Cigarettes, Gardenias and Fishnet Stockings - Part II

          By the time I had finished my circuit around the mezzanine and was heading back down to the lower level, there was a sudden commotion behind me.  I turned to see flames from the barbeque grills had attacked the ceiling beams and these were already on fire.  It was stunning how quickly the flames took hold and traveled along the ceiling.

          Immediately there was panic.  People screaming, trying to get down the steps and out the front door were being impeded by the people on the ground floor trying to do the same.

          I had made it to the private side room and as calmly as possible I tried to encourage the customers there to take their things and exit the building.  I was not being brave.  I truly thought that this was a little fire the fire department would put out quickly and we’d all end up in the boss’s office laughing and joking about the drama of it all.

          It was only seconds later that I suddenly felt burning in my eyes and thick black smoke enveloping me.  I couldn’t breathe.  There was no air.  I grabbed a handful of the velvet curtain and pressed it against my nose and mouth.  The smoke was so terribly thick I couldn’t see even a foot in front of my face.  I think it was then that I realized that this was not going to end with jokes in the boss’s office, and that my life was in actual danger.

          Dumping the cigarette tray onto a table I dropped to the floor and started to crawl towards where I thought the front door might be.   Suddenly there was a shattering of glass and I heard a voice yelling, ‘Fire department…is anyone still in here?’

          Thank the good Lord, you bet there is!

          The voice directed me to get on the floor and crawl towards him.  Well, I was already on the floor and, although it was a little easier to breathe down there, I still couldn’t see anything but vague outlines of the legs of chairs and tables. 

          I kept crawling until suddenly there was a big arm grabbing me and pulling me outside.  Coughing and spluttering I joined the rest of the patrons on the footpath.

          The Embers  burned to the ground that night.  Walking past the charred and boarded up building the next day, I paused to read what some wit had scrawled across the front door.  The Ashes, it said.  Too true.

         

Cigarettes, Gardenias and Fishnet Stockings

          I’ve mentioned before that Australians have always been madly in love with America and Americans.  This love affair with America causes Australians to consider anything and everything American superior in every way and highly desirable.  Before the advent of visiting superstars and million dollar concerts, that perception extended to the local entertainment industry.

          The Embers, was a newly opened nightclub in a near city suburb.  It was popular because it was the only real nightclub at that time in Melbourne.  The club, complete with romantic lighting, a small stage for entertainment, and an equally small dance floor, was the epitome of what Australians had seen in all the movies coming out of Hollywood.  It was a huge success.

          To propagate the illusion of American-ness, the owner of the club, decided to hire a cigarette girl.  Cigarette girls in the movies of the day, were pretty young things who dressed in short skirts, fishnet stockings and carried a tray hung from their necks filled with the most popular brands of cigarettes.  It must be remembered that everyone smoked in those days.  Particularly young people who thought cigarettes gave them an air of sophistication.

          I was offered the job of cigarette girl at The Embers  as a result of the owner having seen me doing my bit on a daily TV variety show.  The ‘bit’ was probably me standing like a palm tree next to the host, but who cared.  I had a regular evening job which is what I’d been looking for for a while.  Of course the club’s owner was completely unaware of my very young age.  After all, I looked closer to 22 than 17 and I wasn’t about to discourage anyone from thinking I was a mature adult.

          I thoroughly enjoyed my job.  At first, since I was working on commission, my pay packet was a little lean.  But I convinced the owner that he should allow me to sell fresh flowers as well as the cigarettes to increase my profit margin.  Since it would also increase his profit, he agreed and each evening I loaded up my tray with not only cigarettes but also lovely fresh gardenias.

          It was easy to sell the flowers.  After all, what man trying to impress a new girlfriend is going to say ‘no’ when asked if he’d like to buy a gardenia for his lady?  On slow days when there weren’t enough couples to sell flowers to, I’d approach a table of men and ask them to buy me a gardenia which I would pin to my neckline.  Some evenings I had a complete lei of gardenias pinned around my neckline.

          During the months I worked at The Embers, I saw many talented American performers.  Billy Eckstine, Bobby Van and Ricky Nelson were some of the bigger names.  Of course there was the has-beens and the never-were’s from the US as well, but since we didn’t know or care, they all seemed like stars to us.

          The Embers had two levels.  The ground floor room as well as a more private room at the side separated by a heavy velvet curtain and a sort of mezzanine room three steps up and over a fishpond.  More seating and the dance floor, was on the mezzanine section which also had a square counter at the side with an open barbeque style cooking area.  Here the Chefs’ would dump large steaks and customers could watch them sizzle to their required done-ness.

          On a particular night as I passed the barbeque grill counter, the flames from the sizzling steaks were leaping and jumping like wild things.  I recall saying to the Chef that he should watch it.  The flames were really getting too high.

 

As a blonde and skinny (sigh) in my 'cigarette girl' outfit

 

 Part II will appear next week.