I COULD HAVE DANCED ALL NIGHT

This is a story that has a story book ending. 02/20/2016

I COULD HAVE DANCED ALL NIGHT

Mickey Rooney and Judy Garland made wonderful movies together, especially the Andy Hardy series. In one such film, Judy became worried and upset because Mickey planned to take someone else to the Prom. In this show, and many other versions, the girl’s plight is always the focus of attention. The tension is unbearable. Will the boy invite her or a rival? If he invites her, will she have the right dress? Will her shoes match? Well, I am here to attest that Proms can stress a boy's life too. Let me tell you of my high school prom experience. It had a happy ending, just like the Andy Hardy movies always did, but not until the final scene played out.

In May 1944, while rehearsing for my role in our Senior Class production of Junior Miss, a girl I had dated a few times began to hang around backstage, telling others she expected me to invite her to my Senior Prom. She was not my first choice, by a long shot. I had fallen madly in love a month earlier with Joan Lester, a St. Michael's High School freshman. Joan accepted my invitation, much to my delight. This posed a problem for Joan. Lacking the cash to buy a suitable prom dress, Joan’s mom made one for her.

It also posed a problem for me as Joan did not live in Hoboken, and I had to rely upon public transportation to squire her to the dance. I gave no thought to what might transpire when the prom ended.

On the night of the prom, attired in a white jacket, I took a bus up the Viaduct from Hoboken to Union City to pick up Joan. I had no other transportation option as my parents never owned a car. We rode a bus back to Hoboken and walked three blocks to Demarest High, scene of the Prom. We danced to jukebox music until about 10:30 p.m. Then, groups started leaving, many headed for New York City nightspots. I had made no plans and felt awkward and a bit depressed, realizing that my prom would soon end without a flourish.

At the last minute, a classmate asked us to join him and his date on their way to the Hotel Astor in Manhattan. No bus for us. He would be driving there in his family’s car. I jumped at the chance, and off we went to hear Harry James and his Orchestra.

Near midnight, the hotel dance crowd started to murmur, then babble, then shout, "It's her!" At the time, Harry’s girl friend happened to be Bette Grable, the Pin-Up Girl of WW II. She promenaded across the dance floor attired in a striking gown with her hair billowing, hips swerving, and all other body parts moving in harmony. She sat down at a ringside table close to the band, and smiled at Harry. “Cute,” I observed, “but not as pretty as Joan.”

When the hotel show ended, my friend dropped us off at Joan’s apartment building. Neither of us wanted to say goodnight, so I lingered. By the time we parted, public transportation had ended for the night. I hoofed it home, a few miles away, skipping and singing happily aloud in the manner of Gene Kelly, without the rain.

The unexpected invitation of my high school pal to accompany him to hear Harry James and see Betty Grable, live and in motion, turned my Senior Prom into a Hollywood movie, featuring Joan as Cinderella and me as Prince Charming. Judy and Mickey couldn’t match our performance that evening.

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 Here's a picture of me with Joan Lester, the girl I took to my Senior Prom.

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