Chapter Text
1961- March
Her mouth is what got her arrested, but her determination is what made the last jail of the night decide to refuse to let her out on bail. The moment her manager got her out the first time that night, they ran to find another club.
"Are you really fucking serious about this? You know this could destroy everything we've worked for."
"It’s important stuff Susie, it needs to be talked about more openly. I’m as serious as about this as Astrid was about her crotch paste."
"Ok I have no idea what that means, but I'm going to make an assumption that's its some Jewish thing that's really fucking serious. Alright then, let's god-damned do it. Make it funny, and let's hope that's enough to keep your crazy ass working after this."
No words of warning from Susie could put her off or change her mind. She was on a mission, and no one was going to silence her tonight. Word had already begun to spread ... through the audience members who started filtering out to the streets buzzing about what they had just witnessed before her first arrest. Spreading through the other performers and comics who had been waiting for their sets when she went on ... who then went out running around gossiping with fellow creatures of the night at the a nearby diner, a bar, or perhaps at their next gig. So by the time they walked in the door of the next club that would have them, The Bitter End having a comedy open mic night that was appropriately counter culture enough for the subject matter, it was becoming clear to those in the know in the local comedy scene that something notable was happening with Mrs. Maisel tonight.
“Not to complain, because we get the upper hand in a lot of areas … we don’t get drafted, if we bat our eyelashes we can get free drinks, and we aren’t doomed to limited color palate in our wardrobe like the poor guys who really only get black, brown, grey, and navy as an option for suits but it can be really rough being a woman. We have a lot more rules to follow than men. Our intelligence is questioned a lot more than men. We are expected to stay home and not make an income while taking care of a household on whatever finances our husbands allow us to access … honestly all that nonsense does is make us learn. Makes us learn how to be excellent at being crafty and excellent resource management way more than they ever prepare boys who go on to run the fucking world and make all the rules.”
It was one of those lightning in a bottle nights, a night that everyone wishes they could catch instead of hearing about it second-hand. One of those nights were everyone who acts just too cool and blasé about everything would give their right hand for just so they could say the next day: "yeah I was there, it was just like any regular Saturday night on the scene and in she came and I could just tell something big was about to happen". It was like seeing a car-wreck on stage; not because it was a disaster but because no one wanted to look away from the destruction. She might not have a career in comedy after tonight, but her message would be out there. Midge Maisel was breaking the walls of polite subject matter down in Greenwich Village that night and it was going to elevate everything up. She got arrested halfway through her set at the second club too. Still didn't stop her.
“No women are far, far more resourceful than men. For example, we can find all sorts of ways to turn a thing into something else. Likes drapes into clothing. Barely edible substances into mouth-watering feasts. A coat hanger into a way to keep your clothes neat AND a surgical implement to keep your reputation intact. We ladies do love a multi-purpose tool!”
By the time she got out of that second holding cell, it was 3AM. The Gaslight was one of the only venues still operating as a performance space at that late of an hour, and they made a bee-line right for it. It was surprisingly busy for the time of night, but those in the know who were feeding off the electric feeling in the air knew that this club was her home base and so they gathered around ... just in case she really was crazy enough to aim for a third spot on stage that night. The comedy junkies, the counter culture crowd, the cool cats and kittens, the beatniks, the arts and culture critics, the late night jazz club set, the audio nerds, the wannabes, the hangers on ... they all milled about on the sidewalks around the borough hoping that the lightening would hit again and they would be there to witness the sheer intensity of the strike as well as the after burn.
“And you guys should know that I had no idea about the coat hanger thing till late. Really late. Late like you are praying desperately at the calendar kind of late. No no I kid ... actually I made two kids since, as previously mentioned, I had no idea there was any option other than to host a baby shower at that kind of news. I truly had no idea. I honestly thought that all those girls falling down the stairs constantly in my dorm in college were just extremely clumsy! I never went down the grand staircase, even though I really do love to show off a great dress and make an entrance, because it seemed so hazardous! Some poor girl was crash landing at the foot of those stairs every day!”
Mrs. Maisel was never one to disappoint, and thanks to the crowd blocking the doorway it slowed the police just enough to let her finally finish her entire set before being dragged off again in cuffs. She wasn't granted bail anymore after her third consecutive arrest within just a few short hours though. Apparently, refusing to shut up is enough to convince the authorities that you intend to continue breaking the law and decide to decline to offer bail.
“No one told me. It was information kept secret, even by other women. It wasn't until I was married and already a mother that the notion a pregnancy could be purposefully stopped was even something that was shared with me. I had to find out from a gossipy neighbor who thought I would know what she implied when she mentioned another neighbor being on her 17th vacation to Puerto Rico. All I could say was 'wow, guess that place must be paradise! I better convince my husband to take me there for our anniversary!', and when I tell you that biddy looked like she was going to die when I said that ...”
The one person who wasn't there in the eye of the storm it seemed was Lenny Bruce. He wasn't even in New York that night. Or the next. He was in Boston doing a few college shows, and the first time he heard about anything to do with the firestorm Midge had started was on the last day of his bookings in the area when he called his buddy looking for a place to crash in Manhattan before he headed out for gigs on the West Coast the following week. After they had chatted a bit and confirmed Lenny could hang, the conversation took a sudden turn.
“Hey what’s going on with that friend of yours? The one we went to go see who made a strip club cry and then came to help bail us out?”
“I dunno, haven’t talked to her in a while,” I tried to respond as nonchalantly as possible.
Saw her with her kid in a hospital waiting room months ago, another magically random moment between us, but that's it. Things were still very … unsure since Carnegie.
“Oh … so you don’t know? They don’t get the New York Times in Boston or something? She got locked up man. Really pissed off the establishment it seems. They aren’t even letting her out on bail; it’s been in the entertainment section for days. I'll bet money they are gonna try to make an example out of her.”
"What kinda mess did she get into now?"
“She went on a stand-up rampage man,” he chuckled in amazement, “just tore her way through the night. I heard the cops busted her three times at three different clubs on Saturday.”
Shit shit shit. Midge, what the fuck are you doing to your career? Did she even listen to me at all?
"I didn’t catch any of it, but they’ve put enough in the papers and I’ve heard enough through the grapevine. Rumor has it there might be a bootleg recording floating around out there but I haven't been able to find a copy yet. She was going off full-tilt all night about abortions. Really railing against the world kinda stuff. I know you've made some jokes on the matter yourself but ... not like this. One or two innuendo jokes or miming with your mic in a set can slip on by but this was her main focus. They won’t turn a blind eye to that shit.”
As far as I knew no comic, male or female, ever had done a full set on that topic. The already uneasy feeling that's been messing with my stomach since Carnegie at the thought of her twisted more sharply at another realization.
Well hell, that’s a pretty heavy topic. Given that her daily life is usually where she gets her material from, this is hitting too close. Goddamnit. I’ve got to talk to her. But if they’re keeping her locked up, where? How do I get in touch?
“Hey man thanks again for letting me use your couch,” I tried to get out calmly as my brain raced a mile a fucking minute, “I’ll be there tomorrow night. I’ve gotta make some calls, I’ll see you when I get in town.”
It dawned on me after hanging up that I didn’t know exactly who to call. I knew her address so I could conceivably call her apartment, but it didn’t feel like talking to her parents would be the smart move here. I didn’t know the angry little manager’s number … but I could call information … but that also seemed like it might not be a welcome call if I was right about why Midge was performing that kind of subject material. So I thought ‘what the hell’ and called the one other person I knew who might be paying attention to this fiasco: my most recent lawyer in New York.
Thankfully this one isn't pissed at me, it helps when you actually pay them. Well, mostly pay them at least. Still gotta send him a little more dough to be all settled up …
“Yeah I was aware of the case, hard not to be in this business. She your friend or something?”
"Something like that," I replied, unsure at this particular moment where our relationship stood, "What’s gonna happen to her?"
"I’ve been paying attention since this seems like its squaring off to be an interesting first amendment case. I heard they’re denying bail at this point, hoping the attention dies down. That's going to bite them in the end; she hasn't done anything that warrants withholding bail besides keep talking and even those are just misdemeanors. They're obviously just trying to keep her off the stage since she seemed so determined to keep getting up on one. They could conceivably take away her license if she get’s convicted on all charges though. Normally I’d tell you at this point to lie through your teeth about being contrite and getting carried away but … three arrests in one go man … they won’t buy that. This might end up a major trial."
Fuuuuuuuuck Midge … you really fucking did it this time didn’t you?
“Who’s gonna be the ring leader of her circus?”
“Not sure which judge she’s going up against yet …”
“Nah man,” I pinched the bridge of my nose tightly as I clarified, “I meant who’s representing her?”
“Oh she’s got a whole team forming I think, with more crawling out of the woodwork. Lots of free speech lawyers like me have been volunteering, seems like Kessler was already her lawyer before so he's heading up the group. He’s good; passionate. There's also some feminist movement lawyer, at least one firm who specializes in entertainment law has stepped up, and abortion rights activists are sending people to work on her case I've heard. Hell if I wasn’t busy with your legal troubles I’d be trying to elbow my way in. The press and connections alone would be worth the headache. This could end up a landmark case.”
“Sounds like I was right to call it a circus. If you still want in I can make the introduction. Just find out from her lawyers how we can get in touch with her and I’ll see if she needs anymore clowns in the big show … and hey …”
“Yeah?”
“How come you’ve never ‘volunteered’ your services to me?”
“You either pay your outstanding invoices or become a ‘cause celeb’ that would get me a ton of publicity and then we’ll talk about that the next time you need my help.”
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Early next morning, earlier than I’d ever woken up before outside of being in the service, I was already up and packing. Was hoping to get the earliest train I could. Just as I grabbed the doorknob to go check out, the phone rang.
"Usually when I call you this early it's never good news but ... your friend with the legal troubles? I reached out to her representation and they were very happy to hear from me. They've apparently been scrambling looking for you but didn't know you were my client. She wants to see you if possible; they already added you to the list of permitted visitors. She’s being kept at that shithole New York Women’s House of Detention. You know it?”
"Yeah that joint on Greenwich Ave and 10th, can’t miss it,” I confirmed while trying to keep the anger out of my voice, “When's visiting hours?"
"Tomorrow at 10am is the earliest you can go.
"Tell them I'll be there."