Buffalo 1928
"Calico Radio proudly presents Uncle Louie's Vaudeville Review-y live from the Olympia Room in the Lindsay Hotel in your very own Buffalo. Visual entertainment for those in the audience, musical entertainment for you folks at home. Tonight's broadcast is brought to you by the fine people at Birchley's Orange Remedy. Birchley's Orange Remedy for colds with the goodness of vitamin C and zinc-rich pine nuts. Feeling sick never tasted so good!"
It actually tasted like a mouthful of exhaust fumes and everybody knew it. Birchley's was widely considered a last resort of the poorest and most desperate, but you couldn't find a company with less to lose willing to sponsor a small-time variety show of trained dogs and bird callers, etc., being broadcast over the radio. Closing performers, The Incomparable Jonas with Crystal, Quick-Change Artists Extraordinaire, were slightly less recognizable local household names. If they had not yet tasted the fame their ambitions craved, they were willing to bet that pine nuts had nothing to do with it. Unfortunately one of the team was always willing to bet a little more than the other.
With an overly confident rap at Crystal's dressing room door just before opening it, Jonas was ready to put off their argument until after show time. After all, Uncle Louie and the Lindsay deserved the same commitment to showmanship as the prime spot at Shea's, and surely the little cream puff could be uncurdled once she understood how necessary his plan was to their success. Didn't he always look after them? Even if he stumbled now and then, wasn't he ever the protective brotherly figure, the only man whose resourcefulness she could count on as much as his gentlemanly honour?
"Crystal, sweet? Are you ready to stop being such an ungrateful, indignant tart?"
Her answer was the make-up tin she lobbed at him from her dressing table, perfumed rice powder exploding all over his Holiday Act tuxedo.
"Fantastic," he said, his face like a powdered doughnut. "It's ten minutes to curtain."
"We're quick change artists, aren't we?" Crystal said coolly, patting blonde pin curls into place at her mirror.
"Some of us are artists," Jonas began to say, just as the pointy end of a tail comb whizzed by his face so closely that it parted his moustache on its way to the wall.
"You listen to me, pal," Crystal said, turning towards him, still managing admirably to apply a perfect amount of rouge without her reflection. "I do all the hard work around here. All you do is sing and throw a hula hoop over me and I'm the one that's gotta smile and suck in my gut to my spine so it doesn't look like I'm wearing three dresses as a belt. You know how many girls would kill for my figure? You know how many guys would? You're up to your ears in woo-hoos and whistles thanks to me and do I ever complain?"
"Like it's your mother tongue."
"Your mother - "
"Uh!" Jonas stopped her with a severe finger point to remind her of their sacred oath. "Nothing we can't come back from."
"Fine, but pardon me if I get a tad upset when you tell me we're going on a London tour which kicks off with me playing stowaway in a steamer trunk!"
"I won't fit!"
"You lost our fare money in a back alley, you get in the trunk!"
"Don't be ridiculous. How will you lift me?"
Somehow she managed to both flash and squint her blue eyes without looking homicidal. "Boy you must really think I'm stupid," she drawled.
"Stupid, never. Short-sighted is all."
Shaking her head with a humourless smile, Crystal once again perused her table for some item. Jonas glanced around the room quickly for something to protect him from whatever she was about to throw next. He'd dodged his fair share of tomatoes, but Crystal had a mean curveball. Luckily, the only thing she threw his way was a look of defeat from her reflection. "You know what? You're right," she said simply, and blotted her lipstick.
Despite being generally a pushover, Crystal had a temper like a bouncing ball of mercury. Jonas knew the real danger was when she got quiet.
In full sulk, she nonchalantly tried to perk up the break-away angel wings of her first costume as the halo she wore on her head tipped forward to cover her already irritated blinkers. She tsked loudly and forced it back into position. It was Jonas' idea that the opening's dress should look like a Christmas tree with Crystal herself the angelic topper. She really did look like an angel too; like a cherub on a candy box. It almost made him feel bad for disappointing her as often as he did, but how was any of it his fault? She was too thoughtful, too sensitive, too unwilling to let him be as selfish as he felt their careers needed him to be.
"I really thought we were gonna go places," she said then, sighing wistfully. "We were doing so well. Booking the big halls, getting top billing, and finally with room on the posters for my name too."
Jonas still wasn't sure how he felt about it, but printers weren't cheap.
She stood and presented herself for his inspection, still pouting as he circled her, double checking that the hooks and ties meant to release one outfit from another were in place for the act. "I got recognized in taxi cab the other day. Did I tell you that?"
"Repeatedly," Jonas said, patting her shoulders in approval.
Her drawn on brows knit together.
"Two months ago we were a prize in a raffle. Now look at us. Back where we started. I should've known you couldn't stay straight. I should've known London was too good to be true when you booked us back in this dump. But I trusted you. So maybe I am stupid."
The twinge of regret in his heart reminded him he still needed to change his jacket. He felt terrible, as most gambling addicts who lose do, especially when they lose to people who don't really need the money. "There, there," he said," squeezing her arms gently to soothe her. "I'm the stupid one. Imagine shooting dice behind a Mercedes Roadster and crapping out on a twelve to the guy who owns it."
Crystal shoved him away immediately. "Yeah well I wish he'd been shooting something else!"
"Darling, I'm sorry," he said exhaustedly. "I wanted to surprise you and get us first class tickets."
A half-hearted "Baloney," was all she could muster.
It wasn't a lie. He stood no chance against sea-sickness. At least in first class he'd throw up better food.
"I did!" he insisted. "Remember how you said you wanted to find yourself a rich duke and settle down? I thought I might up your chances. Even though the stage means everything to me, like you do, I'd be willing to lose you if it meant your happiness."
"Sure," she said, anger waning to disappointment again.
"I would," he said defensively, if not convincingly. "Don't you believe me?"
"Do I believe you want me to find a rich man? Of course I do. I can see your sharks and your bookies now, crying at the wedding."
Jonas had to laugh. "Why you little - "
"Don't you 'you little' me, you," she warned him.
But he knew how she hated being angry with him, so much so he could guilt her with it. He could always lure her forgiveness by adding a drop of wounded aloofness to his Dapper Dan charm. By the time he was done he would make her think the whole thing was her idea. It was half the reason their partnership worked.
"Am I perfect?" he asked. "No. But we've got a month's worth of contracts in London thanks to me. Have you ever been to Europe? No, you haven't. Doubtful you'd ever have gotten out of the state if I hadn't come along, never mind the country. And you want to give it all up because you stubbornly refuse to spend a measly twenty minutes in a wardrobe trunk? Well, we're a team, so what can I do? We'll call it allllll off."
"This trip means the world to me," she protested anxiously.
"There'll be other trips. One hopes."
"But..."
"Look, I know I fouled up, and I'm sorry that third class is booked and all we can afford is a single passage with a tourist cabin, but don't I always make it up to you?"
"I suppose," Crystal said reluctantly.
"There's a fella from the radio out there right now who says he wants to press our song into a new type of record. Says it could be a holiday novelty."
"Really?" she said excitedly, only for her enthusiasm to sink again. "But I don't sing in this one. It's only you."
"We succeed or we fail together," Jonas encouraged her. "My good luck is your good luck."
"Same goes for the bad stuff."
"Ah, but luck runs in a circle. If we stick to the plan it will come around again, I promise you. London is going to be the happiest time in your life. I've got nothing but the best theatres lined up for us! The Incomparable Jonas with Crystal will be the toast of the town."
"That means we're going to be eating toast for dinner in some crummy hotel room, doesn't it?"
"It means you'll have noble suitors lined up for your attention backstage and maybe when I get home I'll be able to write my own ticket to Broadway."
"Cross you heart and hope to die trying?" Crystal said.
He dragged his finger across his heart making a line through the face powder. He looked at his watch. Five minutes to go. He was incomparable, wasn't he?
"Fine," she said.
He plucked her cheek sweetly. "The train to New York leaves two hours after the curtain closes."
*****
The pair took their positions on their first marks next to one another on a stage set up to look like a family room on Christmas morning. In the wings, the man from Calico Radio gave Jonas a wink. The stage manager gave the signal for the curtains to come up and the band leader in front of the stage cued the house musicians to ease into the intro of the jazz number Jonas had written himself and began to sing.
"Patience is a virtue, so my parents said
So I heeded my curfew and scurried up to bed
To dream of Christmas morning, and all that there would be
Joy to the world! And lots of good presents for you and me.
"Look! What's that under the Christmas tree?"
Taking the hoop sewn into the hem of Crystal's tree dress in his hand, Jonas pulled it over her head to reveal the more form fitted white gown she wore underneath, complete with an over the top train on her now audience-facing derriere.
"It's that train that I always wanted -
When you got it you should flaunt it
"Look! What's that under the Christmas tree?"
Another hoop cascading a changing curtain over Crystal gave her time to unbunch the train and transform it into a frilly pink dress.
"It's a dolly for Sue and a record for Joe"
The same hoop brought over Crystal's head again and dropped, stole the pink frills to show Crystal now wearing a leopard print dress.
"And for Katy a kitty-cat tied with a bow.
Give mom a set of
Monogramed hankies"
An unfastened overskirt became embroidered pockets.
"Give Dad a new glove
Signed by the Yankees."
A removed satin glove displayed signatures when turned inside out and thrown to the first row.
"Santa's been watching
If you've been good he's
Gonna fill your stockings..."
Here Jonas held out a long rod with another changing curtain in front of Crystal so the audience could still see her face as she manoeuvred into her next costume. Her old dress was hooked to the rod which when cast aside, revealed her wearing a not too-scandalous set of red bloomers, puffed with her next outfit inside, and a pair of candy cane striped stockings, like a show-girl Mrs. Claus.
"Yes, he's gonna fill your stocking with all kinds of goodies!"
The audience whooped and whistled as they always did with a good view at Crystal's shapely legs. She smiled broadly as she always did, basking in adoration and happy to give the people a good time. She stole a glance at Jonas before the next swap. Her smile was for him too, informing him of what he already knew. She was doing what she loved and the show must go on in London no matter the cost or discomfort.
******
Once outside the train station in New York City, Jonas and Crystal found as quiet a spot as possible for her to climb into the giant wardrobe trunk. They had packed the majority of their shoes and props in an extra large suitcase so that Crystal could be safely enclosed in a treasure box lined mostly with a rayon and chiffon.
"I put a flask in there in case you get thirsty and there's a package of peanuts if you're hungry."
"Where am I supposed to put the shells?" Crystal whined.
"We may be tight for funds, but we're not animals. They're shelled already."
He closed the lid and with no small effort dragged the trunk onto a busy curb to hail a cab.
Fortunately the cab driver was a giant. He didn't say much about the weight of the trunk as he helped Jonas mount it to the roof of his car. Doubtful he would've even without the cigar in his mouth. He fastened it by running a frayed and flimsy rope over it and through the backseat windows, a necessity Jonas realized nervously he'd not envisioned in his scheme.
The route to Pier 59 was not without its potholes, but it was a great relief, to Jonas at least, when the cab pulled up to The Armorica's embarkation area that the trunk was still with them. A decent tip got the driver to agree to help him load the trunk onto one of the dollies provided by the luxury ocean liner. He did not wish to wait for any porters who might know a suspicious looking piece of luggage when they saw one. After check-in, wordlessly following tips like breadcrumbs, the cabbie further accommodated Jonas by hoisting the dolly along the gangway, as though he was a friend seeing him off. Once they were shown by a steward to the second class cabin, the driver slid the trunk off the dolly and lowered it to the floor, rather gently, Jonas thought, for a bear his size.
"Need me to help ya unpack?" he asked, cramming the tip money he'd already earned further into his pocket to make room for more.
"I could've afforded the state room if I did," Jonas said.
"Suit yourselves," the driver said, casting a knowing look at the trunk before heading out the cabin door.
Jonas was quick to lock the door behind him and lunged at the trunk to set Crystal free.
"Ta-daa!"
"Ta-daa yourself! I must be black and blue! The strap of my shoe diggin' into me the whole way and bump after bump with a face full of peanuts!"
"What about me? I think I pulled a groin muscle. You travelled in fluff. I only left the softest things in there."
"They all got beads on 'em!" she said pointing to the side of her face which was tiled with the impression of an evening gown.
"You're young. You're cheeks will pop back out," Jonas said.
"Help me out before I slug you in your pulled muscle."
He took her hand to help her to her feet. As she rubbed soreness from her back she gaped at their cabin with sudden immense pleasure.
"Gosh! This is really top drawer! Did you know it would be this cute? Snug though," she said. Stretching her arms across the room she could practically lean to touch each wall without moving her feet. "How big is this ship anyway? Is that peep-hole the window? Lemme see!"
A padded bench covered in a blue-grey damask textile stretched out under the port window at nearly the same length and width as the bed on the starboard side of the room. She knelt on top of it to take in the view but there was little to see but the floor and railing of their immediate deck in terms of sights from their current height. Still, her glee would not be diminished.
"When do you think they'll serve dinner? I'm starved! Is there somewhere to buy snacks in the meantime? What'll I wear to the dining room? What do I have that isn't crushed or meant to be torn off?"
"About that," Jonas said, treading lightly. "The dining room has a seating arrangement."
"Ah-huh."
"And they only have my name."
It hit her like a kick in the shin seconds later. "What are you saying? You're outta your punchbowl if you think I'm gonna be stuck in this lousy change room for five days while you have champagne and ersters and make nice with the high-hats upstairs."
"Change room? A minute ago you were at Ritz."
"A minute ago my blood sugar was higher."
"Look, we can't be seen together, but there are enough people for you to blend in if your name doesn't have to be checked off a register. The way I figured it is, you have fun at the pool and shops and the game parlours during the day, and I'll hit up the dining rooms and smoking rooms - "
"And poker rooms?"
"Whatever the popular hangouts for men are, and we'll be sure never to be seen together."
"What about the salon?"
"Can't charge it to the room."
"What about the dances?"
"Fine, but if anyone starts asking too many questions excuse yourself to the ladies' and skedaddle. Deal?"
"What do I do for food?"
"Don't worry. I'll never be hungry enough to finish a meal. I'll have it packed up for the room. You'll just have to eat late."
"What'll I do for now?"
Jonas' eyes went to the peanut strewn trunk and back to Crystal.
"I hate you," she said.
"I'll tell the steward I don't feel well and ask for some soda crackers."
*****
Their plan worked beautifully. Crystal would spend mornings in the gilded splendor of the second class heated pool, finding it impossible to imagine how the first class pool might have improved on it. She'd go for walks around the ship for exercise and out on the decks for the fresh Atlantic air when the Captain deemed the winds safe. She'd torture herself trying on the latest European fashions and sampling expensive fragrances she couldn't afford in the ship's boutiques then afterwards buy herself a bag of caramel corn for a nickel near the children's playroom as a reward for not throwing herself overboard.
She met lovely woman from Peoria in the games room who became an entertaining gin rummy partner. Mrs. Geraldine "Gerry" Batchelder was chaperoning her nephew and his fiancée back to England to meet the girl's family. The young man's parents were in the early stages of divorce and hated each other's guts. Gerry spent the majority of their conversation gushing about wedding details and gossiping about her sister's marital woes.
"My sister is in such a state!" she said. "She's convinced she will never find a man again. What she's yet to realize is that there are many attractive qualities divorced women have that never-married women don't, and one most important thing they no longer have that never-married women do. I speak from experience when I tell you men of all walks find the latter fact to be irresistible."
Crystal did attend dances in the ballroom the first few nights of the cruise. A ladies' man from New Rochelle got the wrong idea about what kind of girl she was and the dances got shorter from there as she tried to avoid him.
As promised, Jonas kept her fed with the leftovers he had sent to his room. He even stole a menu so Crystal could choose what he should order. She knew from his stumbling back to the room in the wee hours, smelling of brandy and sweet cigar smoke, that he was spending his nights playing at the ship's casino or in a backroom game somewhere, then sleeping it off 'til noon. Seeing as he claimed to have nothing to put up, she contented herself with the idea that he might just be a spectator, but if anyone could make a dollar last all night, it was that rascal.
When she had first taken the job with Jonas, three years earlier, she was sure that she was going to fall in love with him like she did with every dance partner she'd had since she was fourteen. He was not as handsome as others, but his style and talent made him more attractive than he might have been. Charm was as much of a costume for him as anything Crystal changed in or out of, and the layers of it seemed endless. Underneath it all, however, his career came second to none and it was not long into the creation of their act that Crystal knew a romance would be out of the question. They became more like a pair of bickering siblings, enjoying each others' company nonetheless, dependant on one another for the futures they dreamed of, at least for the time being.
The five days at sea passed routinely. At last the day came where England was in view, and the ship sought out its pier from the beachless shores of South Hampton while calls preparing passengers for the afternoon disembarkation were carried over loudspeakers.
Jonas was up bright and early to make arrangements for a porter to bring a dolly to help him with his trunk. Crystal moped and whined throughout her share of a late breakfast of one slice of cold toast, an egg and half a grapefruit. It was one thing to close herself up in her clamshell when she didn't know what to expect, but now her tailbone hurt just thinking about it. She toyed with the idea of stealing the room's pillow to make her journey softer but it took up too much room.
The Armorica weighed anchor mid morning. The gangways were locked into place by noon. At one o'clock, just as Crystal was exiting the bathroom, there was a knock on the door which surprised them both as an earlier announcement had instructed second class to be ready to leave the ship by three.
"In ya go!" Jonas whispered as he hustled Crystal into the trunk.
"I got two hours," she complained as he stuffed errant chiffon around and on top of her. She was still grousing when he shut the lid, and he imagined she still was as he opened the door to find two porters smiling at him.
"We've come for your bags, sir," one said.
"You're a little early, aren't you? I'm not quite ready yet. The Captain did say three o'clock."
"Not you, sir, just your luggage," the porter said affably.
"Oh," Jonas said. "No, that's not necessary. I just asked for one of you to come with a dolly to lend me a hand."
"We have orders to take your trunk to cargo so that the crew can get it down to you. It'll be much easier that way."
Jonas improvised quickly. "You don't know this, and why would you, but I'm sort of a magician. This box is my livelihood. I can't let it out of my sight."
"Of course, sir. We'll speak to our deck officer. He might come and have a word with you, but we'll get it sorted."
This, naturally, wouldn't do.
"No need to go through all that," Jonas said, his brain calculating next moves. He casually checked the locks on the trunk and gave it a tap, watching, like the very picture of calm indifference, as each porter took an end of the wardrobe and steadied it on a dolly.
No sooner had they wheeled Crystal away did he frantically finish packing their shared suitcase, exiting the room in a mild panic to find the first steward who could direct him to the deck where the cargo was stored to be offloaded. He may have had a Boy Scout badge in shortcuts, but letting Crystal get lowered off the side of the ship in a cargo net like a bunch of bananas was too lousy even for him.
As he approached the hold, he nearly ran into the same porters from moments earlier. He insinuated himself in a few small clusters of milling passengers too busy to be suspicious. When it seemed the coast might be clear, he hurried for the entrance's large sliding doors, but not fast enough to evade being glimpsed by a certain gentlemen he'd talked into staking him in a game of poker and who currently held Jonas' I.O.U for two hundred dollars. Jonas wasn't sure if he'd been made-out, but he was sure he had no intentions of paying.
He squeezed his way through a barely parted door and hid behind a stack of crates waiting to see if he'd been followed. A count of thirty seconds convinced him that his purser hadn't recognized him, or, if anything, had perhaps chased a shadow down the wrong corridor. Now, he hurried to find Crystal, bracing for a scene which would surely echo. Fortunately the cargo room was neatly organized. Automobiles up front, packed crates and boxes in the centre, and piled not haphazardly to the side, the oversized luggage. There were at least three dozen wardrobes, but none as large as theirs, and with only one other trunk resting on top he could make quick work of setting her free.
"Crystal, it's Jonas. Hang on while I get you out," he said as he slid the heavy obstacle out of his way and popped the lock to get to her. She shrieked in surprise and he leapt backwards stumbling over the suitcase he'd carried with him from the room.
"What are you screaming for? Didn't you hear me?"
"I can't hear anything in there" she said sitting up like an angry doll in a box. She looked past him and then her eyes followed a pile of luggage up to the ceiling. "Where are we?"
"They want the trunk to be offloaded with all the heavy stuff."
"Like with ropes like I'm a piano?!"
"That's why I'm getting you out of here."
"I'm not arguing, but what about them checking our papers? We'll get caught."
"You take our suitcase and try to blend your way out. If you do get stopped for your ticket, tell them it's locked inside."
"And when they tell me to unlock it?"
Jonas grabbed their suitcase, took its key and intentionally broke it off in the lock.
"That's the smartest thing you've done in weeks," Crystal said with giant sigh of relief.
"Well, I can let you get arrested but not hurt."
"Why am I getting arrested?"
"We, I meant we. If we get busted, we'll...we'll just have to wash all the ship's dishes or something. What's the worst that can happen?"
With a rumble like a propeller, the cargo room's sliding doors were suddenly pushed open.
"I know he's in here," echoed the voice of the moneybags Jonas was skipping out on. Only he wasn't alone. Through a space in a pyramid of personal luggage, he saw two burly longshoremen with him.
"Imagine being paid to be mad", Jonas whispered to himself, doubtful they'd search the whole room, forgetting for the smallest moment that he wasn't alone either.
Standing to climb out of the suitcase, Crystal let out a small grunt. Jonas quickly turned waving one hand to stall her and bringing a finger to his lips to shush her.
"What the heck is going on?" she said, her voice reverberating off every surface.
"Get back inside!" he urged her in a hoarse whisper, and before she knew it he had climbed in on top of her and closed the lid.
"Are you outta your mind? You're squishing me," Crystal cried. But Jonas' next plea for silence came with a hand over her mouth. Quietly, with what little light was able to filter in through the trunk's seams, he managed to direct her to turn on her side so that they were hugging each other in a rather contemptuous embrace.
"What's the big idea?" she demanded quietly.
"There's a guy out there I owe two hundred dollars to. He and a couple of hired fists must've followed me in here."
"Well that's just peachy," Crystal said.
"They'll give up in a minute," Jonas whispered in her ear, straining to hear any outside voices.
"I think we should split up."
"That's an over-reaction don't you think?"
"I'm serious, Jonas. Every time we get a little ahead you do something stupid and we wind up painted into a corner."
"You're just sore. I'll make it up to you. Don't I always?"
"I can't take it anymore. I'm twenty-four now and the corners keep getting smaller and smaller. How am I supposed to - "
"Quiet," he stopped her. "I think they're gone."
He pressed his free palm against the roof of the trunk and tried to push it open but it wouldn't budge. "Give me a hand," he said to Crystal.
Crystal tried her best to help him but whether their leverage wasn't right or the latch was stuck, they were trapped.
"Are you kidding me?" Crystal squeaked. "Are we going to run out of air? Who's going to open us up? What if we die in here?"
Hearing her on the verge of hyperventilating, Jonas tried to calm her down. "Just breathe," he said. "See, there's light coming into sides? That means there's air coming in."
"Do something!"
Muffled voices of other men suddenly filled the room along with dulled sounds of boxes scraping the floors, of wheels crunching over dust, and of crew orders amplified over the P.A.
"I suppose you want me to call for help?" Jonas said levelly. "I'll do it if you're sure that's what you want, but keep in mind -"
"HELP! WE'RE STUCK IN HERE!" Crystal screamed.
In a sobering moment of clarity, Jonas decided to join her. It seemed unimaginable that they could not be heard and yet for all the ruckus outside, no one sprang them loose.
They felt the motion of being tipped onto a dolly and moved a short distance between being set down again. They yelled and punched the sides of the trunk as best they could, but their voices were canned by the commotion. There were louder noises where they wound up and it wasn't long before the awful sensation of being lifted and swaying, presumably in a cargo net set both their stomach to lurching.
Jonas groaned with queasiness.
"If you get sick in here, I'll kill you," Crystal said, her chin digging into his shoulder.
"If I get sick in here, I'll want you to," he said trying to focus on the cold outdoor air coming into the trunk.
After a few moments, the swaying became less nauseating, as if they were being rocked in a hammock. They relaxed their grips on one another and breathing returned to a manageable state.
"'What's the worst that can happen?' you said," Crystal said, trying to make some space between their cheeks which were pressed together.
"Did I say that?" Jonas chuckled dryly just before those precious seconds of calm were sucked away by a sudden, violent dip like an elevator's descent stopped short.
They both screamed. Swinging wildly at terrible angles, there arose from down below them a din of unintelligible shouts.
"Don't worry," Jonas gulped as Crystal whimpered in his ear. "Don't I always get us out of trouble?"
"If you do, I never want to see you again," she said.
"Deal," Jonas relented. With his eyes squeezed shut, he grasped her hand where it was sandwiched between them and for the first time in years, very nearly almost prayed.