The Movie Star

I come from a Hollywood family.  My Grandmother worked at Paramount Studios in the wardrobe department with Edith Head, and my Grandfather worked for Mae West.  My Grandfather’s name, when he emigrated to America from the Philippines, was Celestino Blanco, but when the time came for him to be an American, he became Benny Blanco.  Benny was Miss. West’s chauffeur, her butler, her chef.  He was her Man Friday, and he was good at it, especially the cooking.  He loved the work, he loved the uniforms, he loved the lifestyles of the rich and famous.  And Miss West loved him.  She really did rely on him, and they had a strong bond.

Miss West also had a bond with Snookie.

Mae West loved children but Mae West didn’t have children.  So Mae West got her maternal fix in by making an arrangement with Benny: every Thursday he would be paid, but only if he brought Snookie over to play, and she was very serious about it - ONLY if Snookie came over to play.  Snookie was the nickname that Mama’s parents had given her, a nickname derived from a famous radio character created by Fanny Brice named Baby Snooks.  Baby Snooks was quite a handful for her Daddy, so the fact that Benny and Marjorie had nicknamed Mama “Snookie” can be read any way one might choose to take it.  Whatever her patterns of behavior, Snookie was adored by Miss West and, so, every Thursday Marjorie and Ben would get Mama all dolled up like a little lady, and the little lady would ride with her Daddy to Miss West’s home, where she would sit in the kitchen with her father, as he butled, as he chef’d, as he did the duties of a Movie Star Man Friday until sometime around noon. At that time Miss West, having woken organically and performed her morning hair and makeup freshen-up, would call the kitchen and tell Benny that she was ready for Snookie to come in for her weekly visit.  Mama would go to Mae West’s room and knock on the door and, upon being called in, would enter and climb up onto Miss West’s bed and settle in for a spell.  

Mae West slept in a round bed.  All of the linens were white satins and silks, plush with ruffles and cushion, elegance and opulence, and Miss West was sheathed in white silks and satins, ruffles, elegance and opulence, propped up by a field of pillows and draped with the lush linens.  Hanging over the bed was a round mirror, and Snookie and Miss West would sit on that round bed, visiting, and looking at themselves in that mirror as they ate hard candies from a cut crystal bowl.  After a long visit spent enjoying those sweets and the sight of their mutual beauty in the mirror overhead, Miss West would do her exercises as Snookie sat , swallowed by the plush pillows, and watched.  Thus was their routine for a considerable amount of time, and the movie star and the little girl grew quite fond of one another.  Indeed, one birthday, as a gift, Miss West presented the tyke with something special - a diamond ring in a platinum setting.  It was a kind and generous keepsake from a great Lady to a unique child who would become a great Lady.  At one point in the Juana Mosher history, the diamond fell out of the ring and was lost, and the setting has remained empty, all these years, but the platinum ring rests, still, inside of the ring box that has always held it.. The ring box and the ring sit on the top level of Me Mother’s jewelry chest, even though she has not opened that chest in two years.

I grew up hearing the stories of the Blancos and their associations with Hollywood.  From a very early age I, myself, had visions of Hollywood set in the future of my mind, so the stories that Marjorie and Mama told me were fodder for a fantasy life quite out of the ordinary for a little boy ostracized at school for being different.  Now and then, even Benny got into the act and would talk about the old days, usually after having been prompted by Marjorie and Mama, although he was never especially excited or enthusiastic about sharing the details of that part of his life - he merely smiled enigmatically like a painting or a feline, confirming facts but leaving the women to delve into the details.

When I was twelve and living in Portugal, I sent away five dollars to an address in the back of a movie magazine, and acquired a list of movie star addresses.  Using My Mam’s typewriter, I wrote a letter to Mae West, explaining that I was the son of Juana Blanco, who was the daughter of Benny Blanco, and did she, possibly, remember them?  So much time passed between the mailing of the letter and the reply that I had, actually, forgotten that I had written, in the first place.  But one day there came an unusual letter in the mail for me, and I was quite surprised.  I didn’t know the return address and I was intrigued by the size of the package - I had no earthly idea what it could have been, or who could have sent it, as I tore into the package, shipped all the way from the States.  Inside was a tiny slip of paper, long and thin, upon which was typed:

Dear Stephen,  Thank you for your letter. Yes, I remember Benny and your mother, Snookie, very well.  We had good times together.  Please give them both my best wishes.  Mae West.

And, then, the reason for the oversize of the envelope - accompanying the polite, somewhat sterile, somewhat warm, typewritten message was the gold: my first-ever movie star autograph, and this was the Seventies, when Mae West was still a big star, one that the public remembered and revered. I carried it with me to school to show it off, and it got bent and beat up in my bookbag, but it was still my own, personal, signed 8x10 glossy from Mae West. I did not understand, at that age, just how important were that photo and that slip of paper, strange because I was quite precocious, just not precocious enough to understand protecting that which is valuable and rare. I lost the little piece of paper over the childhood years, but the photo was always where I could find it. Eventually, I grew up and learned to respect the photo and the history that it preserved, and I began to treat it properly. Damaged but not destroyed, the photo has hung, proudly, in my various homes for decades, as Mae West has continued to keep a watchful, benevolent, and elegant eye over our household, one that honors Old Hollywood and the part my family played in its history.