The Chrysanthemum Palace

~ ~ ~

WHEN THAD SUGGESTED we find a way to occupy ourselves in quaint San Rafael during Clea’s gig, she wouldn’t hear of it.

She insisted on our presence in the auditorium during the tried-and-true cabaret-style tragicomic monologue that she performed prior to autographing photos, posters, and miscellanea, both Roos-and Clea-related, offered up by rabid fans. There must have been over 2,000 folks converging from God knows where (three of Roos Chandler’s most famous films plus two obscure ones plus a rare home-movie clip were being screened) and I marveled at the organized industry of it. Clea’s share of the take was a flat $35,000. The promoters couldn’t have been happier with the bonus burger of her unexpected companion, Thad Michelet. In short time, the faithful flock miraculously handed over effluvia for signing — stills from The Jetsons and Quixote, that sort of thing. He was remarkably good-humored about it, I suppose still redeeming himself for his bad behavior of the night before.

We were back in L.A. around 10:00 P.M. The car dropped me off before ferrying them back to the Chateau.