All That Glitters by Thomas Tryon Read Free Book Online

indubitably the most imitated performer of the century. Her clothes were copied, her millinery; her punchlines were famous. “Got something for me, boy?” was as famous as Greta’s “I vant to be alone,” while “Get off my porch” was the catchphrase of the day. She popularized the tam-o’-shanter so it sold by the millions, and when she took up golf, women from Maine to California hit the fairways with their five irons and caddies. Her collection of French Impressionists rivaled that of Edward G. Robinson’s, while her absence from the track on race day was judged a bad omen. But this is getting ahead of the story; the Monets and handicappers came later.
    In the year preceding their arrival in Hollywood, Frankie Adano had discovered his center of gravity, and when he and Babe rolled into Tinseltown he was determined to be taken seriously. They put up at the Beverly Hills Hotel in “adjoining rooms” and made sure they were seen everywhere together. It was at Santa Anita that they made their initial splash, where they posed for pictures and Frankie made his oft-quoted comment, “We came to shake the grapefruit from the trees and the stars out of the skies.” And shake they did. Together or separately they created the kind of flurry that the town adored. Frank’s first purchase of note was an expensive car, a landau with enclosed cab, open driver’s. He hired a chauffeur, stuck him in maroon livery with black froggings, and told him to drive Babe around town, from Hollywood to Beverly Hills and clear out to Santa Monica. And just as he planned it, her advent amid the coconut palms of Hollywood caused its share of comment and speculation among the natives, who like most natives were of a fairly restless nature.
    One thing seemed most apparent: Babe Austrian was made for the movies, just as the movies seemed to have been invented for her. So that no one was more surprised than she and Frankie to find the studios behaving standoffishly. Rather than the hot ticket she’d been in New York, Babe was perceiving herself to be a little frog in a big Hollywood pond. It didn’t seem to matter, the length of her car, the number of her furs, even the square inches of diamonds she sported; she was treading water, getting nowhere fast, and neither she nor Frankie seemed able to break the logjam.
    In addition, there was a curious social situation prevailing in the environs of Beverly Hills: the stardom conferred on Babe in the East did her little good in a town that was as caste-conscious as Calcutta. Because of her naughty image, there was an unfortunate stigma attached to Babe’s person, and it was preventing her entree into the front parlors of the rich and famous where deals were made, parts cast, careers made.
    Frankie was quick to note the openly offered snubs, though it was being made clear that he himself was welcome almost anywhere (they should only have known about his checkered past), and he was frequently invited to gatherings without Babe, which made for some difficulty. But since it was a basic tenet of the industry that a lot of movie deals were cut at Saturday-night social gatherings, and since everything depended on his getting Babe a picture as quickly as possible, they discussed the matter between themselves and were in accord: when Babe might attend a gathering, she would; when not, Frankie would go alone and try to harrow the arid fields of Beverly Hills.
    Besides, her day would come. If the smart matrons of Beverly Hills, Bel Air, and Brentwood chose to snoot her, she didn’t care; she wasn’t there to be social anyway; she was there to get famous and make pots of money. “I don’t take things lying down unless I happen to be,” was to become one of Babe’s famous lines, and she went on making herself as conspicuous as she could. Not only was she seen regularly at the race track, she lunched at the hotel pool and let the tourists snap pictures of her, she tooled around town in her car, she went