Chapter 4: Lucky becomes Lukki! I learned so much from watching these successful, powerful women, from Texas to Aimee to the scores of performers, movie stars, and society ladies whose paths I crossed. And not just about performance, though watching others was crucial to my own development as a performer, but about how to fashion one's self in the public sphere. I knew the second I walked into a club, I was performing my own ethos. And I loved recreating myself over and over again, night after night. Over the years, I worked at all of Texas' clubs, from Club Intime (205 W. 54th Street) to Salon Royale (310 W. 58th St., 1928) to Argonaut, each of which brought great success and was subsequently raided and shut down. Texas always managed to quickly relocate, reopen, and spread the word through the streets about her new spot that was bigger, better, and more fun than the last. And word always spread instantly. We performed to packed houses and Texas managed to rope in high-billing stars like Gypsy Lee Rose and Sally Rand to perform at her clubs. In 1927, Texas got signed to do a Broadway show called Padlocks of 1927 which was basically a fluffed-up version of our club show. She instantly hired all the girls, and after performing for theatre-goers on Broadway, we'd stumble back to the club to do it again for the club-goers. Throughout the years, I managed to earn a reputation of my own. I was known as a hot number, and managed to get a number of nicknames. The one that really stuck was the advent of a patron one night. Texas introduced me as Lucky from Chicago, and after my performance the gentleman shouted, "She's hotter than The Great Fire of Chicago!" which was met with great appreciation from the audience. I was known from then on as Lucky, the Great Fire of Chicago. After mastering the fan dance, I did solo work as a hoochie koochie dancer, gyrating my hips in the style of images I saw in silent films of dancers from the midway at world's fairs. Both these acts earned me great success. I continued to develop all kinds of wacky skits and by the time Texas opened the Century Club in October of 1927, I got top billing. When putting my name into print press, "Lucky" became spelled "Lukki" with an accent over the "i". That simple linguistic transformation allowed me to reconfigure myself, yet again, for the public. "It's French, you know," I would brag, batting my lashings--oblivious to the fact that there was nothing French about it--continuing to lavish the press or the patrons with attention as I had learned to do so well from Texas. I've oscillated between Lukki and Lucky for my entire life depending on the personae I want to take on. I performed in Texas' Too Hot for Paris Tour--which, incidentally, turned out to be an apropos name as we were prohibited from performing in France!--throughout the United States. With my growing reputation and performance experience, I got a gig at the Chicago World's Exposition of 1933 as a hootchie-cootchie dancer in the Tunisian Village. I also was hired as Sally Rand's back-up dancer. Now, you wouldn't be able to prove that I was actually there, trading performance slots with Sally all day every day for six months, since Sally's contract insisted she was the only one on the playbill. But I was there--you'll just have to take my word for it. Folks didn't really seem to mind or notice that I wasn't Sally. They were too busy trying to sneak a peek behind my ostrich feather fans! I was happy to be back in Chicago. Momma was doing well but her eyes were getting bad. She wouldn't be able to sew forever. After the exposition was over, I decided to stay with momma and start touring the Chicago clubs. Texas seemed sad and relieved at the same time when I told her I wasn't coming back to New York. Chicago was definitely a different scene with all the cigar-smoking fat men in fancy suits. I quickly got accustomed to it, though. But that's a whole other story for another day.