CHAPTER ONE
All of Me Lori Jenkins had planned a way to meet Craig Russell for weeks. It was February 1978, and Craig was set to be a guest at a concert at the hip and happening El Mocambo club on Spadina Avenue in Toronto. Lori dropped everything to go. At last she could meet the man she adored. It was a great opportunity to show him the tapestry she had made of his likeness. Maybe she could give it to him. At the very least she could tell him how much she loved him. Lori was a high school student with a love for the drama club when she first heard about Craig Russell, an impressionist of Hollywood’s greatest female entertainers. Craig was making a name for himself in the world then, taking his one-of-a-kind act on the road with a packed touring schedule across North America, Europe, and the United Kingdom. He also had a starring role in the just released, critically acclaimed film Outrageous! He’d come a long way from his Mae West Fan Club and Toronto drag-show days. Lori was hooked before she even saw him perform. When a project came up in Lori’s art class, she chose Craig as her subject. She spent weeks carefully sewing a tapestry of Craig as Mae West, Barbra Streisand, and Carol Channing, using colourful thread, feathers, sequins, and rhinestones. She called it All About Craig, a play on the title of
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the film All About Eve. Lori was so proud of the final product that she had her brother take photos on slide film before she submitted the tapestry to be included in a student installation at the Art Gallery of Ontario. Lori loved the whole entertainment scene — art, drama, and music — but preferred live theatre. It didn’t matter to her whether it was gay or straight, and she did not discriminate in her choice of venues. She saw A Chorus Line at the Royal Alexandra Theatre, David Bowie at Maple Leaf Gardens, Shirley MacLaine at the O’Keefe Centre, and B.B. King at the Ontario Place Forum. Café des Copains was her favourite cabaret theatre and Club David’s was her favourite disco. When she wasn’t out at a venue somewhere downtown, Lori loved to watch popular talk shows hosted by Alan Hamel and Brian Linehan to see the biggest stars. She liked the interviews so much that she’d make notes about them in her journal. She wrote most of her entries backwards. It was an act of defiance to her mother, who always told her she was backwards. When Lori liked an entertainer, she would be consumed. Case in point: When she first saw entertainer Peter Allen on Linehan’s interview show, City Lights, she ran out to Sam the Record Man’s flagship store on Yonge Street to buy all of his albums. Lori listened to them — all of them — in time to see him at the Colonial Tavern jazz club, where she made a request for a song she already knew from memory. Peter’s flamboyant persona was right up Lori’s alley. She preferred versatile performers who could sing, act, and be funny, but who were also seductive and had vibrant sexualities that teased at gender norms and sexual identity. She loved Freddie Mercury and David Bowie. Lori was elusive when it came to her own sexuality. A part of her was shy; a part of her liked to keep people guessing. More than any other art form, Lori loved female impersonators, now better known as drag queens. Drag was thriving in Toronto in the 1960s and 1970s. The St. Charles Tavern, the Manatee, Club 511, and the August Club were popular gay clubs that featured drag on their stages. In clubs that accepted female patrons, Lori saw shows by Canadian drag queens Michelle DuBarry, Georgie Girl, Jackie Loren, Michelle Ross, Murray Cooper, Ronnie Holliday, Danny Love, and Rusty Ryan as they were building their careers. She did not see drag as a novelty or something only gay men did. 2
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She respected it as an art form and put drag performers on the same pedestal as other, more mainstream entertainers. The El Mocambo was drag friendly, too. It was a hot spot in Toronto in those days. The El Mo was popular among the younger generation who wanted rock ’n’ roll when other clubs played disco. Blondie, the Ramones, and Joan Jett played there. The Rolling Stones recorded part of their Love You Live album there in 1977 and made headlines when they partied there with Margaret Trudeau, wife of then Canadian prime minister Pierre Trudeau. Lori was no stranger to the El Mo either, and on February 15, 1978, Peter Allen was on the bill. With Craig rumoured to be a special guest, Lori arrived at the venue early, took a table near the stage, and kept her eyes peeled for him. She was so excited she was almost giddy. This was it. This was her chance. Craig was excited to go, too, but for different reasons. An appearance at the El Mo was a great opportunity for the self-professed “promosexual” to get another mention in newspapers ahead of his planned engagement at the Royal York Hotel later that month. He headed to the club ahead of showtime, entourage in tow, hoping to see reporters he knew. But the first person who spotted him was Lori. Not missing a beat, she zipped over to his table, squeezed by his bodyguard, and in one breath introduced herself and gave him a photo slide of her All About Craig tapestry. She told him she was his biggest fan, explained her artwork with pride, and said she wanted him to have it. Craig took the sudden demand for his attention in stride. He met fans often and was used to having them around at events and parties. He took some time with most, and he often invited them to hang around and go on to the next venue with him. He was no different with Lori, but since their time was short, he suggested they exchange phone numbers. Craig did not have any added interest in this particular fan. He was not attracted to her, and was not looking to take her to bed. Lori did not stand out in that way. She was soap-and-water beautiful. She was plainly dressed, a little masculine, and she didn’t look femme at all. She fit right in with the popular androgynous look of the time. Her beauty came out in her ador ation and enthusiasm; when she was excited, she beamed. 3
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A poster from Craig’s days touring the U.S. in the mid-1970s.
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To Lori, all that mattered was this moment. She was obsessed with Craig, just as Craig had been with his own idol, Mae West. Lori’s entire sense of self-worth at that time was tied to the fact that this movie star seemed to want to get to know her. Craig wants the tapestry, she thought. He wants to get to know me. She was so thrilled that she documented the exchange in her journal with little mention of Peter Allen’s concert at the El Mo that night. Meeting her star was the highlight of her day, her week, and her year. Her world had changed. Lori never did reach Craig by phone to arrange the handing over of her gift. Undeterred, Lori got in touch with his mother, Norma Hurst, and asked to come over for tea. Norma agreed, and a week later Lori excitedly handed over her tapestry and talked Norma’s ear off. Norma was touched by the gesture but found the whole exchange odd. She gave the tapestry to her sister Cathryn who, like Lori, documented everything she could about Craig’s career. Lori met Craig again five months later, in July 1978, when Outrageous! screened at the New Yorker Theatre (now the CAA Theatre) on Yonge Street. Craig was away performing in the United States when the film premiered at the 1977 Festival of Festivals in Toronto, so the red carpet was rolled out again for a flashy screening. True to form, Lori knew Craig would be there. She sat through three screenings of the film before he arrived for the fourth. The energy at the New Yorker couldn’t have been higher. Craig arrived with Canadian actress Barbara Hamilton on his arm and an entourage of people around him, including bandmates and a scattering of his family, friends, and fans. Photographer David Street trailed him, too, snapping away with his camera. This star knew how to arrive. Just as she had at the El Mo, Lori took notice of Craig’s arrival right away, squeezed to the front of the crowd, handed him a new photo of the tapestry, and asked for his autograph. As Craig signed for her, David called for his attention and the two of them looked up as he snapped yet another shot. David published a photo collection on Craig the next year. The photo with Lori is included, forever capturing the moment. Craig and Lori entered the theatre separately but by happenstance were seated close together. As a VIP, Craig was treated to chocolate, strawberries, 5
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Craig as Carol in 1978 on the publicity circuit to support Outrageous!
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and champagne, and taking notice of the close proximity of his self-professed No. 1 fan, he slipped the treats to her throughout the film. She was delighted, easy to please. He liked this enthusiasm. He also couldn’t help but notice she had memorized his lines from beginning to end. Smitten, Lori followed Craig after the screening to the flashy club Wonder Bar down the block where he and his entourage were celebrating. Lori and Craig picked up their conversation and talked about the tapestry, his performances, and Outrageous! Craig was in a casual, celebratory mood. The movie was rocketing him to superstar status. Lori was increasingly intense. She couldn’t help it. She told him flat out that she loved him. “Wait until we get away from all the bullshit and we get to know each other better,” he told her, apprehensive, but intrigued. Craig loved to be loved. Not only had he worked hard in his career and felt he’d earned that adoration, but also the fact that this stranger professed to love him temporarily filled a longing that he worked to hide. He didn’t often feel loved, even in the presence of family, friends, and crowds of people. It was part of a mental illness he didn’t have words to explain.
Lori kept on with her theatre-loving life through the next three years. She worked an administrative job by day and spent her evenings and weekends in cinemas, theatres, and clubs. She went to see everyone from Peter Donato to Cher to Diana Ross. She also kept up her adoration of Craig and his work. She would eventually see Outrageous! more than thirty times. She watched and recorded all his TV appearances and kept a book of newspaper clippings. She sent him fan letters. They were written backwards, just like her journal entries. They didn’t meet when Craig returned to Toronto in December 1978 to perform at Massey Hall, but Lori made sure to be there. She shouted, “Bravo! Bravo!” so loudly from her seat that he could hear her from the stage. Lori borrowed a 35 mm camera with telephoto lens for the show and took seventy-two shots of him performing. She was so excited to see the end result that she tried to develop the film herself even though she didn’t really know how. 7
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Craig was all over the world in those years. In addition to a packed touring schedule from Las Vegas to London to Sydney, he had countless TV appearances and charity performances with almost constant coverage in newspapers and magazines. One day he’d be performing in a television special; the next he’d be at a children’s hospital charity auction. He was everywhere. He had two more runs at the Imperial Room in Toronto’s Royal York Hotel, and in May 1981 he was set to star in a theatre production called Hogtown at the Bayview Playhouse Theatre. It was his first play. Craig was good in his role, but his relationships with the producer, director, musical director, and other cast members were rocky, making Lori a welcome reprieve when she reintroduced herself. It didn’t take long. She had tickets for all preview performances and every weekend performance once it opened. Now in need of a friend, Craig invited Lori for drinks at his aunt’s midtown apartment, where he was staying. He was grateful to have an ally and pulled out all the stops to impress her. He made them rum and Cokes, showed her a fan letter she had sent him, and pulled out the now infamous tapestry. He then played her German actress and singer Marlene Dietrich’s rendition of the song “I Wish You Love.” As Marlene sang the sweet lyrics, Lori started to cry. Her emotions were as fragile as they were intense. It wasn’t just the song that was getting to her. It was time with her star. I’ve never heard the song before in my life, and here I am beside my idol, listening to a love song, she thought to herself. I can’t believe my fortune in being invited over by Craig. Lori must have been quite the sight. When his aunt arrived and introductions were made, she asked if Lori was on drugs. Craig and Lori chatted about Hogtown and his planned summer engagements. He told her he needed a dresser to manage his wardrobe and assist him before and during his performances. It wasn’t exactly a job offer, but Lori jumped at the idea and offered her services. So what if she didn’t have any formal training in wardrobe? She wanted nothing more than to be around Craig all the time. Craig agreed they could give it a try, but cautioned her on one point. If their working relationship was going to succeed, she would have to be more assertive. Assertive? Really? It was an odd piece of feedback considering the 8
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lengths she had gone to in order to meet and get to know him, but Lori nonetheless took it to heart. The following Sunday Lori arrived at the Bayview Playhouse Theatre ahead of the afternoon performance even though she wasn’t expected until the evening show. She was ready to work and walked in with the attitude that she belonged there and had been part of it all along. When Craig inquired about her unexpected arrival, she held her ground. “I’m trying to be more assertive,” she said proudly and matter-of-factly. Craig was amused. He had his dresser. Through the rest of the play’s run, he taught Lori about all his characters and impressions, how to maintain and set his wigs, how to care for his gowns, and how to prepare his accessories. She worked before and after the show with all of his materials, and stayed side stage through each performance for quick costumes changes. Lori was a willing and compliant assistant. She lapped up as much responsibility as she could find. She took on all the shopping for supplies, including makeup, wig products, pantyhose, hairbrushes, bobby pins, earrings, razors, and spirits. She kept careful track of each item’s cost, before and after tax, in a book of expenditures with a photo of Craig taped on the inside cover. One container of ivory face powder cost $4.73. Two packs of fake eyelashes cost $5.55. A carton of cigarettes and two lighters cost $9.72. Lori’s responsibilities also extended to getting Craig out of bed. One morning she arrived at his apartment and found him passed out in his bedroom, nude with his penis exposed and erect. She was embarrassed and flustered at the scene, but she had a job to do. Lori got him dressed, nudged him into their waiting limousine, and went to work on his nails as he continued sleeping on the drive to an appearance on the television show Backstage. Craig took notice of her efforts and seriousness in building a career in the theatre. He thought she was someone he could mentor. It made him feel strong. Now that she had her work as a dresser down, he told Lori it was time she adopted a stage name to be more professional. Lori Jenkins was far too plain for the theatre world. Together, they settled on the name “Lori Westman.” Westman was Lori’s mother’s maiden name. It also reminded Craig of his beloved Mae. The name and their pairing seemed to fit perfectly.
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* * * In late July 1981, Craig and Lori were off to Provincetown, Massachusetts, for a seasonal engagement in the Madeira Room at the Pilgrim House hotel. Provincetown has a thriving arts scene with multiple theatres, perform ance groups, and long-standing events. Entertainers from all over the world descend every summer, taking up residence and engagements that pack houses into the fall. The shows are so popular that some theatregoers move in right alongside the actors, singers, and playwrights to watch all the theatre and live entertainment they can get. Craig called it P-P town. He had spent several summers there over the years, but now with Lori he had a permanent backstage crew member to support him. He couldn’t have found anyone more dedicated. Lori reported to Craig’s cottage every day at noon and took care of any messages he needed handled. That included mailing replies to fan letters, and shopping in markets and shops for flowers and new jewellery. She’d then go over his costumes, make alterations and repairs as needed, and give them a fresh steam cleaning. They’d take a break for dinner and then head to the theatre for two shows nightly, with Craig performing onstage and Lori just behind the curtain for costume changes. Lori wanted everything to be perfect and left no detail untouched. She dressed in a tuxedo to look professional, and she made sure Craig’s gowns sparkled, his wigs were perfectly set, and his costume changes were quick and efficient. She added small details for his characters — a feather boa here, a pair of sunglasses there — and hauled her mother’s trunk onto the sparse stage as a prop. During the live show, she snuck away from her side-stage post to blend in with the crowd and liven things up during the Q & A segment of the show. “Do you believe in love at first sight?” Lori asked Craig from the audience during the show one night. He was dressed as Mae. “Yeah, it saves a lot of time!” Mae replied to audience laughter. Away from the theatre, Lori picked up Craig’s housekeeping work. The two lived separately, but she took it upon herself to keep his cottage tidy and see that his linens and towels were fresh and clean. She wanted movie star treatment for her star. Craig knew what she was up to and thanked her in advance before he returned home one night with two men to find a 10
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An early poster of Craig’s performing days.
freshly made bed for them to share. As much as she wanted to share a bed with him instead, Lori was more pleased to have found his approval. With their close existence in Provincetown, Lori grew accustomed to Craig’s habits, preferences, and idiosyncrasies. She knew he preferred to eat alone, so she left him for most meals. She cleaned up his hair when 11
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he would shave his head to make wearing wigs easier. She kept Disaronno Originale liqueur on hand in his dressing room, knowing he liked to sip it with a cigarette between shows. One night she spilled some of the liqueur on a line of cocaine he asked her to leave for him on a compact. They licked it later, at his urging. Their tongues were numb and their eyes twinkled at the rush of the drug. Craig was a frequent drug user. He believed drugs like cocaine improved his performances and made him livelier. What he hadn’t yet told Lori was that he had been diagnosed with manic depression but had shunned prescription drugs to treat it because the downers prescribed by his doctor made it impossible to perform. This was his livelihood. He needed to focus and perform well to make his living. “With drugs, you become totally insensitive to everything but your mission,” he told her years later. “You put blinkers on, without regard to your personal life.” A lack of regard would be the right way to describe some of Craig’s behaviour. Anywhere he stayed or lived was often messy and would be nearly destroyed by the end of his stay, with furniture broken, walls damaged, and linens ruined. Lori wrote that Craig wiped soot from the fireplace all over the kitchen walls, cupboards, dishes, and glasses in his cottage that summer. He threw out a bunch of her music cassettes, and one night he melted one on the stove burner. “Evil, capital E–Evil!” Craig said with a laugh, imitating actress Bette Davis as he melted a tape that included actress Joan Crawford, Davis’s real-life rival. Lori didn’t complain, even in her journals. When he was moody, she would remove herself from the situation. When he was angry with her, she would be hurt but take the jab at her feelings. She asked no questions and she made no demands. Lori was a child of abuse and had lived through years of physical trauma. She was almost immune to pain. But Craig’s erratic behaviour was an increasing problem that even he recognized. He didn’t feel he could control himself. He didn’t know how to keep his moods in check and their volatility confused and embarrassed him at times. He once asked Lori why she put up with it and why she didn’t stand up for herself when he was behaving poorly. He admitted he was terrified. 12
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“I’m sorry for being abrupt,” he gingerly told her one night after he snapped at her for attempting to clean. He elaborated that he took his anger out on her simply because she always seemed to be there. “You’ve got me,” he assured her, with two kisses on the forehead. “You’ve got me, too!” she eagerly countered, situation forgotten. Another night, as an apology, he wrote her a poem about how having her there helped him realize how beautiful his world was. Tuesdays were nights off. Craig would take Lori around to other venues he liked and introduce her to fans he’d met over his previous stays and artists like female impressionist Charles Pierce, singer Maxene Andrews from the Andrews Sisters harmony trio, and comedienne Beverly Cardella, who went by the stage name Pudgy. One night Craig did Lori’s makeup and told her she had the same hair colour as Mae West. She took the comparison as a big compliment. They celebrated Mae’s birthday that August, even though she had died the year before. It was a charmed time for Lori. The previous three months had been a whirlwind. She went from having a somewhat solitary existence to being the close, trusted assistant to a global star whom she adored and loved. Her love grew more and more each day as she took his small acts of kindness, tenderness, and support as grand gestures. A Post-it Note hello was a love letter. A gift of Joy perfume was a forever memory. The intensity of Lori’s feelings for Craig had not ebbed. He saw that. But the feeling was not mutual and he found her adoration increasingly overwhelming. He cared for Lori, was willing to mentor her, and wanted to support her, but the line was drawn. They were friends, not lovers. Boundaries were needed. He had to put a pin in it, but he didn’t know exactly how. He tried to tell her in his own way. When he couldn’t find the words, he tried a humorous act or gesture to get his message across. One day he left Lori a note, asking for space. “Too close for comfort, don’t fence me in,” he wrote. “In the past seven months, Lori, I have had to face a whole bunch of realities … Timing is everything. Use your keen sense and instinct and you’ll know what to do. I need a road manager, not a shadow. Brighten up. You’re my Number One!” She replied with a note telling him, “You’re my star, always shining bright.” 13
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Another night when Lori again made her loving feelings known, Craig dove into an impression of the character Jane Hudson from the film What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? “I don’t fuck fans, Blanche,” he said, pushing Lori around in a wheelchair, acting every bit as crazed as Jane in the film. Lori laughed but didn’t get the point. Craig’s drug-induced manic behaviour continued and worsened into September. Taking notice, a friend from the Pilgrim House reached out to Lori with concern. It was like an intervention, but the addict wasn’t there. The friend wanted Lori to take action and stop Craig’s drug use. “Craig is doing too much cocaine,” she said, concerned. “He doesn’t need to do it at all. Perhaps you, Lori, can get through to him.” The friend continued that she thought Craig and Lori were much more than an idol and a fan. They were “whole together … apart they were only a half.” Together they were “one soul.” With those two words, the point of the meeting was lost. Their observed closeness was the only point Lori heard. Her heart swelled. She didn’t press the drug issue further. The summer stay ended abruptly. Craig told Lori he had a heated discussion with the owner of the Pilgrim House and the rest of his shows there were cancelled. It was another tie severed for Craig, another relationship lost. They had been coming undone in his life for almost three years. Lori had no idea. Craig was enraged by the circumstances. He not only insisted they leave town, he also told Lori she was no longer employed and to go home to Toronto alone. She would have to look out for herself. He did not need her anymore. Lori was shocked and devastated but left quickly, just as he wanted. She got as far as Boston on the trip home when she realized they hadn’t talked about what to do with his wigs and gowns. He couldn’t perform without them. He might not want to employ her, but his materials had to be taken care of. The show could not go on without them. She adjusted her tickets and went right back to Provincetown, as determined to assertively stand up for what she wanted to do as when she had gone to work as his dresser four months earlier. It didn’t take long to find her star. He had nowhere to go. 14
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“Why are you dragging this thing out?” Craig asked her. “Your term of employment has ended, and it’s time to lead your own life.” Lori held her ground and fibbed. She wasn’t there for him, she said. She was planning to stick around to get some sun, so she might as well take care of everything as he figured out where he was going next. She would not be dissuaded in that decision. Craig was exasperated and spent. He had no fight left; in fact, it was somewhat of a relief to have someone fight for him and not against him. He needed the love. He pulled her on to his lap and they cuddled through the evening. They didn’t speak about her supposed firing again. To make up for his coldness, Craig invited Lori to join him at the Crown & Anchor where he booked a final show. Victorious, she agreed. She was proud of herself for standing up for what she wanted to do. That wasn’t something she had done before. It did not matter that she had to lie. Singer Houston Allred, a dynamic entertainer plucked from the caba ret theatre scene, was performing in the lounge at the Crown & Anchor when Craig and Lori arrived the next day. Houston took notice of them, pointed Craig out to the small crowd, and told the audience Craig was “an extremely brilliant man who is far ahead of his time.” Craig’s resolve softened. Lori beamed with pride. Houston then sang the Charles Aznavour tune “What Makes a Man” and dedicated it to Craig. On a break the trio fell into conversation. Knowing nothing about all that had transpired, including Lori’s true feelings for Craig, Houston had nothing but praise for her. He told her she was a “tremendous influence” on Craig’s life and a help for his “suicidal tendencies.” Suicide? Lori wondered. When did he say he wanted to kill himself? There was so much Lori had yet to learn. Before she had a chance to question Houston’s comment, the singer had more praise. He told Lori she brought a calming influence to Craig’s high-energy persona, with his divalike reputation, mood swings, and demands. If Craig were smart, he’d be wise to keep her around. At the end of the weekend, when Lori finally headed back to Toronto, it was set. Lori Jenkins would always be there for Craig Russell, no matter what. Craig would come to depend on that.
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