"Frederic of Hollywood's got these clothes,
In a movie magazine.
You send in money, you take your pick,
You end up like a Playboy queen.
I wanted to. I wanted to.
But I never could."--
"Doatsy Mae" from "The Best Little Whorehouse In
Texas (1978) Music and Lyrics by Carol Hall
I know what you must be thinking, girls!!!!!!!!!! What ever got me on to that???????? Well, it was a chance conversation with a colleague at work, that, afterwards rankled me, because it made me feel, a little bit, like Doatsy Mae.
My colleague and I, who are long time workers here, were musing on days past, when he piped up and said, "If only we had had a little more ambition!" "Excuse me?" I wanted to say. "Just whom are you speaking for????? Not for me, doll!!!!!!!! Who the hell says I don't have ambition???????? The fact is I have plenty; it is just that it is concentrated elsewhere!!!!!!!!!!!!".
Many years ago, Mr. Fowle, a would be playwright, retired, and, at his party, a group of us were asked to enact in a series of playlets he had written. I was only too happy to perform; a girl has to go where the work, is, darlings, but I vividly recall being handed this one particular script. I cannot recall its name or the name of the character I portrayed, but I do recall Mr. Fowle saying, at the time, that when his partner, Lon, reread it, he remarked that I was the one to play this character, being perfect for it.
I found it interesting that someone found such a cord between myself and an acting role. I can still recall the character's description, something about "whose only goal in life is to play tennis."
Not that I was athletic, loves; far from it. But I was a bit insulted!!!!!!! Is this how I am seen? I asked myself. Someone with no goals or ambitions?????? And what do they know of any interior life??????????? When, just recently, my colleague and I conversed, this memory came flashing back to me.
And then I thought of Doatsy Mae. Back in 1978, I had purchased tickets for a musical called "Working," which was seen at the 46th Street Theatre. It had a spectacular cast of up and comers--Bob Gunton, Patti Lu Pone, Leonora Nemetz, and others. Only, I never got to see it, because, before my date rolled around, the show had closed. But, wait!!!!!!!!!!! In the meantime, downtown, or was it at the Actors Studio (which is downtown from 46th Street, anyway) had just opened an Off-Broadway musical that was getting a lot of attention, and advertising time on TV, called "The Best Little Whorehouse In Texas." It garnered so much notice the producers decided to move it to Broadway, and, with "Working" having just closed, the 46th Street Theatre was ripe for its moving right in. Which it did. By that time, I was interested in seeing this, so what I did was bus into the city one day, go to the theater box office, and exchange my "Working" ticket for one to 'Whorehouse'.
Now, while this was not a landmark show, like "A Chorus Line," there were elements of it I have never forgotten. In Act One, there were two solo songs that stopped me in my tracks. One was
the Act One ender, "The Bus From Amarillo," compellingly sung by actress Carlin Glynn, in the role of Miss Mona, whose rendition, to this day, defines that song for me. The other was a short solo by the actress pictured above, Susan Mansur ( alas, dolls, I could not find a photo of her in character from the show!!!!!!) called "Doatsy Mae." The song sort of touches upon what irked me about what my colleague said about ambition--sometimes we perceive people wrongly.
Doatsy Mae serves up hash and pours coffee to the locals at the diner. She is a waitress, par excellence. The scene in question has her serving up to the locals, with them talking about Miss Mona's troubles. Doatsy says she wouldn't mind changing places with her. One of the locals laughs bemusedly, saying he just could not imagine that!!!!!!!!!
Then the lights went down, the spot shined on Susan Mansur, and she began Doatsy's song, a song for anyone who feels misperceived by others, whose identity is taken for granted, not being defined as an individual. It was a shining moment for the actress, Susan Mansur, and I have never forgotten her,or the number. So, after this catty remark the other day, I sat down and listened to "Doasty Mae," Susan's version of course, with tears, rolling down my cheeks.
And I thought of how, with moments like this and shows like "A Chorus Line" and "Nashville," the Seventies, which produced all these works, seemed more about expressing one's individuality than today, despite the advances in technology and social media, which you would think would, but in certain ways encourages isolation. The Doatsys of today have it rougher than she did in hers.
There was something unbearably poignant about those lines near the end--
"Got me a garter belt, got me a bedroom, sometimes I close me in.
Dance to the mirror, then I can imagine, I'm someone that I've never been."
Gwen Welles as Suelleen Gay in Altman's "Nashville" does exactly that in one particular scene!!!!!!!! Doatsy's song gives voice to all those unrecognized individuals out there.
Which is why the song and Susan Mansur remain embedded in my memory, and why they all popped up the other day.
So, grab that garter belt if you must, darlings, but remember to get out of that bedroom, once in awhile.
Because Doatsy's not as simple as she seems!!!!!!!!! And neither are any of you!!!!!!!!!
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