Chapter 1: The Early Years My name is Lukki now but I was born Gertrude Bernice Styme in Chicago in 1909. I'm an Aquarius through and through. My momma raised me on her own since my poppa died on February 13th, 1 day before I was even born. He was returning home after telling the doctor that momma thought the baby was coming. He got ran over by a milk truck. The news of his death caused momma to go into labor. I was born the next day. Momma says that I was born on Valentine's Day because I am all heart. My momma was a seamstress and a great one at that. She made beautiful ball gowns for the society ladies and extravagant costumes for all the burlesque stars. I went to school in the mornings and in the evenings I helped my momma sew clothes. I started mending when I was 4 years old. I hated the monotony of stitching over and over. Momma loved it, and would get so wound up in it she could sit for hours, stitching and humming. We had a comfortable life as momma's reputation kept her busy beyond hours in the day. My favorite part of helping momma was when we delivered the costumes, or the ladies would come to our house for fittings, dripping with furs and diamonds and smelling like flowers and cotton candy rolled into one. The ladies would pat me on the head and say, "you gettin' big, suga!" and I would strut my 8-year-old stuff around the room. The ladies loved my act and would roar with laughter, slapping their hands on their thighs, egging me on. This was my first introduction into show business. I loved the backstage buzz with ladies applying makeup and snapping on garters, dancers stretching in dim, dusty corners, folks practicing singing, juggling, fire eating, whatever their thing was. Momma's costumes were primarily made for the glamorous-type showgirls. Momma was working on an extravagant gown for Texas Guinan. We went to meet Texas to see how she fit; it took the two of us just to carry the gown. I couldn't comprehend how one woman could carry so much weight on her. And when we walked in, I understood. Texas Guinan had presence. The room was filled with beautiful ladies but all eyes went to her. She had magnetism, a gift for giving and getting attention. I was in awe. And I knew instantly that I wanted to be just like her. It was 1922 and I was 13 years old. My limbs were growing nicely but I had not quite developed yet. After strapping her into the costume and making a few adjustments, Texas Guinan turned to me, cupped my face in her large, soft hands, and said, "Kid, you are a lucky girl. You got just what it takes. I can see it already. They ought to call you Lucky. Look me up at the El Fay Club in New York. If we get closed down, just ask in the streets for Texas' new joint. I am going to help you become a star!" Texas swung around to greet a gentleman visitor, barely visible under a huge bouquet of long-stemmed red roses and an ice decanter nestling a bottle of champagne. "Hello sucker," she greeted him and slipped momma a fresh 20 dollar bill as a tip. I never forgot what Texas said. I spent the next 5 years tagging around speakeasies and clubs. I remember momma resisting me for a while, but she saw how much money the bigger performers made, and she knew that I hated the tedium of sewing. So she gave me her blessing or at least tolerated my dream. I would come from school, help my momma until 8 pm, and then run, literally, to the clubs. Some nights I wouldn't get home until 12 or 1 in the morning. Momma knew all of the performers so she trusted them to get me home safe. Usually one of the girls would escort me home with one of her admirers in between sets. I was generally a nuisance but was tolerated because I made myself useful. I sewed buttons and loose fringe on costumes, helped the girls with quick changes since I knew all the routines. In return, I learned how to put on makeup, how to walk with my hips, and was allowed to practice the girls' routines in the wings. This was the beginning of my own performance training.