Lee Wiley

I was singing in the Big Room of an elegant club in New York City called The Blue Angel. One night after the show, I joined some friends in the Art Deco lounge and saw a sight I'll never forget: a woman, draped in sable, seated at one of the black leather upholstered banquettes, surrounded by five or six gentlemen in black tie. The men were clearly enchanted with this glamourous creature, lighting her cigarettes, pouring her champagne, laughing ever so delicately at her witticisms, and not a one paying the slightest attention to darling Bobby Short, singing Cole Porter tunes on a little upright over in the corner with all the persuasion and enthusiasm he possesses to this day. "WHO is that?," I asked. "THAT" is Lee Wiley!"

I was dazzled and thrilled to see the great Lee Wiley, and determined I'd be the center of attention at a similar party one day... Best I've done so far is that night backstage at the Newport Jazz Festival when some guy offered me a joint, a bottle of beer and a ride home.