Chicago, 1920s-1930s
Barbara Markey was resourceful and a survivor, even at age six in 1924. Rain, snow, or hot sunshine, after school and on weekends she stood in front of the neighborhood funeral parlors on Chicago's north side. Lanky and with long black hair, clutching a prayer book or string of rosary beads, she would bow her head and sob. For this the little actress usually got a penny from each of the bereaved who came to pay their last respects to the deceased inside.
She was a Catholic, but never knew the religion, occupation, or anything else about the person lying in their casket inside the chapel. She only got a hint as to who they were in life because of the color ribbon on the crepe, the white wicker basket of fresh-cut flowers that stood outside the chapel door. A light purple ribbon was for a man, white for a woman, pink for a baby or child, and silver for an elderly man or woman. Years later, purple became the standard color ribbon for anyone deceased.
It did not matter to Barbara who was in their box inside the chapel. They deserved the best cry she could send them off with for a penny.
During the school year, she had great hours. She only worked Saturday mornings. When school was out for summer vacation, she made the rounds of the chapels almost every day.
If she needed pennies in a hurry, for a nickel admission to the local movie theater, she skipped the other funeral parlors and took up work outside the Jewish. She found that, for some reason, the Jewish bereaved gave her more pennies than Catholics and Protestants.
When she had enough for show money and extra for a paper bag of licorice strips or butter kisses, she would hop and skip her way to the Royal, singing the recent tune that was about her home town... "Chicago, Chicago, that toddlin' town..."
Pre-adolescent Barbara also would pretend she was a flapper, one of the new "loose" kind of woman, even though she didn't know what that meant, except they smoked cigarettes and wore rouge and lipstick. When her mother was out, she would put some of her makeup on and wiggle, singing "I Wish I Could Shimmy Like My Sister Kate."
She loved escaping into the fantasy world of the movies. It was so much better than the cold-water flats she lived in and the bums and winos who slept in their doorways. In the movies, people lived in mansions and the women were always beautiful and wore elegant clothes like Gloria Swanson and the men were always handsome, like Rudolph Valentino.