The Lonely Hearts Hotel

“Well, good-looking,” he said, “make it quick.”

“I intend to bring to your city the greatest sad clowns that the world has ever seen.”

“What do you call yourselves, did you say?”

“The Snowflake Icicle Extravaganza.”

“I generally only book world-renowned acts, my darling. And I’ve never heard of this.”

“These performers have no shallow inclination to travel around exposing their talents so that they can receive accolades. Whether they are at Carnegie Hall or performing in front of four children at a park, they do not see the distinction. They are not interested in glory. They are not interested in immortality. They’ve a duty to create beauty. And it is my duty to allow the whole world to see it. They understand that every gesture is a work of art. A girl cracking an egg on the side of a bowl is exquisite to them. For a clown, there is no difference between a singer onstage at the Paris Opera and a woman singing in the bathtub.”

“I like the way you put it. So I’m going to give you a chance. But only because I just had a cancelation from some Russian ballet dancers. Now there’s a country that never lets you down when they send performers on tour. They were supposed to use the theater in six weeks’ time. Does that work? It’s the only spot I can give you.”

“Six weeks is perfect. Plenty of time.”

“Although a bunch of Canadian clowns might not bring in the crowds on its own. You’ll have some chorus girls too, I hope?”

“Only the best.”

He put seven stars on his calendar: days that the Snowflake Icicle Extravaganza would be staged at the New Amsterdam Theatre in New York City.

? ? ?

ROSE WENT TO SLEEP that night in a dingy hotel called the Truelove Hotel. She lay in the tiny room that was not much bigger than the bed. She was happy. It was the first time she had felt fulfilled in this way. It was silly, as she had only accomplished the very first part of her enterprise. She hadn’t engaged in anything strenuous yet. She hadn’t worked day and night assembling the strangest, most unusual clown show anyone had ever seen. She hadn’t yet found the people who would put Montreal on the vaudevillian map. But she had taken one step. The red lights on the marquee across the street were like the cigar tips of men smoking in the dark.

As she walked down the street to the train station the next morning, she noticed that everyone was smiling at her. The reason was simple: she was smiling at them. They were all simply smiling back. She had an egg sandwich from the dinner cart on the train. There was a skinny vase on the table that looked just like an icicle, a single flower sticking out of it.





49


    THE COMPLETE MAN



Rose began planning her extravaganza the minute she got home. She ordered: 40 tubes of white face paint 20 spools of black ribbon

40 sticks of brightest red lipstick 25 skullcaps

18 yards of white silk with red polka dots on it 40 Elizabethan ruffs of all sizes 20 Napoleon hats (two-cornered, black) 14 pairs of XXXX-large black shoes 1 pair of XXX-large black shoes (with the sole unstuck) 25 sticks of black greasepaint

7 attachable red wax noses

10 bright orange buttons

1 box of detachable polka dots made from fabric of various colors 3 poodles, white

3 packets of pink hair dye for poodles 17 white rabbits

3 geese

27 doves

40 pairs of white gloves 35 cardboard clouds

5 spools of yarn

1 tiny violin

1 tiny piano

1 tiny trumpet

8 gallons of shredded newspaper for papier-maché Paste for papier-maché

Chicken wire

She rented out a vacant hangar at the port in Old Montreal for her company to practice and rehearse in. She had to walk through Old Montreal to get there. Then she went in search of clowns. She put an advertisement for clowns in the newspaper. She went by all the theaters she used to frequent, rounding up her favorite clowns and talking them into joining her revue.

Clowns from all over the city joined Rose’s troupe. She wanted a clown whose performance was as rich as a Tolstoy novel. She wanted a clown as sophisticated as a Chekhov character. They understood that the clowns were not going to be in the background. They would not be running around the perimeters of spectacular acts, like lion tamers and elephant trainers and ringleaders. They were not to be considered children’s entertainers. No! They were artists. They were the most intrepid performers in any circus. They delved into the dark heart, plucked out the secret flowers and offered them to members of the audience.

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