Celebrating 30 years in the Rose Room
Hey er’body. I hope you all had a great Thanksgiving and that the magical turkey that brings you casseroles through a portal in your oven on Thanksgiving morning got your order right.
(At this point, I feel it is totally okay to make up whatever you want when it comes to holidays. Santa and elves, bunnies and eggs, virgins having babies — it all sounds crazy when you think about it. So why not a magical turkey that travels through time and space in your oven to bring you delicious potato chip crusted casseroles? You just have to believe.)
Now that Thanksgiving is over, it is time to celebrate a new holiday: My anniversary of working in the Rose Room.
I can’t believe it, but as of Saturday, Nov. 25, I will have worked in the Rose Room for 30 amazing years! And my school counselors thought I would never be able to hold down a job; I showed them!
Honestly, I am truly thankful to be able to say that. I love my job and am forever grateful to have found my place in this world.
I have told this story before, but my very first paid booking, the day I joined the cast, was Thanksgiving 1993. (Fuuuuck, I am old!) I remember everything about that day, and night, so vividly. I woke up at my Mom’s place in Corsicana. I helped cook. I watched the Macy’s parade on her big ol’ 32-inch television. (That was big at the time. You know how straight girls think 5 inches is big because that is what their boyfriends tell them? Five inches to a gay boy is like one of those little breakfast burritos you get at the donut shop:
We will eat it, but we will still be hungry. Respectfully.)
Then the weather took a turn, and a slight drizzle started to fall. Then the temperature dropped, and we started seeing alerts on TV saying that it was going to get bad out there.
My Mom said to me that she didn’t think she was going to be able to get me home that night. You see, I didn’t have a car at the time, so I was at the mercy of the momma to get me home in time for the show.
I started to freak out. I told her I was starting my new job that night, and it was so important that I be there. She had no idea the job I was insisting on get to was me dressing up as a ladyboy. She was like, “I am sure they will understand if you just give them a call.” I was like, “But Maaaaaa! It’s a night club, and there is no one there yet. Please, ya gotta get me home! I can’t lose this job before I even start it! It is so important I be there! Pweeze!”
She pointed outside and said, “Look at that freezing sleet. No one should be driving in this; it’s too dangerous!” I, being the awful young homo I was, dramatically threw my arms in the air, stomped out of the room and threw myself in the nearest chair and pouted. (I have always been slightly dramatic.)
Then I hear the deep and beautiful voice of my savior, my Pawpaw. He said he would drive me home in his big-ass Cadillac. Mom tried to argue, but when my grandpa made up his mind, that was the end of it. Mom insisted that she ride with us, so the three of us left her house at about 4:30 that afternoon.
The roads were fucking awful, and I don’t think we went over 35 miles per hour the entire way. My mother, the Brenda Love, would shoot daggers at me every time she looked into the back seat, to the point that Pawpaw told finally her, “That’s enough of that!” So, she turned forward with a huge, annoyed sigh.
We rode in white knuckled silence. Just the sound of the windshield wipers scraping off fresh ice with every swis
We got to my apartment about 7 p.m. I told them to call me as soon as they got home to let me know they were okay, and I went inside to start getting in drag. Back then it took me at least three hours to paint my face — which makes no sense since I only wore blush. I had it on my eyes, ears, nose, throat — everywhere. I had no idea what I was doing. I was so stressed out the entire time.
Once I was ready, I just sat there waiting for them to call. Finally, at 10:30, they did. They were home safe, so I took off to the club. Fucking cab was going to take over an hour to get to me, so I started walking. I was pulling my suitcase/drag bag with one hand and holding a freshly-styled wig in the other. I busted my ass about 10 times before I made it to the Village Station, but I fucking made it.
The club was surprisingly busy that night. The gays will always find a way to party, even if they gotta trek the ice-covered tundra of Oak Lawn.
I performed “Cool Rider” from Grease 2 in the first show, “Homecoming Queen Has Got A Gun” by Julie Brown in the second show and “Running Back To You” by Vanessa Williams in the third. I worked with Donna Day, Valerie Lohr, Celeste Martinez and Coco that first night, and it was amazing. Three of them were filling in for the other new hires because they all called in because of the ice. It was supposed to be a New Kids/Next Generation kind of show, but I was the only new kid that made it.
Thirty years later, I am thankful for my Pawpaw and my Momma for getting me there that night. I’m thankful to Rachael Masters for hiring me, to Paul Lewis and Chris Bengston for being my work parents and always having my back, to Scott Pepin for letting me occasionally emcee and to Edna Jean Robinson for not firing me and putting me in the wonderful position I am in now.
Thank you all.
I hope y’all come out this weekend to celebrate with me. Life is too short not to celebrate the great moments in our lives — big and small. Thirty years is a big one for me. The fact that I still have a career in the ever-changing world of drag blows my mind.
When I first started, drag felt more taboo — like it was something just for us, just for our community. Now, drag is everywhere. Sure, it still gets attacked by some of the folks out there that don’t understand it, but I am grateful for that as well. Having a common enemy kinda brings us closer together, and I miss that. Drag brings us ALL closer together, so come out soon and watch some men in dresses parade around telling jokes and lip-syncing to other people’s songs. I hope to see you all soon.
Remember to always love more, bitch less and be fucking fabulous! XOXO, Cassie Nova
