Ziegfeld Girls Read online

  And yet, after eighteen months of eking out a living in vaudeville, Suzanne had managed an audition for a Broadway lead and then, amazingly, she got the part! Jada was happy for Suzanne’s success. And as unrealistic as the dream was, Jada longed that it were she onstage instead of Suzanne. As a black woman, her options were limited to vaudeville, blackface, or the church. Not one of those options appeased Jada’s dream. Either they paid too little or didn’t offer the right sort of class for her taste. Jada wanted to dance across a large stage and belt out bold melodies written just for her. But that was virtually impossible. Instead, she would make that dream come true for Suzanne, which was the least she could do as thanks. Suzanne left her fiancé and family behind to help save Jada’s life. She had sacrificed everything for Jada. There was no conversation in which Jada could confess her own hopes. And now, the chance to be a Ziegfeld girl . . . Jada would never be able to speak up.

  Jada gripped the vanity table and glared at her reflection. Her dark brown eyes and tightly wound hair met her gaze. She looked tired. No producer in their right mind would audition such a dull, tired woman. It wouldn’t matter what her voice sounded like or what her tired limbs could do.

  “Pull it together. Grandma would laugh at this little problem. At least you are in a theater! Be happy.” But even as she tried to convince herself, her mother’s mocking tone filled her ears: Filling that white girls’ dream instead of your own. You deserve more, child. Tears fell down Jada’s cheeks.

  Abruptly she stood up and shook the thoughts from her head. She would not wallow in this jealousy or self-pity. Instead, she went to work. All the little jobs that kept the room looking spotless wouldn’t do themselves: rubbing the spots off the mirror, folding all the clothing so they looked perfect inside the wardrobe, even refilling the powder container. By the time everything was done, it was intermission and the hallways were once again abuzz with performers.

  Suzanne burst into the room and dropped onto the chaise, dramatically perching a hand to her forehead. Both girls quickly giggled at her forced pose.

  “Oh, Jada,” Suzanne swooned. “I’ve never had such fun.”

  “I’m glad for you,” Jada replied. She hesitated, unsure if she should ask. “Did you see—”

  “Ziegfeld?” Suzanne finished for her. A bit of the joy drained from her face. “I didn’t see him. But I’m not sure I’d know him if I saw him. I mean, it isn’t like I could walk out into the audience and gaze at each face.” She laughed at the thought. “If it is meant to be, he will call.” The yearning in her voice was palpable.

  Jada handed her a glass of water and sat beside her. “That is true.”

  Suzanne leaned her head on Jada’s shoulder for a moment. Jada closed her eyes, imagining they were back in Richmond with the warm summer breeze filtering in through the windows.

  Abruptly, Suzanne stood up and started unfastening the laces to her costume. “Enough, I need to get dressed for act two.”

  The silk violet gown hung on the dress form across the room. Jada slipped it off the figure while Suzanne stepped out of her current gown. As Jada slid the new dress over her head, Suzanne bit her lip.

  “Do we have to go to the party tonight?” Suzanne asked.

  The dress nearly fell out of Jada’s hands. “But it’s opening night! Surely you want to celebrate with everyone.”

  Suzanne slid her arms through the sleeves of the dress. “Jada, the audience isn’t laughing where they should laugh, and Friedrich has flubbed more lines than he has gotten right.”

  “But you just said you were having such a good time.”

  “Well, they are laughing at my lines. I just can’t see everyone’s faces if the reviews are bad.”

  It was Jada’s turn to hesitate. “You should go for a little bit and celebrate the opening. Once you’ve made an appearance, you can claim a headache or nerves or something and come home. I’ll corroborate whatever story you choose to use.”

  Suzanne nodded. “Thank you, Jada.”

  A knock came at the door.

  The women looked at each other and Jada quickly finished tying the dress. She gave Suzanne a brush to start on her hair as she opened the door.

  “May I help you?” she asked the stranger on the other side.

  The man was tall and thin. His light brown hair was perfectly combed over and his suit tailored too well for him to be just anyone.

  “Good evening. I am here to speak with Suzanne Haskins.”

  Suzanne turned from her vanity and pulled the brush through her perfectly curled hair. “I am Suzanne.”

  The man nodded. “Florenz Ziegfeld requests your presence at his office tomorrow morning. The meeting should last no longer than half an hour. You will make it?”

  Suzanne’s mouth dropped open and her hand froze, her brush halfway through her hair. Quickly she regained her composure and flashed the man a dazzling smile in the mirror.

  “I believe I can accommodate him. What time?”

  He handed a card to Jada.

  NEW AMSTERDAM THEATRE

  214 W. 42ND STREET

  NEW YORK, NY

  10:00 AM, MR. ZIEGFELD’S OFFICE

  Suzanne nodded again. “I will be there.”

  The gentleman nodded his head in a half bow before saying, “Mr. Ziegfeld will be pleased.”

  “And, if I may be so bold—who do we have the pleasure of meeting now?” Suzanne asked. Jada turned in surprise at the question and saw Suzanne’s demure smile and coy expression. Was it possible she found this thin man attractive?

  “Jonathon Franks, miss. I am Mr. Ziegfeld’s personal assistant. It has been an honor watching you tonight. We both think you are a bright light in an otherwise bleak production.”

  Before Suzanne could defend her costars, Jada held the door farther open and insisted, “The second act will be starting soon. We really must get ready.”

  “Oh, yes, of course. Until tomorrow, Miss Haskins.” He walked down the hall, his long legs making short work of the space.

  The moment Jada shut the door, Suzanne’s nerves rose to the surface.

  “Can you believe it? During intermission? A meeting with Ziegfeld himself . . . I don’t know what to make of that.”

  Jada pressed down on her friend’s shoulders, grounding her and regaining control at the same time. “We will find out tomorrow. Right now, you need to get back onstage.”

  In a matter of moments, they had tucked all of Suzanne’s beautiful hair under a wrap and placed the foot-high white wig on top of her head that was supposed to indicate the rise of her character’s station from one act to the next.

  “Never mind what that man said. You are talented and wonderful and this show is good. Go enjoy yourself.” Jada kissed Suzanne’s cheek and pushed her toward the door.

  The intro started and Jada stood in the center of the small room. She danced along the steps she’d worked so hard to perfect in Suzanne. She knew them all by heart and no one would ever know. Jada grimaced and stopped before the applause trickled through the walls.

  She knew the applause was not for her.

  CHAPTER 2

  New York provided a unique solitude. Here everything grew as if it longed to touch the sky. It was so different from Richmond’s quiet calmness. Walking beneath these buildings, Suzanne felt small, yet empowered. Men in suits bustled to and fro, ignoring everyone but themselves as they hustled down the street. Their energy gave Suzanne focus. This was the city where dreams happened if you worked hard enough.

  Suzanne had worked for her dream. No one could deny that. Perhaps this meeting with Mr. Ziegfeld would be the end of that kind of hard work. The Ziegfeld Follies were legendary for both the stars they attracted and for the beautiful women, the Ziegfeld girls, who paraded through the productions as anything from bees to battleships. Surely learning to walk as a flower or standing still in representation of a tree would be easier than the mountain of steps she had to learn for The Dancing Duchess.

  On their last trip
to New York, for Suzanne’s sixteenth birthday five years ago, her father had surprised her with tickets to the rooftop Follies. In 1909, the Ziegfeld Follies were still an after-hours production, and attending such a late performance made Suzanne feel mature and just a little scandalous. The Jungle Scene was particularly moving. Men in suits hunted women operating puppets of lions and bears, while other women clad in glorious leaf-covered gowns stood in the back and held branches to create the illusion of a jungle. It was exotic and enthralling, and Suzanne couldn’t get enough of the glamour. The evening was ruined, however, when Mother and Father got into a huge fight over his comments about the women’s curves. After that, Suzanne hadn’t thought much of the production. And now, she was on her way to possibly star as “one of the most beautiful women” her father had ever seen.

  Her one regret that morning was leaving Jada behind. Her mother and she had read countless gossip rags while lazing out on the sun porch. If there was one thing she knew about Ziegfeld girls, it was that they were not only beautiful, but independent as well. Bringing a servant could be seen as an advantage, but also a weakness. Besides, that horrible hotel clerk had been bothering her again, and she didn’t trust him not to riffle through their room if no one stayed behind. He had remarked too brazenly about the jewels she wore to the party. Once they had more money they would move to a nice boardinghouse.

  Suzanne stopped next to the Saks on Fifth Avenue windows, examining the styles they were presenting that season. The ornate beading and layers of lace made her want to reach out and touch the gowns. She might be able to afford one of them if she impressed Mr. Ziegfeld. The thought sent a shiver of excitement down her back. She hadn’t splurged on a new gown since they left Richmond. Jada had worked wonders on their wardrobe to keep it looking fresh and current, but Suzanne missed having new clothes.

  But she didn’t miss Richmond. Leaving was the best thing she ever did for herself, but she couldn’t tell Jada that. It had been nearly two years of hard work and many sacrifices, but her dream was finally staring her in the face. She was the lead in a Broadway musical, and Mr. Ziegfeld, the star maker, wanted to meet with her.

  Nearly two years ago, Suzanne had been pouting in her room after another fight with Elton. His health wasn’t improving and he refused to set a date for their engagement party, let alone their wedding. She’d hoped Mother would understand his reasons, but Mother was not good at understanding such frivolities as illness.

  When Jada came bursting into her room with the news she had found her parents’ dead bodies on the grocer’s land and that she was certain he was after her as well and had to run away, it was like a gift to Suzanne. The circumstances were horrible, of course, but the opportunity to leave home—to run away and make her own future—was too wonderful to pass up. She insisted she accompany Jada. Mother’s former beau ran a small theater in Philadelphia and she knew he’d give her a chance. It turned out to be much smaller and grimier than Mother had let on, but it didn’t matter as Suzanne made her debut on that stage.

  Although they didn’t speak of it, Suzanne knew Jada wrote her mother every few months to let her know where they had performed and that they were well. That was her choice. Suzanne, however, could not forgive her Mother for not coming after them and insisting on bringing them home. Cicely’s death would have been a relief for Mother, or so Suzanne assumed. Was Jada’s disappearance also a relief? Was it cause enough not to come after her only daughter? Not so much as a letter was exchanged between them until Jada sent the first newspaper clippings nearly three months after they left.

  Suzanne raised her chin and smiled at her reflection. This was a life she had created for herself, and it was better than anything she’d ever imagined back home. Instead of drooling over the gown, she quickened her pace so she’d be sure to arrive at the New Amsterdam Theatre on time.

  She turned a corner and walked down Forty-second Street. A trolley swooshed by her and the garbled voices of the passengers flitted in the breeze. The street was marked left and right with large signs hanging from the second and third floor of buildings. Advertisements for Turkish Trophies, C/B Corset, and Williams Talcum Powder hung over her as she walked down the street. At eye level a few buildings were plastered with sheets offering beautiful girls in revues and other theater spectaculars. Suzanne felt both gaudy and exhilarated to walk through an area with so much activity.

  After walking for a block, she looked up and there it was: the New Amsterdam Theatre. A slight thrill washed over Suzanne. It was more than a mere playhouse, the building housed two complete and separate playhouses and had an eleven-story office tower rising up above all the other theaters on the street. On the top few floors of the building, a sign was painted on the side to identify the opening attraction. A man sat on scaffolding painting the lettering THE ZIEGFELD FOLLIES OF 1914. Above, the names of the star performers had already been painted: ANN PENNINGTON, BERT WILLIAMS, AND ED WYNN. The names looked down at Suzanne as if they were waiting for her to do or say something to their grandeur. The front awning jutted out over the sidewalk into a point with ZIEGFELD FOLLIES in bright white letters shining in the morning sun. Ziegfeld’s name almost covered the intricately carved lettering NEW AMSTERDAM THEATRE that hung upon the building. A man sat on a gurney touching up the paint on the Follies sign.

  “Excuse me?” Suzanne called up.

  The man looked down, his paint dripping slightly on the sidewalk. Suzanne jumped out of the way.

  “Yes?”

  “I have an appointment with Mr. Ziegfeld. Do you know how I can get into the office building?”

  The man wiped his brow and nodded. “Go inside these doors and up to the fifth floor. His office is at the end of the hall. Good luck.” He winked.

  Suzanne flashed him her brightest smile. “Thanks!”

  She tiptoed around the small droplets of paint and pulled the front door open. The entryway shown with art nouveau opulence. The elevator doors carried a flower and vine motif that was reflected in the vines on the columns inside the entryway and on the sconces hanging on the wall. The lobby was dark, but the bronze friezes that hung above the mirrored walls depicted scenes from various Shakespeare plays and Greek dramas. Even the box-office windows were adorned with metal flowers and vines. The box office was closed that early in the day, and the doors to the theater were locked.

  Suzanne pushed the button to call for the elevator, but when a minute had passed she decided to walk up the stairs instead. The marble stairs were wide and smooth and she found herself marveling at the details. Even the stair rail had roses carved into it to make it melt into the scene. No other theater that Suzanne had played in had such a cohesive design.

  After her climb she hoped her cheeks would be appropriately bright with the exercise, but she pinched them just the same. The man downstairs had directed her to the room at the end of the hall, but he needn’t have bothered. There was only one door on the fifth floor and that was Ziegfeld’s. She swallowed her nerves and walked down the red carpet to her meeting.

  The clock in the hall rang nine forty-five with a loud chime. Suzanne stood in the hallway until it had completed its chords; then she knocked and entered the vast office. A crystal chandelier glittered high above her head. Sunlight glared through the ten-foot window, reflecting off the crystals and sending tiny rainbows bouncing off the walls. The dark oak desks complemented the red walls and golden frames. A huge marble mantel took up one entire wall and had a large portrait of Mr. Ziegfeld hung above it. His dark mustache and gray hair complemented his round cheeks and amused eyes. He stood in such a way that you knew he was a force to be reckoned with. She took a step toward the portrait, but halted when she heard a man clear his throat. Collecting herself, she changed directions and walked toward the desk in the center of the room where Ziegfeld’s assistant sat.

  Suzanne held her handbag in both hands and waited for Mr. Franks to acknowledge her. In her mind she quickly went over her outfit, hoping she hadn’t forgotten some small a
ccessory at the hotel. Her sage suit made her golden hair shine and was snug in all the right places. Jada had spent nearly an hour making sure Suzanne had perfect Mary Pickford curls. The long, thick curls were pinned up on one side and set to flow over the other shoulder, ensuring she looked both in fashion and endearing. She raised her hand slowly to her hair to make sure they had remembered to place her diamond comb just above her left ear. They had. At least she looked the part of a Ziegfeld girl.

  “Hello, Miss Haskins.” Jonathon rose to his feet. “I’m glad to see you.”

  “I am pleased to be here, Mr. Franks.”

  He smiled. “Please call me Jonathon. Most of the girls here do.”

  “Thank you.” She didn’t know what else to say.

  His hand extended and his warm fingers took her hand. His fingers were long, like Elton’s, and Suzanne was reminded of how safe he had always made her feel while they courted. Her hand looked small in Jonathon’s grasp, but instead of safe, Suzanne felt a flutter of excitement. Instinctively, she pulled her hand back and clasped her handbag.

  “You did say ten, correct?” She looked at the cherrywood clock hanging on the wall.

  Jonathon flipped through a stack of papers. “Yes, ten. I’m very sorry. He was needed onstage but shouldn’t be too much longer.” Gesturing for Suzanne to follow, Jonathon opened the high double doors to the office behind him. “You may wait in Mr. Ziegfeld’s office.”

  “Thank you.” His formal tone felt awkward after his friendliness the day before.

  He led her into the rectangular room. Jonathon walked directly to the fireplace, opened the grate, and stoked the fire back to life.