From Time to Time (20 page)

their waiting limousine, their faces certain of the world and their places in it. Then for a few minutes I stood, my back against a sun-warmed building wall, to watch other faces move past my eyes along Fifth, wishing I had the nerve to lift my camera and snap some of these faces head-on. What were they thinking, these 1912 people, their shoe leather scuffing or tapping by? Who were they? People of other times arent simj)lv peo)ple like us except for the fuiinv clothes. These faces were different, even the children's, formed by the thoughts, events, and feelings of the unidlue experiences of their own time. So what did these passing faces tell me? I thought that they looked . . . serene. That most of them seemed cheerful, eves fully open, aware of and enjoying this particular day. And-what else? There was something else. They didn't seem afraid, I decided. Or worried, most of them. And no one I saw looked angry. These people walking and strolling past my eves along Fifth Avenue through their own time and world seemed to me secure and confident in it. I knew that they were wrong; that this pleasant peaceful world had only a few years left to it. Unless but it seemed preposterous that I could possiblv do anvthing at all about that.

Walking toward me now, here came a not-quite-elderly marvel, a bouievardier, a bona fide dandy with Kaiser Wilhelm mustache, gray, striped trousers, black coat with plush lapels and collar, heavy gold watch chain, silver-headed cane, glittering silk hat. I walked toward him, trying to make myself lift the camera and snap him, but didn't. Couldn't. A spear of lightning would have flashed down and instantly killed me.

But when he had passed, heading north there on Fifth Avenue, cane swinging beautifully, I turned around to catch him, but waited a moment, fiddling with the camera, then pretended to take my man up ahead-and instead snapped these marvelous chattering girls. Yes, girls, damn it. Of course they are young

women, but to sometimes say "girls was never to call them children. The English language is hardworking; the meaning of a word can vary by context. And to compare using "girl for "young woman with the Southern use of "boy for a black man is thoughtless, and just plain dumb.

Well, all right. Okay. Yes, yes, I'm fine now. The girl on the right is wearing a green~and~white-striped coat, the young woman in the middle a maroon dress, and the other-your choice now- a kind of bottle green, I think you'd call it. She caught me in the act of snapping this-and I caught another young-woman watcher behind them.

Where was The Rev, and Mrs. C. H. Gardner's Boarding and Day School for Young Ladies and Gentlemen? Gone. Julia sometimes talked of sending Willy there, but I didn't.

Fifth Avenue was changing more obviously now, as I walked on. I was seeing more and more storefronts. And Apartment to Let signs like this one, which I took because I remembered the house

there with the heraldic lions as the home of a rich family. A little depressing somehow, and then 1 glimpsed something just ahead at Forty-fourth Street that made me hurry Off to see what it was. I walked on across Forty-fourth Street, grinning with pleasure and using m next-to-last film to take this wonderful little wedding cake of a building. What was this? I had to see, and I walked catercorner

across Fifth Avenue past the cop. And then, standing under the awning looking up the stairs, I saw the polished brass plate that told me this was Delmonico's, moved uptown. A hand touched my elbow, and a woman's voice behind me said, "Well, I am surprised! Are you here for the lecture? I turned, and the Jotta Girl's face, framed in the cartwheel brim of a pale blue hat, smiled up at me, and I smiled back.

"Well! I said a little stupidly. "What are you doing here?

"Following you, of course! Are you coming in?

At the curb women were arriving steadily, mostly middle-aged or elderly, stepping out from limousines, cabs, or carriages-more limos than cabs-car doors slamming, low-horselpower engines clunking as they pulled away.

"Well, I don't know, I said. Now here came the young women, smelling just great, laughing, looking so splendid in their enormous hats, and showing some fine ankle as they plucked up their skirt hems to climb the stairs. Accompanying a lot of them, and all the best-looking ones, were young or youngish men, nearly every damn one of them eight feet tall.

"Oh, don't be a stick! said the Jotta Girl, her hand at my elbow urging me on. "This lecture should be very helpful to you! and she smiled at some kind of joke.

"Okay. We walked on up. "What's going to be so helpful?

She nodded at a large poster just inside the open doors. It stood on an easel of gilded bamboo, and read in expert lettering, the margins decorated with painted ivy leaves: Mrs. Charles Henry Israel's Committee on Amusement and Vacation Resources for Working Girls Will Present Professor Duryea's Demonstration of the Dance Promptly at 10 am. I understood her joke now, and said, "I thought I'd done my share of entertaining working girls with my dancing last night, and she smiled again.

No one inside seemed to be taking tickets, and we followed the crowd up a flight of carpeted stairs at our right, the women ahead of us daintily lifting their skirt hems, and I realized how well I was adapting, already an expert ankle watcher. Down a short hallway now, the women, chattering, laughing a lot, leaving a trail of perfumed air. Okay, Rube; I'm following orders. When do I get lucky? A man just behind us said, "Hello there, Helen, and the Jotta Girl turned to smile and answer, "Hello, Archie, and I wondered, Helen Who? Into a ballroom now: wood floor, mirror panels inset in the walls at intervals, a small raised platform up front. Rows of gilt chairs had been set out, the crowd sidling into them, women doing that splendid skirt-smoothing motion as they sat down. Up front, before the raised platform, stood a half-circle of chairs, green ribbon strung along their backs to mark off a reserved section of floor.

I glanced around as we sat down, and saw that among the few men in the audience a couple were reporters, I thought, because they seemed to be jotting down names, and it occurred to me that this might be a pretty social crowd.

Up on the platform three men in formal morning dress sat waiting, music open before them: a pianist, clarinetist, and violinist. Amid at stage center, on a gilt chair, a large, magnificently im~ressire, gray-haired woman in a maroon beaded dress, pince-nez glasses hanging from a dime-size gold button fastened at her chest:

Mrs. Israel herself, I had no doubt. Nodding, smiling graciously, she sat talking eagerly to the man seated at her right in a double- breasted black frock coat whose hem touched his knees. He was fifty, maybe, dark graying hair worn longer than any I'd seen anywhere else. His wife, I guessed, to whom Mrs. Israel turned now, wore a white evening dress with a gardenia pinned to one side at her waist.

Behind and around us the laughter and chatter continued, and I was certain I caught a whiff-and sneaked a look around me- of cigarette smoke. I glanced at the Jotta Girl, and she nodded. "One of the young ones sneaking a smoke, she said. "It's all the rage. Glad you came?

"Of course. Actually I'm a big fan of Madam Israel's. Wouldn't miss a lecture.

Mrs. Israel stood up, smiling benignly out at us, one hand clasping the other on her stomach, serenely confident that the talk would quickly subside, and she was right. She began to speak, and what she said, as well as I can remember, was: "Welcome, my fellow social workers. How very pleasant to see you here this morning, so many leaders and leaders of the future of our New York Society willing to give of themselves. She paused, looking out at us, her smile fading to let us know that now came the serious part. "In the course of your committee's vigilant watch on the dance halls of New York, it has become necessary, we believe, to strike out at some of the forms of the Turkey Trot and the Grizzly Bear which have appeared even where Society dances. We are all of us, certainly, modern. But that there should be some standard of decency in social dancing we do not doubt. I gave a quick sideways glance at the Jotta Girl just as she glanced at me, and we both held on to our serious expressions, facing front again. "What iS goo)d, however, and what is bad? How are the supervisors to answer the working girl when she protests that everyone is dancing the Turkey Trot? But an innocent version of the Turkey Trot may well he preserved, if rechristened -I leaned toward the Jotta Girl to whisper, "The Buzzard Bounce? and she folded her lips in- "rechristened lest the dancers of the poor be misled into thinking there is high sanction for the Turkey trot as they see it in the ill- supervised halls that are their only refuge from dark and dismal homes. We should all of us here today know just what these things are; for the girl who dances at Sherry's has just as much responsibilitv for the welfare of the girl who dances at the Murray Hill Lyceum as has the recreation supervisor in that district.

Mrs. Charles Henry Israel was really saving these things up there on the platform. "We are met this morning to answer this question by observing the Turkey Trot and the other newer dances performed as they ought to be danced, if at all. The demonstration will be conducted, together with his charming wife, by one who, for many of you, will require no introduction. May I present Professor Duryea, a teacher of dancing who thinks about his art. Smiling, supergracious, left hand splaying across her chest, she turned and, half bowing, nodded at the professor.

He stood up, taller than I'd thought, and thinner, his double- breasted frock coat like a tube with black silk lapels. He took a step forward, smiled for a moment, then said, "The Monkey Glide. The Lame Duck. The Turkey Trot, the Bunny Hug, the Grizzly Bear, the Bird Hop, all come hailed as the newest thing,' yet are only slight variations, if any, of the slow rag. Can these new dances, if properly done, offer an occasional variation of our repertoire? Perhaps. But I do not believe that Society can ace ept the uglier extremes of these dances. For there is no safety in retaining anything that departs from a correct position, as in the impeccable waltz, where the man has his right arm around the girl's waist, and her right hand rests in his left, which must be extended. Only last Wednesday I dropped into Terrace Garden for observation, and saw a policeman there in the middle of the floor busy barring the Turkey Trot, and he did it by two gestures, one to indicate that the man's left arm must be extended, and one that the languorous half-walk must not be substituted for the good old-fashioned twirl. These simple rules, born of the bluecoat's own experience in suppression, cannot be improved upon. Yet without the presence of a bluecoat, closer and closer the partners dance. And more and more perceptible becomes the tremor that keeps time with the ragging' of the orchestra. This is the evolution so often followed, and can take place not only from season to season within the world of dancers but within a single evening. With a professional smiling nod and gracious half-turn 0)f left hand and wrist, he beckoned to his wife, who smiled and stood.

He took her hand, and they stepped down into the little area marked off by ribboned chairs. Both holding their smiles, they turned to face each other maybe eight or ten inches apart. She set her left hand on her hip, fingers to the back, elbow swung well forward. He put his right hand through the ioop of her elbowed- out arm, his palm covering the back of her hand. They clasped their other hands, raising them well above their heads. Professor Duryea nodded at the musicians, the pianist struck a chord, nodded at the other two, and the group began-sedately, the violin strong and rich-Oh, you beautiful doll. And the Duryeas began -truly skilled and graceful about it-a kind of equally sedate hop from one foot to the other so that they rocked from side to side, their clasped hands moving in a wide overhead arc, the distance between them rigidly maintained.