Starlight, Star Bright?

HOLLYWOOD

 

What faces! What bodies! I never tire of watching the hopefuls, the future big movie stars answering the cat calls. They make an endless line past the casting studios. Determination, ambition fill their minds. Fame, money is everything. A few elderly women, needing no make-up for an occasional part, continue hoping to be in the right spot at the right time and move up the line as slowly as the others.

 

It's June. The sun is hot. Feet in six inch heels cramp. The Charlie Horses need massaging, but the stoic ones can only rub the pain, stamp their feet. They do this shamelessly while keeping smiles on their faces. It rarely happens, but when it does, arguments can get loud, now and then semi-violent. An RKO official stops the fuss and sends the trouble makers to the end of the line.

 

Twenty-five portable potties are along the building wall. Eyes watch for doors to open. 'Hold my place and I'll hold yours,' need not be whispered. Politeness flies away. Verbal battles begin softly, can reach screeching heights. The cattle call in itself is a show without tickets. It goes on morning after morning longer than Moses parting the Red Sea.

 

I recognize many of the ladies, call them by name. Holly seems special to me somehow. There is an electric charm to her walk, to her 'hello' wink. Carole, who uses the last name 'Bard' surely believes she is the next Carole Lombard, but she has miles to go before she is Minnie Mouse. I wonder if she ever saw Carole Lombard, realized the stars in the sky were there for Miss Lombard.  When her screen image smiled without saying a word, thousands more smiled too. Carole Bard might do better as Carole Bore.

 

I break my self-made rule for the first time when I start a conversation with Holly. She is quick witted, pleasant, and so exceptionally warm. Love bites me hard on my nose and another extremity. Holly is to be the next one thru the door to the stage but is stopped dead. The monitor uses a megaphone and calls out for all to hear, 'Calls over. Try again tomorrow.' The sighs, the growling, go thru about twenty five upset, disappointed ladies. Holly walks to the exit as they all disburse, smiling to them telling them not to give up. Stragglers bitch, blame the immediate world then fade away until the next call.

 

Holly, puts her shoulders back, her chin high. As she reaches to close the gate, I hold it for her. 'Don't be upset, Holly, I say. 'I've watched you wait in line many times. You are made out of iron. Don't you ever wear out, want to give up? How about having a good steak dinner with me instead of going home by yourself. That will cheer us both up.'

 

It takes her a few minutes to absorb my invitation before she says, 'I'm sorry. I would go with you but I can't. I'm married so laugh at this, Holly Would but Holly won't. I'll see you next call.'

 

I watch her take off her high heels and walk barefoot on the grass.