Almost Famous Women: Stories

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New York denies Violet Hilton, pictured with Daisy, a marriage license, on the grounds that it would be illegal to issue the license to two persons (1934).

Associated Press photo, July 5, 1934. Reprinted with permission.

Let me tell it, I said.

No, you’re a liar and a drunk, she said. Or I said.

Our voices could be like one. I could feel hers in my bones, especially when she sang — a strong quicksilver soprano. We were attached at the hips and shared blood, but no vital organs. Four arms, four legs — enough to make a man give a second look.

One of us has to tell it, I said, and it’s going to be me.

An agent had come to see us. Or that’s what he claimed to be. A talent scout. I couldn’t remember his name. He wore a blue sports coat with heavy gold buttons, jeans, loafers. His hair shone with tonic, and he knew how to shake hands. My bones ached from his grip.

Look, I said to Violet. I’m a better storyteller than you. You sing, I tell stories.

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