Blaze Starr My Life As Told – Huey Perry

”You must really hate your wife and be miserable at home to be so miserable to everybody else.” By now I had become so angry with him that I had stopped sobbing and crying, aware that he had been deriving too much satisfaction from it to suit me. When we arrived at the police station, we were put in a waiting room that was filled nearly to capacity with drunks, juvenile delinquents, and prostitutes.

I sat down on a bench beside a drunk all slouched over with his chin resting on his chest who was trying to sing ”Yankee Doo- dle.” He would sing a while, then weep a while. sat there for an hour and a half before I was finally told to go to another room. “Miss Starr, if you would come this way, we will take your picture,” a young police officer said.

“A picture? My God, it’s a heck of a time to talk about taking a picture. Just look at me. I’ve been crying, my makeup is smeared, and my hair’s a mess,” I replied. “That’s okay, we’ve got to have your picture. It’s policy. It’s a formality. Stand on the spot, and face the camera,” he ordered. I walked over and stood in front of a blank wall and forced a smile just before he snapped the shutter.

“Dammit, don’t smile. I want a serious picture,” he barked as he snapped my picture again. “Now I want a profile.” I turned, put my hand on my hip, leaned my head back, and stuck out my chest, just as I had always done for side profiles taken by New York photographers who did public- ity portraits for the burlesque trade.

The policeman, irked, ordered, “Pull your chest in, madam. I am only interested in your face!”

it off!” On the radio, Elvis Presley was singing, “You ain’t nothing but a hound dog.” I threw my clothes in every direction until I stood there, stripped to my panties, dancing the last dance in the mansion for Earl. Two or three of the other girls started dancing and stripping, and within the next ten minutes, they had all stripped down to their panties. Earl loved every minute of it.

He held his Coke bottle up and said, “Here’s to the strippers! Here’s to the state of Louisi- ana! Here’s to Earl Long! May he live forever!” /•^

1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020 Copyright © 1974 by Praeger Publishers, Inc. Published by arrangement with Henry Holt and Company, Inc. Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 73-9392 All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Henry Holt and Company, Inc., 115 West 18th Street, New York, NY 1001 ISBN 0-671-69665-3 First Pocket Books printing December 1989 10 98765432 1 POCKET and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster Inc. Printed in the U.S.A.

To our mothers and fathers FOREWORD By Huey Perry A..nybody born and raised in the hills and hollows of West Virginia knows that to survive, there or anywhere else you travel away from home, you’ve got to be ready all the time to use all your resources. Anybody from Ap- palachia also feels a real tug towards home all the time.

Some, like Blaze Starr, go away to work and settle down elsewhere but take every opportunity that comes along to go back to visit with their relatives and friends. Some go away to work or to school but come back to settle, as I did after I got out of Berea College and Marshall Univer- sity and went home to teach history in high school and later run the antipoverty project in Mingo County during Lyndon Johnson’s ill-fated War on Poverty. It was while I was working for the Office of Economic Opportunity in Mingo that I happened to learn that the famous stripper Blaze Starr was bom Fannie Belle Flem- ing in a lonely hollow up Twelve Pole Creek near Wilson- dale.

This is a short excerpt from the opening of “” by Unknown, quoted for review and introduction purposes. All rights belong to the copyright holders.

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