Norm said, “Well, I’ll be a son of a bitch.”
Pat laughed, slapping himself on the hip. He said:
“You’re married to a movie star!”
I got to my feet and went between them and walked away along the dock toward the repair sheds. The guys shouted after me, wanting to know where I was going, and Pat yelled, “That’s my magazine!”
“I’ll bring it back,” I said. “I want to borrow it.” I don’t know if they heard.
I went to the Admin Building and into the head and closed myself in a stall and sat on the toilet and started in to read about Dawn Devayne.
The magazine was called True Man, and the picture on the cover was a foreign sports car with a girl lying on the hood. Down the left side of the cover was lettering that read:
WILL THE
ENERGY CRISIS
KILL LE MANS?
. . . . . . . . . .
DAWN DEVAYNE:
THE WORLD’S NEXT
SEX GODDESS
. . . . . . . . . .
WHAT SLOPE?
CONFESSIONS OF A
GIRL SKI BUM
Inside the magazine, the article was titled, Is Dawn Devayne The World’s New Sex Queen? by Abbie Lancaster. And under the title in smaller letters was another question, with an answer:
“Where did all the bombshells go? Dawn Devayne is ready to burst on the scene.”
Then the article didn’t start out to be about Dawn Devayne at all, but about all the movie stars that had ever been considered big sex symbols, like Jean Harlow and Marilyn Monroe and Rita Hayworth and Jayne Mansfield. Then it said there hadn’t been any major sex star for a long time, which was probably because of Women’s Lib and television and X-rated movies and looser sexual codes. “You don’t need a fantasy bedwarmer,” the article said, “if you’ve got a real-life bedwarmer of your own.”
Then the article said there were a bunch of movie stars who were all set to take the crown as the next sex queen if the job ever opened up again. It mentioned Raquel Welch and Ann-Margret and Goldie Hawn and Julie Christie. But then it said Dawn Devayne was the likeliest of them all to make it, because she had that wonderful indescribable quality of being all things to all men.
Then there was a biography. It said Dawn Devayne was born Estelle Anlic in Big Meadow, Nebraska on May 19th, 1942, and her father died in the Korean conflict in 1955, and she and her mother moved to Los Angeles in 1956 because her mother had joined a religious cult that was based in Los Angeles. It said her mother was a bus driver in that period, and Dawn Devayne grew up without supervision and hung around with boys a lot. It didn’t exactly say she was the neighborhood lay, but it almost said it.
Then it came to me. It said Dawn Devayne ran away from home a lot of times in her teens, and one time when she was sixteen she ran away to San Diego and married me until her mother took her home again and turned her over to the juvenile authorities, who put her in a kind of reformatory for wayward girls. It called me a “stock figure”. What it said was:
“. . . a sailor named Ordo Tupikos, a stock figure, the San Diego sailor in every sex star’s childhood.”
I didn’t much care for that, but what I was mostly interested in was where Estelle Anlic became Dawn Devayne, so I kept reading. The article said that after the reformatory Estelle got a job as a carhop in a drive-in restaurant in Los Angeles, and it was there she got her first crack at movie stardom, when an associate producer with Farber International Pictures met her and got her a small role in a B-movie called Tramp Killer. She played a prostitute who was murdered. That was in 1960, when she was eighteen. There was a black-and-white still photo from that movie, showing her cowering back from a man with a meat cleaver, and she still looked like Estelle Anlic then, except her hair was dyed platinum blonde. Her stage name for that movie was Honey White.
Then nothing more happened in the movies for a while, and Estelle went to San Francisco and was a cashier in a movie theater. The article quoted her as saying, “When ‘Tramp Killer’ came through, I sold tickets to myself.” She had other jobs, too, for the next three years, and then, when she was twenty-one, in 1963, a man named Les Moore, who was the director of Tramp Killer, met her at a party in San Francisco and remembered her, and told her to come back to Los Angeles and he would give her a big part in the movie he was just starting to work on.
(The article then had a paragraph in parentheses that said Les Moore had become a very important new director in the three years since Tramp Killer, which had only been his second feature, and that the movie he wanted Dawn Devayne to come back to Los Angeles for was Bubbletop, the first of the zany comedies that had made Les Moore the Preston Sturges of the sixties.)
So Dawn Devayne – or Estelle, because her name wasn’t Dawn Devayne yet and she’d quit calling herself Honey White – went back to Los Angeles and Les Moore introduced her to a star-making agent named Byron Cartwright, who signed her to exclusive representation and who changed her name to Dawn Devayne. And Bubbletop went on to become a smash hit and Dawn Devayne got rave notices, and she’d been a movie star ever since, with fifteen movies in the last eleven years, and her price for one movie now was seven hundred fifty thousand dollars. The article said she was one of the very few stars who had never had a box-office flop.
About her private life, the article said she was “between marriages”. I thought that would mean she was engaged to somebody, but so far as I could see from the rest of the article she wasn’t. So I guess that’s just a phrase they use for people like movie stars when they aren’t married.
Anyway, the marriages she was between were numbers four and five. After me in 1958, her next marriage was in 1963, to a movie star named Rick Tandem. Then in 1964 there was a fight in a nightclub where a producer named Josh Weinstein knocked Rick Tandem down and Rick Tandem later sued for divorce and said Josh Weinstein had come between him and Dawn Devayne. The article didn’t quite say that Rick Tandem was in reality queer, but it got the point across.
Then marriage number three, in 1966, was to another movie actor, Ken Forrest, who was an older man, a contemporary of Gable and Tracy who was still making movies but wasn’t quite the power he used to be. That marriage ended in 1968 when Forrest shot himself on a yacht off the coast of Spain; Dawn Devayne was in London making a picture when it happened.
And the fourth marriage, in 1970, was to a Dallas businessman with interests in computers and airlines and oil. His name was Ralph Chucklin, and that marriage had ended with a quiet divorce in 1973. “Dawn is dating now,” the article said, “but no one in particular tops her list. ‘I’m still looking for the right guy,’ she says.”
Then the article got to talking about her age, and the person who wrote the article raised the question as to whether a thirty-two year old woman was young enough to still make it as the next Sex Goddess of the World. “Dawn is more beautiful every year,” the article said, and then it went back to all the business about Women’s Lib and television and X-rated movies and looser sexual codes, and it said the next Superstar Sex Symbol wasn’t likely to be another girl-child type like the ones before, but would be more of an adult woman, who could bring brains and experience to sex. “Far from the dumb blondes of yesteryear,” the article said, “Dawn Devayne is a bright blonde, who combines with good old-fashioned lust the more modern feminine virtues of intelligence and independence. A Jane Fonda who doesn’t nag.” And the article finished by saying maybe the changed social conditions meant there wouldn’t be any more Blonde Bombshells or Sexpot Movie Queens, which would make the world a colder and a drabber place, but the writer sure hoped there would be more, and the best bet right now to bring sex back to the world was Dawn Devayne.