sold Orry-Kelly's ties on street corners during the day and at night served as the household cook, specializing in the fried and breaded Dover sole and crisp chips all three were so fond of from their youth. Fresh sole was available daily at the nearby docks, and after spending several hours selling his wares, Archie always enjoyed walking over and picking out a couple of freshly caught fish, then buying his other ingredients from the many small ethnic shops that flourished on the streets of the West Village, in preparation of that evening's “family dinner.”
A FEW MONTHS LATER , Dillingham announced auditions for
Better Times,
his sequel to
Good Times
scheduled to play that summer at the Hippodrome. Archie quickly contacted the other members of the Penders still in Americaand suggested they reunite, train, and try out as a unified act for the show. When they felt ready, they auditioned for Dillingham, who immediately hired their stilt act as a featured spot for his new extravaganza.
Better Times
opened on Labor Day weekend (August 31) of 1922, and after seven months that had felt like a lifetime of unemployment, Archie was back working on Broadway. The show ran for six months, and when it closed, Archie was able to convince the others to stay together and form their own company, the Lomas Troupe, named after the man who had first brought them together. Archie proved a diligent manager and soon had the group booked onto the Pantages circuit, a national vaudeville trail that traveled across the country, including a few stops in Canada, before arriving in Los Angeles to play the cir- cuit's namesake theater on Hollywood Boulevard, the West Coast equivalent of New York's famed Palace.
On his first day off in L.A., Archie explored Hollywood just as he had New York City—alone, unplanned, and unhurried. He traveled once more by bus and by the many trolleys that crisscrossed the city and mostly, as everyone else seemed to in those days, on foot. He strolled up and down the sparkling pave- ment of Hollywood Boulevard, marveling at the palm trees along the side- walks, the first real ones he had ever seen, and tried to keep his head tilted toward the sky to catch some of the glorious sunshine that quickly and beau- tifully bronzed his face.
During one of his evening performances at the Pantages Theater on Hollywood Boulevard, Archie was visited backstage by Douglas Fairbanks, who'd read about the show in the trades and remembered the youngster's name from their voyage to America aboard the
Olympic.
Archie was de- lighted both by the visit and by Fairbanks's invitation for him to visit the set of his latest production,
The Thief of Bagdad.
The next afternoon Archie did just that. As if he were in the eye of a hurricane, he stood motionless off to the side of the massive film stage while dozens of behind-the-scenes workers scurried all around him. Then suddenly he heard his name being called, and he spotted Fairbanks, a wide smile on his face, waving him over for a quick but friendly chat before he shot his next scene. It was a day young Archie Leach would never forget.
When the troupe's engagement at the Pantages ended, Archie reluctantlyreturned to New York, dreaming of the day he would be able to return to Hollywood and make movies of his own.
Back in Manhattan, Archie fell into his familiar routines of escorting, selling ties on the street, keeping house with Orry-Kelly and Charlie, and spending many an afternoon at the NVA Club. Acting work was, as always, hard to find, and Archie took whatever morsels came his way. Because he could move well, he'd get an occasional booking as half of a song and dance “duo,” his partner being whatever young out-of-work actress was available. For the union scale of $62.50 a night, he and his assigned partner would trot out into one of the many new and cavernous movie houses that had sprung up in the suburbs across the river in New Jersey and dance to scratchy recordings played between
A FEW MONTHS LATER , Dillingham announced auditions for
Better Times,
his sequel to
Good Times
scheduled to play that summer at the Hippodrome. Archie quickly contacted the other members of the Penders still in Americaand suggested they reunite, train, and try out as a unified act for the show. When they felt ready, they auditioned for Dillingham, who immediately hired their stilt act as a featured spot for his new extravaganza.
Better Times
opened on Labor Day weekend (August 31) of 1922, and after seven months that had felt like a lifetime of unemployment, Archie was back working on Broadway. The show ran for six months, and when it closed, Archie was able to convince the others to stay together and form their own company, the Lomas Troupe, named after the man who had first brought them together. Archie proved a diligent manager and soon had the group booked onto the Pantages circuit, a national vaudeville trail that traveled across the country, including a few stops in Canada, before arriving in Los Angeles to play the cir- cuit's namesake theater on Hollywood Boulevard, the West Coast equivalent of New York's famed Palace.
On his first day off in L.A., Archie explored Hollywood just as he had New York City—alone, unplanned, and unhurried. He traveled once more by bus and by the many trolleys that crisscrossed the city and mostly, as everyone else seemed to in those days, on foot. He strolled up and down the sparkling pave- ment of Hollywood Boulevard, marveling at the palm trees along the side- walks, the first real ones he had ever seen, and tried to keep his head tilted toward the sky to catch some of the glorious sunshine that quickly and beau- tifully bronzed his face.
During one of his evening performances at the Pantages Theater on Hollywood Boulevard, Archie was visited backstage by Douglas Fairbanks, who'd read about the show in the trades and remembered the youngster's name from their voyage to America aboard the
Olympic.
Archie was de- lighted both by the visit and by Fairbanks's invitation for him to visit the set of his latest production,
The Thief of Bagdad.
The next afternoon Archie did just that. As if he were in the eye of a hurricane, he stood motionless off to the side of the massive film stage while dozens of behind-the-scenes workers scurried all around him. Then suddenly he heard his name being called, and he spotted Fairbanks, a wide smile on his face, waving him over for a quick but friendly chat before he shot his next scene. It was a day young Archie Leach would never forget.
When the troupe's engagement at the Pantages ended, Archie reluctantlyreturned to New York, dreaming of the day he would be able to return to Hollywood and make movies of his own.
Back in Manhattan, Archie fell into his familiar routines of escorting, selling ties on the street, keeping house with Orry-Kelly and Charlie, and spending many an afternoon at the NVA Club. Acting work was, as always, hard to find, and Archie took whatever morsels came his way. Because he could move well, he'd get an occasional booking as half of a song and dance “duo,” his partner being whatever young out-of-work actress was available. For the union scale of $62.50 a night, he and his assigned partner would trot out into one of the many new and cavernous movie houses that had sprung up in the suburbs across the river in New Jersey and dance to scratchy recordings played between
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