Is it possible to be jealous of a woman your husband never
met? A woman who died in 2008? More to the point, can one be jealous of a room
dedicated to her memory, and then come to love that room as much as your
husband does? The short answer is…yes. That room was Dan’s dream.
Or dozens of them, actually. Dan is a dream talker. As he
wakes up he begins to narrate all of the dreams he had the night before. This
is usually 10 minutes before I need to get up, and the only dream I’m having at
that moment is that he had become a mute overnight. Instead, over the last 33
plus years I have heard countless variations on the dream that he finds a
hidden door. Or trapdoor. Or window. That leads us into a room or rooms that we
didn’t know were there when we bought the house.
When we did buy the Villa Johnson in 1996 there was a roll
of insulation stuffed in a hole in the basement wall. There were far too many
projects that needed to be done (kids through high school, me through grad
school, bedrooms and a bath on the third floor, etc.) for the odd bit of
insulation to move to the front burner. But gradually the Big Projects were
ticked off the list. Pointing him toward other pursuits—the play that he’s
talked about for years, publishing
the kids book he wrote in a flash and has done nothing with since, were in
vain. Dan pulled out that piece of insulation, grabbed a flashlight, and
crawled into a gross, cobweb-infested crawlspace under what we understand was a
doctor’s office that was added to our house in the 1920’s.
In 1923, a young woman was born in Nashville. Betty Mae Page
was The Pinup Model Of The Universe in the 1950’s, and enjoyed a resurgence of
popularity in the 1980’s and 90’s. Dan was smitten on our first trip to New
Orleans by a tee-shirt for sale in the French Market. Gradually, more and more
of his casual wear featured this raven-haired woman. In those years I didn’t
really give it much of a thought.
Back to 2005, Dan announced that he was cutting through the
stone wall and would be excavating this room. The intent at the time was that
this would be part of his workshop. Over the next few months Dan dug out 27
yards of dirt (70,200 pounds) along with large pieces of rock that had once
been the foundation for a long-gone back porch. Concrete was poured, walls were
power washed, and the room, with its cream city brick and stone walls was
revealed. Now the intent of the room changed. It was too pretty for a workshop.
And another half of the basement needed to be converted into a party room. And
we needed a full bath down there as well. Someone had injected Dan’s boondoggle
with steroids, and I was powerless
to stop him.
In the spring of 2012 we went to visit Hunter and Megan in
LA. I had a dozen touristy things I wanted to do, and Dan and the kids were fine
with all of them. Dan had one request—to find the final resting place of Betty
Page. The cemetery was NOT easy to find, and if not for the determination of
Megan (in “full-on Megan Mode”) we would have missed the entrance—and Betty’s
humble tombstone. Despite me giving him the evil eye at least twice, Dan
insisted on buying flowers. As he laid them on her grave he broke into tears.
But by then I understood.
By May of 2005 the rooms were nearly done, and the theme was
Betty Page. Dan had covered the ceiling of the larger party room with 333 empty
wine bottles—“half of 666” he likes to say. The dug-out room has lights that
make the brick walls glow. The pool table is red satin with leopard bumpers.
Dan made the light switch plates using photos of Betty. Banners and posters
abound. The painting was done, bathroom complete, and he was trimming the
carpet when I finally snapped. “Of all of the projects you have taken on, this
is the dumbest. It has been a waste of your time and our money. If you think we
will ever have a party down here you are mistaken.” With that I spun on my (not high) heel
and left.
A month later, when we had a wildly successful wine tasting
party in the newly-christened “Betty Room” I had to admit I was wrong. And the
room is so wrong in so many regards. But I’ve come to realize this room may be
more like me than my dining room filled with Gone with the Wind plates…or any
other room in the house.
Betty was a good girl. A born again Christian who once
punched a famous photographer for coming on to her during a bath tub photo
shoot. She was a good girl who, occasionally, liked to put on costumes and have
her picture taken. That all came
together for me one famous Friday night in Key West two years ago. I was
covered up, wearing a black corset, garters, fishnets and leopard high heels.
Our favorite hang out, Capt. Tony’s had a fake “dungeon” set up in the lower
level. Couples or singles would pose with the equipment, and a few flashes
would go off as people took their picture. On a lark, I walked up to a large
wooden X. I grabbed the metal rings, lifted one high heel, and glanced back
through my bangs at the crowd with a bit of a wicked smile. One flash. Ten.
100. A wall of white light as cameras snapped. I turned and walked back over to
Dan and two friends with cameras who were near-by. Their mouths were hanging
open. Dan finally blurted out: “Do you realize you just channeled Betty
Page?” In fact, there were so many
flashes Dan’s camera didn’t get the picture. A friend’s did, and a large blow
up of it hangs in the Betty Room unless we know we are getting company.
Since completion, the Betty Room has been the scene of a
number of great parties. Our long time friends think about them and smile. Our
newer friends think about them and wink. In the summer the thick stone walls
make it a perfect retreat. In the winter it’s our private club that we can go
to without stepping into the cold. All of our pictures from Fantasy Fests adorn
the walls, and a couple of years ago we added a second-hand leopard high heel
shoe chair. Other decorations don’t need to be mentioned here. It is an
outrageous space, but for our house, and Betty, and in our relationship, it’s a
costume that we can wear because the foundation is strong. Our beautiful old Queen Anne doesn’t mind
the rebel room in the basement. Despite her demons in later life, Betty was
always proud of the artistry she put into her modeling and photos. And while
we’re only there one week a year, I like how we look in our costumes and paint
in Key West.
Music that resonates:
Boss's Daughter (aka Hell on Heels, Dan's favorite) - Pop Evil
