The Eden Musee
By Harry Buschman
The boardwalk in Coney Island
was an elevated promenade above the dirty sand.
It was originally built for strolling in the bright summer sunshine or beneath
the stars. But under the boardwalk was another world, a dark and shadowy world
that trafficked in man's most carnal hankerings.
The only wheeled vehicles allowed on the boardwalk
were wicker rickshaws rented by people who wished to sit and be pushed. They
were built for two and
had colorful parasols to shade the riders from the sun. On one side of the
boardwalk was sand, sea and sky; on the other side were houses of enjoyment.
There were beer halls, bingo parlors, and bawdy parlors. Man's baser instincts
as well as his love of the sea could be satisfied in the clean and bracing air
of Coney Island.
The four great establishments at Coney Island
were Steeplechase, Luna Park,
Nathan's and the roller coaster called the "Cyclone." They satisfied
our love of thrills and our need for food and drink. We were a younger nation
then, far less educated, wildly optimistic and blind to the mortgage that would
soon come due. We strolled the boardwalk, 'made out,' and sang ....
Has anybody here seen Kelly . . .
Kelly with the green necktie?
or
Who threw the overalls in Mrs. Murphy's chowder?
Nobody answered so he hollered all the louder.
Although few of us who enjoyed Coney Island realized it, some people worked for a living there. Frivolity was a full time business, and a resourceful man could earn a living gratifying the hunger of his fellow man.
I worked at the Eden Musee. A house of waxwork
figures frozen forever in
moments of agony and ecstasy. The original Eden Musee in midtown Manhattan,
(until it burned down) was a major attraction for nearly fifty years. It was
a far more educational 'Musee' than the one at Coney Island. It boasted of
tableaus depicting the "Signing of the Declaration of Independence,"
"Lincoln's Gettysburg Address," and "Moses Parting the Waters;"
uplifting tableaus with life-like figures caught in climactic moments of mankind's
history. But the one at Coney Island concentrated on our darker side -- "Jack
the Ripper," "Lizzie Borden," and, (my favorite) "The Crushing
of the Slaves by the Shah's Kneeling Elephants."
Leonard Sutton owned the Musee. He had a part
interest in the original one in
Manhattan, and when it burned down he started the one in Coney Island with
his share of the insurance money. There is nothing more definitive than a fire
in a wax museum. Leonard was a gentle man in speech, ill suited for the bloodshed
and carnage that was his stock in trade at the Eden Musee. In the scatological,
sexual and sacrilegious language of the Midway, I never heard Leonard say anything
racier than "Jeez-um" when something went wrong. Profanity is relatively
cheap and non-creative, and I suspect after he recreated Jack-the-Ripper and
Lizzie Borden, Leonard had his fill of the dark side.
Wax figures consist of little more than a head
and hands. When you're dealing
with an image of Lincoln, the head must look like Lincoln, but the hands can
be anyone's; no one cares what Lincoln's hands looked like. The artist must
search for someone who has a superficial resemblance to Lincoln, make a facial
plaster cast of him and then pour in flesh colored molten wax. From then on
it's glass eyes, a wig, stage make-up and costuming fitted on a show window
dummy. Other than his hapless victims, no one ever saw Jack-the-Ripper and nobody
could pick Lizzie Borden out of a police line-up either.
Leonard's conception of Jack-the-Ripper bore
a remarkable resemblance to Lon
Chaney in "The Phantom of the Opera," and the less said about his
victims the
better. The Shah's partially crushed slaves could only be recognized as human
by their nightmarish faces frozen in agony. On the other hand, Lizzie Borden
always reminded me of Mrs. Sutton, or Minnie Mae, as he called her. All of us
believed it was Leonard's quaint method of retaliation for her constant nagging.
On a small card framed and hung on the side panel of the exhibit Leonard hung
those immortal words:
Lizzie Borden took an axe
and gave her mother forty whacks,
and when she saw what she had done
she gave her father forty-one.
Minnie Mae manned the ticket booth on weekends,
but she was apt to drop in
unannounced to surprise us, (and particularly Leonard, who had an eye for the
ladies).
Ladies were particularly vulnerable to the nauseating tableaus found in the Eden Musee. The more robust of them frequently threw up lustily, but young and fragile ladies would invariably swoon. I was always on hand with a bucket and a mop for the former, but the latter were personally attended to by Leonard. He would fan them and murmur words of consolation, then attempt to lead them into his office where they might lie down and recover. He was fairly successful, but nine successes out of ten is a poor average in the sport of adultery. It is always the tenth that brings the house down on you, for on the tenth, Minnie Mae was sure to appear with her umbrella at the ready, looking for all the world like Lizzie Borden.
I learned many things there; the concept of shock, stage technique and the uncomplicated technology of wax effigies. I even helped a few young and fragile maidens into Leonard's office when he was not there. This was the greatest learning experience of all, because knowing Leonard was close behind, I knew speed was of the essence. My learning experience came to a bitter end -- and so did the Eden Musee, not by fire but by the fury of a woman betrayed.
Some of us were uncertain as to why Leonard decided to devote one of his future dioramas to Lady Godiva. While she was a tough enough lady in her day, a female activist with long blond hair and a body a man might risk his reputation for, she wasn't what you'd expect to see in this particular Eden Musee. There was no decapitation .... no dismemberment. She was naked too, and that meant Leonard would have to find a body as well as a head. Mrs. Sutton, well past forty, had been around the block a few times, so to speak, and the thought of her riding naked to Coventry was grotesque.
"It's gonna be one of the swooners,"
I mentioned to Felix. Felix took care of the johns and dusted the exhibits.
"He ain't got the noive."
"Sure he does, when Mrs. Sutton goes up to the Catskills, he'll do it then.
Just you wait and see."
Minnie Mae Sutton always went to the Catskills
after Labor Day weekend. Business fell off at the Eden Musee, kids went back
to school and Nathan's
boarded up its outdoor beer garden. This was also the time for Leonard to make
plans for next year's season. I was sure that's when he'd get going on Lady
Godiva.
Labor Day came and went, and the following
Wednesday I noticed two women in stylish blue suits and a man wearing a derby
hat standing in front of the
Shah's crushing of the slaves. The women were apparently sisters and the taller
of them was the lady friend of the man in the derby hat. They found it difficult
to tear their eyes from the scene of horror -- they stayed there, transfixed,
unable to leave. The taller woman suddenly threw up violently. My attention
was drawn to the shorter, prettier girl who had her hand to her mouth. Her taller
sister was heaving lustily and the combination of her problem, coupled with
the gruesome tableau in front of her was too much for the smaller one to bear.
Her beautiful blue eyes rolled up like those in a china doll and her legs gave
way.
I started for her but before I could reach
her side, Leonard appeared out of
nowhere, shouldered me aside and caught her just as she touched the floor. Her
sister's boy friend had his hands full and Leonard assured him that he would
take the poor thing into his office until she recovered.
I have only hearsay evidence and the spotty
reputation of Leonard Sutton to
support my speculation as to what happened in his office. Leonard, I am sure
had chosen this blue-eyed, flaxen haired beauty to be his Lady Godiva. Even
now, I can imagine him praising her face and form and telling her that she would
be immortalized in wax sitting astride a magnificent white horse for all the
world to see. I am sure he got her out of her stylish blue suit, for during
the following episode, I saw her naked.
It was only three days after Labor Day, and
Minnie Mae had not yet left for the Catskills. Instead, while strolling the
boardwalk, she witnessed a tall young woman in a blue suit throwing up in front
of the Eden Musee.
"Whatsamatter, dearie -- too much for'ya in there?" she inquired.
"I'll be okay ma'am, but my sister is still in there. I think she's fainted."
Neither Minnie Mae nor Lizzie Borden had been born yesterday, and grasping her
umbrella as though it were a hatchet, she marched inside and burst into Leonard's
office.
"Jeez-um Minnie -- I can explain!! Ow! Jeez-um!"
It was pitiful to hear, but mixed with pity
there was an element of vicarious
satisfaction and revenge. I pictured Minnie Mae, axe in hand, in her best Lizzie
Borden style giving Leonard forty one whacks after giving the future Lady Godiva
forty. But her only weapon was her umbrella, and when the door burst open again
it was obvious she had confined her whacking to Leonard. The young lady, wild
eyed and fully recovered, emerged in panic carrying her stylish blue suit and
underclothing. She looked desperately for a place to hide and darted into the
Jack the Ripper exhibit. Before she reached it, however, two petite blue shoes
arced after her fleeing form from the direction of Leonard's office.
Felix and I had been busy mopping the extravagant remains her sister had left, and it was evident that Minnie Mae had not yet finished with Leonard. Blows could still be heard from his office, along with his pitiful cries of, "Jeez-um --- easy Minnie Mae --- Jeezum!!" and "I'll show ya -- ya bastard ya!!"
"Let's get her in the ladies powder room," I shouted to Felix. I rushed forward, picking up her shoes on the way and found her trying to get into her bra under one of the Shah's elephants. We shielded her as best we could, and what I was able to see convinced me that Leonard had used a sharp eye in casting her as Lady Godiva. We got her into the ladies room and told her to get dressed as quickly as she could. Felix hurriedly locked the door with his master key.
She finished dressing about the time Leonard had taken his forty-first whack. Mrs. Sutton emerged from the office with her bent umbrella a bare second after we let the young lady out of the powder room. Minnie Mae had gotten it out of her system by then and she probably didn't recognize the young lady with her clothes on. Poor Leonard had received his forty one whacks plus a few for good measure and he was a sight to behold; indeed, he looked like Mr. Borden must have looked on that fateful day.
There was a sense of closure in the old Eden
Musee, as though there had been
a death in the family. All of us knew the lazy, hazy, crazy days of that particular
summer were over and perhaps it was time to look for work elsewhere. Leonard's
peculiar talent for the darker side of man was unique, and had he stuck to murder
and mayhem, the Eden Musee might still exist. But, a slip of a girl in a blue
tailored suit walked in and his world and ours was torn asunder.
But, as Felix and I later agreed, nine out of ten ain't bad.
© Harry Buschman 1998
|
|
|