“Excellent. You can start this Friday,” he directed and then told her the amount of her wage, which seemed pitifully small.
The wage was lower than she had expected, but she could manage. She had saved up enough for her room and board, and the job would help.
“Thank you, sir.”
When they returned to the costume room, Ruby thankfully pulled on her simple day dress, happy to have her body covered once more.
“Take the costume with us. We need to clean it,” Bessie told her.
When they returned to the boardinghouse with the costume in tow, Ruby finally came face-to-face with the Hungarian sisters, who also roomed at Mrs. Hodges’ and were in the same show as Bessie and Archie. She had not had a chance to meet them earlier at the theater due to Zeta’s outburst.
“Disgraceful,” Olga Vadas said as she entered Ruby’s room uninvited. Olga and her sisters, Blanka and Greta, had left behind their native homeland of Hungary to come to America to take to the stage. They performed risqué dances to music hall songs and were very popular with the male audience members. They had been performing for several years. Olga was a curvy woman with a large bosom and small lips.
Ruby occupied the window seat while Bessie was at the table studying the gown for stains and repairs.
“What is disgraceful, Olga? Have you met Ruby?” Bessie said without looking up.
“Hello, Ruby. I am Olga Vadas. Disgraceful is the way that pompous prima donna has everyone in the theater falling over themselves to do her bidding. She should be careful. She is of an age,” Olga finished ominously.
“Of an age?” Ruby asked.
“Yes, my darling girl. She is of an age. That age when women are no longer looked at as beautiful, and thus—poof—they disappear from the stage,” she said dramatically.
“That’s awful,” Ruby sighed.
“But true,” Bessie chimed in.
Another knock came, and Blanka rushed in. She was the eldest Vadas sister and looked the exact opposite of Olga. Blanka was slender with large blue eyes and frizzy brown hair. She was briefly introduced to Ruby before she turned on her sister.
“Olga! Where have you been?” A rush of Hungarian filled the air as the two women went back and forth.
It was an old argument that needed no translation. They had somewhere to be, and Olga was not ready. In a flurry of words in both English and Hungarian, the two women soon left the room together, bidding Ruby and Bessie good-bye.
“You’ll soon meet everyone in the show. Most of them are good people, and many of them have been in the business for a long time. Our comedian, Lou McDoo, has been in vaudeville since the 1880s and even worked with the great Tony Pastor,” Bessie explained.
/> Ruby raised her eyebrows. Everyone in vaudeville knew of Tony Pastor. He had been a circus ringmaster and then a theater manager who started the vaudeville shows. In 1881, he staged a clean vaudeville show in New York, hoping to draw females and families to his doors. It worked.
“Why did he leave Mr. Pastor?” Ruby asked.
Bessie shrugged as she threaded a needle from her sewing kit to fix a small tear in Ruby’s costume.
“I think they didn’t get along. This is a wonderful business, and the applause is great, and for a while you can be on top of the world. But it’s as Olga said. For women especially. Beauty and youth are prized. But that’s something you don’t need to worry about for quite some time.”
Ruby ignored the compliment and looked out the window at the passersby. “Is it like that for everyone?”
Bessie pondered the question. “Comedians are exempt. I’ve seen fat, slobby men who are middle-aged and older who still command the stage. Some of the singers like Zeta go on for some time because they have fans who adore them.”
Ruby nodded and looked out the window and saw a man staring up at their building.
“I think that’s the key,” Bessie explained. “You must be like Zeta. Once you have star billing, you must cultivate your audience and make people return to see you.”
“Look at Lillian Russell! People come from all over to see her, and you are much younger and prettier than she is,” she told her new friend.
Everyone had heard of Lillian Russell, a popular singer who performed at a local music hall in New York. She had a long career, and Ruby envied her longevity.
“There!” Bessie said as she finished embroidering the small tear and held it up for Ruby to see.
“It’s so gaudy,” Ruby said as she looked at the distasteful garment once more.