Out In The Be-Bop Night- With Lou Reed’s Walk On The Wild Side In Mind

From The Pen Of Frank Jackman 

She, Casey Fleet she, was in a tizzy, was as nervous as a kitten, maybe more so after all what does a kitten, or a cat for that matter have to be nervous about, as she prepared to go to the microphone for her first big number, her first big time “open mic” and a new career, maybe. This open mic idea had been around for a long time and many clubs, bars and other venues on say a slow Monday night to fill up the time would sponsor a sing out, a comedy night, a quiz night, a whatever night to fill the time (and draw some additional customers in on that same slow night, the ones who still had pocket change left from the week-end or had listen to mother’s, some mother’s  advice and not come away from that weekend with three heads, two of them splitting). Arnie Shaw had been sponsoring one such open mic at his downtown (downtown Boston if anyone was asking) Carousel Club for a few months and it had started to catch on as a place to work off the rough spots of your act before a friendly crowd. And with Arnie’s connections (and “connections”, wink, wink, if you understand) in show biz if thing went right then there was the new career. Leslie Tinsel (stage name obviously, real name Leslie Swartz) had just been signed to a few weeks down at Atlantic City and so Casey decided she too should take the plunge, get out of the work-a-day racket (she had a mind-numbing job on a construction crew where she ached every night after work from the day’s dusty dirty exertions but the pay was good and so there it was) and soar with the eagles. And she had decided to do a cover of Judy Garland’s version of Yip Harberg’s Somewhere Over The Rainbow. Still she was nervous, nervous as a kitten.     

The build-up to the nervous had all started a few hours earlier when her gown, her precious gown that she had spent one hundred dollars on had not been ready at the tailor’s. She had needed a few things altered (mainly, don’t tell, some added padding in the breast area and a letting out at the hips) and so she had got behind in her “routine.” (She had developed this idea of a routine when someone told her that Bette Midler, yes, addle-brained Bette, swore she could not survive for one minute without doing the same routine before every performance and that idea had worked well before for Casey before her very first small “gig” at the open mic night at the LaLa Club over in Revere.) That routine included a long warm bath while she calmly shaved her legs and underarms (jobs that she usually “butchered” with plenty of red wounds to show for it when she rushed). Then a quick scotch, no chaser, to settle the nerves.

Then Casey did about seven things with her hair until she got it got just right after the inevitable why have some women been cursed with long stringy hair that would not bent to their will. (Tonight she had added a couple of attachments, okay, okay wig pieces to give it a fuller look. She hoped it didn’t look too outlandish and that the boys liked it, and liked that she took time to look nice for them, the dears.) And then the final preps for the dress (gown tonight, remember) usually a quick press with the iron, put on some nylons (with garters for luck, she had heard that Judy had done the same thing before she went on) and shoes and she was done. She followed that routine to the letter this night although with less time she had to cut that bath time short and had a small nick on her calf to show for it. Well it would be dark. While she waited for Kenneth, her friend, her friend from work, a big husky guy all man, and, no, nothing more, nothing more than friends, but he understood her , understood why she was like she was and so friends.     

Finally he arrived, on time, old Kenneth always on time but no time for her, and as they headed to the club she started doing her voice exercises in the car. Damn tonight her voice sounded like some husky Lizabeth Scott from the old 1950s films that she adorned. Yes, Lizabeth with that sultry husky voice in some smoked-filled room glasses clanging , that no nonsense-taking from any guy voice and some  guy in some corner waiting for her to finish so he could start, start being fresh with her, and seeing that he was her guy she let him do some nonsense. Ah. But that voice was no good, no good at all for Judy’s song and so she was once again nervous as a kitten, maybe more so.

When they got to the Carousel Club the placed was full for a Monday night, mostly with performers and their friends but full. And an extreme number of the performers were dressed to the nines with flamingo this, feathers hanging over them, and tiara that’s as well. This might have been an open call on Broadway for all the glitter with each performer trying to outshine (out-dress) the other. She signed up, the performance order here was first come, first served and she was number twelve on the list so she had about an hour to wait. She decided to have a scotch or two to try and get rid of that Lizabeth voice. Tried to get it Judy mellow. She bought one for Kenneth as well and they sat at a table. She did not remember some of the songs of the performers before her but Hello, Dolly, Cabaret, and Night and Day she thought. But what did come to mind was that Jimmy, Jimmy whom she had met at the LaLa Club came over and made eyes at her and her heart fluttered. He said he liked her gown, liked its fullness, and all of that and she was glad, glad as hell, she had shaved and bathed because things might get interesting later, and won’t he be nicely surprised she hoped. As for the song, her performance, she couldn’t shake that Lizabeth voice and Somewhere Over The Rainbow still belonged to Judy. And so she would come back next week with something better, and maybe on Jimmy’s arm, if it turns out that he is into girls like her…