Valley of the Dolls, Twentieth Century Fox Film Corporation, 1967
You’ve got to climb to the top of Mount Everest to get to Stone Canyon. It’s a brutal climb and.
When did I get, where did I
How was I caught in this game
By the pool at the house in Stone Canyon, in the California sun, the
endless relentless California sun, the pool, the water spanking the tiles in lazy little slaps of…
There was no pool.
And no drama. Not like your lady novelists would have you believe.
I see. And what should I believe?
Eddie showed up at the theater one night, if you must know, backstage, looking for a “friend.”
How did he know to do that?
You need to ask? Hanging around Pershing Square is generally where you’d find boys like him in those days, looking for work or pretending to work “delivering telegrams” – Run an errand for you, sir? Somepun you’d like I could do fer you, sir? they’d say, no chance of a decent life and what could I say to that, doing well after all, all those years, always kept working as you know, as you’ve found, buying my first home and think of it at my age – not my first actually, there was that property on Long Island but that had been another time, sold to pay for, well, another world ago… in any case, give the boy a chance and why not, what did he have, what did any of them have, could have easily been me or how many of the rest of us, cast off by family, thrown away, riding the rails, sneaking their way onto trains that had once upon a time brought theater to godforsaken towns and now what, brought the godforsaken too, orphans, lost boys and aimless men shaken by the war, by banks closing and fortunes failing, hope runs deep as any desire, you cross an ocean or a continent in the end it’s the same, lured by stories of endless sunshine and oranges free for the picking – hunger the great motivation, hungry enough and you’ll do anything, say anything, trust me, whatever it takes. Try the cinnamon buns, they used to be divine.