Vera’s story: Period 1924 – 1937
“Nurse… Nurse, that’s it! Turn it up. Turn up the radio.”
She calmly sauntered back into my room in the maternity ward at St. Barnabus Hospital. One side of her mouth turned up as she passed my bed. She watched me holding my newborn son, Jae, out of the corner of her eye.
“Hurry up;” I said, “this is the show I told you about.”
She finally reached the radio on the table across from my bed.
“Alright,” she said, “I heard you.” She tuned in the station and raised the volume. “Don’t get yourself in a lather.”
Welcome back to The Wonder Bread Hour with the Paul Whiteman Orchestra. I’m Paul Whiteman and we’re going to start out the program tonight with the wonderful new singer, Bing Crosby of the Rhythm Boys. Take it away, Bing.
“Ladies and gentlemen, tonight is a special night. Our very own Maxine Murphy – You know her as one of The Rhythm Girls – Well, the stork just paid her a visit with a bouncing baby boy. We all want to wish her the very best, and Maxine, if you’re listening, this song is for you.”
I used several different stage names at the time, but when I sang with “The Rhythm Girls,” I went by the name Maxine Murphy. I gently rocked Jae in my arms and listened to Bing sing the most beautiful rendition of My Blue Heaven I had ever heard.
You’ll see a smilin’ face, a fireplace, a cozy room,
Little nest that nestles where the roses bloom.
Molly and me, and the baby makes three;
We’re happy in my, in my blue heaven!
I looked over at the nurse standing by the radio, now staring at me with her mouth hanging open. All I could do was smile. I looked back down at Jae with that red tuft of hair and stroked his rosy cheek with my thumb.
“You hear that Sonny Boy? He’s singing to us.”
Back when Joe and I first got married, local work was not always easy to come by. With both of us in show business, we spent more time on the road and away from each other than we ever spent together. I wanted to start a family right away, but Joe had more of a free spirit so the arrangement suited him just fine. It took three years into the marriage before we finally had our first child on December 30, 1927.
Jae brightened up our life in so many ways. Such a sweet smile never existed before. At least his Mommy and Daddy thought so. He grew into a real charming youngster… naughty, but oh, how we loved him.
About two months before Jae’s second birthday came the market crash of 1929. The stress of keeping food on the table and a roof over our heads took its toll. Right around that time, I found myself expecting again.
One afternoon, about seven months along, I stretched out for a short nap outside and fell sound asleep. A freak bolt of lightning jolted me awake when it struck my daybed. It scared the H. E. double crooked letter out of me and gave me a terrible burn on my back. The doctors insisted that I stay in the hospital so they could keep a close eye on the baby. I ended up spending most of the remaining two months in Cook County Hospital. Our sweet Dawn had such a rough start in life. Then four months after her birth, I was in the family way again, but lost twin girls in the seventh month.
As the years rolled on, Joe spent more time away. He took to coming in late from his nightclub jobs with cheap booze on his breath and lipstick on his shirts. We had a rough go of it almost from the beginning. I started to come unglued, but held myself together for the kid’s sake.
Joe finally found a steady vaudeville job in Chicago and sent money home when he could, but it was never enough so I went back on the road. Having to find a place for Jae and Dawn to stay while I worked in theatres across the country just added more strain. When I realized how much the kids really needed their father, I packed up the car and drove us all down to Chicago to be with him.
Practically as soon as we got there, he took off for a Vaudeville tour throughout the Midwest. I kept working through it all because I still had two mouths to feed. After a while, I picked up bookings at some of the finer rooms and supper clubs like the Chez Paree, and the Empire Room. I met a different class of people on those jobs. In fact, Marshall Fields, III thought a lot of my singing and took a real liking to me. He even used to have me out to his mansion in the country outside of Chicago.
One night when I was headlining with Sophie Tucker and Fred Allen at the Woods Theatre on Randolph and Dearborn, I noticed a dashing young man in the front row. Every time I looked his way, he had his eyes glued on me. I noticed he had a bouquet of roses under his chair and at the end of the night; he came right up to the stage with a big charming smile and held the flowers out toward me.
“Miss Reynolds?”
I used the name Reynolds for that job.
“Here, these are for you.”
“Ohh… They’re beautiful,” I said. “You shouldn’t have.”
“No - It’s my pleasure.” He held out his hand to meet mine and with a twinkle in his eye, he said, “Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Dr. William G. Birch.”
“Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
“I came here last night,” he said, “and I just had to come back. I love the way you sing.”
I thought to myself, what a catch. If I wasn’t married…
“Well, thank you for the flowers, Dr. Birch. That’s very thoughtful.”
“No, call me Bill, and like I said, it’s my pleasure.”
“Well I hope you come see the show again… and bring your friends.”
The next night, I was just gathering up my things to leave when I heard a knock on my dressing room door. When I pulled it open, there stood the young doctor holding his hat over his heart.
“Miss, Reynolds, please forgive the intrusion.”
“That’s alright. I was just leaving.”
“I came by to see if you might do me the honor of joining me for a bite to eat.”
“I’m flattered,” I said, “but I’m a married woman with two children. It wouldn’t be right.”
He didn’t seem put off at all, in fact he kept coming around. With Joe gone so much, in my loneliness, I eventually agreed to have lunch with him. One thing led to another, as it often does, but I called off the affair before it got out of hand.
I had not given up on my marriage with Joe yet. After everything we had been through, part of me still loved him. After all, we met when I was only fifteen. He was my first real love. I thought, if only I could go see him, we could patch things back together.
A few days later, I was getting ready to play my first set at the Green Mill, a local speakeasy when a couple of Al Capone’s men bellied up to the bar next to me. I overheard them talking about making a run to Detroit. I had the next couple of days off and the kids were still with my sister in Minneapolis. I knew Joe was playing a burlesque show in Detroit, so I butted in.
“You’re going to Detroit?”
The one next to me looked up from his drink and said, “Yeah, why?”
“I need to go there to see my husband. Can I hitch a ride?”
He turned away and exchanged a few words with his friend before turning back to me. “I don’t know, Sister. We’re just doing a little business; making a delivery and coming right back.”
“I can be ready to come back whenever you say.”
He looked down with his eyes squinted. “Hmm. Let me check with the boss.”
They all talked it over and agreed to take me along.
On the drive there, they decided to come see the show with me. We made it to the theatre just in time to buy our tickets and take our seats. The curtain rose and the footlights shined up at Joe standing center stage. He was the top banana, emceeing the whole show. He even sang a few songs and told some risqué jokes in between acts.
In one of his bits, he came out on stage, showed the audience a slice of bread and then put it in his pants pocket. He proceeded to sing, “A Pretty Girl is Like a Melody.” At the end of the song, he reached back into his pocket and pulled out a slice of toast. The crowd loved it. Joe had a way of playing to the audience and always showed them a good time.
At the end of the program, the boys and I returned to the car and drove around to the back of the theatre to wait for Joe to leave through the stage door. Soon, he appeared in the doorway, arm in arm with one of the ponies from the chorus line. The way she fawned all over him, I knew the score right away.
I sprang up in my seat and reached for the door handle, but the lug in the seat next to me grabbed my wrist and threw his arm around my waist to hold me back.
I said, “What are you doing?" I kicked and squirmed to get loose. "Let me go. I’m gonna strangle him.”
The moose with his arm around me didn’t respond, but the driver looked back over his shoulder and said, “Sorry, Sister. The boss said, ‘She can tag along, but bring her back safe and sound.’ We can’t let you go out there”
I knew I couldn’t break loose of the iron grip that moose had on my wrist, so I slumped back, shaking and wracked with anger. The sight of Joe laughing it up with that broad knocked the wind right out of me. I felt like such a fool. All this time I tried to be true to him, only to catch him playing around with some stage door floozy.
I started blubbering and the big moose in the seat next to me said, “Hey, Doll, want me to go teach him a lesson?”
As much as I wanted to say yes, I didn't. “Let him go. He’s not worth it.”
There’s no telling what might have happened if he had gotten out of the car that night. Part of me wanted Joe to suffer like I had, but he still was Jae and Dawn’s father.
On the ride back home, everything that happened between Joe and me played back in my mind. He used to keep a pocket full of nickels to hand out to kids on the street. He’d joke around and say, “Let me give this kid a nickel. You never know, he might be mine.”
I never took it seriously until the night he brought a fifteen-year-old Mexican girl into our home. He sweet talked me into taking her in because she was in the family way and had nowhere to go. I had my suspicions, but Joe could charm the skin off a snake and back then, I was just naive enough to believe him. The girl and I got along alright for the two or three weeks she stayed with us. Then she found another place to go and Joe and I never discussed it again.
I always tried to give him the benefit of the doubt, but the night at the stage door in Detroit changed everything for me. I went right back to Chicago, and moved on with my life. I decided to start seeing that doctor who had been so sweet on me. He made me feel real special.
Just when I felt like I might have a future again, Joe came back home and caught me in the apartment with Bill. I can’t say I regret it. Joe had it coming. I let him have it that night. I wasn’t about to let him make me feel guilty after everything he put me through.
When Joe finally left, I grabbed a pair of scissors out of the drawer. I went looking for our family photos and cut Joe’s face out of every last picture I could find like cutting a tumor out of my own belly. I threw the scraps in the sink, lit them with a match, and watched the images turn to ash. I took a couple deep, trembling breaths, doubled over and cried my guts out. It was finally over.
From that point on, Joe was dead to me. I never once looked back. Of course, he made it easy because I never saw him again. He never even once tried to contact Jae or Dawn – his own two kids. That’s all right, though. In fact, if you ask me, they are better off for it.
I filed for divorce a year later, in March of 1936, Joe lost all rights to the kids. Bill and I had talked about getting married as soon as we could, but an opportunity came up to revive the Rhythm Girls for some dates in Australia. We played in Melbourne and at the opening of the Trocadero in Sydney. At the end of the two month stint, I came right back to Chicago and married Bill.
Before long though, I landed back performing in my old gangster haunts. Then one night; I’ll never forget it. My life changed forever. New Year’s Eve 1937, the day after Jae’s tenth birthday – In the middle of my set on the bandstand at a local mob joint uptown in Skokie, all of a sudden, gunfire broke out. People screamed and ran for cover. I ducked my head down and dove under the beautiful grand piano until the nightmare passed.
As the room fell quiet, I emerged to find tables turned on end and broken glass everywhere. I walked out onto the maroon carpet, soaked in cheap booze, and almost gagged at the smell of gunpowder. Looking back toward the stage, I saw through the smoke that bullets had lodged in the side of the piano right above where my head had been.
When Bill found out, he insisted I never work in those clubs again. That night marked the last time I ever performed in joints like that. Within a few short months, we packed up the kids and moved to Michigan to start a new life.
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