Dancing in the Rainbow: Memoire

By Xlibris US

The pages of this manuscript tell one mans personal story, exploring the full range of human emotions that are symbolic of the masks of show business and depicting some classic and wonderful tales involving some legendary ladies from the world of entertainment.
Through the eyes and heart of Stephen Preston, this lead dancer, singer, and actor makes the reader feel like they were there with Judy Garland at the Palace in New York, the Palladium in London, the Las Vegas stages with Betty Grable, Debbie Reynolds; some off-the-wall, hilarious escapades with Tallulah Bankhead, and an inside look at the social Me of Garlands daughter, Lisa Minnelli. Mr. Preston, who performed with and became close friends with these major stars, gives you a first-hand look into the moments of joy, laughter, success and, yes, some tears and even failure.
Written in a light, candid, and sometimes almost campy kind of style, this is the first time a book has come along that does not gossip about their failed marriages, sex lives or prey upon their human weaknesses! In fact, we see a side of these bigger-than-life performers that, in the past, little has been written or talked about
The reader will come along on train and plane trips; be there backstage at Broadway, television, movie, and night club performances. Theyll sit with the Royal Family at the Palladium in London and will party at the Beverly Hills private homes of Hollywood celebrities. And the reader will even witness the final days of Betty Grables long, hard battle with cancer.
Dancing in the Rainbow" is a fascinating account of some of the days of their lives, including Stephen Prestons. Those days are gone and so are some of the people, but the time spent is what can make life on this planet so very interesting and worthwhile!
Mr. Preston is retired from show business but is an active business man and lives in Palm Springs, California.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Oct 23, 2014
• ISBN: 9781499058857

Book preview

Copyright © 2014 by Stephen Preston.

Library of Congress Control Number:   2014914117

ISBN:   Hardcover   978-1-4990-5883-3

   Softcover   978-1-4990-5884-0

   eBook   978-1-4990-5885-7

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted

in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system,

without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 10/17/2014

Xlibris

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Contents

Preface

Part I Judy Garland

Part II Betty Grable

Epilogue

Author Bio

PREFACE

I walked into the doctor’s office and announced myself -- My appointment is for 2:30.

The nurse from behind the little window smiled up at me and said, "Yes, sir, would you please take a seat. The doctor will be with you in a moment.

One hour later I was asked to come in. My doctor, being one of the top eye specialists in Beverly Hills, was very much in demand!!

Two hours later, after seeing the doctor and three associates, plus at least four ladies in white, I sat awaiting the verdict. One of the doctors took me into a room, sat me down, and told me I had some kind of virus infection. He prescribed some medication, telling me it would clear up in a few days.

Weeks passed by with many office visits but with no discernible improvement. I was then told I would be sent to a doctor in Burbank. Or, if I would rather, 1 could go to a very good man in San Francisco … or perhaps the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, New York. After two seconds of deliberation, I said, But why another doctor?

He said, Because all these other doctors I mentioned are the best ‘retina’ men in the profession.

Retina! I gasped. But I was told three years ago, after being hit in the eye with a tennis ball on the court, that I was very lucky because there was no retina damage. I was now breaking out in a cold sweat.

The doctor, trying to calm me down, said, We are not saying you do; we just want one of them to examine you. to BURBANK … again all the tests, lying on a table while the doctor, with all kinds of instruments, examined my eye. When he finished, he turned on the lights and said, How soon can you go into the hospital?"

I gulped … Hospital, but why?

Because you have a detached retina.

I could not believe this was happening to me, having an eye operation. A detached retina was a major surgery, and a traumatic experience with a very long recuperative period.

After spending two or three days getting myself emotionally geared, and my personal life in order, I entered St. Joseph’s Hospital in Burbank. The operation took place the next day; a three-and-one-half hour ordeal, after which time I was to lie perfectly flat and still with both eyes covered, even though the left eye was the one in danger.

This scene I played for five days, and then home to recuperate for six weeks, alone. The time recuperating meant moving about very slowly, a walk up and down the driveway was to be my big activity for the day. I was not allowed to brush my teeth, wash my hair, or shave. All this and a patch over my one eye made it very difficult to read or to watch television. In my present state I was hardly fit for even my best pals to come and visit.

So, I spent most of my time alone. Left with my thoughts, I strongly cogitated over things I had done and the people I had met; the reality that I might never dance again because of the strenuous activity it involves, and any strong jolt could cause another detachment, repeating the entire act all over. I reflected on the stars I knew as a boy growing up; watching them, like a dream -- dancing, singing, acting, looking so glamorous on the big silver screen -- ‘dreaming one day I, too, would dominate that same screen.

Like most children caught up in the fantasies of the movie world, I would often put together my own shows. Only after much double talk and promises of gifts would my younger brother, Michael, and my niece and nephew, Rosemarie and Thomas, participate. I would direct, produce, make the costumes and, of course, be the star. Getting an audience was no problem.

I grew up in a large, warm-loving family of nine brothers and two sisters, all willing to leave a comfortable Sunday dinner table and sit in a cold, damp basement, paying a quarter each to applaud my efforts. Never in my wildest fantasy did I think one day I would not only work with some of these stars but become friends, grow to know and love them and they, me!

So, with the fantasies of my youth and the realities of my life, dancing my way through Show Business …

… SHALL WE JOIN THE LADIES?

PART I

JUDY GARLAND

Today is Sunday, and I was a little weak from last night. It is amazing how out of condition you get when eight weeks have passed since your last cocktail party. But it was fun being out among the living once again. It was a little difficult at first wearing the dark glasses and having to explain them.

The phone rang. It was a friend who was at the party last evening telling all about the night club he’d opened the previous year and the troubles he was having, with the business getting worse every day. He asked if I would go with him and look the place over, and hopefully give him some suggestions that might help get people interested in returning. I told him I didn’t know anything about the night club business, except from the entertaining aspects, but I would be happy to help in any way I could.

It was a beautiful club, done with the most tasteful décor. Large antique, gold carved doors led to a black and white marble floor entrance. The bar had wall-to-wall Oriental rugs, and dark brown fabric covered walls adorned with beautiful paintings. In the main room beyond there were more paintings and mirrors on a much larger scale, hanging on walls of deep red fabric. From the ceiling hung five extremely beautiful chandeliers over a petite dance floor, on which the soft glow from the gas-burning, black marble fireplace created the most intricate choreography.

We were sitting at the bar having a coke as he filled me in the history and problems of the club, when I suddenly realized where I was and what this place used to be and that it was here fourteen years earlier that I had first met Judy Garland.

Even with Club John’s elaborate décor it was not too difficult for me to recall the old Nico Charisse Dance Studio on La Cienega Boulevard of that early summer day in 1955. One large room, mirrored walls, a little balcony for the mothers or whoever to observe their little darlings, each knowing in her heart that one day her little one would dominate the silver screen, and that she, Mommy, would bask in the success of it all. One and two … one and two … repeatedly moans the instructor, tapping his long stick, keeping time with the piano that drums out a waltz, while the little ones glide and stumble across the floor, trying to fulfill the dance instructor’s wishes, or to please whoever in the little balcony, or mostly just to maintain their balance.

Hot summer days, the air filled with the scent only a dance studio could have - - Jean Nate and talcum powder, with the sweet smell of sweat thrown in. The door opens, looking out onto a dirty alleyway with a parking lot beyond, the hot, still air filled with smog and with no hope or glimmer of a breeze to enter and cool the saturated bodies.

They stretch and pull themselves in all directions with an air of complete elegance. Back straight, as if a stick was placed just there, necks long with heads held high. This was the dancer.

This studio was no different from any other dance studio, be it in New York, San Francisco, or Hollywood … no different in a manner of speaking. But here in Hollywood my concept of the dancer was to change and, with it, an entirely new dimension in my career would open its doors to me.

The day I walked into the old studio it was to audition as a dancer, hopeful that I would be chosen to be one of the eleven boys who would perform with one of the Great Ladies of our business, Judy Garland …, always Judy.

Auditions had become a big part of my life. Having been through so many, I became accustomed to the feeling of excitement and anxiety. Being newly from New York with television, summer stock and Broadway shows under my belt, I found the feeling here very different. By different, I mean that when there was an audition for a New York show one waited in long lines, sometimes half block long, in streets or alley leading to the stage door.

At times in rain or snow, waiting just to get into the theater. When you finally did gain entrance, you rush to any corner where there was available space, slipped out of yours street clothes and into dance tights and shoes, and then began to exercise in order to get the body sufficiently warmed up for dancing.

You then went onto the stage in groups of four or more where you were met by the assistant dance director and to who you gave your name, address, phone number, size, age, etc. the assistance would then lead you to the middle of the stage (lit only by a bright work light, most unflattering when you are trying to look your best). Out there in the darkened theater sat producers, choreographer, writers, and costume designer. If you were expected to sing, as is usually the case for most Broadway shows, you got to sing a few bars of a song you worked months on to perfect with a vocal teacher. Then the assistant would demonstrate a dance combination for all to learn, showing it only two, possible three times, depending on how nice he was and whether or not in a hurry. After you were given one or two chances to dance it, the choreographer pointing up would call out, You and you, stay … the rest, thank you. This went on until all had their chance.

All the people who were asked to stay would then be lined up as if it were a police lineup. The low whispers and long silences would come in waves over the darkened footlights as we all stood shifting from one nervous leg to the other. You come forward … and you … the rest, thank you. If you were asked to come forward, you’d just landed a job in a Broadway show - - to dance in the chorus, and happy for it.

Here in Hollywood the group pushed their way past a little jewelry shop run by two dedicated ladies into what would be called a reception room. From behind the desk came the same greeting: Please write down your name, phone number, etc. What stands out most in my mind was the costume all the dancers wore to auditions, and later I learned also to rehearsals. They all dressed in colorful sport shirts and nicely tailored jeans with tennis shoes. I doubt there was one wearing the dance character shoe, made by Capezio and other major dancewear manufacturers - - a soft leather shoe with thin soles and heels, varying for whatever style was needed; for rehearsals and auditions, the very low heel.

Unlike the New York dancers dress for an audition or rehearsal, everyone here looked as if ready to take off for Balboa and a day of sailing.

The atmosphere had the feeling of a large cocktail party, and anyone passing through would have thought it was; but the lack of booze was evident.

Everyone greeted one another, joked and laughed about the last job they had worked on together, or compared notes on the different jobs they’d had. One thing was for certain, they all seemed to know one another. Being that I was here just a short time, I happily had a few faces I could pick out in the crowd.

Onward into the large studio. There must have been a hundred boys, all clustered in the middle of the room, some in the dusty little balcony seats above. It was a hot, smoggy day, so the door was open to the alley and the parking lot behind, in the hope some air would enter. Through all the laughter, talking and commotion, this audition carried a very strong vibration of energy with a different excitement. I can’t think of anyone who did not want to work in some way or another with Judy Garland!

The choreographer was a man named Paul Godkin whom, at the time, I did not know. However, many of the others there that day did. ‘Hi, Paul" (smiles, handshakes), the kind of familiarity that comes from knowing someone socially, or having worked with them before, possibly on a picture or in television.

This made it difficult for anyone new on the scene. Even though Paul was out of New York; and I just recently, we happened at different times. I knew I had to dance well that day in order to get any attention at all. I felt some confidence because I was in top condition. In New York, you train at least three hours or more a day, five days a week - - ballet, tap, jazz, not to mention the singing lessons. Here in Hollywood, once you became a working gypsy - - a name given to dancers because of their constant moving from one show to another - - that all stopped. But I had a strong feeling that none of this was going to work for me here today. It was very apparent that Mr. Godkin knew just who he was going to use for this show, and I was not it!!!

God, I want this job, I was thinking when Paul Godkin’s booming voice rang through it all. OK. Let’s quiet down. There are a lot of you and it is difficult enough as it is without any added confusion … so, please bear with me, and I will try to make it as painful (ha he) as possible. Now, let’s all get in the center of the room and learn this combination.

Here I go again! All hundred boys pushed and shoved their way to get up front so as to see the steps better.

Otherwise, you are in the back seeing only some clutsy dancer falling all over himself trying to learn the damned thing. Ok. Now, we will take six at a time … you three … and you three. The music started. l-2-3 … l-2-3, and off they went, each trying to outdo the other.

That’s fine, said Paul. You and you (pointing out two boys) stand to the left and the rest of you over to the right. Now, the next six, please. This went on until we all had our moment. All one had to do was to look at who was on which side to know how the odds were stacked. FOR or OUT. Me??? I was OUT …

Everybody learn the next combination. You had to do three or four different dance combinations, each giving the director a chance to see your versatility, movement, strength, style, and, of course, to see if you could cut his work. Back to the middle of the floor the herd moves; again the pushing and shoving to get up front … second round!

In the middle of all the confusion, a sudden excitement came over the room. Everything stopped. Music faded out. All talk ceased. Judy, how are you? Paul asked as he rushed over to the door to greet her. We all just stood there smiling, as if frozen in that position. A moment I will never forget. Never!

There she was … Judy, wearing a white shirt with tails hanging out, flat shoes and a lovely straw hat … smiling like a little girl, with eyes that sparkled, saying so many things all at the same time. Her presence filled the room with a magical force; something you could only feel, but never touch