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Once upon a lovely spring day in 2005, I met Baroness Geraldine Ruddy de Lussats on Oceania Cruises’ Regatta, a luxury passenger ship, sailing on a ten day cruise from the Port of Miami to various islands in the Southern Caribbean.

I was with my lovely cruise-mate, world adventurer Janet McCabe, who had arranged for and brought me on this most excellent cruise. The Regatta is not one of those impersonal megaships that carry thousands of passengers on every voyage. She is a mid-size ship with a passenger capacity of less than 700 and a staff of about 400, ensuring fabulous personal service. Oceania Cruises is known for its warm elegant ambiance, first-class décor, clean comfortable staterooms, top notch spa, fitness and recreation facilities, informative lectures and superb food.

On the second day at sea, Janet read in the Regatta’s daily program that backgammon lessons were to be held in the main lobby where there is an area devoted to board games. She insisted that I learn the game of backgammon (she plays but does not teach.)

Although I am usually a good sport, I wasn’t really in the mood to learn a new board game, so I was a little testy. And by the way, unless the board game is Monopoly, Clue or the Japanese game of Go, I tend not to care.

As we entered the luxurious lobby, we saw David, the cruise director, conversing with an attractive and refined-looking older woman. When they saw us, they stopped talking.

Janet told David that I was there for a backgammon lesson. We sat down at one of the game tables and he proceeded to show me the basics. Janet sat beside me on my left and the older lady sat on my right. She introduced herself as Geraldine. She was very well-groomed and dressed in silken finery replete with an impressive double strand of pearls.

She looked right at home in the luxurious surroundings of the ship. The light scent of her perfume spoke of restrained luxury. During the lesson, Geraldine occasionally chimed in with brief comments concerning certain game moves. It was obvious that she was very knowledgeable about backgammon. David readily digested her comments and he was very patient in showing me the basics of the game.

As David had to dash off to direct another activity, the lesson was a short one. Geraldine graciously asked if I would like to learn more. Intrigued more with her than with the game, I readily accepted. Janet was pleased. Geraldine told us that she was a fellow passenger and that she had a passion for backgammon.

She sat down across from me and showed me a quick and easy way to set up the board. Her instructions were clear and to the point, and she explained the game so well that I no longer felt testy. To my surprise, I was actually enjoying myself. As Geraldine gracefully rolled the dice from the cup and deftly moved the stone pieces across the board, I observed her slender fingers and scarlet-red nails. On her right index finger, she wore an impressive gold ring with a dark-colored sardonyx stone. It was carved with a coat of arms.

At some point I looked up and noticed the lady’s intriguing brown eyes. I could not help staring. Some say the eyes are the windows to the soul. When I looked into those eyes, a barely ripe woman in her 20s was still there. And her sensual lips held secrets of trysts from days now gone, but not yet over. When she spoke, she sounded like a much younger woman. Her voice was smooth but firm, like silk on rare polished hardwood. She radiated happiness and sunshine. This lady was beginning to fascinate me; there was something special about her.

When the game was over, we chatted for a while. I admired her ring and she told me it had been given to her by her late husband, Baron de Lussats, in Monte Carlo. She then gave me her card on which was printed Baroness Geraldine Ruddy de Lussats. An illustration of a coronet was printed at the top. Aha; royalty. That explained a lot.

Unlike many Americans, I hold royalty and nobility in high regard. When I was a child, I read the biography of Queen Elizabeth II before she was crowned. I sat in front of the television set and watched the entire live broadcast of her 1953 coronation ceremony.

I thought that she was the most beautiful woman in the world; even more beautiful than Elizabeth Taylor. My mother was at a total loss as to why her roughneck country son was so fascinated with royalty. She detested anything that had to do with monarchies. Most royals and nobles have a vibe about them that I find fascinating. The Baroness has this vibe.

The more the Baroness spoke, the younger she seemed to become. At first glance, she looked like a classy and elegant older woman. A second glance revealed that something did not quite fit with the older part. After a few moments in her presence, it became clear that the Baroness was still young and unspoiled. She was witty and down-to-earth, radiating a youthful glow and an unrestrained positive attitude. Her mind was razor-sharp and she conversed of events 50 years in the past as readily and as lucidly as she did of events that had happened yesterday.

This beautiful lady made me realize that there are three kinds of older people: those who grow old gracefully, those who do not grow old gracefully and those, like her, who never really get old. She is no victim of chronological age.

I had to know more about the Baroness. We decided to get together for dinner that evening. This became the norm for the rest of the cruise. I soon began to look forward to time spent with her. And although I have never been a cruise ship kind of guy, I came to consider this particular cruise as the best one ever. Janet was delighted. She was as fascinated with the Baroness as I was. After hearing about some of her adventures and doing a fact check, I decided to help the Baroness write this book.

And just for the record, Janet, the Baroness and I reunited on the Regatta in January, 2010 to work on the final draft. The Regatta is now my favorite cruise ship, and once again, we had a wonderful time. The Baroness was just as beautiful, just as charming and just as sharp as she was when we met on that elegant ship five years earlier.

Here is the bottom line: Gerrie has traveled the world and hobnobbed with royalty and celebrities alike, but she did not quite achieve superstar status. Could she have become a superstar? Probably, but her motherly instincts prevailed and she gave up show-biz for motherhood. She got to enter into the limelight and bask in its radiant glory for a few years, and she has no regrets about that. Through her clever bravery and good timing, she got to live her dreams.

But she’s still just Gerrie; a down to earth American woman who went from student to starlet to royalty to widow to housewife and finally, to single mom. Gerrie is us.

Ron B

BACKGROUND

In 1929, a bright spot appeared on the horizon of popular American culture: the adorable 7 year-old Geraldine Catalano. By the second grade, Gerrie had become a musical prodigy.

Focusing on her singing abilities, she entertained at special events in her hometown of Reading, Pennsylvania. Throughout her school years she routinely got the lead in plays and developed her talents in the performing arts. She was soon singing on live radio.

By the time she was 14, she had received a scholarship to the Children’s Theater. She studied ballet, set design and piano and trained as a coloratura soprano through high school.

The great city of Reading was not large enough for the ambitious Geraldine, so after high school, she found herself in New York City studying opera and modeling. At the behest of an agent, she Anglicized her name to Gerrie Carter. She was, at various times and places, known as Gerrie Carter, Gerrie Catalano, Geraldine Catalano and Geraldina.

She launched her professional career in New York and performed in and around Manhattan. She eventually sailed to Europe and became part of the in-crowd at the Hotel Excelsior in Rome. Her social and professional life included the likes of King Farouk, Glenn Ford, Errol Flynn, Audrey Hepburn, Sophia Lauren, Frank Sinatra, Carol Channing and other celebrities and royalty of that era.

This story is part fairy tale and part True Confessions. It takes place mainly during the 1940s and 1950s; just after World War II, but before Sputnik, the Beatles and the women’s liberation movement.

The late 1940s and early 1950s were magical times in America. We were in the throes of elation over our victory in World War II and our economy was booming. Europe was busy rebuilding, and we were helping.

During this era, Gerrie’s fairytale had begun to come true. But let us start at the beginning, and let Gerrie tell the story in her own words.

Gerrie: My grandfather, Antonio Salino (whose name was changed from Salerno during immigration processing at Ellis Island) died in 1906. His death left his wife Sebastiana with three young children to fend for: Rose, Frank and Peter.

Fortunately, Sebastiana was a very smart businesswoman who owned several real estate properties. She was also a midwife and was called upon to deliver the babies of immigrant Italian women who were skeptical of American doctors.

Once Sebastiana’s sons Frank and Peter grew up, they left home, started their own businesses, moved to the suburbs and raised families. Her daughter Rose stayed at home in the beautiful Salino house at 241 S. 8th St.

My father Joseph Catalano was born in the province of Messina, Sicily. He came to the United States as a young man in 1912. My mother, Rose Salino, who was his first cousin, was born in Reading, Pennsylvania. Like Joseph, she was of Sicilian blood.

When Joseph came to the US, he stayed with his aunt, Sebastiana Salino, who was my mother’s mother. She was greatly loved and highly respected in the community among the Italians and Sicilians because of her good deeds. Many an immigrant was helped by her giving them food and shelter when they arrived in the United States. She was called Donna Sebastiana (the title Donna designates an Italian woman of rank.)

Her daughter Rose and her nephew Joseph fell in love and after a tumultuous courtship, they went to Washington, D.C., where they were married by a Catholic priest on August 18, 1917. The reason they went to Washington was because first cousins were not permitted to marry in Pennsylvania.

Sebastiana convinced Rose and Joseph, once they were married, to remain and live in her beautiful house. This was a good decision because shortly after their marriage, duty called and Joseph enlisted in the U.S. Army. After completing basic training, he was shipped off to France.

Because he had served in the Army, he became an American citizen automatically per the law at that time. While in Paris, he was able to take oil painting lessons in his spare time. Oil painting came naturally to him. He was already an artist and sculptor, having been schooled in these art forms when he was a young boy in Sicily. His ancestors were stone carvers, sculptors, and architects of churches and cathedrals. In 1919, after the war, Joseph returned home to Rose, and I was born three years later in Reading, on July 26, 1922.

Like my father, my mother was artistic, but in another way. She was a dressmaker and had the best clientele in the city. Most of the society women came to her to have their clothes made or altered. She also designed and made clothes for many large bridal parties, and sometimes also served as an event planner for the parties and weddings.

We were a cultured family of the upper middle class. We lived in a very nice house in the city away from the working class Italian immigrants. My father was well educated; in addition to English, he spoke Italian, as well as the dialect spoken in Tuscany at that time. He also spoke Sicilian, which is considered by many scholars to be a separate language and not a bastardized dialect. Dante acknowledged that the Sicilians were first in literature at the court of Frederick II in Palermo during the 13th century.

My mother spoke English, as she was born in the United States. She also spoke Sicilian, so we were a trilingual family. Up until I was enrolled into first grade at Tyson-Schoener Elementary School on S. 5th St., I was speaking a mixture of these tongues and I remember mother coaching me on how to pronounce my name properly and to speak English without an accent.

Our home was filled with works of art. Beautiful oil paintings in large gilded frames hung on the walls of our huge living room. Marble and alabaster statues that my father had carved were all around. There were also artifacts made by my father’s cousin, Alfred Di Mariano, who had an art studio in Los Angeles. In 1916, he was commissioned by D.W. Griffith to make props and art works for the film Intolerance. I still have some of these lovely pieces in my home in Florida.

I loved living in my grandmother’s house. I called her Nanna. Nanna was always strict and occasionally severe, but she gave me the love and affection that I so greatly needed. My mother loved me and gave me all the material things, but she was never very affectionate. She was always much too busy with her work to dote over me. My father was also busy. He would be away from home for long stretches at a time creating commissioned projects for museums and cemeteries.

Daddy worked on a lot of projects that utilized his sculptor’s talents but he particularly loved to paint pictures–mostly in oils. He would often practice his artistry at the old Reading Museum which was open on weekdays and Saturdays, but closed on Sundays. He would go to the museum early every Saturday morning with his box of oils, set up his easel in front of an old master and paint all day. Many visitors to the museum would stop by his side to watch him work.

This did not go unnoticed by the very enterprising head of the museum, Dr. Levi Mengel, who would often stop by to chat with Daddy and to admire his talent. Dr. Mengel also observed how many visitors were interested in watching him paint.

At one point, Daddy suggested that it might be a good idea to keep the museum open on Sundays. And shortly thereafter, Dr. Mengel agreed to have the Reading Museum open all week long.

Daddy also liked to paint portraits of me. So I learned to pose and sit still for hours at a time. This became very useful to me in later years during the 1940s, when I posed for Rolf Armstrong, the famous Brown & Bigelow calendar artist, in New York.

1. FIRST THINGS FIRST: HOW IT ALL STARTED (1929-1942)

In late September 1929, a month before the American stock market crash on the infamous Black Tuesday and one year before the Nazi party would come to prominence in Germany, all was well in Reading, Pennsylvania. The days had begun to get shorter, the crops were ripening in the fields and there was a special invigorating aroma in the sweet-smelling air. The gentle breeze coming off the fields was cool. The leaves on the deciduous trees were turning color in preparation for going into hibernation; autumn had arrived.

With autumn comes change, and it was exciting to be back in school for the children at the Tyson-Schoener Elementary School. It was a very modern school, having been built a year earlier in 1928. The children wore their new school clothes with innocent pride. It was easy to tell the children of one child families from the children of larger families. The younger kids of large families wore hand-me-down clothing from their elder brothers or sisters. The eldest wore new clothes. Nonetheless, all the children were sparkling clean, and their clothes were well-pressed.

In Miss Weber’s second grade classroom, during the third week of the new school year, the children were still giddy with the delight of getting new reading primers and were eagerly reading their Dick and Jane Friends and Neighbors books aloud in class.

The prudish teacher stood at the head of the classroom and instructed the children in reading, using both the phonics method and the look-say method. Each child got a turn. One precocious little girl, Geraldine Catalano, tended to read her books ahead of time. She even had a library card. Little Gerrie whizzed through her school books, and she loved to read aloud in class.

She took special pride in pronouncing the words just so. When Gerrie read, everyone listened. Her little voice was like a musical instrument. She happily and deftly read aloud putting the correct emphasis on the syllables while following the punctuation marks with surprising accuracy. Her inflection was always right, and she would put in pauses at just the right places as her angelic little face expressed the corresponding emotion.

The printed word took on a deeper meaning when Gerrie read aloud. She could take the mundane and make it sound exciting. It was no surprise when she was selected for special instruction by the school’s music teacher. Soon Gerrie was given the lead in school plays and operettas. Her talents were regularly displayed at club luncheons in and around Reading.

Gerrie: When I was seven years old, in elementary school in Reading, the teachers felt that I had a gift for singing and acting. I was soon taken under the wing of a music teacher, Miss Mary Gifford, at the Tyson-Schoener Elementary School.

She coached me to sing and act in the school plays, and before long, I was chosen by the school principal, Dr. Stanley Fink, to be one of a select group of students who would be taken around to club luncheons such as the Rotary Club, the Lions Club and the Kiwanis Club to showcase our talents.

Dr. Fink was very proud of us. He would have me sing several songs. One student would recite and another would dance. We felt like special kids, and this continued all through my school years. I seemed to always get the lead in school plays. I was coached by various voice teachers, mainly Miss Arlene Weidner, while I attended Southern Junior High School.

At age 14, I received a scholarship to Children’s Theater where I studied drama, ballet and set design. I also had piano lessons by Gertrude Sternbergh, a concert pianist and a wealthy patroness of the arts. I was granted a scholarship to the Wyomissing Institute of Fine Arts in Pennsylvania. There, I was trained to be a coloratura soprano, and everyone thought I would go on to become another Lily Pons, who was the great Metropolitan Opera coloratura of that time. But I had other dreams.

Through high school, Gerrie excelled at the performing arts, but she secretly wished to be a fashion designer. At the end of her senior year, Gerrie became involved with Bernard Keeney, a handsome cadet from the Valley Forge Military Academy. He bore a strong resemblance to the young Tyrone Power. Gerrie was a good girl who was raised in a strict Roman Catholic family.

Gerrie: Bernard came from a large well-to-do Irish Catholic family, and his father owned several movie theaters in Reading. He was a cadet at Valley Forge Military Academy and looked so handsome in his dress uniform. In the spring of 1940, his mother called my mother to ask her if she would allow me to go to Bernard’s senior prom. Mrs. Keeney assured my mother that she would take me down to Valley Forge and act as our chaperone.

I had been brought up in a very strict manner with lots of Italian traditions, so I was surprised to learn that my mother agreed to let me go. Bernard and I started dating after that, but there was never any hanky-panky. He drove around in his light blue Packard convertible; a graduation present from his parents. I loved riding around in it sitting by his side. We would go out to a movie or hang out with friends, and then later we would park and neck, but I would never let him touch me below my neck. Though he tried. Maybe that’s why they called it necking; who knows? Nor would I touch him. I was just too afraid. That’s the way I was brought up.

Anyway, I suppose Bernard eventually became frustrated and started seeing another girl. Her name was Olga; she was a farm girl from a small town outside of Reading. He soon stopped calling me. He probably had found relief for his pent-up frustrations. Then I found out that he had enlisted in the Royal Canadian Air Force.

After graduating from high school with honors in June 1940, Gerrie entered the job market and became the manager of a book rental library, Walden Book Company, at Pomeroy’s Department Store. In those days people could rent books much like they rent DVDs today at Blockbuster.

She was the youngest department head in the store and soon increased the volume of rentals so much that they had to enlarge the rental space and give her an assistant to help with the increased volume of customers. As the department head, Gerrie was earning $18 per week. To put that into perspective, the sales girls earned an average of $12 per week. Gerrie also continued to study and excel in the performing arts.

The year following Gerrie’s graduation, the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor and the Nazis continued their war in Europe. Hitler was a busy man. President Franklin D. Roosevelt called for war. Congress declared war on Japan on December 8, 1941 and on Germany three days later. Our country was thereby thrust into the midst of World War II on two major fronts: Europe and the Pacific.

Gerrie: Once I was settled into my job at Pomeroy’s, I felt obliged to do my part in the war effort, so I joined the Reading Tween Club and became involved with the USO. We began by redecorating the USO facility at Reed and Washington Streets. In this festive atmosphere, we entertained the US servicemen who were stationed in the area.

We roller-skated and played board games and table tennis with the appreciative servicemen. We also served as junior dance hostesses and served refreshments. Many of these brave servicemen seemed so young that I wondered if they were old enough to drive a car. And here they were, all of them preparing to fight for and to put their lives on the line for America. It was heart-wrenching. All of the Tween Club social events were supervised and chaperoned by the Ladies Auxiliary Association of Reading.

One Saturday afternoon, in early 1942, while selecting some books for a customer, I looked up, and there was Bernard in his RCAF uniform smiling from ear to ear. I hadn’t seen him for about six months since he had started dating Olga. He asked if I could take a break, as he had something to ask me. I couldn’t leave until my assistant came back. So between waiting on customers, he managed to tell me that he still loved me and wanted to marry me.

But, and there is always a but, he wanted me to elope with him that night as he had to be on duty in Canada in a few days. I told him that although I still loved him, I couldn’t elope with him as it would break our parents’ hearts. He told me I should think about it, that he would come back to the store later that evening.

When my assistant returned from her break, I took mine and went to the restaurant in the store. I told her if anyone came in asking for me, to tell them where I would be. But I suppose she wasn’t paying attention, or else didn’t hear me, for when I returned from my break, she said a handsome young man in uniform had been in, but had left.

“Did he ask for me?” I asked.

“No,” she replied. “He was here for only a short time, looked around, and then left.”

I waited for him to return, but he never did. The store closed, and I went home where I waited for him to call. Every time the phone would ring that evening, I prayed that he was calling me, but he never did. The next day, I called his home and was told that he had left for Canada the night before. I was beside myself with anguish. He was gone. A few days later, his brother came into the store and told me that Bernard had married Olga. They had eloped!

I was devastated. I no longer had any interest in my job, my voice lessons, nor my piano lessons. I started smoking, much to the dismay of my mother. I had no interest in anything. Then one day a woman came into the department store and told me she was a dress designer who lived in New York. I told her of my desire to become a dress designer, but didn’t know how to get into that field.

My parents were not in a position to finance tuition to the Pratt Institute of Design in New York, since our country was still recovering from the Great Depression. The woman told me that many designers started out by working in the sample rooms of wholesale dress manufacturers and got their initial experience that way. So I started planning on how I could get away from Reading and start a new career.

I had always been interested in fashion. My mother was a fine dressmaker and had always dressed me in the most stylish children’s clothes. As I grew up, I started designing my own clothes and making my own patterns. My mother would then make the clothes. I was a fashion plate, as they say, and was ahead of my time when it came to fashion.

Other girls would try to follow my trend, as I seemed to have had the flair that many others didn’t. Reading was a provincial industrial city and didn’t have much glamour, especially for me. I needed something more challenging so I could expand and express my artistic abilities. Motivated in part by the awful breakup with Bernard, I set my sights on how to leave home and go to New York. Believe me, it wasn’t easy!

2. THE BIG APPLE BECKONS TEMPTINGLY (1942-1943)

That fall, in 1942, Gerrie met a Charles of the Ritz Company makeup representative in Pomeroy’s, and he was immediately fascinated with her. Upon learning that she wanted to move to New York, he arranged for her to go to Manhattan and meet with the head of personnel at Charles of the Ritz headquarters.

A couple of weeks later, the meeting was set. Gerrie took the day off from the lending library and boarded the Reading Railroad train to Philadelphia. From there, she took the Pennsylvania Railroad to the grandiose Penn Station in New York. Gerrie, wanting to avoid maternal wrath, had her assistant phone her mother and tell her that she would be back late since she had gone to New York for the day.

The Charles of the Ritz representative, who was a complete gentleman, met her there and escorted her to the interview. She got the job and was asked to report back for initial training in blending face powder. She returned that evening to Reading to tell her mother the good news. Her mother was not happy. To her surprise, Gerrie’s father was very supportive.

Gerrie gave notice to the book rental company, shelved her singing and piano training programs, packed her things and moved to the Big Apple.

Once she arrived in New York, Gerrie bravely faced the uncertainties of the big city head-on. First, she secured an address of excellence at 1028 Park Ave. It was a townhouse that had been converted into furnished apartments and individual rooms. She initially took a tiny room on the top floor for $20 per month.

Gerrie: My friend Louise was dating Chico Marx when he came to New York. I didn’t know him well at all; this was because Louise was very possessive of him and didn’t want me or any other young lady around when he came to visit. But when her sister Charlotte came from Reading to visit her in New York, Louise gave a dinner party, and I was invited. That’s when Chico taught us how to play Gin Rummy. It was all the craze in 1943.

Chico was very pleasant and gentlemanly to us, but I suppose he was on good behavior because Louise’s sister was there. He flirted with me a little, but I did not encourage him because of Louise’s jealousy. Chico drank scotch. It was the smart drink of the day, and I was slowly acquiring a taste for it. It was not like the sweet Pink Ladies I used to drink after high school. I was now a New Yorker!

One night in March 1943, while Charlotte was still in town, we all went to the Riobamba night club on E. 57th St. to hear Frank Sinatra. The place was jammed, and we couldn’t get a table. So we had to stand at the bar, which was six feet deep, even though we were in Chico Marx’s party.

Frank had finished his run at the Paramount a few weeks earlier; then gotten the engagement at this swanky nightclub. He was worried that he wouldn’t be well received, because it catered to an older and wealthier clientele. He need not have worried. He really packed them in.

Sammy Cahn, the famous songwriter, who saw Sinatra there, thought it was, “one of the most cosmopolitan, varied audiences you can imagine—the kept girls, the rich, the famous, the infamous, sports figures, hoodlums—you name it” (from Sinatra: The Life by Anthony Summer.)

I was not into pop singers. I had never been one of those silly bobby-soxers who drooled after them. Of course, when I heard Sinatra sing in that breathless voice and whisper the lyrics to “Embraceable You,” I instantly became a fan. But at that time, he didn’t send me like he did the other girls.

I was more fascinated with the evening’s headliner, Sheila Barrett. Sheila was the greatest monologist, impressionist and singer-comedienne that I have ever seen. Her impressions of famous people and characters were unequaled. The talented Rich Little is minor-league compared to her. So when I saw Sheila Barrett’s performance that night at the Riobamba, I decided that someday, I wanted to be just like her.

Gerrie worked in the cosmetic industry by day at the Wanamaker Department Store. She also went to the Conover Modeling Agency in an attempt to get extra work as a model. At that time, Conover specialized in facial or cover girl modeling.

After the agency had Gerrie do a professional photo session at her own expense, she was ultimately told that she did not have the correct bone structure for facial modeling. Naturally, the agency withheld this sage advice until after she had paid for the useless photo shoot. There are still agencies that pull this kind of dirty trick today.

There are three basic kinds of modeling: facial modeling, fashion modeling and illustrators’ modeling. Since Gerrie had a fabulous figure, they suggested that she enroll in the Barbizon School of Modeling. They specialized in fashion modeling. She paid for the two months of modeling school tuition herself. Although Conover did not get her any jobs nor give her any useful advice, Barbizon turned out to be quite different.

The Barbizon training and practical advice paid off right away, and my first assignment was in modeling junior miss dresses for a wholesale house. I did this for several months hoping to get experience in dress design by being close to the sample room. But I cut it short because the owners required the models to socialize in the evenings with the buyers. This arrangement led to uncomfortable situations for some of the models, and I wanted nothing to do with casting couch-type practices.

I decided to give fashion modeling one more try. For the next few months, I modeled millinery for Walter K. Marks in their wholesale house. By then, I was an insider in the industry and a career in modeling ceased to interest me. I wanted a serious career change.

Once Louise left for Los Angeles with Chico, I moved in with her roommate, Gladys Shields. This gave me some comfort and kept me from being overwhelmed by the big city. Like Louise, Gladys was a nurse. She worked at Park East Hospital on the Upper East Side. I was moving up in the world. We each paid $30 per month for this arrangement.

Through Gladys, I met my first New York beau. He was a resident doctor at that hospital, and we soon started dating. His name was Dr. Peter Scoles, an anesthesiologist in his mid-30s. We had lots of fun and would hang out together in his quarters at the hospital.

We fell in love, and he told me he wanted to marry me. We were both of Italian descent. I took him home to Reading to meet my parents, and they thought he was a fine man and would make a good husband for me. They wanted me to settle down and become a good housewife. My mother took me aside and said,“Enough of all your highfalutin’ dreams. It’s time for you to grow up and settle down.”

With my mother’s advice still ringing in my ears, I had a serious talk with Peter. He told me he had been married and had two children who were living with his parents and two sisters in Long Branch, New Jersey. We would go there on weekends to spend time with his family. He told me he had divorced his wife and that she was an unfit mother. He claimed to have gotten full custody of the kids. This was fine with me. He proposed to me and I accepted. Soon we began planning our marriage.

It was during this time that I surrendered my virginity to him. I was frightened at first because I was so inexperienced and naïve about sex. But he assured me not to worry about anything and that we would soon get married. But I sensed something was not quite right and no, I wasn’t pregnant. But he was not the same Peter that I had known earlier. Was it because I was perhaps frigid? No. He assured me I would soon get over my shyness. Had he lost respect for me because I had given in to him? Of course not, he said he loved me dearly. What could it be? I soon found out!

He finally told me that he was still married. He had never gotten a divorce. It seems he could not get the divorce in Texas where he and his wife had lived; so one day he ran off with the two children and brought them to live with his parents after telling them that he had divorced his wife. He had even lied to them! And now the wife was coming to New Jersey to take back the kids. Wow! Well, I suppose I was too immature to handle this, so I broke off our engagement and went on with my life.

How I could have been deceived by Peter? I was just too naïve. I thought he was sincere, so I took him at face value. I had met his parents, his sisters, and his two little children. We all got on beautifully. He told me he loved me and wanted to marry me. And after all, he was a doctor.

He was trying to get work at another hospital in New Jersey where he expected to buy a house for us to live in with his children after we were married. It was a lovely dream and I believed in him. But he was a liar! I really don’t know how he would have gotten away with it. I was so trusting and unsophisticated. After we broke up, I didn’t want to have anything more to do with him; so I lost contact with the family. I have no idea what happened to him. That’s the way I am. When someone does me wrong, I am finished with that person forever!

Looking back, I suppose I wasn’t really ready for marriage because I wasn’t as devastated as I had been after the Bernard debacle. I was angry, due to his deceit, but I was ambitious, too. I think I was more interested in a career than in becoming a housewife and I had toughened up a little. So I continued with voice lessons and looked for another job. I soon found one with an interior designer.

3. NIBBLING CAREFULLY ON THE BIG APPLE (1944-1947)

Gerrie continued to acclimate to the New York City scene. The natives found her naïve enthusiasm refreshing. She saw opportunity wherever she looked and never failed to try new things. Gerrie had an endearing habit of looking on the bright side and she seemed to bring out the best in others. With her stunning good looks, it was inevitable that she would get a stint as a pinup girl. In the meantime she worked at Clara Brock Lownes’ exclusive Madison Avenue interior designer shop.

In 1944, just as the Germans launched their first V-1 rocket attacks against England, Gerrie launched an attack against boredom and mediocrity. Her weapons were her pretty face and her shapely figure.

Gerrie: I met Rolf Armstrong in a most unusual way. One day, I had gone to lunch with a girl who worked at an advertising agency. An executive from her agency joined our table. He told me I looked like an “Armstrong Girl.” I didn’t know what he was talking about.

He then explained that Armstrong was a leading calendar artist. He suggested I call him as he was sure that Armstrong could use me. We had had a couple drinks, potent martinis, with very little lunch. I was a little tipsy when I returned to the shop. Lownes had gone to Cuba on business, and I was bored as there was nothing much to do while she was away. I opened the phone book to find Rolf Armstrong’s phone number. There it was!

So with great bravado, after a two-martini lunch, I took a deep breath and made the call. A man’s voice answered.

“Hello.”

“Hello, Mr. Armstrong?”

“Yes?” he said.

“Mr. Armstrong, my name is Gerrie Carter; I’m a model with long, dark brown curly hair, big brown eyes, a great smile, and lots and lots of personality. When do you want to see me?” I reeled it all off in one breath.

“My, my,” he said. “Can you come right over?”

“No, sir, I’m working, but I finish at five o’clock.”

“Fine,” he replied. “I’ll see you then.”

He gave me directions to his studio which was at the Hotel des Artistes on W. 67th St. off Central Park West. It was a short cab ride from my place. When I arrived, he opened the door and there, standing before me, was a tall and attractive man. He was about 55 years old, built like a boxer and wore a skipper’s cap. I later learned that he had taught boxing in his youth and that he was an avid sailor of racing boats.

The studio was exactly what one would expect an artist’s studio to be. It was just like a movie set. There were easels with paintings of beautiful girls, high ceilings and tall windows with heavy drapes. Framed paintings of beautiful girls hung on the walls and a few frameless paintings leaned up against the walls.

An oval artist’s palette about four feet wide filled with hundreds of pastels in every possible hue rested on a work table by an easel. A large pouf (hassock) about 45 inches in diameter, covered in fuzzy white fur, was situated on a dais in front of the easel.

I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. I was in another world. He was very gracious and put me at ease. He asked me to sit on the pouf and to strike a pose. I did this easily as I had had lots of experience posing for my father as a child. He asked me to strike another pose, then another, and another. Finally, he said, “Hold it!”

I held it for a long time as he tacked a sheet of drawing paper to his easel and started to sketch feverishly. I kept holding the pose until he told me to rest. Then he said he wanted to use me for his next calendar.

He said that I had all the attributes of the“Armstrong Girl.” He told me that I had perfect proportions and he would not have to use other models; for example, one for the head and another for the body. He also said that I could strike more poses than any model he had ever worked with. I was very flattered.

Thus my career as a model for several calendars was launched. The calendars were seen in garages, beauty salons, barber shops, homes, stores and offices all over the U.S. These were calendars produced by Brown & Bigelow of St. Paul, Minnesota. One would look at the same image all year long. The calendar pad was at the bottom and at the end of the month, the old sheet would be torn off revealing a new sheet for the current month.

Armstrong worked in pastels and he always used live models; never photographs like other artists of the day. It usually took about a month or two to complete a calendar. He always worked a few years ahead of release, so I posed for the first calendar, a 1947 edition called American Beauty, in 1944 and 1945. For that calendar, I wore a red evening gown while holding a bouquet of long-stemmed American Beauty roses. For all of the calendar work, I wore either an evening gown or a bathing suit. I never posed nude.

One day, while Lownes was in Cuba conferring with some of her clients (such as President Batista and General Benitez), I was showing a customer an antique inkwell, hoping to make a sale, when in walked John Shiman. Lownes’ niece, Maxine, had told him about me and I suppose he came in to look me over.

John was an elegant bachelor in his early 40s. I was 22 years old at that time. He was a debonair man-about-town and a world-traveler who spoke fluent French. He was also quite wealthy. He didn’t work; he played the stock market. When he entered the shop that day, I saw a tall, good looking gentleman, dressed in English tweeds and smoking a pipe. He had his dog, a boxer, on a leash by his side. He made quite an impression on me. I was dressed in a simple skirt and sweater, not at all glamorous, but next to him, I felt like a hick. He introduced himself, told me he was a friend of Maxine’s and asked me out to lunch.

So, I put a sign on the door, closed the shop and off we went to Le Veau d’Or; a lovely French restaurant. I shall never forget it. I had never been to a French restaurant before. It was exciting to me to hear French spoken all around me. The owners and waiters knew John, as he was a regular client, and they catered to his every whim. After lunch, we returned to the shop. He asked me if I would like to have dinner with him the following evening and I said, “Oh, yes!”

I suppose he was attracted to me because I had so much spirit. He said that he found me not only pretty, but un-sophisticated and naïve. This, he claimed, was refreshing in comparison to the worldly women he usually dated.

I loved learning about new things. He was a great teacher and I was an avid student. He taught me to dress well by taking me shopping at Bergdorf-Goodman and other smart dress shops and boutiques. He watched while the vendeuses would show me exquisite dresses, suits and coats.

Although I never expected anything, he seemed to enjoy buying fashionable clothes for me and got a kick out of my surprised delight. He also enjoyed surprising me with pieces of jewelry. He gave me earrings, a heavy gold choker necklace, a gold cigarette holder and many other baubles, bangles and trinkets from Olga Tritt, his favorite Park Avenue jeweler.

John wanted me to look and dress well when he took me out. He himself dressed elegantly in Brooks Brothers shirts, Savile Row suits and made-to-order shoes from England. He drove a new Cadillac convertible and lived in the East 50s of Manhattan in a beautiful apartment building that had a doorman.

I continued to work for Lownes and to model occasionally for Rolf Armstrong. John was so proud of my calendars that, when they came out in 1947 and 1948, he hung them in his elegant apartment. John and I dated steadily. When I wasn’t posing in the evenings, we would go out to dinner in continental restaurants in the city. On weekends, if the weather was nice, we would drive out to Long Island to a restaurant that specialized in Long Island duckling. Yum, yum. Some weekends, I would cook Italian specialties. He liked to cook, too, and would make French toast on Sunday mornings. We had a wonderful time playing house.

Several weeks after I met John, we became lovers. We never discussed it. It just happened one night after going out to dinner and returning to his apartment for a nightcap. Isn’t this the way it usually happens? He realized I was not too experienced in lovemaking, so he was very gentle and patient.

I was extremely naive about contraception, so he took me to see Margaret Sanger, a famous pioneer of the American birth control movement. She had a clinic in New York and she, herself, fitted me with a diaphragm and showed me how to use it. After that, I started to enjoy sex with John, as he was a great teacher and knew exactly what to do.

We were both aficionados of the theater. We saw all the Broadway shows; comedies, dramas and musical theater. That was the era of fabulous shows like Oklahoma, Carousel, Pajama Game, Annie Get Your Gun and so many more. It was Broadway’s golden age and will never be duplicated.

We also went dancing at the Plaza, the St. Regis and the Waldorf Astoria hotels where we would enjoy performers such as Julie Wilson, a sophisticated songstress, and Dorothy Shay, who was billed as the “Park Avenue Hillbilly.” I later used some of Shay’s material for my act.

We also enjoyed Edith Piaf (who sang at the Versailles nightclub), Maurice Chevalier, Victor Borge and Sheila Barrett, just to name a few. I enjoyed every minute of it. I felt like a little diamond in the rough from Pennsylvania who was being carefully cut and polished into a sparkling gem.

In 1940, Sheila Barrett performed for President Franklin D. Roosevelt and his wife Eleanor at a cabinet dinner. By 1945, Sheila was an international star and a Manhattan headliner. She was eventually Gerrie’s connection to nightclubs of upper excellence.

Gerrie was at the start of a serious singing career that would reach its peak in Europe. She began putting more effort into rehearsal time and in working out an act. Soon she was performing in small supper clubs by night but she had her sights on bigger things. However, before she could fully dedicate herself to a serious singing career, Gerrie had to play out her current scene with her new love, John.

Gerrie: John and I spent the summer of 1945 in Nantucket, Massachusetts. We rented a cottage and enjoyed going to the wonderful beaches, savoring the delicious New England clam chowder and going to the museums to learn about the whaling ships that used to sail from there many years earlier.

Some evenings, we would build a fire in the fireplace at the cottage and I would read the love poetry from Walter Benton’s book, This is My Beloved. John loved the way I emoted when I read; I was such a romantic. Then we would lie on the bearskin rug and make love by the fire.

The Japanese finally surrendered that year in August and signed the formal surrender agreement September 2. We celebrated V-J Day with champagne and fireworks. We stayed on until mid-September. I hated to leave that lovely island. It had been an idyllic summer and we were so very much in love.

When we returned to the city that fall, we each went to our respective apartments. Nothing had been said about moving in together. I lived in a small apartment at 170 E. 63rd St., in the same block as the Barbizon Hotel for Women and across the street from the townhouse owned by the famous striptease artist and mystery author, Gypsy Rose Lee. It was a very good address. I have always believed that it is better to live in a small apartment in a fine neighborhood that a large apartment in a bad one. It is very important because one has the opportunity to meet people who can be advantageous to you in some way.

The building was managed by a very nice Cuban couple, Manuel and Rosa Hernandez. It was a townhouse that had been converted into furnished rooms and small apartments. The rent was very reasonable. They rented mainly to young aspiring artists, writers and actors. One actor who lived there and who was struggling, at the time, was Alan Sues, who later starred in the 1960s TV series Laugh In.

John and I dated for about three years. At the end of 1945, after our Nantucket adventure, I was hoping he would give me an engagement ring for Christmas. But that didn’t happen. He did not believe in giving gifts just because it was a holiday; so I waited, hoping I would get a ring one day.

But that day never came. I should have known better. I knew he was a confirmed bachelor and did not want to settle down. Our life was fine, but something was missing. I didn’t want to be just his girlfriend. I wanted something more. I needed to have stability in my life. I needed security.

I began to put my energy into singing again. I found a voice teacher who helped me put together a supper club act. I would rehearse several times a week. That helped a little, but I continued to feel unfulfilled.

I was still working for Lownes (her shop had been closed for the summer) and modeling for Rolf Armstrong. In fact, when I returned from my summer vacation in Nantucket, I had such a lovely tan and was in such great shape that he started to draw me immediately. It became the famous Sure Enough bathing suit calendar for 1948. In 1946, Armstrong worked on another calendar of me called Rippling Rhythm of a dancing girl with a tambourine which also came out in 1948.

The calendar portraits can still be seen in the books The Great American Pin-Up by Charles G. Martignette and Pin-Up Dreams: The Glamour Art of Rolf Armstrong by Janet Dobson and Michael Wooldridge.

John and I were slowly drifting apart. The romance was waning. The passion was gone. Unfortunately, many relationships finally peter out once the initial flame begins to dim. Our dates became fewer. I was getting modeling jobs with top magazine illustrators, such as Arthur William Brown, Ben Stahl and John Gannon. They illustrated the stories that ran in magazines like Cosmopolitan, Good Housekeeping and Saturday Evening Post. The pay was excellent. I earned more by posing for a few days than I could earn by working for Lownes for a month.

After my 25th birthday in July 1947, John and I finally split up. He had started seeing someone else.

In 1947, a lot was happening in the world as everyone was recovering from the war. American wages averaged $2,800 per year; America was in a euphoric ascendency as her servicemen and servicewomen adjusted to their renewed lives back home. Change and optimism were everywhere.

Having ended her relationship with John, Gerrie Carter was actively seeking change. Although Sheila Barrett still had an active career, she was winding it down and Gerrie was right there, ready and able to follow in Barrett’s footsteps.

Gerrie: Sheila became a dear friend of mine. It was she who coached me and helped me get an act together. And she introduced me during her act as her protégé. She got me a stint at Spivy’s Roof. This was the start of my nightclub career. And a few months after that, I met someone new. His name was Leo T. Norville, a prominent corporate lawyer from Chicago.

Gerrie had no idea just how prominent Leo was. He was a 1932 graduate of the University of Michigan Law School and a big deal in his profession. He won cases in the Seventh Circuit Court of Appeals in Illinois in 1950 and 1960.

Gerrie: Leo was a self-made man, a Phi Beta Kappa, who wore his key proudly. I met him at a small cocktail party at the Gotham Hotel where he always stayed when he came to NYC on business. I went to the party with a casual acquaintance who knew Leo slightly.

When Leo saw me, our eyes locked. He couldn’t take his eyes off of me. A few of us went out to dinner later, and Leo was very attentive to me. He had a great sense of humor and could make me laugh; especially with the stories and jokes he told so well. He was a great raconteur.

Leo was in his late 40s. He was dignified, he dressed well and was extremely successful. He asked me whether I was dating the man I came with, and I told him that he was just an acquaintance. Leo wanted to see me again, so he asked me out to dinner the next evening. I accepted.

We went to El Morocco, the most fashionable nightclub in Manhattan, perhaps in all the U.S. at that time. It was the place to be seen, where socialites and celebrities rubbed elbows. He brought me back to my little apartment, kissed me on the cheek and left me at the door. He was very proper and a perfect gentleman.

I saw him again the next few nights for dinner and dancing at El Morocco. Again, he left me at the door with just a kiss on the cheek. I knew he enjoyed my company and I liked being with him. But it was not a romance, just a nice gentleman taking an attractive young lady out; nothing more. He knew I was a career girl who modeled occasionally. He told me about his family, his wife and two daughters, and all about his professional life.

I enjoyed going out to lovely places. Why not? I was young and was free to do so. I didn’t have a boyfriend at the time and I was despondent. I was depressed because I had wanted to sing a particular comedic song for the Society of Illustrators’ annual revue, and someone else had gotten the part.

One evening, after being out with friends, I came home and as I opened the door, I heard the phone ringing. I ran to pick it up. It was Leo. He said he had been trying to get me all evening. He asked whether I remembered him. Of course I had. I was very glad to hear his voice, I told him. We chatted a bit. Then he said he was in Washington on business for the Securities & Exchange Commission. He asked if I would like to join him there.

“That would be nice,” I said, “but where will I be staying?”

“Here at my apartment,” he replied.

“Oh, I couldn’t do that.”

“Oh, no,” he said, “you will have your own room, naturally. Besides, there will be others staying here, so we won’t be alone.”

I was intrigued.

“Oh, by the way,” he continued, “bring some warm weather clothing, as I am going to New Orleans from here and you might like to go along.”

I was able to get away as I was no longer working for Lownes. Her son, Brock, who had returned from serving in WWII, had replaced me at my request. He was keeping the books and supervising the furniture designs. And since my modeling was on a freelance basis, I was not tied down to a regular schedule. So I agreed to go to Washington and to New Orleans, providing I had a separate room.

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