Valley of the Dolls

You've got to climb Mount Everest...

... to reach the Valley of the Dolls.

It's a brutal climb to reach that peak.

You stand there, waiting for the rush

of exhilaration, but it doesn't come.

You're alone.

And the feeling of loneliness

is overpowering.

I never meant to start that climb.

I took the first step when I left

New England and headed for New York.

It wasn't easy to leave

that wonderful house.

My grandparents lived there

and theirs before them.

It was standing during the Revolution.

George Washington didn't sleep there,

but he did dip water from our well.

I can still see them

standing there waving.

Aunt Amy, Mama and Willie.

Poor Willie. He didn't know

I was leaving his life forever.

I'll never forget the night I told them

I was going to New York.

They said it was a dreadful place

for a vacation.

I announced I was going to work there.

Willie took it well.

He said he'd give me a month...

... and I'd run for home

ready to settle down in Lawrenceville.

I remember the day Willie pinned me.

He said it meant

we were engaged to be engaged.

I wanted a marriage like Mom and Dad's,

but not yet.

First I wanted new experiences,

new faces, new surroundings.

Lawrenceville would be there forever.

The cab driver kept complaining

about the sleet and slush.

I told him he should see

one of our New England blizzards.

He took me to the

Martha Washington Hotel for women.

Aunt Amy had stayed there.

She said it was as safe as you

could be in a city like New York.

The desk clerk warned me

they didn't allow men in the rooms.

I confessed I didn't know any.

Before my feet were dry,

the agency sent me on an interview.

I had butterflies, but I acted like

I'd done it all my life.

At least I thought I did.

I knew it. She had that look.

- I'm to see Miss Steinberg.

I knew she was pregnant.

Certainly I should have kept an eye

on her, doctor, but she sneaks out.

I haven't any idea who the father is.

It could have been one of several.

All right. I'll start her

on vitamins tomorrow.

Queeny's pregnant again.

My Siamese.

I hope it isn't that beat-up black tom

with the one eye.

A black Siamese should be very pretty.

I'm Anne Welles.

Oh, yes. The agency phoned about you.

B.A. At Radcliffe? Mr. Bellamy will like

that. He'll think it gives the office tone.

- The agency said he's a lawyer.

- A theatrical lawyer.

He handles actors, writers

and directors. Important ones.

He advises them and draws up

their contracts. No loopholes.

- Sounds fascinating.

- It isn't.

- Will I work for Bellamy or Bellows?

- There is no Mr. Bellows anymore.

Only his nephew, Lyon Burke.

You can tell when he's in the office...

...by the girls around that water cooler.

- How's your shorthand?

- Weak, but I type 60 words a minute.

Okay, I'll take you in to see the boss.

Mr. Bellamy, this is Miss Welles.

She's here about the job.

- She's too good-looking.

- Mr. Bellamy, that's not fair.

I'll just get her broken in

and she'll get married.

- I'm already engaged.

- There, see?

Lots of secretaries are married,

aren't they?

Not in this office. Some days

you'll work until midnight...

...having dinner with me and a client.

I'll drink too much...

...and won't remember a word. You'll

have one sherry and remember it all.

- I have a good memory and love sherry.

- Can you handle it?

- I'm sure I can.

- Could she start right away?

- Stop running my life. I'm not convinced.

- Couldn't you please give me a trial?

All right. I'll try you out for one week,

starting as of now.

Here. Take these contracts to Helen

Lawson at the rehearsal hall on 44th.

Take a cab. See that she signs them.

- Let's see if she can handle that.

- I'll be right back.

And don't give her that "I loved

you when I was a little girl" routine...

...or she'll stab you in the back.

Helen Lawson?

Mr. Bellamy, that was wicked.

Twelve bucks an hour for 80 people,

are you kidding? Come on.

Excuse me.

- Yeah.

- I have some contracts for Miss Lawson.

- Go down the hall and turn left.

First dressing room on the right.

If you're a Capricorn, watch your step.

Yeah, Harry, it's a good company.

Come on.

- Why? Why? Why!

- That's it.

- Five, six, seven, eight.

One, two, three, four,

five, six, seven, eight.

Two, two, three, four, five, six,

seven, eight. One, two...

You're sorry?

No good.

Lousy. A beast.

Out.

What kind of a press agent are you?

Why did they send me some green kid

fresh out of NYU?

- Who in hell are you?

- I'm Anne Welles. And I...

Look, I'm tired and I'm busy.

What do you want?

Mr. Bellamy sent some contracts

for you to sign.

You, out.

Come on.

Give me a fountain pen.

And not one of those lousy ballpoints.

Come on.

Sit down. You're making me nervous.

That girl who is singing out there,

she's very good, isn't she?

Yeah.

How do you think the kid's song works

in the new spot? Great, huh?

The song goes.

- What?

- You heard me, the song goes.

- And the kid with it.

- Come on, Neely O'Hara can't hurt you.

You bet your ass she can't.

Because she isn't gonna get the chance.

The only hit that comes out of

my show is Helen Lawson.

And that's me, baby, remember?

- She has a run-of-the-play contract.

- I know about run-of-the-play contracts.

This won't help you in the business.

Right. Nor you, either.

So get Bellamy to do it.

He knows how. He's done it before.

You, go back and tell that son of a b*tch

to get off his butt and earn his oats.

- But you haven't signed the contracts.

- And I don't intend to.

Not until Bellamy ties a can

to that little broad's tail.

Mr. Bellamy.

I've thought it over

and I don't think I...

- Oh.

...want this job.

Excuse me. You must be Mr. Burke,

the one with the water cooler.

- I mean...

- And you must be Miss Welles.

Mr. Bellamy told me all about you.

Tell me, why are you

dismissing us so soon?

- Because I think show business is cruel.

- You're quite right. Have a seat.

- People do despicable things.

- Yes, they certainly do.

Like firing a girl because a crude person

like Miss Lawson resents her ability.

Please, have a seat.

Miss Welles, a raw recruit always dives

for cover at the first burst of enemy fire.

But don't let that happen to you.

Don't you throw in the towel just yet.

This is a rather cruel business. But it's

also a great and rewarding business.

For every Helen Lawson, there's always

a Helen Hayes or a Mary Martin.

Now you think about that.

- Well, may I have the contracts?

- Yes.

- They are signed?

- Oh... Well, one is.

Yes, yes. One is.

And legibly too.

I almost forgot. She gave me

a message for Mr. Bellamy.

- Yes?

- She said...

- Well, she said, "Tell that son of a..."

- Gun?

- Gun. "Tell him to get off his..."

- Yes, I think I know that message.

I'll see to it that Mr. Bellamy gets it.

Thank you very much, Miss Welles.

- Bye.

- Bye.

Miss Welles, you forgot your purse.

Thank you.

- Sorry.

- It's all right.

I'm afraid I haven't made

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