Approx. Words: 128.6k
SO GOOD THEY CAN’T IGNORE YOU
Ambition in Adversity
A Comic Novel
By
Owen Levy
Copyright (c) 2022, 2023
EPIGRAM
Can success change the human
mechanism so completely between one
dawn and another? Can it make one
feel taller, more alive, handsomer,
uncommonly gifted and indomitably
secure with the certainty that this
is the way life will always be?
It can and it does!
--MOSS HART, ACT ONE
* * *
Note to Reader
There are two principal entertainment destinations in American culture: theater and cinema. Their combined influence has a strong hold on the nation’s collective imagination. The coastal locations bracket the American continent like book ends. Their productivity nourishes the nation’s appetite for fantasy and escape. The sheer entertainment they provide extends to mass audiences worldwide.
Tastes in public entertainment have matured as has the nation. These two centers of creativity continue to inspire and gain from each other. Both are economic engines for the economy and contributors to national culture.
Hollywood has long had an immeasurable impact on the world’s consciousness. Yet it is often Broadway where much original source material is developed and where success often comes first and seems to matter most.
Reaching such levels of cultural influence can be exhilarating.
Ask Polly Gross.
BOOK ONE
"Fame is a frisky bitch. Best kept on a short leash." --Anonymous
1
ONCE UPON A TIME
Even as a kid growing up in The Bronx, Polly knew one day he wanted to be somebody!
On special occasions like birthdays or anniversaries, his father took the family to celebrate at one of the swell restaurants in midtown. Polly’s favorite was Sardis where famous actors and showbiz big shots dined.
There was one patron who impressed Polly in a big way. His custom-tailored suits were always crisply pressed. On fingers of both hands, he sported flashy gold rings with large precious stones. He smoked big cigars; and usually a pretty girl or two kept him company.
The maître d and servers made a big deal when he strutted in. Everybody seemed to know him. You heard his name called a lot. He was always seated at the best tables. The owner often joined him for a drink. Polly overheard a waiter say he left big tips.
Polly asked his father about him.
“He’s a Broadway producer,” his father explained. “His shows are always big box office hits.”
“What’s a producer?” Polly asked.
“He’s the man in charge. He produces the show. He makes it all happen. He finds the actors, the designers that make the magic we see on the stage.”
“Is that so?”
Polly liked the way that sounded.
“A producer,” he repeated. “A producer? That’s what I’m going to be,” Polly declared. “A producer!”
“Ah, listen to my baby!” His mother was beaming. “My Polly’s going to be a big shot on Broadway one day!”
One day is here.
2
THE BIG PICTURE
The show was going to open no matter what, Polly kept reassuring himself. There had already been one postponement and several mishaps that caused delays. Nothing was going to stop him now, not the naysayers, not Maisie’s mysterious disappearance, not even his soon-to-be ex-wife’s alimony demands. The Big Recession had been tough on everybody but thankfully it was now old news.
The economy’s nosedive put lots of plans on hold. Hard enough pinning down investors in good times. But recent bounces in the economy was changing all that. With the business climate picking up Polly was back on track. A new decade brings new luck. It really started turning around when the peanut farmer from Georgia lost his bid for reelection. The Reagans in the Whitehouse put optimism back in the zeitgeist. The bulls took back Wall Street and now disco ruled the night.
Still, he was anxious about the critics. He’d either be the man of the hour or wrangler of the biggest turkey to come down the pike in decades! Vague fears of bombing wouldn’t go away but he wasn’t going to let negative thinking shake his confidence. Failure is never an option. He can always find ways to make a payday. That’s what was so great about his hometown. Opportunity was everywhere if you knew where to look. In Fun City you can always make something happen. You don’t even have to speak English.
Yes, he was full of himself; he felt entitled to a victory lap. Only when the show opens will he know for sure where he stands. Whichever way it turns out, he made it to Broadway, and that’s what mattered. Of course, Maisie’s disappearance was a big headache. Her social connections had brought in some big backers. He couldn’t forget the morning news broke that she had gone missing. He was on the way to an early morning telecast of “Hello, New York!” Landing a one-on-one interview with the talk show’s popular hostess was quite the ‘get’. Of course, it helped to have a good publicist and something new to talk about.
He was riding in the courtesy limo the Network sent over to bring him across town to the studio. Dawn was breaking and the first wave of rush hour pedestrians and commuter traffic already crowded midtown streets. At a red-light, crossing pedestrians curious about the stretch tried to see past the tinted glass. Reflexively Polly sat back. He figured they were wondering who was inside. Or perhaps imagining themselves sitting there peering out. If they seriously wanted to trade places, they could find a way to make it happen. They just had to want it enough.
That’s what Polly believed. If you want something, you go after it. It was that simple. Make the right moves, talk to the right people, you can make anything happen. Mostly its bluff and bull anyway. He could con with the best. Sure, there are going to be hurdles, things get in the way. Get past and keep moving. No sweat and no looking back. Believe in yourself, people will believe what you tell them.
He'd held on to his dreams and look where he was. What if he had let earlier misgivings sway him? He figured out long ago the only thing to stop him was himself. He wasn’t going to let that happen. There’s more than one way to get what you want. Of course, risk taking isn’t for everybody. There are going to be setbacks, screwups, some unavoidable. Just be patient. Even if your product is no better than the next guy’s, the way you present makes all the difference.
His own father worked his way up from pushing racks of sample garments along Seventh Avenue to wholesaling ladies’ fine lingerie. Polly got his start in the family business and went on to make a reputation for himself in high-end fashion accessories. Now he was ready for something more. He figured having made it in a tough game like the rag trade, he could make it doing anything.
“Recognize your passions, trust your instincts,” was his mantra.
As the light changed, a headline on the morning paper one pedestrian was holding, caught his eye:
SCREEN LEGEND VANISHES
Who could it be? Traffic resumed; he didn’t think about it anymore until crossing the gleaming glass and chrome reception hall of Network City. Hard to miss were the bold type headlines on the morning tabloids selling at the lobby newsstand.
WHERE’S MAISIE?
shouted one.
Another shrieked:
MAISIE MADISON GOES MISSING!
Polly was stunned. Maisie Madison? He knew Maisie. There had to be a mistake. She was out of town on a book tour. They talked a couple days ago. He scooped up copies of each edition and paid the vendor. He started reading as he approached the reception desk:
“Forties screen legend Maisie Madison
reported missing. Authorities baffled by
disappearance. Family in seclusion
awaiting answers.”
It was hard to believe. It had to be a hoax. Or maybe a stunt to promote the memoir? He quickly dismissed both as unlikely. This would be taking a book promotion way too far. Anyway, Maisie would have mentioned something this crazy.
He was so engrossed in the news reports that the receptionist finally had to ask him, “Are you here for the Morning Show, sir?”
“Oh, yes, right, sorry,” Polly said, coming back into the moment. He gave her his name.
“Someone will be right down to take you up to the studio.”
In the Green Room or guest holding pen, other newsmakers were gathered. Introductions were made: a winsome TV actress; a bestselling author; a controversial politician and a notorious Wall Street insider. Polly was polite but clearly distracted. This whole business about Maisie was getting to him.
“Isn’t that just terrible news about Miss Madison?” the ingenue remarked, perhaps picking up Polly’s vibe. “Pretty soon we’re going to need round the clock security to keep the nuts away.”
Sympathetic nods and murmurs.
The door swung open. An assistant stepped through and announced breathlessly, “Ladies and gentlemen, Ms. Bromley!”
With no further preamble, the herald stepped aside. In strode morning talk show phenomenon Bette Bromley. She was flanked by two other assistants. Flashing her signature tight-lipped smile, she went around the room to greet each guest individually.
“Glad you could make it after all, Senator.” Her tone accusatory. “This will be a good chance to set the record straight.”
“You bet.” The Senator agreed despite obvious discomfort.
“Loved the new book, Bruce,” she threw him an air kiss. “Sure to be another blockbuster.”
“Nice you could make it, Steve,” addressing the stock trader, her tone reproachful. “Hope you have a better tip for us this time.” Like maybe the last was a dud.
“And you are Polly Gross,” she pounced, proffering a dainty hand with freshly polished fingernails.
Polly wasn’t sure if he was expected to kiss her hand or just shake. She wasn’t as pretty in person as she was on television. He opted for the latter, and gently took her hand into both of his and gave it a slight squeeze.
“A real treat meeting you, Ms. Bromley.”
“Please, call me Bette.”
“Well, --Bette, feels like we’re old friends already.”
“That’s the magic of television!” It was hard to tell from her tone if that was a good thing or not.
Bette’s last and warmest greeting was for the bosomy young actress.
“Miranda, so glad to have you back. You look delicious as usual. How’s your mother?”
“Mama’s doing real good,” she answered in a distinctive Southern drawl. “She’s back home in Memphis. She wants me to give you a big hug. You were so nice to her last time.”
“Well, don’t disappoint your Mama, where’s my hug?”
The willowy actress threw her bony arms around Bette in a showy embrace. Before pulling away, Miranda planted a noisy kiss on Bette’s cheek.
“And that’s from me!”
“How sweet!”
“Bette, can I ask you something?” Miranda’s tone earnest.
“Of course, dear.”
“Have you heard anything new on Ms. Madison?” she asked. “It’s so crazy. I’m really scared.”
Bette’s expression went from practiced cheery to guarded gloom.
“I certainly understand how you feel. It’s got to be the scariest story so far this year. Reports say she disappeared without a trace. We were planning to have her on the show to wrap up the book tour.”
“What do you think happened to her?” Miranda pressed.
“It wouldn’t surprise me” speculated the stock broker, “if some maniac fan is holding her hostage. That’s if she really is missing.” Always one to hedge his bets.
“The script’s not finished,” joked the novelist. “I’ll tell you how it ends later!”
The politician perked up to listen but, uncharacteristically, had nothing to add.
“Five minutes to air time, Miss Bromley,” came a voice over the PA system.
“Good luck, kids,” Bette dispensed graciously, then with minions in her wake swept out of the room.
Polly wasn’t feeling so hot. That’s all these media types think about: crazy scenarios. But for him it was getting real. Maisie had become very important to him. Now she was mysteriously unaccountable. He should call her niece, Jenny. Maybe she could make sense out of this.
He was shown into a small unoccupied office. He dialed Maisie’s home number figuring Jenny would be there. The line kept ringing. Neither the maid nor voice mail picked up.
This is nuts, he thought. What if somebody was trying to make a ransom demand? And there’s no one to take the call. He hung up.
He dialed his press agent. Ernie Schiller was close to Maisie. In fact, it was he who first introduced Polly to the actress. Surely, he must know something.
It was relatively early for Ernie to be in the office but he answered. He recognized Polly’s voice.
“Look I’m sorry I couldn’t meet you for the Bromley show. But I guess you’ve heard about Maisie by now.”
“It’s crazy!” Polly cried. “Where could she possibly be? How did this happen?”
“That’s what law enforcement in the tri-state area is asking. And so far, nobody has an answer.”
“How’s Jenny taking it?”
“Holding up. I tried to reach you last night when we got the news but kept getting a busy signal.”
“Yeah, I knocked the receiver off the hook. I noticed this morning. Tell you what, I’ll stop by your office when I’m done here.” Polly hung up.
Talking to Ernie hadn’t eased the anxiety. The not-knowing made him tense. This disappearance came totally out of nowhere. There was nothing to go on, so there was nothing to do but wait.
He was no longer so gung-ho about the interview but Maisie would want him to do it. She was a trouper. Though he’d only known her a little over a year, they became fast pals. He knew she would want him to do whatever was necessary for the good of the show despite her disappearance weighing heavily on his mind.
3
IN THE HOT SEAT
A production assistant fetched Polly and escorted him to the set. “You go on right after the break,” she informed him.
Bette’s interview with the politician was winding down. He looked a bit flustered attempting to dispute some last point that left the hostess smiling like a Cheshire.
“Thanks for coming on today, Senator,” her tone final.
Before he could get out another word, she turned away smartly and looking directly into the second camera, said, “Coming up: Broadway’s newest million-dollar baby. We’re talking to Polly Gross about his upcoming space musical ‘Ladies of the Universe’.”
While commercials were rolling the crew got ready for the next segment. The Senator, obviously peeved at being unable to make a final point, was unceremoniously relieved of the clip-on mic, and practically hustled out of the interview chair. The mic was reattached to Polly’s lapel; and the battery clipped to the back of his belt. The seat was still warm when he sat down.
Bette was surrounded by makeup, hairdressing and assorted assistants delivering messages or taking notes. She was her usual cool, collected self. And why not? After Johnny she was the most sought-after interview on network television. Her daytime ratings regularly go through the roof. She was now a personality in her own right.
“Thirty seconds.”
The staff cleared the set, leaving Polly sitting awkwardly opposite Bette. She threw him a ‘here-we-go’ wink as the seconds counted down on the digital-clock.
“Go Bette!” signaled the stage manager.
“My next guest is somebody you are going to be hearing a lot about if you haven’t already. He’s the brash young upstart moving so fast he’s got Broadway’s old guard looking over their shoulders. I’m thrilled to introduce producer Polly Gross. His multi-million-dollar musical opens at Broadway’s Empress Theater. Better get your tickets early, sounds like it’s going to be a big one!”
She turned to Polly.
“Good morning, Polly Gross. Glad you could join us today. Everybody’s dying to hear all about your New Age space musical.”
Her improvised description caught Polly by surprise. An on-camera closeup of the expression on his face drew audible snickers from the in-studio audience.
“Th-thanks for having me on, Bette” Polly managed to get out as he regained his composure. “I appreciate this chance to tell you all about Queens of the Universe. It’s not so much New Age as it is a ‘musical space fantasy’ set in distant galaxies.”
“Well, that sounds exciting. The show’s already getting lots of ‘buzz’ as your theater folk are fond of saying.”
“Can’t argue with you there, no matter how you look at it, people are talking.”
Bette couldn’t help but be amused by his easy self-assurance.
“The show will take audiences to a far-off galaxy,” Polly continued. “It is all being magically recreated on a New York stage using the latest and most sophisticated technology currently available. We’ve got some of the best technicians on the job. It’s definitely a first for Broadway.”
Arching her eyebrows, Bette telegraphed a wee bit skepticism. “I imagine the technology and installation alone are taking a sizable bite out of the budget.”
“It’s definitely costly but that’s what the best costs. We have the distinction—or so I’m hearing-- of having one of the biggest budgets ever for a Broadway musical.”
“And what have you done to the old Empress Theatre? I walked past there a few months ago and it looked like a hardhat zone.”
“It was. The designers totally reimagined the interior to install the site-specific sets.”
“Your angels must have very deep pockets. Was it tough raising financing for such an unusual production?”
“Let me put it this way, nobody wanted to miss out on a good thing.” He smiled, a flirtatious glint in his eyes.
Then before Bette could get out her next question, he went on:
“Of course, Bette, a lot of it came together because I had an invaluable ally.” He looked directly into the camera. “A very special lady we all know and admire. She believes in the musical and she believes in me.” His tone grew somber. "I'm talking about my dear friend and Hollywood legend Maisie Madison.”
He paused to let the name have impact. Audible gasps in the audience.
The announcement caught Bette by surprise, throwing her off script.
“Perhaps everybody hasn’t heard the news yet, Bette,” Polly went on. “But the beloved actress has been reported missing. And so far, that’s all we have. I’m terribly worried about her. We’ve become very close this past year.”
“Yes, it is quite a mystery.” Bette agreed, moving to take back her show. “Let’s hope there is an easy explanation. And of course, she will be in our thoughts and prayers until her safe return.”
Bette didn’t want a missing person’s segment. She was planning a short tribute to close the show.
“You say she helped you with the financing?” Bette prompted.
“Yes, yes, she did, Bette. But if you don’t mind, there is one more thing I would like to ask all your viewers out there in TV Land. To join me, her family and all her fans in sending positive vibes out into the universe.”
Before Bette could get a word in, he went on.
“And if anybody has information about the whereabouts of this fabulous lady, please, please come forward. There’s a hotline listed in all the papers today.”
The camera captured the exasperated look on Bette’s face. Seeing the closeup on a monitor, her expression mellowed. She was not pleased he had pulled this little stunt though the message was heartfelt. Her viewers were probably eating it up. This guy was good, that much she’d concede.
“That was very touching, Polly. I hope it helps. Now, I’m dying to hear more about your show.” Bette was determined to get back on book.
“It’s going to be something Broadway has never seen before. That much I can promise you. And I’m not just saying that because it’s my baby.”
“Of course not!” she joked, leavening the tone of the exchange.
Polly’s first national interview was going like gang busters, much better than he anticipated. Bette had a reputation for putting people on the spot, but so far she hadn’t hit him with anything he couldn’t handle. He figured like everybody else he met in the business she was cutting the ‘new guy’ some slack. He was grateful and could relax.
Catching glimpses of his image on the studio monitors, he liked what he saw. He could easily get used to seeing himself make frequent on-camera appearances.
