Show Business Is Murder Read Free Page A

tears were there, not because Judy couldn’t get a stupid twit like Mickey Rooney to look twice at her.
FRI-TUES
    Golddiggers of 1933 12:30 PM, 5:00 PM, 9:30 PM
    Remember your Forgotten Man at this Depression-era classic. Powell and Keeler, Blondell and McMahon—can musicals get better than this?
    Golddiggers of 1935 2:45 PM, 7:15 PM, 11 PM
    Lullaby of Broadway” makes this the only noir musical in Hollywood history. Do boo Adolphe Menjou, but not during the movie, please.
Birch, 1972
    THEY DID BOO Adolphe Menjou, first when his name came up on the credits, and again when he appeared in the movie. The booing was loud, long, and enthusiastic, and Birch was determined not to ask why.
    The little man in the wine-colored beret who looked like a garden gnome gave a Bronx cheer when the dapper actor came on the screen. “Right on, Pop,” someone else yelled.
    Birch remembered his cheerful tap-dance in the coffee room the last time she was at Theatre 80 and wondered what would make a nice old man behave like that.
    When the double feature was over and she and Scotty rejoined Patrick in the lobby, he and the little man were deep in conversation.
    â€œBusby Berkley was a tightass little shit,” the old man said, spittle gathering at the ends of his lips. “Little tin god—the way he treated Judy was a sin and a disgrace. And no,” he added, turning to Patrick, “he wasn’t one a youse, boyo. He liked girls all right—except when they were dancing.”
    Birch didn’t wonder how the old man knew Patrick was gay. Everything about Patrick, from the open way he laughed, to the theatrical gestures, to his graceful walk, to the color-coordinated scarf he so carefully arranged around his neck, to his candid, flirty blue eyes told the world who he was. Birch admired that about Patrick; he never seemed to pretend or to feel ashamed.
    â€œRemember that number in Golddiggers of ’38? ” Patrick turned toward Scotty with a nod, inviting her into the discussion.
    â€œÂ â€˜I didn’t raise my daughter to be a human harp!’ ” Scotty quoted and both broke up laughing, neither bothering to explain the joke to Birch.
    â€œWhich was the one where Ruby Keeler danced on the giant typewriter?”
    â€œ Ready, Willing, and Able. Ruby’s last Warner’s musical.”
    Birch turned to the old man and asked, “Were you in the movies?”
    â€œGirlie,” the old man replied, “I started at Metro when its mascot was a parrot. The lion came later, after Sam Goldfish took over.”
    Patrick’s face lit up with a combination of awe and amusement. “That’s Samuel Goldwyn to you and me,” he explained to Birch. Scotty just nodded; of course, she’d already known that.
    â€œSo you were in the Freed Unit,” Patrick said in a breathy voice. “You knew Arthur Freed? And Gene Kelly? And Vincente Minelli?”
    â€œFreed Unit.” The old man shook his head. “There was no goddamn Freed Unit. That’s all made up by a bunch a people want to think the musical was more than it really was. Freed was a producer like all the rest, nothing special.”
    The man in the beret might as well have tried to convince Patrick that Cary Grant wasn’t gay.
    â€œCan we buy you a coffee?” Patrick asked. “We usually go to Ratner’s after the movie, and we’d be delighted if you’d—“
    â€œSure,” the little man replied. “My name’s Mendy, by the way.” His accent was deepest Bronx and his breath smelled of pipe tobacco. “Short for Mendelson.” He laughed without humor. “Of course, it was changed for the movies. Too long for the marquee, they said. Too Jewish for the marquee, they meant.”
    Once inside the steamy dairy restaurant, he ordered borscht and when it came, sipped it loudly, smacking his lips in obvious appreciation, dunking hard pumpernickel rolls