Five Trashy Theater Novels

From the vast Christopher Arnott Collection of Trashy Theater Literature

Dream Street

(1946, Avon) by Robert Sylvester, the theater gossip columnist for the New York Daily News.

From the back cover:

Jake picked himself one luscious ingénue, Penny Farmer, from the thousand pretty faces on Broadway and set out to send her skyrocketing to fame under the klieglights. Beneatht the gaudy neon signs and the make-believe backdrops of the Broadway beat there unfolds a piquant and gay tale of a tenacious guy with an ambition and a tempting girl with a talent.

Excerpt:

“Come on,” he said. He tucked her arm under his. “Here’s a goon you’ve simply got to know.” He took her over to Eddie Morris. Eddie was still in his hat and overcoat and he took a stance at their approach. He planted his feet wide, something like Jimmy Durante, and he held his arms away from his body, palms turned outward.

“Are you kidding?,” he shouted at Jake. “What is this, the Keeley Cure?”

“This is Eddie Morris, Penny,” Jake said. “The man who puts all the funny stuff in all the funny shows.”

“What goes, chick?” Eddie said rapidly, shaking hands. He gave her a fast once-over and now his eyes were taking in the room again. “What are you doing with this tired character?” he asked her.

Chad Hanna

(1940, PermaBooks), by Walter D. Edmonds, author of Drums Along the Mohawk.

From the back cover:

This is the bawdy, brawling story of carnival life in the last century—when the best show on earth was the one that could wipe out any competition with force—and when the girls who traveled with the circuses were as tough as the men.

Excerpt:

“I won’t feel right till we get the wagons rolling. Wish to God they was rolling now. Suppose he decides to send his hyenas up here before the tear-down.”

Bastock shook his head.

“He won’t. You got to run a circus like a habit. You got to all-out, and you got to tear down, and roll the wagons. You start doing different and you’re bound to get stuck, just like trying to eat with your back end. Besides, he’ll want to get his wagons out of town before any trouble starts. Then he won’t know nothing.”

The Self-Starting Wheel

(1960, Avon) by William Murray, best-known for his series of “Shifty Lou Anderson” horseracing mysteries and for his “Letter from Italy” to The New Yorker. He mentions The Self-Starting Wheel in his memoir Janet, My Mother and Me, as “a failure, due mostly to my own stupidity.”

From the back cover:

It was just another summer of gin and sun, with the same gilded refugees from Madison Avenue and broadway drowning consciences in carefree debauchery—gay and otherwise. Then came Max.

Excerpt:

“Why don’t you ask me what I’m doing?”
“All right, what are you doing?”

“I have a play.”

“That’s wonderful. Congratulations.”
“I’m the Assistant Director and also the Stage Manager, it’s a new play by a very exciting new talent, it’s going to be done at one of the very best of the Off-Broadway theaters, it’s a wonderful play and aren’t I luck>” The words had all come tumbling out, as if she had memorized each phrase, and she finished quite breathless, her mouth frozen into a thin tight smile.

“You don’t sound very happy,” I said.

“Well I am.”

“Then I’m happy for you.”

She sat up, suddenly, spilling more of the whisky on my floor. “You want to know something?”

“What?”

“It’s a lousy play and the producer wants me to sleep with him. Trite, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

Jet-Set Bisexuals

(1982, Midwood Books) by Jim Curry. Explicit porn set at the funeral of an universally despised yet extremely well-endowed Broadway producer. The sex scenes are reminscences from all the actresses, writers and designers the legendary Michael Bricusse, producer of Panache!, screwed (figuratively and literally) during his career. It isn’t really about Jet-Set Bisexuals. The title of the other porn novel in this double volume, Playmates, would have suited it much better.

From the back cover:

Passions burst when there’s a change of mates—and gender—among jet-set swingers.

[Like I said, the book isn’t actually about that at all. Just don’t want you to think I sully myself with non-theater porn.]

Excerpt:

“I’ll never work with you again,” she said.

“Oh, yes, you will,” said Bricusse. “You’ll work with me because I happen to be the best producer on Broadway. You’re a good lay, Merle. Remember that’s why I’m letting you out of your contract. ‘Cause you’re a good lay.”
“Bastard,” she said and pulled a bunch of roses from a vase and threw them at him.

“Flowers for me?” he laughed. Well, thank you. I didn’t think you enjoyed my cock that much.”

The Play

(1987,Fawcett Juniper) by Susan Johnson. This young adult novel is the only one of the dozens of romances which is listed as “out-of-print’ at susanjohnsonauthor.com. Among Johnson’s other works: Sinful, Taboo, Wicked, Hot Legs, Hot Pink, Hot Spot, Hot Streak and Hot Property.

From the back cover:

What a complete surprise to be cast opposite Cameron, who wasn’t the least bit stuck up, the way you might expect, even though he was the perfect hunk of a football captain. Like everyone, Marika assumed Cameron’s girlfriends Tiffany, a senior, would win the role. But Ms. Healy, the director, has some strange ideas, and now Marika is cast as Angela, which calls for her to kiss Cameron four times!

Excerpt:

“Have you ever seen such brilliant blue eyes or such long lashes, and that lusciuous body…yum! He could have played Tarzan in the Bo Derek movie.”

“Too bad Ms. Healy chopped the kissing until later rehearsals.”

“Ummm,” Marika replied vaguely while Cameron’s voice was whispering in her mind. How about rehearsing…on our own. How about… Silly goose, she thought, stopping her imagination from running wild; he was only teasing.