The Lives and Loves of Daisy and Violet Hilton: A True Story of Conjoined Twins (19 page)

The twins posed with a fleet of brand new cars before the start of a parade on a cold winter day. (Author’s collection)

The twins cultivated numerous friendships with fellow vaudevillians, among them one of special closeness with Marion Barr and Miriam Davis. Audiences adored Barr and Davis as long as they were singing and dancing on stage, but it was rare for them to be invited to the after-show house parties. Indeed, the two were even banned from most of the restaurants where show people gathered. Marion Barr and Miriam Davis were African Americans. The Hiltons and
Barr and Davis got together regularly for private dinners in their hotel rooms. They also went together to the movie houses, although the pairs were usually ushered to separate seating sections. It really wasn’t surprising that Daisy and Violet became close to Barr and Davis. They, too, had known the deep hurt of having much of society closed off to them.

Because their fellow stage performers were so accepting of Daisy and Violet, meeting with them at parties and after-show dinners, the sisters seemed to forget that, as conjoined twins, they left a lasting impression in the minds of all who saw them. During his earliest days as a vaudevillian, Jack Benny regularly appeared on the same bills with the Hiltons. After a year or so on the Loew circuit, Benny switched to another booking agency and began traveling a new vaudeville chain. Several years went by when, unbeknownst to the comedian, he happened to be appearing in the same city where the Hiltons were playing. Benny was not only surprised, but thrilled, when, between shows, he answered a knock on his dressing-room door and saw the twins standing before him. “Violet…! Daisy …!” he cried out. “It’s so good to see you again.” He embraced one sister, then the other, then both together. Next, Benny stepped back and took a long look at his callers. It was at this point, the comic recalled, that Violet turned to her sister and, in all seriousness, observed, “See, Daisy, I told you he’d still remember us.”
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Myer Myers’ fortune grew faster than ever once Daisy and Violet became darlings of the vaudeville stage, but now it wasn’t only their box office receipts that were providing the tailwinds for his upward mobility. The sisters had also started generating money through endorsements. In an age when many middle-class families had pianos in their parlors, the twins were courted by the major publishers of sheet music, Irving Berlin among them. Pictures of the fresh-faced, coil-tressed twins adorned the sheet music covers of such newly
minted tunes as “Someday,” “Tea for Two,” and “When the Red Red Robin (Comes Bob-Bob-Bobbin’ Along).”

Numerous other businesses entered into contracts with Myer to have his San Antonio Siamese Twins boost their products. A New York Chevrolet dealer ran a series of newspaper ads showing the sisters posed inside his cars. Daisy, in fact, had started driving by this time. Violet necessarily was always relegated to the role of passenger because if she slipped behind the steering wheel, her sister would have to ride the running board.

Of all the larks in which the twins became involved during their first year in vaudeville, the craziest was their entry into a New Jersey beauty pageant. The two were sponsored for the competition by the Palisades Amusement Park. For weeks before the contest, Daisy and Violet made numerous pre-pageant appearances, posing in bathing suits for newsreel cameramen and newspaper photographers. But when the day for the judging arrived, the sisters were no-shows. They claimed they had a contractual obligation in Atlanta, Georgia, that prevented them from strutting the Atlantic City boardwalk. The contest officials were probably relieved. From the day they received the twins’ application, the contest judges argued whether the Hilton sisters were one entrant or two.

Wherever Daisy and Violet performed, money washed into those theaters like shells from a storm-tossed sea onto the shore. In their first months on the Loew circuit, they generated more revenue than any other vaudeville attraction of the time. This was no small distinction, as America’s vaudeville houses were providing employment for thousands of entertainers, including such superstars as Eva Tanguay, Eddie Cantor, Sophie Tucker, and the Ritz Brothers.

Nobody was more gleeful over the Hilton sisters mania than Marcus Loew. He was already one of the richest men in America, so the tens of thousands of dollars that Daisy and Violet brought into his box
offices each week were not going to bring about a significant elevation in his station. But still, he gloated at having them under contract. He knew this rankled Edward F. Albee, operator of the 400-theater Keith-Albee chain and Loew’s fiercest rival in the vaudeville wars.

A pompous man who liked to think of himself as the king of Broadway, Albee hated being bested. What was most galling to him about Loew’s signing of the Hiltons was that the Keith-Albee operation had been given the first chance to win the attraction but passed on the opportunity. Albee fired the talent scout who sat for the twins’ audition at the Hippodrome and then stormed out on them, but this was small consolation. Each week the show papers buzzed with stories of the Hiltons’ successes, and invariably the accounts taunted Albee and his management for having been too myopic to recognize the potential of the attraction.

Never in the history of vaudeville had newcomers settled more swiftly into a place of royalty than the San Antonio Siamese Twins. Loew issued orders to his playhouse managers that the Hilton sisters were to be treated as prima donnas. They were to be given the best dressing rooms, and these rooms were to be stocked daily with the most expensive toiletries and fresh flowers. And to Daisy and Violet’s great joy, Loew presented them with a gift that was intended to show that he was more than casually grateful for the attention they had drawn to his theater empire. He gave them a Pekinese puppy whom the sisters named Boy. Boy went everywhere with the girls.

Wherever the twins were sent on the circuit of Loew vaudeville houses, they continued to post new box office records. They were held over for second weeks in Chicago, Philadelphia, and San Francisco, and for second and third weeks in Los Angeles. In Milwaukee, Daisy and Violet were the cause of a near riot. They had been booked for a week at the Miller Theater, with four shows a day. Because the Miller could only seat 1,500, there were not nearly
enough tickets for all the Milwaukeeans who had their hearts set on seeing the new vaudeville sensations. Some fans were so angry when the Miller posted a SOLD OUT sign on its box office that they threatened to burn down the theater. Ultimately a decision was made to transfer the twins’ show to the Wisconsin Theater, a house with more than twice the seating of the Miller. Daisy and Violet filled every seat in the new house four times a day, every day, for the entire week.
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The relationship between Marcus Loew and the Hilton sisters appeared to be so salubrious to both sides that most vaudeville observers were predicting it would go on forever. After the twins had been touring the Loew circuit for nine or ten months, however, Myer Myers presented the entertainment mogul with jolting news. He had just entered into an agreement to have the William Morris Agency represent Daisy and Violet, cutting out both Loew and Terry Turner when their contract ran out in January, 1926. The Morris agency had already booked Daisy and Violet to make a tour of the vaudeville theaters operated by the competing Orpheum chain. Under the new contract, the twins were not only to enjoy a $1,000 jump in their $2,800-a-week salary, but each was also to have her own maid.
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As anguished as Marcus Loew was over Myer’s breach of loyalty, he wasn’t going to have to give up any caviar breakfasts because of his loss of the thousands of dollars the twins were adding to his coffers each week. But the sisters’ shift to the Orpheum circuit was definitely going to necessitate some trimming in Terry Turner’s personal standard of living. Daisy and Violet’s act had always been billed as “A Terry Turner Production,” and as the man who molded every detail of their stage presentation, Turner had been getting a percentage of the box office receipts. But with the sisters’ move to the Orpheum circuit, the flow of cash would be turned off. Turner went into a rage, reminding Myer, probably rightly, that had it not been for him, Daisy and
Violet would still be lowly sideshow exhibits rather than the highest paid, most adored performers in vaudeville. Turner vowed he would get even.

The twins’ switch to the Orpheum circuit also brought about changes in their backup troupe. Ray Traynor, their musical director, piano accompanist, and emcee, was replaced by Irwin Dash, an aspiring song writer. And brought in as Daisy and Violet’s new dance partners were a pair of tall and gangling entertainers who called themselves “The Dancemedians.” One of the dancers was George Byrne, the other Leslie Townes Hope, or, as he was to rename himself a few years later, Bob Hope. Hope had this recollection:

Great precision, split-second timing, and a sixth sense were required of all the partners who attempted to become one with the twins in the flashy
pas de quatre
finales that always brought the crowds to their feet. Hope and Byrne spent endless hours practicing the rousing show closer with Daisy and Violet. Violet once revealed that when she and her sister were sure that no one was looking in on their practice sessions, they got Hope to teach them the Black Bottom, a dance that was considered far too risqué for their stage appearances.
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To most eyes, the Black Bottom resembled less a dance than vertical copulation. The dancer’s feet scarcely moved while their hips gyrated in slow motion. A dance that originated with southern blacks, the Black Bottom derived its name from the oozing mud at the bottom of the Suwannee River. The dance allowed for a lot of free invention. With maybe a thousand variations, its participants tried to create an impression that they were slipping and sliding, shivering and quivering while negotiating a gooey river bed.

Besides taking the stage in the twins’ finale, Hope and Byrne also
appeared as a separate act on the theater bills, usually commanding the second, or “deuce spot,” in the lineups of eight or ten acts. Hope described the Dancemedians’ turn this way:

Photo of Dancemedians, George Byrne and Bob Hope, or as he was still known in the mid-1920s when this picture was taken, Leslie Townes Hope. Hope and Byrne toured with the Hiltons in their early years in vaudeville and were among the sisters’ early dance partners. (Author’s collection)

The apprenticeship that Hope and Byrne served with the Hiltons was important in their careers. Because the twins attracted crowds, the Dancemedians were put to the test before large audiences. Now and then, the pair were singled out by reviewers, and almost always the notices were good. Typical of the encomiums was an appraisal made by a Pennsylvania newspaper writer in January, 1927, when the two were appearing with the twins at the Rajah Theater:

Because Hope and Byrne were part of the Hilton sisters act, they were paid directly by Myer Myers. They earned $225 a week, not a trifling sum when compared with the pay of other secondary vaudeville performers. But Hope and his partner complained that after they shelled out for their hotels, train fares, meals, and agents’ fees, they never had any money left. Emboldened by their favorable mentions in the press, the Dancemedians approached Myer after a year and told him they believed they were deserving of more money. They quit when Myer balked at hiking their pay.

Daisy and Violet were at the height of their earning power in 1926 and 1927, taking in $4,000 a week, about three times the wage an average American worker took home in a year. Even so, the twins barely seemed able to keep the dollars coming in fast enough to keep up with Myer’s profligate spending. In the ten years since he had left
Australia to come to America, Myer had not only acquired a lot of valuable properties in and around San Antonio, including the ranch, several downtown rental residences, the weekend retreat on Lake Medina, and the horticultural farm in Poteet, but now he was also snapping up real estate in upper New York state.

By now Myer was obsessed with an ambition to become one of the true social pillars in San Antonio society. He wanted a home and estate that, through its size and grandeur, would betoken not just great wealth, but refinement. When he acquired the ranch on San Antonio’s outskirts in 1917, the property was occupied by a perfectly comfortable and habitable, if unpretentious, frame dwelling. But it would no longer do. It was time to raze the ranch house to make room for a mansion.