1969 - An Evening Of Burlesque

1969 – An Evening Of Burlesque

The sound of piano music and the sounds of a rowdy crowd increased as I pushed the heavy red velvet curtain aside and entered the main house. The musty smell of decades of stage sets, greasepaint and carbon-arc lighting hung in the air mixed with the scent of years of cigarette smoke and human bodies that had been packing this house night after night. I stood in the door of what may have been a typical old vaudeville house complete with Rococo decorations in gold. Heavy red curtains on the stage ran from the high ceiling to the stage deck. There was row upon row of theatre seating with an aisle down the center, right through the middle of the crowd and 2 other aisles split the audience on either side of the room. Two aisles lined the walls. As mentioned it could have been an old vaudeville house except for one thing: a runway that ran into the crowd. This was burlesque!

I also noticed the greatest difference between this and a regular movie theatre was the crowd seemed to be in a constant state of movement unlike a movie theatre where the audience was usually relatively still. The lighting, although subdued, was still much brighter than a darkened movie theater and the noise level! It was loud! The movement of the crowd, the garish decorations and the noise prevented me form immediately noticing the act on the stage. This was my 3rd time attending but the initial entry into this room was always impressive.

Center stage was a short, stout gentleman in huge, baggy pants. Suspenders held his pants up which were obviously needed as the waistline didn’t touch his body at any point. I didn’t immediately hear the lines he was delivering but the young lady next to him made a little jump on her toes accompanied by a little squeal as her eyes shot wide open and an open hand with closed fingers shot to cover her mouth. Her skirt dropped to the floor. Under the skirt were frilly black panties with the frills lined in vivid red. She wore bright red garters to hold up her black mesh tights. Her shoulders bent forward in a futile effort to surround her generous bosom. Her rear end extended backwards to complete a somewhat sexy image. “Eddie!” She said as she bent over to pick up her skirt which had just fallen to the floor. The gentleman wound up his slap-stick and smacked her on her behind, now an obvious target. A loud SLAP echoed throughout the room. “Oh, Eddie!”

Eddie Ware was the Baggy-Pants comedian an old-school burlesque comedian nearing the end of his career at the same time the burlesque industry was rapidly fading from sight. As far as I know the one of the last burlesque houses in the US was the San Diego Hollywood Theater. It was late 1969 and little was I to know the theatre would be soon closed for the last time in a very few months (in February ‘70) while I was engaged in Navy duties overseas with the USS Southerland (DD-743).

Eddie and the young lady exited stage right as 5 scantily-clad ladies appeared dancing and high-kicking onto the stage from stage left. They wore tight tops and bottoms that were accented by beads, rhinestones and ostrich feathers. Their tops soon disappeared about the time the young lady that had accompanied Eddie in his act showed up re-costumed dancing center stage with the rest of the line. Her top stayed on. Following this was another act in which tops flew off again with the exception of the “Headliner.” As I soon discovered the Headliner was one of the chorus line girls each of which took turns as the Headliner for a month, which also meant she would be the one with her body “covered” all evening. She would also be the girl doing the comedy with Eddie.

The chorus line danced and kicked in an attempt to emulate the theatre of old but somehow I just didn’t feel the spark except when Eddie took the stage. The girls, as well, received obvious enjoyment out of their opportunity to do more than strip and the crowd’s reaction to their lines and Eddie’s reactions seemed to delight them. It became obvious that these young ladies were, like me, too young to have witnessed Burlesque during its heyday and were essentially strippers that danced together instead of as individuals. I would later find individual dancing to be typical of topless clubs. But this wasn’t a club or bar but a theatre. They had rehearsed acts including the aforementioned comedy bits. They danced together. Only occasionally was there a solo act. Even these were obviously rehearsed acts and not the mindless thrusting, jiggling and gum-chewing topless dancers I would become familiar with soon after my 21st birthday. Nobody threw money at them. There wasn’t another dancer 15-feet away dancing under neon light, doing a completely different dance to the same music. The single runway ran 15-feet into the crowd. The best seats in the house nestled closely against the runway where the view was intimate and often close enough to talk to the girls. Truthfully, even though I knew this version of burlesque was a pale imitation of the real thing I enjoyed myself thoroughly just sensing a bit of how it used to be. Examining the furnishings, the excitement of the crowd, the noise, the garishly dressed dancers and the baggy-pants comedian all lent a certain air of lost history like the echo of what used to be when the theatre ran with a full voice and an appreciative crowd every night.

Burlesque was entertainment that was similar to vaudeville with distinct differences. Vaudeville included multiple acts all hired separately to entertain a family audience. Burlesque shows were complete with the entire cast hired to perform together in acts that were distinctly “naughty” or “cheesecake” and oriented toward young males. The Hollywood Theatre occasionally had a novelty act but mostly ran shows in the traditional single-company style.

I was still only 18 years old at the time and certainly too young to enter a bar but this establishment was liquor-free with the nearest bar right next door. I was at the theatre with Bob and Mitch, two older and more “experienced” shipmates. They had decided in their own inimitable way to help me “become a man.” But, of course, after every performance they would send me back to the ship alone on a city bus while they retired to the bar next door to the theatre for drinks.

The Hollywood Bar, located immediately next door to the theatre, would sear itself into my memory a few years later when, at the age of 25, I picked up a hitchhiker on my way home from work. During our trip he introduced himself as Rich, short for Richard. He was only in town for 2-weeks after which he would be returning home to LA. He was contracted to assist in the remodeling of one of the Pussycat Theatres which were pornographic movie houses now affiliated with the Hollywood Theatre property and the Hollywood Bar through a common owner who also owned the Horton Hotel which was on the same block as the old theatre and bar. It was this hotel where Rich was staying rent free while in town.

He seemed to be a nice enough person who didn’t seem to have any connection with the porn business except his contract of remodeling. I went out of my way to drop him downtown. He handed me $5, for which I had not asked, as he got out of the car and which in those days was a generous amount. As he got out of the car I invited him to be at the same corner, at the same time every day and I would give him a ride. He thanked me and this became our routine for the next 2-weeks.

The last day of our association he invited me for a drink at the hotel bar. As Rich was buying, I accepted. I found a parking place and we walked the short distance to the bar. As we approached I realized the “bar” was the Hollywood Bar, still in business located in the same place next to the old theatre. It had been several years since I had been downtown and longer still since the theatre had been opened. It still sat, still, abandoned and showing some disuse.

The bar was dark, as typical of a downtown bar; even though the door was left wide open to the daylight and smelled of leather and liquor. I ordered a Johnny Walker Red on the rocks, and Rich made his selection. As we talked and drank I was able to observe the characters that served as patrons of this establishment. A buzzing sound caught my attention as the old guy sitting 2 stools down held a buzzer to his throat. “Gimme another one, Jack,” He buzzed. I overheard him later explain to another patron, in his buzzing tone, that he’d lost his voice box when wounded during the Korean War and the buzzer took the place of his vocal cords. He was a surly old curmudgeon with a critical opinion of just about every issue he and the bartender discussed and even seemed to have a tongue-in-cheek opinion of his own opinion. The buzzer made it somewhat rough to hear any inflections but his conversation continued on until I absorbed the gist of his attitude which was a bit surly, a bit pessimistic but tempered with a long life and an understanding of the inevitabilities of same. I’m sure the same younger man was more optimistic but the years had taken their toll and his sense of humor was now a sense of the ridiculous – much of which he simply couldn’t abide quietly. There were maybe half-a-dozen people in the bar when a quite large fellow about our age entered the bar. His black t-shirt was just about splitting from the pressure of his well-toned body straining against the flimsy material.

“Hey! Anybody want to help me move a tiger!?!”

I swung toward him. Rich greeted him with “Hi, Gary! What’s this about a tiger?”

“Susan is rehearsing in a while and I’ve got to move her tiger to the club. I guess she’s gonna use it in her act tonight.” Gary replied. I later learned the club in question was one of the many topless bars that frequented the immediate area before the Lamplight District “cleaned up” the area. I also learned “Susan” was Susan Mann, a relatively well-known porn star (of whom I had never heard of before this day) who was touring some clubs with her act…and her tiger. Gary revealed she owned a White Siberian Tiger and movement required the police to roadblock the entire street in front of the bar and the entire 2-blocks to the destination club during transport. Also at least 5 people were required in accompaniment with the tiger. “Wanna help?” Rich looked at me.

“Sure, why not?” I shrugged.

Gathering a couple of other volunteers from the bar we headed next door. Police cars were setting up in the intersection at the end of the block and wooden construction horses already blocked the sidewalk. A small crowd had gathered at the barrier blocking the far intersection where someone had “let the cat out of the bag.” (Pun intended) We would be walking right by them in a few minutes and they wanted a good view of the tiger. I wondered how wise this was – then I considered how wise I was myself to be willingly going along with this plan.

We walked through the front door of the now long closed theatre. The room was eerily quiet and spooky still speaking with a silent voice and the familiar smells of the years of entertainment in its past. We headed backstage where we descended into an area under the stage where unused and abandoned dressing rooms and storage rooms were obviously located as witnessed by the open doors to many of these spaces. They were full of abandoned dressing tables, props and debris. Inside the front door of the theatre Gary had picked up a heavy chain with individual links about 1 ½ inches wide and 3 inches long. There was about 5 or so feet of chain in his hand when we reached the closed and padlocked large door. The outside of this portal was covered in a layer of sheet steel lending a greater air of danger regarding the beast that waited inside. As Gary unlocked the padlock he announced he would be entering alone and would only open the door enough to squeeze through. He also said, smiling, “If you hear any screaming leave the door closed. You won’t want to open it.” Gary disappeared alone through an opening barely wide enough to accept his somewhat massive bulk.

Silence. Chain rattling. The door opened a crack and stopped. I heard the chain rattle again as Gary adjusted his hold. The door opened. “Stand back!” I tried to take a single step backwards but my back was already against the opposite wall on the narrow hallway. I took a deep breath and waited.

Gary and the cat stepped out.

It wore a wide collar that was connected to the short chain held in Gary’s hand. Gary pulled back against the pull of the beast with a single hand. Only Gary and Rich stood between me and this wild beast. This rare jungle beast stood tall before us…or as tall as a small, fuzzy tiger kitten could stand…about 15 inches…a dirty mottled white…almost yellow, with dirty-looking spots that were trying to turn into stripes. I understand White Tigers only turn white with maturity. We all laughed at the joke and oohed and ahhed when the cat stretched its paws forward and stretched its body it full 2 ½ foot length. It smelled Gary’s pants leg and moved to Rich’s. “He’ll have to smell everyone before he’s comfortable.” Gary said. “Just stay where you are and he’ll get to you.” I was next. This beautiful creature, all fuzzy and furry like the big overgrown kitty that it was, moved toward my pants leg. He smelled my leg and rubbed his face against my leg obviously scenting my own tabby. He flipped over on his back and waited for a stomach scratch which I was more than happy to provide. A loud purr issued from his mouth as he wrapped his paws around my hand and lapped it twice with it’s sandpaper tongue. “Let’s go.” Said Gary. With a little scratch behind the ear I withdrew my hand and the cat rolled to its feet. We headed toward the stairs. Gary had Rich and one other guy lead the way with myself and one other person bring up the rear. After climbing the stairs we crossed the stage to the short stage left stairs which was closest to the side door we would be exiting. When we got to the stairs Rich and his partner started down. Gary paused. The cat was resisting going down the steps which extended maybe four feet down into a darker, shaded section before leading toward the door. “He doesn’t like going downhill.” Gary announced. “This may take some coaxing.”

I stepped forward and bent to scratch the kitten behind its ear and it brushed up against my leg. I stepped onto the first stair. The cat followed rubbing my leg. One step at a time the cat & I proceeded down the stairway and out into the street. Gary suggested I walk with him. The street was empty with wooden barriers set-up on the sidewalks and two police cruisers blocking the street side. We proceeded down the block to the club without incident after which I said goodbye to Rich and shook his hand. That was the last I saw or heard from him.

The Hollywood Theatre will live in my memory until I pass on…a rich experience…and I’ll certainly never forgot my 2-block walk with a White Siberian Tiger.