Goddess of Love Incarnate. Leslie Zemeckis
her show or meet Orson at the Florentine and they would go together for a late dinner at any of the illegal bars in Watts that he loved. Orson seemed to know them all. One night her tires were slashed outside a club while they drank inside. He offered to pay for new ones. They would end their nights in the early-morning hours at his bungalow listening to the sounds of others partying nearby.
One morning when she woke, it was early afternoon and she discovered a note on the pillow next to her. “I am at the pool.”152
She put on her sunglasses and the pair of shorts she had brought and wound her way over to the pool where she was surprised to see Orson in a sport coat and open shirt, scripts scattered about, surrounded by a bevy of sycophants hanging on to the his every order. She thought he acted like a king.
She stretched out on a lounge in the sun. He made sure one of the hotel’s staff brought her a steaming cup of coffee, which she savored as she watched him, amused by how his minions fluttered nervously, worshipfully around him.
Orson had a two-picture deal at RKO and acted like royalty, a script in his hand and one at his feet. A cigarette was lit, and he constantly ran a hand through his hair.
A young secretary was taking notes. He was planning his next film, what would become the now classic Citizen Kane.
Tired and bored, Lili fell asleep. She was rarely impressed with the stature of others, much preferring to have attention center on herself.
One weekend Lili decided to stay out in Eagle Rock and asked Orson to catch a ride out to fetch her. This way he could meet Alice and the rest of the family.
He arrived at Bedlam Manor, hat in hand, carrying a large wooden staff, something Moses might have shook at the heavens, and wearing a wool burnoose. There was even a hooded cloak dramatically thrown across his wide shoulders. He claimed to be preparing for a part.
Dardy and Barbara couldn’t help but giggle.
The entire family gathered around to listen to him pontificate about New York and the film he was writing. A film that was going to change movies forever. As he talked, the women sized him up. True, he was a movie star, but he sure liked to go on about himself. This was a houseful of women who each thought they were the center of life.
Lili kept her date waiting while she curled her hair, applied makeup, and dressed meticulously. The family’s eyes started glazing over as Orson kept talking, not allowing anyone to get a word in.
They were grateful when Lili finally descend the staircase. She towered over most people, except her sisters and Orson. The director with his thinning hairline, which he was most sensitive about, appreciated Lili’s fine beauty and her statuesque figure.
She smiled and Orson dramatically rose; bowing formally, he took her arm. She was amused. Out into the night they went. It would be one of their last dates. He was too wrapped up in himself for her taste. His preoccupation frustrated her.
Dardy raced over to the chair Orson had sat in, intending to mimic the “great” actor stooping down into his throne.
“Stop,” Alice shouted, raising up her hand. “Don’t sit in that chair. His royal ass sat there.” Everyone burst out laughing.153
Lili felt lost around Welles. He took up so much air. She compared him to Napoleon. He never listened to her, his mind clearly elsewhere. Lili was equally frustrated at work. She was trying to figure out how to get out of the Florentine. She felt as if she were playing a game waiting for a career to take off. She was unhappy and bored. Her nerves were on edge.
Another reason she didn’t care for Orson was he was a cheapskate. He ordered the least expensive thing on the menu, never asked if she’d like a second drink, and tipped horribly. Lili, who never had money, was free with hers. She bought endless gifts for her siblings and Alice. Like her grandmother, Lili couldn’t stand to see someone in dire straits. A lot of the girls at the club, though they weren’t close with Lili, were always asking for small loans. She would lend a few bucks if a girl needed it. After all, it was only money. She could always make more (though she complained regularly how she barely had enough to spend going out to a club).
THE DAYS TURNED WARM AS SUMMER APPROACHED. LILI AT LONG LAST started an overdue romance with Dick Hubert, the handsome headwaiter at the Florentine. Hubert must have seen her sweep by on the arms of Orson and other attentive males.
Despite the fact that she was enormously popular at the club with customers who asked after her and came back often, or cheered enthusiastically, Lili knew she wasn’t any closer to being a headliner. She was just one of a dozen. In Dick’s eyes she stood out.
Both sisters were getting mentioned in the gossip columns, even if their names were usually spelled incorrectly. Men bought presents, drinks, and flowers.
Lili would claim Dick asked her to marry him on their second date, though surely they had known each other for months.
She was “lonely” and agreed, eager to set up house with someone who adored her. True, they really didn’t know each other but she liked having a man to take care of. It made her feel complete. She would dote on Dick, buy him things, attempt to cook. She vowed to be a wonderful wife and sex partner. And Dick already knew about her work; he wasn’t likely to make her quit as Cordy had. It seemed an ideal arrangement. She had developed a cavalier philosophy when it came to marriage; if it didn’t work, there was always divorce.
Lili and second husband Dick Hubert
LITTLE IS KNOWN ABOUT DICK HUBERT OR WHERE LILI AND HE LIVED. Billboard listed him as the headwaiter through early 1942 when he became the maître d’ after his divorce from Lili.154
They drove the three hours to Tijuana and were married. “In those days you had to wait three days in California,” Dardy said about the popular Mexican weddings both she and Lili enjoyed. “Tijuana was easy.”
Dick, a beautiful dresser, spent hours grooming. He wore tails to work, bought Lili a fur, and drank “a lot,” a turnoff for Lili, which lead to arguments, which she didn’t care for.155 They spent days sleeping and nights separated by a stage. No doubt Dick drove Lili to the club every late afternoon. She had never liked driving, and besides, Lili liked being driven. She liked having things done for her. It was a habit that would become an expectation that people would drop whatever else they were doing to attend to her.
“We were strangers who slept together,” Lili later explained.156 She would admit it should have been a weekend love affair, but in those days—and she would claim this into the 1950s—women didn’t shack up. They got married. And Lili was no different. It is what Alice had taught her. Lili would always want the fireworks and drama and passion of a courtship. But she did not like the routine of marriage. Dick asked at the opportune time, when she was “waiting for men, waiting for a career.”157
A source of friction must have been the fact they had to keep the marriage a secret. Granny would expect her to continue to sit at customers’ tables. Perhaps Dick became jealous, as so many of her husbands would. Maybe he scoffed at her ambition to be a headliner. Either way, Lili was too young to settle down for long. With Dick she began a lifelong habit of leaving someone midsentence if she didn’t like what they were talking about or if she grew bored. She didn’t apologize, never realizing—or caring—how rude it was. She gave the impression they had offended her. She would simply get up and leave. No explanation. It was what she would do with this marriage.
ONE NIGHT LILI OVERHEARD DINGBAT AND A FEW GIRLS CHATTING after the show about how a couple of big producers had caught the performance.
Lili would learn Lou Walters was an important director, producer, and owner of the Latin Quarter Club in Miami. Eventually he would have a string of clubs in New York and Boston. It was the top of the top spots to