sounds of argument broke out behind me. I turned and

saw two young couples, one couple very neat and kind of

collegiate looking, one sloppy and drunken. In dirty jeans

and leather jackets. The leather jacket girl was shrieking

filth at the other couple. As I watched, she jumped at the

college-looking girl, grabbed her hair and spit In her face.

College Girl’s boyfriend grabbed Leather Chick and pulled

her away. Leather Dude swung his half empty wine bottle at

a lamp post. It broke In .p. shower of glass and red droplets,

leaving him holding the neck and not much else. The wet,

jagged edges of the bottle’s shoulder gleamed In the sunlight.

He muttered profanity at the College Guy. This was happening

too fast for me. Leather Dude lunged at College Guy, slashing

with the bottle. People screamed as College Guy leapt away.

They circled. I could see the sweat on their foreheads, and

the crazy, drunken look of hatred In Leather Dude’s eyes.

College Guy looked like a trapped animal. Suddenly hoofbeats I

-174-

sounded, the crowd parted, and a mounted policeman appeared,

swinging his billy stick. He arced it through the air and

brought it down on Leather Dude's knuckles.

The sound of breaking glass and bone was clear even where

I stood. I winced as blood flew in all directions. Leather

Dude stood for a second, dazed, looking down at his bloody

hand, glass slivers showing shiny through the red. Suddenly

he bolted, coming straight at us. People moved away, but

he ran full tilt into a girl of six or seven, and knocked

her flying. Several men surged forward as the child

screamed. Leather Dude was just past us now, pasty-faced

and teeth bared. A man flew through the air and landed on

Dude's back, one arm around his neck. They fell to the

ground and disappeared in the crowd.

The policeman rode up near us, and reined his horse in.

He pointedly looked the other direction while the sounds of

fists pounding flesh and Ipw cries continued. I felt sick.

The little girl sobbed softly, being held and comforted by

her mother.

Finally several men stood up, dusted off and walked away.

The cop dismounted then, and walked over to the spot they'd

just left. I looked for Leather Chick and the College couple,

but they were nowhere to be seen. We turned around, but the

parade was several blocks past us. We walked to Canal Street

and the trolley home, moving slowly through the masses of people.

-175-

XXVI.

Around 7:30 Tuesday morning there was a knock on the door.

Sunny got up, threw on a bathrobe, and stumbled out to answer

It. Suddenly I heard all kinds of commotion.

’’What do you think you’re running here?" Oh, my God, it

sounded like the landlord. I flew into a pair of jeans and

a shirt, and ran into the living room. Mr. Phillips was

standing in the door yelling at the top of his lungs about

how this was a respectable place and what were we trying to

pull. Ken and Dan sat on the floor in their sleeping bags

looking sheepish.

"I want you out of here. All of you. Now! Today!"

"But Mr. Phillips, sir, they’re my brothers, from Calif­

ornia, they’re only here for a few days visiting, and besides,

our rent is paid up until the end of the month." Sunny looked

desperate.

"Brothers! Hmph! Some story. You acting like such

respectable young ladles all this time, too."

"But you can see they’re sleeping in here, and we’re in

there." I tried to point out the innocence of the arrangement.

He glared at me. "Out. Get out’. I’ll return your

money for the rest of the month, but I want you moved by I tonight!" He slammed the door on Sunny’s "But, but" and

-176-

ve all stared at the door, and then at each other. Ken broke

"Hey, I’m really sorry, maybe if we leave, you girls

can talk to him...he’ll let you stay."

"I feel really shitty," Dan added.

"That’s all right." I looked around. "He was bound

to blow up at us soon as he found out what we do for a

living anyway. What did he come up here for?"

Sunny giggled. "I stepped outside the door to talk

to him so he wouldn’t see the guys. He apolized for waking

me, and started telling me they were going to exterminate today,

and to cover up our food and dishes and stuff. Then the door

swung open, I guess I hadn’t shut it good. And his eyes got

big. I thought he was going to puff up and bust." We all

laughed as Sunny imitated his expression.

I got serious again and scared. "What are we going to

do? I guess we can look for a place this afternoon, but,

gosh, that’s short notice to move on."

Ken straightened up. "We’ll pack everything while you’re

at work, and circle all the ads that look good, and call them

to check it out. Then when you get back we’ll go look at the

best ones." We all got up and dressed and began packing.

Phillips showed up with a check for the rest of the month’s

rent, plus the security deposit of a month’s rent. He handed

it over like he wished he had the proverbial ten foot stick.

-177-

and disappeared again. At least we now had over '200 dollars

to bankroll us somewhere else. •

Sunny and I left at 8:30 for the Club while the guys

worked on. Lunch was pretty much the same as Monday. Hectic.

We were sitting' in the Bunny Room getting’ dressed1 to go dome

and moaning about our bad luck when Penny walked in on her

break.

"Hi! How are you two doing?"

We looked glum and mumbled. She frowned.

"Hey, what’s the matter, you look awful! What is it?"

We told her our story, and she thought a minute. "Wow, that’s

really crummy. But I’ve got an idea. Hang on." She went

to the pay phone and got out a nickel. Oh, yeah; phone’s

only a nickel here. We found that out after we’d called the

guys eight or ten times, and finally one of us read the

cardboard panel with the instructions on the front of the phone.

I heard Penny explain our story to someone on the phone. I

picked at my lunch of spaghetti and meat balls and waited.

She came back smiling.

"You can all move in with us. It’s all right with

everybody."

"All of us, I mean you can take in four people, just

like that?" Sunny looked amazed.

"Oh, sure. Linda and Bobbi and I have a 2-bedroom place

just down the block. It’s huge, and you two can have one

-]/78-

bedroom with a double bed, we’ll all share the other, arid the

boys can have the living along with my brother and Linda’s

boyfriend, who are also here for Mardl Gras. We can sort

ourselves out next week, after Carnival’s over and we have time

to talk about it. Linda and Bobbi are going out, so I’ll

give you my key, and you can go ahead and move In. Just so

someonels there when I get off work."

We were overwhelmed. She assured us it was okay and

gave us the address, phone number, and door key. We called

Ken and Dan exultantly, and explained Penny’s offer.

When we got home they were almost ready to go. Every­

thing had been thrown In cardboard boxes scrounged from

behind a super market. The next question was how to move It

all. St. Charles was packed with people waiting for the

parade, and the trolleys" wouldn’t run for a couple of hours.

Lugging all that stuff four blocks from the trolley to the

apartment was also a pretty unreal Idea. We opted for a taxi.

It took one hour to get there, and he almost drove away when

he saw what we planned to do.

’’Shit, I don’t want to be tied up two hours helping

you people move all this junk.” He looked disgusted.

We calmed him down as we stuffed packages inside the

cab. By tying all our suitcases on top we managed to pile

It all In, but there wasn’t room for all of us. We made

room, over the protestations of the cabble, by all sitting

-179-

In the front seat. Sunny and I In the boy’s.laps.

"Jeezus Christ, If a copper stops me....” he shook his

head. He started his engine, however, and drove off.

It took forever to weave through crowded side streets,

avoiding the parade route. People had taken over the streets

and you had to wait for the ones ahead to part and move aside.

This often took some honking and loud cursing from our driver.

We finally pulled up at the corner of Iberville and

Chartres. I stared up at the imposing new-looking building.

I’d been afraid the apartment would be a real dump. We all

piled out and began unloading boxes on the sidewalk while

I tried the key.

The apartment proved to be three flights up. We finally

arrived, panting, with the first load. The rest was inside

the downstairs door, piled on the carpeting by the stairs.

The halls were brick and wood panelling. I’d never seen

brick inside a place except as a fireplace until I came to New

Orleans, but it was beginning to be familiar. I opened the

door and stared. The place was really nice. Even better

than our place on St. Charles. Huge living/dining room,

a big kitchen, large bath and two gigantic bedrooms. One

bedroom door1 had a sign taped on it saying ’’yours. ”

We lugged the rest of our gear up the stairs just as

we heard the parade on Canal, one block over. We tossed

everything in the bedroom and split.

-180-

We found a pretty good spot on Canal, near where the

parade would turn down Royal. Somehow It seemed cleaner and

more fun; there was more room because the street was so much

wider, and not as much shoving and fighting. We caught

lots of beads, and some plastic toys, squirt guns and clowns»

which we gave to the children around us. After the parade we

went back to the aparment to clean up a bit before Penny got

home. We had most everything put away and had started dinner

when she buzzed from downstairs. We let her in and intro­

duced her to Ken and Dan. We all sat up and chatted a while.

Her brother, Alan, and Linda’s fellow Dave showed up about

10:00 and we all introduced around and talked about where

we were from.

Penny turned out to be from Ohio, Cincinnati, and had

been here six months. Linda was from Memphis and had been

here four months, and Bobbi had transferred here six weeks

ago from the Tucson club when she and her husband split up.

None of us had ever seen a Mardi Gras, but we’d all heard

plenty of stories.

I -181-

XXVII.

Wednesday was long and tiring. We gossiped with Penny

about the apartment, the neighbors and the landlord. That

helped the afternoon, but it was still bad; a busy lunch

then a quiet, draggy three hours feeling my feet swell and

throb, then a dinner rush on tender feet.

We got off at 7, and were home by 7:30, in time to have

dinner with all the guys and Linda, who was on her day off.

We had kind of met Saturday night in the Bunny Room; she and

Bobbi both worked the Penthouse and they had been there the

same time as Billie and I when we had gotten off. Linda was

young and pretty in a fresh blonde sort of way. She attended

Tulane part time, at University College. Bobbi was a cute

brunette with short curly hair and a snub nose with freckles.

We stayed in and watched TV, and the guys talked about the

day’s parade and showed us”all their loot.

Thursday went by in a blur, except that we got our

schedules for Mardi Gras week. We were to work Sunday 10 a.m.

to 6 p.m., then 2 a.m. to 10 a.m. Monday morning, and so

on, eight on, eight off, until 7 a.m. Wednesday morning.

The Club would be closed all Wednesday, and reopen Thursday

for lunch. ।Walking home Thursday night I was amazed by the crowds

I -182-

of people we encountered. Fortunately the apartment was just

a block and a half to the left down Iberville from the Club.

Even so it took nearly an hour to thread through the mob, espec­

ially crossing Royal Street, where the current of the people

river was flowing left toward the depths of the Quarter. I

got pinched once, and. I felt hands on my body more than once,

but it was difficult to tell where they had come from,

so after whirling about angrily a" time or two, ready to

slap a guilty face and confronting a horde of faces all

looking the other way I just gave up. Once I felt a tug at

my purse, and after that I held it in both hands across my

chest.

I was really happy to see the apartment building looming

over the heads of the crowd; it meant we were halfway home.

It was next to a two story garage, and it was six stories, so

it was visible once we passed the Monteleone Hotel on Royal

and Iberville. The smell-of spilled liquor filled my nostrils

as the man next to me fell to his knees and dropped his whiskey

bottle on the pavement with a crash. I tried to turn to see

if he was all right but a sudden movement of overheated bodies

pushed me away from him. I saw Sunny struggling near me and

tried to move toward her. A sudden sharp kick in the shins

was my reward.

"Guttersnipe. Look out where you’re going," a middle-

aged woman in an expensive suit hissed at me; "don’t you

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think you can shove me around!” I kept going. I couldn't

see Penny anywhere. I struggled toward Sunny and the garage.

The garage entrance was like a funnel, and we were both

whirled into its relative emptiness by the pressure on all

other sides. Sunny and I stood mutely and stared at the

crowd and the few other stragglers who had been sucked into

the vortex of the garage. Suddenly Penny popped in like a

cork. She heaved a sigh and straightened her skirt. There

were only a few cars parked in the huge space, and several

of the black attendants lounged against one of them. It had

probably been hours since a car had been able to get in or

out.

We still had to pass two storefronts; a tiny cheap diner

and the Silver Dollar Hotel, both narrow entrances leading

into dim recesses of oblivion. We struck out at the edge

of the entrance nearest our goal. At least we'd gained an

easy thirty feet. We surged past the garage fairly smoothly;

the tide seemed to be moving towards Chartres Street from

here, going our way for a change.

There were a few tired looking people in the diner,

pushing food around their plates and staring at the mob.

The door pushed open and a group of eight or ten spiraled

inward demanding beer. The begrimed windows of the Silver I

Dollar Hotel flowed closer. I stared into the dusty deeps, iand saw several worn-looking men at the six foot long counter

\ ’ -184-I

c

across the room, apparently requesting rooms. Next to the

counter were the stairs, threadbarely carpeted. It. was ;

impossible to tell what color, if any, the carpet had ever

been. A man who could barely stand up was trying to use

the telephone on the wall near the door. He’d try to dial

but his finger would slip out of the hole too soon, and he’d

have to stop, hang up, and get his nickel back. He’d drop

the nickel, bend over to find it, nearly fall, then

straighten up and fumble the nickel back into the slot once

again. I saw him do that three times before I drifted past

him. This had gotten lots easier, you just had to let the

crowd take you and give up control. Except for the lack of

unbreathed air, and an occasional foot, knee, elbow or

exploratory hand, it was not too bad.

I yelled at Penny as I saw the entrance coming. Sunny

had already turned in that direction. I wedged around a group

of men in suits, and dove through a gaggle of teenagers

giggling drunk on the wine they were squirting from bota bags.

I made the edge of the doorway just before we hurtled past

and turned in time to see Penny slap a greasy-haired

adolescent. He laughed and turned away. I reached out between

two black couples, caught her hand and pulled her into harbor.

She looked furious, ready to cry.

I dug the key out and opened the door. Instantly four

or five people headed for us. We rushed through and turned I -185-

one shouted "Push" though I'm not sure if it was us .or them.

We pushed, and the hand disappeared as the heavy wooden door

shut with a resounding thud. The roaring crowd noises thinned

to a low murmur.

Penny slumped against the door. "And this is only

Thursday."

Sunny shook her head. "I guess we'd better pack our

gear like they told us and stay at the Club til Wednesday.

Any worse and we'll never make it home."

"I'd heard stories from the old timers, Suzanne, Tiz,

Suanna and Billie, about how bad it was, but it was hard to

believe." Penny suddenly looked angry again. "And that s.o.b.

that grabbed me, he said the most disgusting thing, and he

smelled so...ugh!" She shuddered.

A funny thought struck me. "Hey, we could have the

guys meet us every night and walk us home."

Two sarcastic stares. "Ho, ho. It wouldn't take them

more than two or three hours. They'd love it."

We’trudged upstairs and collapsed on the sofa. Ken and

Dan were out but Alan had fixed meatloaf for dinner and

suddenly I fpund I was famished. David was complaining ; iabout having left some strawberries in the refrigerator

which weren't there any more. It dawned on me that with

nine people in a three room apartment we were lucky there

-186-

any. 'lor had we paid any rent.

I brought the subject up, and Ken and Dan said they had

bought twenty dollars worth of groceries and done everyone’s

laundry, all of which made me feel better. Alan had cleaned

house and cooked the last two days, and David was going to

do chores over the weekend and buy the next round of groceries.

Penny said to cash the check we had from the landlord next

week and square with her then. Getting to a bank before next

Wednesday was impossible.

We relaxed then, and began sorting through the piles of

clean clothes in one corner of the living room to find our

own. A discussion was held hbout whether we wanted to

venture outside; the first night parade was tonight but

we decided to wait and go tomorrow night since we had to be

at work early Friday but not until 4:00 p.m. Saturday. The

fellows actually agreed to meet us at the Club door Friday

night and bring us home. They said they would walk Linda

and Bobbi down then hang around and wait for us.

”0h, I forgot!” I jumped up. "Casey gave me a paper

cash key for you to use. It’s good all week.” That really

got the guys excited. They all made plans to visit the Club

for lunch. They’d walk us to work and stay around, then go

to the afternoon parade after lunch, then home to pick up

Linda and Bobbi. I couldn’V believe they were going to

-187-

spend an entire day in the streets, but It was their cholee.

I soaked in a hot bath for an hour until everyone tnrew

me out, then I crawled into the absolute heaven of clean sheets.

One of the finest, most luxurious feelirgp in the world is

freshly shaved and creamed legs in soft, cool new sheets.

I fell asleep instantly, oblivious to the dull sounds of the

crowd three floors below.

i I -188-

rrim.Friday morning, over a delicious breakfast of bacon, eggs and

grits. Penny told us Bobbi’s sister and her boyfriend would be

arriving In a few hours, and so would Linda’s boyfriend’s brother.

Sunny looked startled. She had called her boyfriend late last

night and he was flying in. So we were to be thirteen. Well,

at least all of us girls probably wouldn’t be spending much

time In the apartment, so there would only be our eight guests.

David volunteered to find a key shop and have duplicates

made when he got groceries today. I asked how In the world

he expected to get groceries In and he said there was an

A & P only six blocks away and he would take his suitcase.

Alan volunteered to help him.

We got ready to go and all four boys walked down with us,

Alan and David with empty suitcases. It looked funny but

the thought of groceries in paper sacks In that mob was even

funnier. Actually the suitcases were great. They turned

them wide side to and used them like a blockade to walk

through the crowd. There were far less people than there

had been the night before - I could see my feet and where I

was about to put them - but there were still enough that

getting jostled and elbowed was fairly common.

We got to the Employee’s entrance and found It locked.

-189-

Me tried the main front door and it was locked also. We

knocked and heard the lock turn. One of the busboys cracked

the door a bit and peered out, then opened up as he saw

us. He had orders to let only employees in; there had been

.problems with people just opening doors and walking into the

switchboard room and being halfway into the elevator before

someone stopped them. One drunk had made it all the way to

the Bunny Room last night.

As the streets were not terribly crowded yet the

fellows decided all four of them would go to the store so

they took off in that direction, promising to make it back

for lunch. Sunny, Penny and I went upstairs to put on our

makeup and to dress.

By eleven the Club was packed. I caught a glimpse of the

guys standing by the Gift Shop and holding drinks around

noon, but by the time I had served my orders and turned again

they were gone. I asked Penny where they were and she pointed

in the Playmate Bar. I glanced in and saw them at the bar.

Dan turned, saw me and waved. I waved back, then headed

back to work.

It thinned out around three, and we finally got breaks,

but by 4:30 it had picked up again. By the time the night i

shift arrived at 6:45 it was a zoo. I sold over a hundred

dollars worth of outstanding checks for the usual 15%, mostly

in I.O.U’s. 1 I dragged upstairs. Linda and Bobbi were just

-190-

packed and that the guys were downstairs with sandwiches.

We washed our faces of the heavy makeup, pulled on jeans

and T-shirts and I put my hair in two pony tails. We had

to slip out through the front lobby and got some strange looks

from incoming customers.

The street was unbelievable. Packed with people, all

carrying bottles, cans^bota bags, glasses, anything holding

alcohol. Smoke from a million cigarettes made the thick air

even thicker. Everywhere underfoot I could feel beer cans

and plastic trash. Dan handed us each a bologna and cheese

sandwich, slightly flattened. They had done pretty well at

the store, he said, but it took two hours to check out and

walk home. Ann and Tom, Bobbi’s people, had arrived when they

got back, and Linda’s friend Joe arrived shortly afterwards.

They were supposed to meet us here on the corner In a little

while. Ken emerged from the Interior of Felix’s Oyster Bar

bearing an armload of Dixie beers. He passed the cans around

and I swigged mine gratefully. Dan produced three more

sandwiches from another pocket, and we each accepted one.

We stood In a little huddle against the building front to

avoid being swept away by the crowd milling around us.

"Hey, over here!" Alan yelled, and three people detached

from the mob and became part of our huddle. Ann, Tom and

Joe all looked slightly flattened, like the sandwiches. Ken I -191-

disappeared into the bar for more beer. Ten seemed an

unwieldy size for walking, so we agreed not to panic if

separated. David handed Sunny and Penny keys - he'd had

twelve keys made - and we began our trek down Bourbon Street.

Neon, music, glitter, noise, people, pressure, stench,

kick a beer can, smoke, talk, feel a pinch, smell of booze.

Complete sensory overload. We walked together, the six boys

forming a wall on the sides and front, moving the four of us

girls through the crowd as gently as possible. Every

twenty feet an open door with a hastily rigged bar blocking

it was selling beer, corn on the cob, hot dogs, beer, baked

potatoes, popcorn, wine or beer. Each booth usually had only

one item, but there were so many booths you needn't worry

about missing one.

We drifted at crowd speed, kicking cans and bottles

from underfoot. Once I glimpsed in the gutter and saw it

piled high with cans; you couldn't see the pavement anywhere.

After several blocks we turned up St. Peter's towards Royal,

to try to find a spot for the parade. Suddenly a hand

reached out for Penny. I

"Penny!'1 She turned as the. hand and voice touched her.

"Oh, Mr. Sonnenberg! Hello!"

"Hello, what are you doing down here?"

"What?"

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" The tall, slender man bent over

-192-

her and shouted to be heard.

"GOING TO WATCH ' THE PARADE! WANT TO COME?"

"Oh, no. I live right here. In fact, why don’t you

and your friends come and watch It with me from my balcony?"

Wow. I had seen the lucky ones on the balconies on

Royal, unjostled, drink In hand with a John close by, and

singled out for special throws by the paraders. We all

nodded eagerly and grabbed each other. We followed Mr.

Sonnenberg to a heavy oak door In a high brick wall with

glass shards on top, embedded In cement. They didn’t like

uninvited guests. Penny counted us through, then told Mr. S.

when to shut the door. Two boys argued they were with us,

but Penny shook her head and the door closed almost on their

feet.

Penny Introduced us to Mr. Sonnenberg; Hal, he said to

call him. He was a frequent visitor to the Club, where of

course Penny had met him. Hal walked us through a Courtyard

with a goldfish pool, past a large oak with Spanish moss,

and up a narrow staircase to the second floor. There was

a group of people In his apartment already, and also out

on the balcony which joined the four apartments on the Royal

Street side of the building.

Hal explained he’d just come back from the studio of an

artist friend who lived next door and had his studio about

a half block away. The guy was closing up and would be along : i

-193-

in a few minutes to be in time for the parade. I never met

him then, but years later I found out it was Jack Conley,,

the guy who painted the picture I have. Hal made us all a

drink and we walked out on the balcony. I had never seen

so many people. I stood at the corner of the balcony and

looked in all four directions. People everywhere. Royal

was cordoned off down the middle for the parade, but St. Peter

was wall-to-wall people shifting and moving. I was Incredibly

glad to be up here rather than down there.

The parade turned into Royal and began to make its way

toward us. I slipped inside to use the John, giving silent

thanks again for Hal’s hospitality. On the way back to the

balcony somebody pressed, another beer in my hand.

The first floats were Just arriving, and the twenty or

so people on the balcony were waving their arms and shouting

as loud as anyone in the street. Several of the float riders

looked up and one threw a fistful of coins at us. They

clattered across the balcony and a few rolled off the edge,

causing pandemonium in the crowd below. I grabbed one and

stuck it in my pocket. A group of horsemen in costumes and

masks rode by. One of them looked straight at me, stood up

on his horse, and saluted me, then blew a kiss from painted

papier mache' lips. He reached into a bag slung on his saddle

as he reined his horse in. He pulled out a pink necklace,

held it!up- towards m^ and I nodded. With a flick of his arm

-19^-

he tossed it up to me. I smiled and waved, and he rode on.

The necklace was of pink plastic beads. The paper .tag on it

said "MADE IN YUGOSLAVIA" My knight in shining armor was a

piker. I stuck them in my pocket with the coin.

We gathered in the necklaces and plastic toys for nearly

an hour until it was over. And then the real fun began. At

Hal’s urging, we sorted out all the stuff we didn’t want,

and began to throw it back. After the first one or two

trinkets the dispersing crowd realized what was happening;

people massed together beneath the balcony, ducking under

the cordon and filling the street. What a sense of power,

to stand twenty feet above the mob and throw out favors I I

picked out a little girl on her daddy’s shoulders. I held

a yellow plastic necklace out for them both to see, pointed

at her and then at him. He nodded and reached his hands up

to catch. I threw it to him. He caught it and gave it to

her. She laughed and clapped her hands and kissed him. He

turned and they walked off without looking back. He could

at least have smiled at me, fickle man, I thought sourly. I

took the rest of the plastic booty which was my share and

flung it over the railing. A mad pushing and shoving began

as fifty people fought for twenty plastic necklaces. I

watched a little boy hit a little girl and take one away from

her. I turned away and went inside.

Hal invited us to stay but I felt very tired and

-195-

disagreeable and wanted to leave. We thanked him and all

walked downstairs. Everyone else wanted to go drink,-so I

left them at the gate and headed home. I felt like it was

some kind of nightmare. Too dark to really see anything well,

trying to get somewhere, but unsteady from the beer and being

pushed at from all sides. Time lost all meaning as I swam

helplessly through the thousands of people packing the street.

A cheerful drunk put his arms around me in a bear hug and

breathed bourbon and chili dogs in my face in an attempt to

kiss me. I felt nauseated as I pulled loose and walked on.

My feet hurt and I began to cry. All these people around me'were

with someone, laughing, drinking, happy. They knew where

they were going. My handsome prince was a drunken mask that

only gave pink plastic necklaces for presents instead of

diamonds. I sobbed aloud.

”Hey, baby, it’s okay.” A friendly deep voice assured me.

"Come on, it’s all right, I’m here now.” An arm went

protectively around my shoulders, and a handkerchief appeared

in front of my nose. I accepted it and blew. Still sniffling

I looked up. An average looking guy with smiling eyes looked

back.

"That’s better. Come on, now." He began walking again,

steering me with his arm around my waist. "Where do you want

to go?"

I told him the streets where I lived, and he nodded. We

-196-

turned off Royal onto Conti, then up a little dark alleyway.

’’This is a shortcut that’ll get us up the next two blocks,

and we’ll come out right by where you want to go.”

Anyplace away from people was okay with me. I could make

out three story apartments on either side of the alley, and

looked in restaurant windows on the right side. There were

only a few people in the alley.

We had gone about halfway up the alley when I felt a

sudden shove. Before I could shout, I felt a hand over my

mouth and he pushed me into a doorway and up against a wall.

”1’11 cheer you up, honey. I’ll make you forget all

about whatever you was crying over.” He grabbed my crotch

with his right hand, pulled me to him by waist and crotch,

and began a big sloppy kiss. I tried to wrench my head away

but he followed me with his lips. He began pulling at the

waist of my jeans.

My mind flew desperately from one thought to another:

yell, hit, kick, relax, fight, find his groin. That sounded

like what I needed. I fastened on the idea. Hit him there?

Not from where my arms were. Kick him? Not with both his

hands at my waist, level, he’d block me. Fury overtook me.

I bit his lip and yanked at his hair with both hands. One

arm flew up to shake me off. Swiftly I brought my knee up.

I didn’t connect very well, but it was enough to make him

pull away from me in surprise. I ducked and ran out of the

-197-

hallway and down the alley, iI stopped at the edge of the alley, looking at .the

streaming mob. I was shaking and crying. The crowd looked

just the same. No one even glanced at me as I slid in and

matched its rhythm, letting it carry me on down Conti to

Chartres, and then up Chartres to Iberville. I didn’t fend off

the elbows or fight the movement, and soon turned the corner

and was Inside the door. I went up to the empty apartment,

flung myself on our bed and cried until I fell asleep.

-198-

zxrx.Saturday we packed our bags for a four-day stay at the

Club. Toilet articles, curlers, makeup, and several changes

of casual clothes. Sunny’s old boyfriend, John, arrived,

having spent three hours flying from California, one hour

in a taxi from the airport, and two hours walking from the

other side of Canal which was as close as the taxi could get.

Sunny promised to meet him after her first shift was over.

The males walked all of .us to the Club at three; Linda and

Bobbi came in with us so the guys wouldn’t have to make two

trips. Ann was the only one left they had to watch out for.

Lucky Ann, with seven men to escort her. I watched them walk

off, quickly swallowed up behind a moving wall of shirts in

every color imaginable.

Work passed. I remembered little of it afterward. Five

hundred faces, two thousand drinks, a hundred thousand steps.

All of it ran together with the upbeat music of the piano

bar, the Peter Cottontail joke, the sound of ice in glasses

and drunken laughter, the smell of cigarettes and booze over

perfumes.

I did remember dancing on top of the piano bar with Sunny,

introduced as ’’The two lovely, exotic, imported California

girls, Jo and Monica!” I don’t know what we danced to, but

I could recall the feeling of the cool polished surface of I

-199-

the piano bar seeping through my nylons and soothing my

feet. And looking for my shoes when I got down and wishing I

didn’t have to put them back on.

My tip sheet totalled sixty-three dollars. I was faintly

jubilant as Dinah caressed my tender feet at 2 a.m. Sunny

was preparing to go out and meet John, but all I wanted was

to sleep. I took the pillow I’d brought with me and walked

up the short flight of stairs from the Bunny Room to the

large, empty room they had set cots up in. A few already had

clothes and stuff piled on them, and two held sleeping girls.

I picked one against the wall, grabbed a blanket from the

stack by the door, and crawled in.

I heard dim voices from time to time, but never could

quite make out the words. I woke up with someone shaking

my shoulder. Billie smiled at me.

’’Come on, you’re due on the floor In a half hour. It’s

nine fifteen." I moaned as my feet touched the floor. "I’ve

got some breakfast for you." She handed over a steaming plate

of scrambled eggs and muffins. I was suddenly ravenous. I

polished the plate off and got ready for work. Sunny

stumbled past looking like she’d had no sleep.

The doors opened at ten and the crowd poured In. Break

time came and went, and no one appeared to relieve us.

Apparently they were all still asleep. I couldn’t blame them t

much. At four o’clock the first early girl didn’t show.

-200-

At six o’clock Canty and Bambi came down, looking angry. Several

Bunnies had gone home last night, they said, and couldn’t

get back through the crowds. One girl had left home five

hours ago, and her husband was frantic. They were both

scheduled upstairs and had been pulled down here to help us

out. Mr. Thibidoux let Sunny go, as she looked like hell,

all groggy and slow, and he asked if I’d. mind staying a while

since I looked fresher than some of the other girls. He gave

me a twenty minute break, then let Mary go.

Seven o’clock and only two more girls showed. Dede and .

Tiz. He let me off then, but warned me not to try and go home.

I went to the kitchen and piled a plate full of fried chicken

and potatoes and then dragged up the back stairs. I figured

I’d never have gotten the elevator door open.

After eating in the Bunny Room I threw my shoes, ears,

and tail in my locker, unzipped my costume and laid it on my

cot and went to sleep in my hose, collar and cuffs.

"Jo, hey, wake up. Jo! WAKE UP!" Casey stood over me

I sat up. "Jo, it’s nearly 2 a.m. and. time for your shift."

She moved on. I heard her call Penny’s name and started off

to the Bunny Room, pulling on my costume as I went. I

freshened my makeup, replaced my ears and tail and crammed

my feet back into my shoes. I picked up my tray and wearily

headed for the floor.

At; some point I danced again, maybe even twice. I had

i -201-

a plastic smile pasted on my face and was afraid to move it

for fear I’d cry. I was carrying my tray in both hands now.

I remember someone saying It was dawn, and wished I could go

and watch. Instead I set up my tray for another round of

martinis and whiskey sours.

I began sneaking off to sit in the John with my costume

down and my feet against the cold tiles. Once I fell asleep

for seconds or minutes, head in my tray on my lap, until

someone pounded on the stall door.

Only four girls showed up at ten so I stayed on. Dede

told us three girls had gone out after work at 2 a.m. for a

drink and hadn’t come back yet. At noon Suzanne and Janie

came on and I went upstairs. Food didn’t interest me. Marie

was in the Bunny Room, and agreed to massage my feet after I

showered. She was just getting started when Patti slammed in,

crying. A minute later Kiko followed, yelling.

"Come on, bitch. Don’t be such a fucking pussy. Get

your ass up and get back down there."

"I can’t" came a wail, "I’m just too tired. And that

bastard'burned me on purpose with his cigar!"

"Tough. Everybody else is tired too. Pull yourself

together and move." i

"No. No. NO NO NONONONONONO!’’" Her scream echoed

through the room. "I won’t! I quit! You can’t make me.

I quit right now!"I -202-

"You chickenshit bitch!" Kiko howled. Sound of a door

slamming, followed by low sobs. I heard Patti finally get

up, dress and leave. Five minutes later Casey came in, all

smiles.

"Oh, Jo. How are you feeling?"

I looked at her.

"We, ah, need someone to fill in for a few hours in the

Living Room. How would you like to do that? You’ll get

ten merits."

"I’m kind of tired, and I haven’t eaten...."

"I’ll-bring you up a plate from the kitchen. Just sit

right there. Then you’ll feel better. And perhaps we can

shorten your shift tonight."

I sighed as she went out. Thirty minutes later I was

back on the floor. It was 1 p.m. on Monday.

-203-

XXX.

At 6:00 when the evening shift came on Suzanne doubled

up to watch my station so I could have an hour’s break. I

slept in everything but my shoes for forty-five minutes til

Marie woke me, then grabbed a ham sandwich in the kitchen on

the way back down.

By 10:00 I was barefoot. My feet wouldn’t fit in my

shoes any more. At midnight I could barely stand up. Billie

fussed at Thibidoux until he gave her both our stations and

let me off. I could have kissed her. Especially since on

thinking back I knew she’d been on at least as long as I

had, and maybe longer.

The cot room was nearly empty. I wondered where everyone

was. I laid down and was asleep instantly. I woke to a pain

in my arm. My right arm was flung up against the wall. The

knuckles were skinned. Confused, I tried to think. Then it

hit me. I had been dreaming about filling orders, and was

reaching for cherries and olives. I’d reached a little too

hard. I sat up and looked around. There were about ten

girls sleeping, at least two snoring, and I heard someone

sobbing quietly. I stood up and wrapped the blanket around

me and wandered out. I could hear voices from the Bunny

Room so I turned away. There were stairs to my left. I

climbed, still half asleep. At the top of the stairs was a

-204-

door. I turned the knob and the door swung open. It was a

tiny room, thickly carpeted, with a huge window. I. have .‘no

recollection of the rest of the room. As in a dream I

crossed the room and opened the window. I crawled out onto

the balcony. I was on a narrow balcony, three stories up.

I sat down and huddled against the building and pulled theI

blanket around me. It was dark, but I could see the masses

of people in the street by the neon of the signs, faces lit

green and blue by the reflections. As I stared at the moving

horde it got easier to see and I realized the sky was getting

lighter. I looked up and saw a few faint stars. I hadn’t

seen stars since I’d been here. I guess I’d just never

looked up. As I watched it seemed as though the noise might

be coming from the stars rather than the street below. I

felt dizzy and closed my eyes. When I opened them again the

stars were gone and the sky was getting all pink on one side.

I sat and watched the sky .turn a light blue, then fade into a

pale, overcast gray daylight. I looked back over the railing

at the street. The people hadn’t changed; they were different

people, but the same as the ones that had been there before.

I toyed with that, the same people. Forever down there.

Trapped in my fantasy, or in their dream, or in hell.

Pushing, being pushed, grabbing at throws, breaking them

apart as two fists refused to release one prize. Shoving

and being "shoved in turn.

-20.5-

I saw a man hurting a woman; slapping her face at first,

then he punched her In the stomach. People around them :

turned aside, looked away. She sank to her knees and vomited.

I couldn’t hear any sound. He brought his knee up Into her

face. She fell over, crying. He reached down and took her

purse, opened It and took out her wallet. He took her money,

and emptied the purse In his hand. He flung Its contents

over the crowd, then tossed the purse. He spit on her and

walked away. I crawled back through the window and closed It.

I went back to the cot room but It was nearly full and

noisy. I wandered aimlessly In the other direction and found

myself In the long passage by the entertainers’ rooms. I

walked down the hallway, trying each door. I found a small

room with a sofa, went In and fell asleep.

I woke myself a couple of times, reaching for those

cherries and whamming my arm against the sofa but I never

got my head clear enough to get up and soon went back under.

I was In someone’s arms, and he was caressing me gently.

He held me close and kissed me. I opened my eyes. A guy with

a moustache and whisky breath was kissing me. I jerked away

from him and pulled the blanket up around my shoulders.

’’What are you doing here?” I demanded indignantly.

"What are you doing here? This is my room! I figured

you were the welcoming committee, or at least here on a dare.”

He laughed.

-206-

I must have shown my confusion, for he released me and

smiled gently. • •

nIm the comedian. This is my dressing room. How did

you get here?"

I shook my head, trying to remember. "I was sleepy, and

the room was noisy, I just, I guess I wandered back here, and

found the door open.”

He laughed. "Well, you’re welcome to the sofa, but don’t

call the wrath of the Bunny Mother down on my head."

I suddenly sat up straight. "Oh! What time is it?"

He consulted his watch.

"Nearly nine."

I jumped up, suddenly famished and scared. "I’m due on

the floor in forty-five minutes. Thank you- for the sofa."

1 backed out the door, blanket tucked around me. I beat it

back to the Bunny Room, ditched the blanket in my locker

and got dressed.

"Oh, Jo, I’ve been looking for you." Casey walked

over to where I was making up. Oh, no, I thought, please no

more extra duty.

"Thanks for working yesterday. Because of the crowd

we’re now working four on, four off, instead of eight, so

you girls can get a bit more rest. You’ll work 10 a.m. to

2 a.m., and 6 a.m. to 10 p.m. today, and then 2 to 6

Wednesday morning."

-207-

I sighed as she walked away. Dede strolled over.

’’You want a little something to keep you going?”.

I looked up, puzzled. She held out a small red almost

heart-shaped pill.

’’This’ll keep you going if you need it.” She dropped it

on the counter in front of me and walked off. I wrapped it

in a napkin from my tray and stuffed it into my makeup kit. I’d

save it in case I needed it later. I figured it was a Bennie

or a Dex. I’d known kids at school who took them to study,

but I’d never tried one.

I went to the kitchen and got a huge plate of shrimp

creole over rice. I sat on the back stairs and wolfed it down,

then went on the floor.

After four hours of oblivion, I stumbled up the main

stairs. Casey caught my arm as I went by the Penthouse.

’’Come with me, we’re doing a little promo. 10 merits.”

I was too tired to argue. We went to the door at the

base of the next flight of stairs, into the room, and out the

window Onto the second floor balcony. Penny was standing

out there, and Billie. Casey shoved a box of Playboy match­

books and a handful of stirrers at me.

”Go on, throw them.”

I looked around. There wasn’t a soul on our block. I

heard the sound of a parade and looked toward Royal. Sure

enough, there was a mass of people■there. I looked back

-208-

at the empty street in front of the Club. Then I spied the

photographer across the street. . .

’’Smile!’’ he yelled. ’’Throw something.” We smiled and

threw matches at him. Four people appeared from nowhere4

scrambling for the matches.

"Hey, look at the Bunnies!" Heads in the crowd turned.

"Hey, Hey!" The street was instantly full of people. "Throw

me something, me. Over here!" I threw matches and stirrers,

watching the crowd fight madly for them. Two boys were

climbing the balcony supports, and the crowd cheered them on.

We were rushed inside and Mr. Hanlan stepped onto the balcony.

The crowd booed. "We want the Bunnies!" We want the Bunnies!"

The chant spread and grew. "WE WANT THE BUNNIES!"

We were shoved back on the balcony with more matchbooks.

I felt like a yo-yo. I threw matches and smiled. When I ran

out I waved and smiled. Finally we were allowed to come back

in. I reached the cot room but wasn’t sleepy. Sunny bounced

in.

"Hey, come on, let’s go for a walk. This is it, Jo,

Mardi Gras day!" I stared at her, her energy.

"What’s the matter, Jo? Didn’t Dede give you a pill?

I told her to."

"Yeah, she did. I didn’t take it."

"Well, take it and come on! Let’s go see Mardi Gras!"

This is what I’d dreamt about, waited for. Mardi Gras

-209-

Day. I had to get out and see it. I tucked the pill in the

pocket of my jeans. I pulled my jeans and shirt on.over my

tailless costume and hose, took off my ears, collar and cuffs

and stuffed them in my locker.

"Not only is it quicker when we get back, it's good

protection." I chuckled. Sunny thought a moment, then did

the same.

We walked out into the mob. Beer cans were thick,

two and three deep even in the middle of. the street. I

quickly developed a kick-step to clear my path. I thought it

had been packed before, but Bourbon St. now was unbelievable.

I was quite literally shoved along with no choice of direction.

Sunny and I held hands to keep from getting separated.

Suddenly we were confronted by four mean looking males.

"Hello, swqet things!" The biggest one stepped forward.

"What do you know? A couple little dollies to keep

us company."

Obviously our "parents" routine wasn’t going to work

with these dudes. I thought fast.

I put my arm protectively around Sunny’s shoulders.

"It’s all right, darling. I won’t let them hurt you." I

hugged her to me protectively and kissed her forehead.

Fear and disgust showed in four pair of eyes.

"Oh, my God, two sickles."

"Christ, look at them."

-210-

"Let’s p;et out of hero."

They vanished into the crowd. We nearly had a .

conniption fit laughing. After that we walked with our

arms around each other’s waist, and had no more trouble.

About half the people were, in costume. Some spur-of-the-

moment, some elaborate, some beautiful. Cats and clowns and

hoboes were favorites, and gypsies, sailors, witches and

animals were also present in quantity. . Beautiful ladies with

parasols and bustles, knights in armor, diapered "kids" with

lollipops and lots of folks just in masks.

One guy in a sailor outfit with no back to his pants

below the belt loops and no drawers.

A fairy with a six foot iridescent wing span, and two

attendants to help him (?) down the street.

We followed the fairy out of curiosity and wound up at a

large platform set up in the middle of. the street. There were

several people on it, all i,n costume, and as we got closer I

saw an announcer with a loudspeaker. It was some kind of

costume contest.

We watched for a few minutes before it dawned on me they

were all men, dressed as women. Some in swim suits, some in

beautiful gowns, some in tight, sexy, sheath dresses. Some

were sarcastic, overdoing the makeup, hair and voice as a

parody, and some really serious and done up beautifully. One

was all fixed up like Scarlett O’Hara in Gone With The Wind.

-211-

Hairdo, dress, even down to a decolletage. I had already

figured out from the Bunny costumes that if you squeeze hard

enough, anybody could have a neckline, but this guy was

incredible. Maybe he’d had hormone shots.

We watched a while, then headed back, arm in arm. I

wished for a costume of my own, and the time to enjoy it.

It was after five when we got back. We each grabbed a plate

of sausage and steamed cabbage while I wondered again about

the diet at this place, and went upstairs.

I -212-

XXXI.

Seven o’clock. Madhouse on the floor when I noticed a

strange Bunny I hadn’t seen before. The rest of us all had

our shoes off, and she was still wearing hers. And besides

that she was at least six-two. And had an incredible run in

her nylons. Her name plate said "Peggy” which didn’t ring

a bell. She had a packet of checks, though, and was serving

drinks to customers standing in the aisles. Next time I saw

Billie I asked her about Peggy.'

"Oh, she comes in every year. ’She’ is a hairdresser

named Robert the rest of the year. He loves it, so we let him

act like one of the girls. He had his costume made for' him

by his tailor. If you need any help let him know, he’ll

be glad to lend a hand.”

I started. He, too, had a pretty good neckline. In­

credible. And I sure couTdn’t see any stubble on his cheeks.

I shrugged and went back to work.

Twenty minutes later pandemonium broke out. Some man

came running out of the men’s room, yelling. He stopped and

looking around, embarrassed, then turned around and looked

at the door again. He did a definite double take.

"Hey, that IS the Men’s Room, and there’s a Bunny in

there! I thought I was in the wrong one, but she is, I

-213-

mean....*’ He stopped cold as Peggy opened the door and stepped

out, every inch a lady.

"Excuse roe," she said in a quiet, dignified, sultry voice,

and wa2zed pact Mro. He' sputtered a time or t>;o and gave up.

He went back to his table without using the John.

Later they started the piano bar thing again, and of

course Peggy got up to dance. About half way through she/he

twisted right out of the top of her/his costume. Chaos.

Whistling and cheering gave way to horrified silence and gasps

by several people who figured out the anatomical differences.

Most everyone else just thought she was an exhibitionist

Bunny, or maybe a drunken one. They kept asking me about her,

and I could hardly keep a straight face.. She sure helped the

time pass.

Ten o’clock Tuesday night, and no replacements showed.

An exhausted looking Mr. Thibidoux came to tell us there was

no one to replace us; all .the girls were either working, gone,

or completely exhausted. He hoped to have,some of the show­

room Bunnies down in another hour. Tears began gathering in

the corner of my eyes. I blinked them back, and went slowly

to get my makeup kit. I’d replaced the pill there after our

walk. I swallowed it with a slug of 7-Up. from the bottle on

my tray.

A hundred drinks later I began to buzz inside. I cheered

up, and felt light and happy. I was making lots of money.

-2124-

after all. And it would be over soon. I floated through

the. next hour. No replacements, but I didn’t care. . At two -

when I was originally supposed to be coming back on duty -

three exhausted Penthouse Bunnies came down to break us.

We each got a one hour break. I showered, changed my collar

and cuffs, ate scrambled eggs from the Buffet, and drank

an orange pop from the machine behind the Playroom while

Dinah did my feet.

I was back at three, still full of pep. Mr. Thibidoux

observed my good cheer, and asked if I would like to make a

breakfast.announcement. There were so many people there that

they probably hadn’t even seen the Buffet, much less knew

that there was food available. I said sure. He brought the

oversize chef’s hat, and a little hand held xylophone that the

Breakfast Bunny always played a scale on. I didn’t know all

the words to the standard announcement but I knew what was

served, and I figured no one would care if I followed the

script or not at this hour.

Ding, ding, dong, ding; dong, dong, ding, ding. "Good

mawning, y’all,” My best Southern Honeychile accent, here,

"Ah’d like to welcome each and every one of you to the Nawlins

Playboy Club. This mawning, foah yoah enjoyment, we are

serving tha-ree aigs, scarambled to yoSi ordah, toasted English

muffins, with real creamery buttah, a slice of ouah dee-licious,

goooooooooooey Playboy pizza,” here I gave a little shiver

-215-

and a squeal, "ooooo. It's so good! Virginia balked sugah

cured han, and all the piping hot Louisiana coffee you can

drink! So just ask yoan Bunny foah a buffet key, take It to

ouah buffet man, Ca-larence, and he'll just be dee-lighted

to serve you-all. Thank you, breakfast Is now being served!"

Ding, ding, dong, ding; dong, dong, ding, ding.

The crowd went wild. Clapping, cheering, yelling for an

encore. I laughed delightedly. I had been afraid no one would

ever hear me over the din. And I'm sure no one heard the

first sentence, but then they had all shut up and listened.

Mr. Thlbidoux came over to me and took the cap and xylophone

back, laughing and shaking his head.

"That was great, but I don*t know where you found the

energy."

By seven Wednesday morning I had lost all the energy,

and I was one dragging Bunny. One among many.

After the doors were locked behind the last keyholder

the. bartenders made a round for everybody. We lay sprawled

over tables and chairs in the Playmate Bar and guzzled booze

and passed out like flies. I had two white elephants

and remember vaguely trying to climb the main stairs to the

Bunny Room and crawling part way. I considered the cots,

but wanted a real bed. I threw my clothes over my costume

and went home.

The streets were deserted, except for the millions of

-216-

beer cans like bodies on a battle field, tumbled over each

other. They were knee deep in the gutter, and over, ray ankles

everywhere else. The smell of stale beer and urine was

overwhelming. I saw no one in the block and a half home. I

counted the stairs thinking of bed. The living room was

full of bodies. I stepped wearily across.them and down the

hall to my room. I opened the door. Four people were

sprawled across the bed, passed out. I groaned. I couldn’t

see enough space for a fifth, so I got my pillow I’d lugged

back home, and a spare blanket from a corner, and laid down

on the floor.

-217-

XXXII.

Daylight. Pain. I drifted. Time to go back on yet? I

hoped not. I rolled over. Casey would come when it was time.

I snuggled deeper into the blanket. A man’s voice penetrated

my conscious. A man? Here? I shrugged. So what. I went

away again.

Darkness. I uncurled and stretched under the sheets.

Sheets? In the cot room? I opened my eyes. The apartment. Oh,

yeah,:I remembered. How’d I get in bed, though? I reached

up to scratch my head, met resistance. What? There was

something on my head. I pulled it off and stared. My blue

Bunny ears. I’d worn them home. I threw them on the floor

and rolled over, sinking again.

Voices and sunshine. I opened up. The room was empty,

but I heard voices in the living room. I got out of bed.

Oh, my feet. Jeez. I was still wearing my jeans over my

costume. I undressed, put on a robe and walked out. a

group of faces looked up from plates.

"Sleeping Beautyl"

"Yeah, or Rip Van Winkle!"

"What do you mean, what time is it?"

"Four.o’clobk. Thursday."

I wondered what happened to Wednesday but I didn’t ask. i

-218-

It wasn’t Important. Someone handed me a plate full of

spaghetti so I sat down on the floor and ate. Everyone was

making final plans for leaving. Including Sunny. She wanted

to go home with John. She was homesick, and tired of the

job, and missed the beach. I couldn’t talk her out of it,

so I promised to have the Club forward her check. She was

already packed so there was nothing else to do or say except

mumble goodbye. I felt really sad. She and John called a

taxi and Ann, Tom, Joe and David all went with them to the

airport. It seemed positively empty with only seven of us

left.

-219-

XXXIII.

Well, Ken and Dan finally gave up on the freighter idea

the next week, and caught a plane to Europe. I stuck with

Penny, Linda and Bobbi for another two weeks and then got a

place of my own on Conti.

I hung on at the Club - we were really short handed after

Fat Tuesday with all the girls who had quit, and the ones

who’d been fired for not showing up all weekend. Not that we

needed many workers during Lent. What a dead season in a

Catholic town.

Anyhow I lasted. Six years. I watched a lot of chicks

come and go. They would come in innocent and starry eyed, or

maybe only a tiny bit disillusioned with life, and go away

changed. Oh, a few got out okay, moved back home with their

folks, went to another city to start over, entered college,

got married, or some other decent way out. Billie "retired11

to her house, invested her savings, and just worked part time

a few hours a week as a receptionist for a young lawyer.

But most hung on like me, and went down the drain. Barbie

put her adoring husband through Medical School. Her thanks?

A divorce and a drinking problem. Ginger was a Viet Nam

widow who raised her three kids single handed. Two turned

to junk and ,the youngest was walking Bourbon Street at i

-220- : i

twelve. Ginger blamed herself because she worked all night

and slept all day and was never around to be with them. :

Not that I was any smarter. Dirty Ed was a no-count

musician with a third rate combo. I should have figured from

his name he was no prize, a nickname like Dirty doesn’t

happen for nothing, but I always was a dumb one about men.

Like the night in the crowded joint on the edge of the

Quarter, La Casa de los Marinos, or La Casa for short.

Dirty had taken me there after he finished work at 4 a.m.

It was nearly 6:30 and he was pretty drunk. We were sitting

at the third bar. The outer bar was for sailors, the second

one for sexual swingers, AC-DC types and stuff, and the third

one was free-for-all. I was sitting on my bar stool leaning

against the bar watching the crowd undulate as one body to

the blaring music.

The chick on the stool next to me kept leaning on me. I

figured she was just loade.d and kept pushing her away. Finally

I got annoyed with the hassle and turned to tell her off. I

just stared. Her pants were down around her ankles, and so

were her boyfriend’s. I’d seen a lot of stuff in the Quarter,

but this was a new one. I shook Ed’s arm and pointed.

"Hey, what? Oh, Yeah? Looks' like a good idea.’ Okay.

Let’s do it. S’fine with me.” He had his pants half off and

was trying to rip my shirt open before I got him stopped.

Anyway,' after Dirty Ed I was on the way downhill for sure.

-221-

And there were a plenty of girls I knew ahead of me to show me

the way. Suanna and J&iny • were already working the street out

of a little joint on Dauphine. Kiko was a call girl at a

small hotel. Patti and Tiz were B-drinking strippers who went

with the customers if the price was right. Bobbi was street­

walking to support a man and a habit.

Linda’ stripped and Janie was a "topless” go-go dancer.

Bambi and Candy were really into the gay scene, and Dede had

been busted one night out at the Lake for an Illegal sexual

act with a Negro. In the park. He was one of the busboys

from the Club. The Club denied that either of them worked

there.

After I quit the Club to follow Ed, then came back to

town when I opened my eyes and discovered he was hopeless,

I tried modelling a while. It was good money, but so long

between jobs that there was no way to earn a living. That’s

when I bought the picture .1 told you about, and m& Jack

Conley, who turned out to live next door to old Hal Sonnenberg.

Anyway there weren’t enough modelling jobs to go round, and

the agencies took a huge; chunk out, so I gave up on that, too.

So then it was Al Hirt’s for a year, and from there it

was easy to slide on down. The 500 Club, then hustling

drinks at Papa Joe’s. By the time I got fired for talking

smart to a customer I was nearly thirty,.and had to be a

little dess choosy about jobs, though I was still a good looking

-222-

dish.

I crawled back to Larry La Marcotta at the 500 Club and

said yes, I’d strip if he’d only take me back. But I lasted

just a couple of weeks." I couldn’t take those creepy guys

watching r/.-, knowing that eao'n one was privately abusing r.e

in his head. I didn’t want to be a part of a thousand men’s

sex dreams. Maybe what I’m doing now ain’t so hot, but it’s

honest. I can choose who I want and refuse the rest, and I

give a tangible benefit for the money I make, not just a

taunt and a tease.

It’s not so bad, either, once you know which cops to

pay off. I choose my own hours, and Johnny lets me use

one of the rooms over the Bubble Club for a few bucks a week

so a guy can’t decide to come back for an unexpected encore

and find me.

I -223-

XXXIV.

Looking this whole thing over so far, I don’t feel

so bad anymore about the way I’ve turned out. It’s been quite

a life, after all. The years I spent at the Club were exciting;

I met lots of celebrities and was kind of a minor celebrity

myself. Modelling let me travel, and I got in some vacations

I’d never had a chance at any other way. I figure I’ve been

happier than if I’d gotten married and spent twenty years with

wet diapers, runny noses, and PTA meetings.

Well,- maybe my life ain’t so proud, but I’ve always

tried to do what’s right by my book. Not hurt anybody, work

an honest day’s work, and have a little fun along the way.

-224-