Keaton’s Reviews > Christine Jorgensen: A Personal Autobiography > Status Update

I found the oldest gift of heaven—to be myself.

People seemed to feel the need of preoccupation and the security of company, even strangers, as if they were seeking a confirmation of the truth.

One night at the club, I was invited to Judy Garland's table between shows, but was cautioned ahead of time not to mention the fact that she was overweight. "What do you think I'm going to say," I replied, "Hello, Fat Lady?"

"Remember, Chris," he had once said, "I'm always back here doing your worrying for you."

"...But those who go to see her will not be going to see an act; they will go with the same unhealthy appetites of people who queue to see murderers."

Nightly, it was an outrageous lesson in sheer hypnotism.

Rubens' menu features various specialties named after celebrities: a Bing Crosby sandwich, a Frank Sinatra dessert, etc. Scanning the menu before ordering, I said casually, "All these items named after famous people, and there's not even a mixed salad named after me." There was a shocked silence at the table. I didn't realize what I'd said, until suddenly there was a great shout of laughter from my friends.

(cont)
With the kinds of publicity you've received, there just aren't many opportunities left to you."

"Look, Chris, you're a world-famous personality whether you like it or not, so you're either going to have to face up and join it, or turn and leave. The only thing is, you can't leave the limelight now, because they won't let you. From here on out, there's nothing you can do and no place you can go to lead a normal, quiet life. You go to the grocery store, walk your dog, get a driver's license—that's news. (cont)

The GI-turned-woman nixes sensationalism and insists her act must be dignified and treated decorously. Consequently, it can only be judged on the serious basis of a presentation to the public—and on that level, it's not good.