The Deer Park: A Play

by Norman Mailer

  “That’s the ticket, Lulu.”

  “But if I marry Teddy, it won’t work, and I’ll become promiscuous. You’ll see. Will you be sorry when I’m like that?”

  “Lulu, you could never be promiscuous. You’re too fine. Suppose at the very worst, there should be a fellow or two that you would like and admire and diddle around with, while still being married to Teddy. I don’t advise it, but it happens all the time, and you know what? The world don’t stop moving.”

  “H.T., that’s an immoral proposal. I’m ashamed of you.”

  “You’re ashamed of me?” Teppis whispered. “You said the wrong thing right then. I sit up nights trying to figure out how to save your career, and this is the thanks you give me. You’re wild, that’s what you are. Know what a star is? She’s like delicious perishable fruit. You got to take her a long distance to market, and when she’s there, you got to sell her. If you don’t, she rots. She’s rotten. Lulu, I’m speaking like a man to a woman. There are a lot of high executives in this studio who are fed up with you. Have you got any idea of the number of times I got to argue in your behalf? ‘Lulu needs discipline,’ they tell me, ‘Lulu’s too hard to handle. She gives us more heartaches than she’s worth.’ Believe me, Lulu, as God is looking into this room, you’ve made enemies, hundreds of enemies on this very studio lot. If you don’t start to co-operate, they’ll get into the process of tearing your flesh and picking your bones.” His voice had started to rise. “That’s exactly the sort of situation it is,” he now said quietly. “I don’t want to depress you, but Lulu, your Bimmler has got to show improvement this coming year. Otherwise, there’s only one way for you.” He pointed to the floor. “The way is down. You’ll go down and down. You’ll get older, you won’t look so good, you won’t get work so easy, you won’t have a studio behind you. Know what a studio means? It’s like a battleship. Look at Eitel. You’ll become so ashamed you’ll change your name. And that’s how you’ll end up, a dance-hall cutey, that’s the sort of girl. I could cut my throat I’m so aggravated.”

  “I’m amazed you should stoop to intimidate me,” Lulu answered.

  “You don’t fool me,” Teppis said, “you’re scared stiff. Because you know what I think of people who let me down.” He reached forward and squeezed her shoulder. “Lulu, be my witness, don’t even answer me right away, this is the only favor I ever asked you. Would you turn H.T. down? Consider carefully. Weigh your words.”

  Lulu burst into tears again. “Oh, Mr. Teppis, I love you,” she cried.

  “Then do something for me.”

  “I’ll do anything for you.”

  “Would you marry Teddy Pope?”

  “I’d even marry Teddy Pope. I want to marry Teddy after the way you explained it, Mr. Teppis.”

  “I don’t want to talk you into it.”

  “I’d marry Teddy in a minute now,” Lulu sobbed, “but I can’t.”

  “Of course you can,” Teppis said. “Why not?”

  “Cause I married Tony Tanner this morning.”

  “.….…….…”

  “Mr. Teppis, please don’t be angry.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “I’m not lying. We were secretly married.”

  “God, how could YOU do this to me?” Teppis bellowed.

  “It isn’t that terrible, Mr. Teppis,” said Lulu from her handkerchief.

  “You broke your promise. You’re torturing me. You told me you’d tell me if you wanted to get married.”

  “That was to Sergius.”

  “I could spit. It’s not worth it being alive.”

  “Do you want a glass of water, Mr. Teppis?”

  “No” He smashed his fist into his palm. “I’ll annul the marriage.”

  “You couldn’t. Tony would fight it.”

  “Of course he’d fight it. He’s got his lawyer already.” Teppis stared down at her. “Would you fight it, too?”

  “Mr. T., a wife’s duty is to her husband you always say.”

  “I could rip my tongue out. Lulu, you got married to spite me.”

  “H.T., I’ll prove you’re wrong by spending the rest of my life making it up to you.”

  “I’m sick.”

  “Forgive me, H.T.”

  “I’m going to persecute you.”

  “H.T., punish me, but don’t hurt Tony.”

  “Don’t hurt Tony! You disgust me. Lulu, you ain’t capable of thinking of nobody but yourself. You could drop dead, I wouldn’t even look at your grave.” His arms raised, he started to advance on her.

  Lulu prepared to flee the room. “Come back here,” Teppis said. “I don’t want you to leave like this.”

  “I worship you, H.T.”

  “You’ve shortened my life.”

  “H.T., I don’t care what you do. I’ll always say, ‘God bless you.’ ”

  He pointed to the door, his mouth quivering.

  “H.T., please listen to me.”

  “Get out of here. You’re a common whore.”

  When she was gone, Teppis began to shake all over his body. He stood in the center of the room, shaking visibly. “It’s a wonder I don’t pop a blood vessel,” he said aloud. The sound of his voice must have calmed him a little, for he went to the interoffice phone, pressed the buzzer, and said hoarsely, “You send Collie up here right away.”

  A few minutes later Munshin was in the office. “When are the wedding bells?” he asked as he came in the door.

  “Collie, you’re a dummy,” Teppis bawled at him. “You’re an A-1 stupid moron.”

  “H.T.! What’s up?”

  “Lulu got married to Tony Tanner this morning.”

  “Oh, Jesus,” said Collie.

  “That Teddy Pope. A degraded homosexual. I had him twisted into a pretzel.”

  “I’ll bet you did, H.T.”

  “You shut up. This whole thing was your idea. I wash my hands of it.”

  “You’re right, H.T.”

  “Don’t you even know what’s happening in front of you? A fact accompli is what Lulu gives me. I could cut her up.”

  “It’s what that twot deserves.”

  “I’m nauseous. A dime-a-dozen comedian, a coarse person like Tony Tanner. I hate coarse people. Isn’t there any class left in the world?”

  “You’re the class, H.T.,” said Collie.

  “Shut up.” Teppis wandered around the room like an animal with a hole in its flank, and collapsed in a chair. “I made you, Collie,” he stated, “and I can break you. I hate to think of what you were when I first knew you, a two-bit agent, a nobody, a miserable nothing.”

  “It wasn’t as bad as that, I hope.”

  “Don’t contradict me. I let you marry my only daughter, I made you my executive assistant, I let you produce your own pictures. I know you, Collie, I know your tricks, you’ll cut my throat someday. But you won’t because I’ll break you first. Do you hear me? What’s your ideas?”

  Collie stood calmly, almost placidly. “H.T., I’ll be frank,” he said, “it’s my fault about Tony, I admit it.”

  “You better admit it. I don’t know what’s the matter with you lately. You can’t do nothing right these days. That Air Force boy. I’m sick every time I think of that movie we can’t make all because you’re such a miserable failure.”

  “H.T., I’ve learned everything from you,” Collie said, “and I’m not worried. I know you can turn this into something tremendous. I even remember you saying that that’s what failures were for, to give ideas.” Collie extended his arms. “H.T., in my book, and I copy your book, you can do more with Tony than you ever could with Teddy. A lot of work, yes, but one thing I learned from you, H.T., Teddy is through. You’ll pick up the paper someday and he’ll be in the can for scrounging around a character on the vice squad.”

  “You got a disgusting imagination,” Teppis said hoarsely.

  “I’m a realist. So are you, H.T. I know there’s not another studio in this town that could make a nickel handling Tony. But you
can.”

  “My digestion is upset,” Teppis said.

  “I glimpse the kind of campaign you see for Tony. Tell me if I’m right.” He paused. “No, it’s a bad idea. It won’t work. It would be too hard to bring off.”

  “You talk and I’ll tell you,” Teppis said.

  “Well, now, this is off the top of my head, of course, but I was wondering if you were thinking of making Lulu keep this marriage quiet until we’re done shooting her film. Then, we can make the announcement. Maybe even work out a big wedding. The potential it gives us for building up Tony is tremendous. Tony Tanner,” Munshin announced, “the kid who stole Lulu Meyers right from under a big lover-type like Teddy Pope. People will say, ‘You’ve done it again, H.T.’ And they’ll be right.”

  Teppis failed to respond. “Don’t give me compliments,” he said, “I’m too upset. Do you know how my stomach feels?”

  Munshin lit a cigarette and smoked in silence for some seconds. “The doctor told me you ought to lower your nervous tension,” he said.

  “You’re my son-in-law, and you’re a pimp,” Teppis burst out. Then he reached for the button under his desk and clicked it to the “off” position. “Did you hear what Charley Eitel said to me once? He said, ‘Mr. Teppis, we all got our peculiarities.’ I don’t like the sound of it. Carlyle, there’s word getting around.”

  “H.T., believe me. It isn’t what you do or what you don’t do, people will still talk about you.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about.”

  “That’s right.”

  “I haven’t slept with a woman in ten years.”

  “It’s the truth, H.T.”

  Teppis looked at the ceiling. “What kind of girl do you have in mind?”

  “A sweet kid, H.T.”

  “I suppose you put her on the payroll.”

  “To tell the truth, I did. A friend of mine introduced me to her in Desert D’Or. Chief, it’s better this way, believe me. The kid’ll keep her mouth shut because who knows, she might have a career here. She’s a cute little stock girl.”

  “That’s what you always say, Collie.”

  “I had a talk with her. She’ll button her lip tight as a virgin’s bun.”

  “You’re a foul-mouthed individual,” Teppis told him.

  “She’s really safe.”

  “If it weren’t for Lottie, I’d fire you.”

  “A genius like you needs relaxation,” Collie said. “It’s wrong, H.T., to miss the fruits of life.”

  Teppis tapped one hand against the other. “All right, I want you to send her up.”

  “I’ll have her here in five minutes.”

  “You get the hell out, Collie. You think a man can break the laws of society? Those laws are there for a purpose. Every time you send up a girl, I don’t even want to see her again. I refuse to sleep with her.”

  “Nobody can work the way you do, H.T.,” said Collie going out the door.

  After a short interval, a girl in her early twenties with newly dyed honey-colored hair came in unannounced through a separate door to Teppis’ office. She was wearing a gray tailored suit and very high heels, and her hair was caught in a snood. Her mouth was painted in the form of broad bowed lips to hide the thin mouth beneath the lipstick.

  “Sit down, doll, sit down right here,” said Teppis pointing to a place on the couch beside him.

  “Oh, thank you, Mr. Teppis,” said the girl.

  “You can call me Herman.”

  “Oh, I couldn’t.”

  “I like you, you’re a nice-looking girl, you got class. Just tell me your first name because I don’t remember last names.”

  “It’s Bobby, Mr. Teppis.”

  He put a fatherly hand on her. “You work here, Collie tells me.”

  “I’m an actress, Mr. Teppis. I’m a good actress.”

  “Sweetie, there’s so many good actresses, it’s a shame.”

  “Gee, I’m really good, Mr. Teppis,” Bobby said.

  “Then you’ll get a chance. In this studio there’s opportunity for real talent-types. Talent is in its infancy. There’s a future for it.”

  “I’m glad you think so, Mr. Teppis.”

  “You married? You got a husband and kids?”

  “I’m divorced. It didn’t work out. But I have two little girls.”

  “That’s nice,” Teppis said. “You got to plan for their future. I want you to try to send them to college.”

  “Mr. Teppis, they’re still babies.”

  “You should always plan. I’ve given to charity all my life.” Teppis nodded. “I hope you got a career here, sweetie. You been here how long?”

  “Just a couple of weeks.”

  “An actress got to have patience. That’s my motto. I like you. You got problems. You’re a human girl.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Sweetie, move over, sit on my lap.”

  Bobby sat on his lap. Neither spoke for a minute.

  “You listen to me,” Teppis said in his hoarse thin voice, “what did Collie say to you?”

  “He said I should do what you wanted, Mr. Teppis.”

  “You’re not a blabbermouth?”

  “No, Mr. Teppis.”

  “You’re a good girl. You know, there’s nobody you can trust. Everybody tells everybody about everything. I can’t trust you. You’ll tell somebody. There’s no trust left in the world.”

  “Mr. Teppis, you can trust me.”

  “I’m the wrong man to cross.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t cross a swell man like you. Am I too heavy on your lap, Mr. Teppis?”

  “You’re just right, sweetie.” Teppis’ breathing became more pronounced. “What did you say,” he asked, “when Collie said you should do what I wanted?”

  “I said I would, Mr. Teppis.”

  “That’s a smart girl.”

  Tentatively, she reached out a hand to finger his hair, and at that moment Herman Teppis opened his legs and let Bobby fall to the floor. At the expression of surprise on her face, he began to laugh. “Don’t you worry, sweetie,” he said, and down he looked at that frightened female mouth, facsimile of all those smiling lips he had seen so ready to serve at the thumb of power, and with a cough, he started to talk. “That’s a good girlie, that’s a good girlie, that’s a good girlie,” he said in a mild little voice, “you’re an angel darling, and I like you, you’re my darling darling, oh that’s the ticket,” said Teppis.

  Not two minutes later, he showed Bobby genially to the door. “I’ll call you when to see me again, sweetheart,” he said.

  Alone in his office, he lit a cigar, and pressed the buzzer. “What time is the conference on Song Of The Heart?” he asked.

  “In half an hour, sir.”

  “Tell Nevins I want to see his rushes before then. I’ll be right down.”

  “Yessir.”

  Teppis ground out the cigar. “There’s a monster in the human heart,” he said aloud to the empty room. And to himself he whispered, like a bitter old woman, close to tears, “They deserve it, they deserve every last thing that they get.”

  Part Five

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  FOR THE REST of the time I stayed in Desert D’Or, I quit the house I had for so many months and took a furnished room at one of the few cheap places in the resort which rented by the week. Then I got a job. As if I wanted to make a prophet of Collie Munshin, the job was for washing dishes. It was in an expensive restaurant where I had eaten often enough with Lulu, and it had the merit of paying the wage of fifty-five dollars a week.

  I could have had other jobs. I could have been a male car-hop as Munshin had warned, or a parking-lot attendant, or I could have gotten work of some sort in one hotel or another, but I chose to wash dishes as though my eight-hour stint in the steam and the grease and the heat, with my fingers burned by plates which came too hot from the machine and my eyes reddened by sweat, was a sort of poor man’s Turkish bath for me. And when I was done for the day, I would grab a mea
l in a drugstore, an expensive drugstore, but it was the cheapest I could find, for it would have been easier to come on a yacht than a hash-house in that part of the desert, and the restaurant where I worked did not feed the help, except for what help I could get from a friendly waitress—the last of Munshin’s predictions—who would slip me a Caesar salad or a peach melba which I would eat with water-puckered fingers, hardly missing a beat on the plates as they erupted from that gargoyle of a machine which threw its shadow over me, while the most simple lesson of class, the dirge of the dishwasher, steamed furiously in my mind: did those hogs out there, those rich hogs, have to eat on so many plates?

  At the other end of the machine, feeding me the gravy-rimmed crockery and the egg-crusted forks, was a fifty-year-old dishwasher with gray hair and lean shoulders, who did not say a hundred words in all the weeks we worked together. He worked in order to drink, and drank in order to die, and like all drunks persisted in living, his hangovers strung like morning wash under the pale sunlight of the neon tubes in the kitchen, so that he retched for the first four hours of work and nibbled remnants for the rest of his shift, a choice bit of filet here, a pure string bean there, the perfect sparrow choosing golden grains from a horse-ball feast, but nervously, waiting for the evening rain puddle when he could sop the thirst for which hunger is only a substitute. Watching his hands claw a prize into his mouth and wipe the rest down the slophole of his work table, I came to envy him more than I had envied anyone in Desert D’Or. His work had such advantages over mine. I did not grudge him the food, but it was blood to know that his end of the machine was ten degrees cooler, and his plates were cold when he scraped and stacked them into the racking boxes while they hissed at my end of the tunnel in boiling water, half-live lobsters making one last gasp to scratch their way out of the pot. I learned again the great anger of working at the bottom where the thought that you do not own a Cadillac is as far away as the infantryman’s knowledge that he will never get a General’s star, but what bites is that the man on the next cot in the endless barracks at the bottom has the soft job, is on permanent latrine duty let us say, and therefore is given the benefit of missing morning inspection.