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Just Blues, No Stomping, At The Savoy The Group Captain is back in Brussels, the Archbishop is back in Canterbury, the queen back in Buckingham Palace. And where is Princess Margaret? Back on page 7-A, that’s where, with a despair that must be deeper than anybody realized. For if the London wire ser"ice account can be belie"ed, the princess had her first post-Townsend night on the town this week. Did she dash out to the race with some latter-day military hero? Did she laugh through a musical comedy at the side of a Mayfair bon vivant? She did not. She took the only course open to a women who has seen her lover torn away in the tragic tradition by an ugly, but wholly expected, twist of fate. She went to the Savoy Hotel, picked a corner table and sat out every dance just listening to Lena Horne sing the lowdown, sorrowful blues. “Beale Street," “Basin Street," “St. Louis," - Lena sang 'em all and Margaret sat there dewy-eyed. She knew these tunes by heart. Her escort must ha"e been a little bored. He was 32 years old, unmarried, undivorced, extremely eligible, the eighth baron in an ancient peerage (who motto is “quick without impetuosity"), but he was no Group Captain. He was a lord, instead. Lord Plunket. In such a situation, there is nothing much a sad girl can do but listen to the terrible propositions contained in the few basic bards of the blues refrain: . . . because my man - he done left this town. |
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Charles
Kuralt's People (Kenilworth Media, copyright 2002) To order by phone call 1-954-727-3320. Questions? Call 1-954-727-3320 or e-mail info@kenilworthmedia.com
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