"Disgrace or no disgrace," Gabby said firmly. "Always kiss a man when he asks. That's one of my basic political beliefs."
Lennox went down Broadway to the Joydream Ballroom where "Who He?" rehearsed. No longer a taxi-dance joint, the ballroom had been struggling along since the war as headquarters of a lonely hearts club giving dances three nights a week for its discriminating clientele (all religious faiths). Now, television's frantic search for rehearsal space had restored Joydream to solvency.
In the Women's Lounge, the dancers in black rehearsal leotards were lined up before a wall of mirrors, headed by Charlie Hansel who was short, ebullient and graceful. They were watching their reflections intently as they memorized Charlie's new routines, and complaining chronically as only dancers can complain. Cooper was at the piano with Johnny Plummer's score, working out the beats for Hansel.
"You're taking it in four bar sections," Cooper was saying. "And that's throwing your rhythm off."
"Lambkin, it's written in fours. That Johnny Plummer! He's a four-cornered one, he is." Hansel spoke without taking his eyes off his reflection. None of the other dancers did either. This is not vanity. Like the complaining, it's an occupational disease.
"You don't understand," Cooper explained. "The music's in phrases, not bars. Johnny's written two longs, a short and a medium. Count ten twice, then four and then eight. You'll come out right."
"Samkin, there's no arguing with the composer of 'We're The Most.' He's a genius one, he is. Ready, kidkins? And!—"
They went into the routine, counting and complaining. Cooper scowled at the compliment and began playing. Lennox backed out of the lounge.
On the main ballroom floor, the sets for the show had been chalked and Raeburn Sachs was directing Mig Mason and the rest of the cast in the "Man Without A Country." Sol Eggleston, the network camera director, was prowling around the scene, framing it in his hands and making notes on his camera plot. This is a minute by minute schedule of the placement and occupation of all three cameras for the duration of the show, including lens settings and time allowance for changes of setting and position.
When Eggleston saw Lennox, he motioned sharply and brought him over to a table covered with blueprints and light plots. Eggleston was fat, efficient and asthmatic. Lennox liked him. He liked all the technical men. They knew their business and never wasted time promoting delusions of genius.