But, the show didn't stop because of broken glass. The spot light stopped 8ing and froze centerstage and grew and grew and grew. A Drum roll played through the loud speakers and a heavy male voice said, "Ladies and Gentelmen, Miss Lawanda.."..and Cherry swaggered to the spot light and tossed her hair back in a regal, mandingo mode. Applause roared through the sound system and erupted from the audience. Shouts of "Cherry" rang through the audience similar to the chants of "Jerry! Jerry!" that you might hear on the Jerry Springer show, today With the strut of a sadidy black lady and a head bobble to boot, the caucasian Cherry carried a broom and dust pan directly to Mother, handed it to her, placed one hand on her hip, cocked her eyebrow and looked down at the broken glass, then Cherry walked stage right dragging the spotlight with her without another glance in Mother's direction. Ms. Superior wasted no time in humbly rising from her seat and cleaning up the mess that she'd made in her rage. She didn't say a word, or scowl her face. She guilelessly knelt ( it was more like a curtsy that got stuck) , peered over the rims of her sunglasses, swept up the mess and walked to the trash can that sat near One-Armed Vickie's knee and deposited Hester's broken beer bottles and martini glasses. By the time, Mother returned to her seat -- a little deflated, but still proud --Cherry had already started the talkie............and I suddenly realized who the real queen was in this town.......and the silent broom statement had shown everyone else that too, including Mother. (( I was younger then, and I hadn't learned that a person only toots his own horn when he doesn't have a song to sing.))
Even though Cherry was merely lip-synching words, she was singing a song that Mother never could. Granted, Mother was an entertainer extraordinaire, albeit, there was something about Cherry that made Mother pale in comparison. Mother was a talented queen, but she wasn't as pollished..or something....I couldn't put my finger on it, and I can't describe it..........but how can words accurately convey that someone simply had IT? Cherry just had something that these other queens lacked; her star just flickered a little brighter. Miss Fontaine was a tall red-head with the drag-trendy Peg Bundy do and a little strand embellishment; She fit snugly in a sequined knee length dress that had multi-color patches reminiscent of the pattern on the Partridge Family bus, and she was just as tall as Mother, but not as voluptuous through the chest and hips. Cherry would walk to one side of the stage with a saucy swagger and snatch bills from adoring hands, and then she'd walk to the other and do the same thing. Occasionally, during pivotal parts of her performance, she'd pause center stage directly in front of our table. She didn't dance because there was no music. She lip synched in character with impeccable timing and precision, and portrayed Sanford's Aunt Esther (( after she backslid cuz I didn't really think nice AME ladies used that kind of language when they were fully in God's grace. Saintly saints don't go around telling dirty..... filthy...dick jokes in public.........)) The great Cherry Fontaine never missed a word, cue or face crinkling exaggeration....and if my eyes hadn't seen how white she was, I would have sworn she was high yellow.
"Hell, when I was born, I was a smart little bitch., " and Cherry paused and looked at her shellacked finger nails then continued with her recorded monologue. "....Hell...the doctor picked me up by the legs, held me, slapped me on the ass....Hell, that son of a bitch thought I was going to cry....Hell, I didn't cry..I said, 'Hell mother fucker..take it easy..I was only put together with one screw'..." Cherry lip-synched and mimicked LaWanda Page. Each joke was followed by a drum roll and a cymbal clang...and guffaws from the audience...and the jokes became nastier with each new one.....((so nasty, that I can't print them here))... Paul, the bartender, was a nice, quiet gentleman, and the risque' jokes played against his quiet demeanor to make the performance even more hilarious. The audience loved the talkie and the incongruity. Initially, I was shocked and a little offended by the content but totally mesmerized not only by Cherry's ability to lip-synch the monologue perfectly with no musical cues, but also by the way a white man in drag made a black old lady come to life through hand gestures, facial expression and gait....because he wasn't in black face. No, HIS make-up was perfect and completely modern drag queen. Remember, he was the bartender who painted queens in need, so he knew what to do with his powder and blush....but it wasn't the make-up, and it wasn't the clothes or any of the other feminine accoutrements..it was the talent. I had a feeling that if he were dressed as a man and performed the same number in the same way, that he would attain the same result.
Dollar bills were being held up to Cherry all over the bar, but she never left the stage or the spotlight like I'd witnessed with other drag queens who were more concerned with the cash than the performance. No....She made her audience come to her.............and they did....in droves. Fans were lined up to the back bar on one side and all the way to One-Armed Vickie on the other And, they weren't just tipping dollar bills, either. Hester tipped Cherry three twenty dollar bills consecutively. The fifty-something, skinny woman had lifted her face shield..and lain her baggy of boiled eggs on the table when Cherry stepped into the spot light and started her number. The crazy lady in the motorcycle helmet had some cash, and I understood why no one moved her from the front table even when Mother protested (( Drag is still a business as well as entertainment.....................and money talks.......even when that money is wearing an oversized Martian head-gear and munching on boiled eggs and beanie weenies on the front row )). Every time Cherry walked by our front table, which was in the center of it all, we each held up a dollar bill because she deserved it. Miss Fontaine took each tip and gave us a grateful wink if she could work it in her number without missing an important facial expression, but even during those moments, she gave our fingers and hands a gentle squeeze to thank us for our tips..............and to make each of us feel special and appreciated. Mother immersed herself in Cherry's number like a little kid watching cartoons. I don't think she would have heard anyone scream "fire" had it occurred. I noted that Mother's entire demeanor had changed so much that her outburst could have happened 7 years prior rather than just seven minutes before ....and by the look of adoration in Mother's eye, I knew that Cherry Fontaine -- and not Mother Superior -- was Hot Springs' true reigning queen.................and Mother knew that too.
Even though Cherry was merely lip-synching words, she was singing a song that Mother never could. Granted, Mother was an entertainer extraordinaire, albeit, there was something about Cherry that made Mother pale in comparison. Mother was a talented queen, but she wasn't as pollished..or something....I couldn't put my finger on it, and I can't describe it..........but how can words accurately convey that someone simply had IT? Cherry just had something that these other queens lacked; her star just flickered a little brighter. Miss Fontaine was a tall red-head with the drag-trendy Peg Bundy do and a little strand embellishment; She fit snugly in a sequined knee length dress that had multi-color patches reminiscent of the pattern on the Partridge Family bus, and she was just as tall as Mother, but not as voluptuous through the chest and hips. Cherry would walk to one side of the stage with a saucy swagger and snatch bills from adoring hands, and then she'd walk to the other and do the same thing. Occasionally, during pivotal parts of her performance, she'd pause center stage directly in front of our table. She didn't dance because there was no music. She lip synched in character with impeccable timing and precision, and portrayed Sanford's Aunt Esther (( after she backslid cuz I didn't really think nice AME ladies used that kind of language when they were fully in God's grace. Saintly saints don't go around telling dirty..... filthy...dick jokes in public.........)) The great Cherry Fontaine never missed a word, cue or face crinkling exaggeration....and if my eyes hadn't seen how white she was, I would have sworn she was high yellow.
"Hell, when I was born, I was a smart little bitch., " and Cherry paused and looked at her shellacked finger nails then continued with her recorded monologue. "....Hell...the doctor picked me up by the legs, held me, slapped me on the ass....Hell, that son of a bitch thought I was going to cry....Hell, I didn't cry..I said, 'Hell mother fucker..take it easy..I was only put together with one screw'..." Cherry lip-synched and mimicked LaWanda Page. Each joke was followed by a drum roll and a cymbal clang...and guffaws from the audience...and the jokes became nastier with each new one.....((so nasty, that I can't print them here))... Paul, the bartender, was a nice, quiet gentleman, and the risque' jokes played against his quiet demeanor to make the performance even more hilarious. The audience loved the talkie and the incongruity. Initially, I was shocked and a little offended by the content but totally mesmerized not only by Cherry's ability to lip-synch the monologue perfectly with no musical cues, but also by the way a white man in drag made a black old lady come to life through hand gestures, facial expression and gait....because he wasn't in black face. No, HIS make-up was perfect and completely modern drag queen. Remember, he was the bartender who painted queens in need, so he knew what to do with his powder and blush....but it wasn't the make-up, and it wasn't the clothes or any of the other feminine accoutrements..it was the talent. I had a feeling that if he were dressed as a man and performed the same number in the same way, that he would attain the same result.
Dollar bills were being held up to Cherry all over the bar, but she never left the stage or the spotlight like I'd witnessed with other drag queens who were more concerned with the cash than the performance. No....She made her audience come to her.............and they did....in droves. Fans were lined up to the back bar on one side and all the way to One-Armed Vickie on the other And, they weren't just tipping dollar bills, either. Hester tipped Cherry three twenty dollar bills consecutively. The fifty-something, skinny woman had lifted her face shield..and lain her baggy of boiled eggs on the table when Cherry stepped into the spot light and started her number. The crazy lady in the motorcycle helmet had some cash, and I understood why no one moved her from the front table even when Mother protested (( Drag is still a business as well as entertainment.....................and money talks.......even when that money is wearing an oversized Martian head-gear and munching on boiled eggs and beanie weenies on the front row )). Every time Cherry walked by our front table, which was in the center of it all, we each held up a dollar bill because she deserved it. Miss Fontaine took each tip and gave us a grateful wink if she could work it in her number without missing an important facial expression, but even during those moments, she gave our fingers and hands a gentle squeeze to thank us for our tips..............and to make each of us feel special and appreciated. Mother immersed herself in Cherry's number like a little kid watching cartoons. I don't think she would have heard anyone scream "fire" had it occurred. I noted that Mother's entire demeanor had changed so much that her outburst could have happened 7 years prior rather than just seven minutes before ....and by the look of adoration in Mother's eye, I knew that Cherry Fontaine -- and not Mother Superior -- was Hot Springs' true reigning queen.................and Mother knew that too.
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