Virginia: They ain’t doing anything. They tried that number on me out in Hollywood. “You’re only as good as your last picture.” My agent told me. “Bulls—,” I told him. “Nothing’s as bad as my last three pictures but especially me. Just get me a job.” “Ginny, I can’t get you arrested. Cool out for a couple of years. Get married again.” Me, Miss Two-Time Tony Award Winner! Miss Hot S— Herself! They wouldn’t touch me with a twenty-foot pole.
And people wonder why I bottomed out? It took seeing my face on the front page of the National Enquirer after marriage Number Three ended for it to suddenly hit me: what am I doing out there? Standing in the check-out line at the Arrow Market on Santa Monica wearing a dirty bathrobe and nothing else, that’s where I remembered who I was! An actress, a f— stage actress. Two days later, I packed everything I owned into my little red Mustang and burned rubber straight back to New York.