Free Girl of My Dreams by Peter Davis Page A

Oh my heart will jump for dancing, For dancing till we fall; That’s when I want romancing, Please take me to the ball.”
    â€œGive us ‘Lucky Rendezvous,’ Pammy” someone cried. “No, ‘Moonbeams,’” yelled someone else. Pammy was savoring the wait, roasting those chestnuts I’d described in my overwrought press release, until she had just the anticipation level she wanted.
    â€œBut the country around us,” Pammy went on, “is not dancing because it can’t even stand up. I’m not trying to raise money or pleading any cause. I just want to say my sense of justice, which has been asleep for several years, is awake again.”
    Mossy looked at his toes while the Lefties in the room clapped and everyone else waited. An odd occasion, I thought, for Palmyra to put her social conscience on exhibit, but then entertainers are exhibitionists by nature. She had the audience she wanted, the most visible and powerful members of the industry. Sylvia Solomon poked me in the ribs. “Hooray for Millevoix,” I said to her, “and watch out Hollywood.” “I’d put it the other way around,” she whispered, “especially watch out for the big guys on the playground.”
    â€œWe are all dreamers,” Pammy said to the room, “or we wouldn’t be writing, directing, acting, composing, or producing, would we?” (Sylvia whispered again, “At least one person here puts writing first.”) “We dare make dreams come true. But when you gain the dream you lose the dream. The song I’m going to sing is about lovers who have to part, their tristesse . But it’s also about my songs themselves. When I have a song in me it is a happy full feeling because it’s still inside me. When I release it, I’m as empty and sad as anyone waving farewell or remembering any time past that we cherish.”
    The piano trilled, and here’s some of what Palmyra sang:
    I can’t do a thing when I have to say goodbye,
    Since the word all alone leaves a tear in my eye,
    So please don’t ask if you don’t want me to cry:
    I never have found where’s the good in goodbye.
    I’ve made a sandwich ham and cheddarly
    Just for Gertrude Ederle;
    The tickle in my nose has felt
    A breeze for Franklin Roosevelt.
    You can take me way back to where time began,
    To the east of the Anglo-Egyptian Sudan;
    But search as I may and try as I try
    I just haven’t noticed the good in goodbye.
    Pammy had written the song for a nightclub croon in Jubilee’s Reno Weekend , which needed to acknowledge and relieve the self-pity of its three divorcees, only one of whom had by that point in the picture found a cowboy. Years later Harold Arlen played with the same theme, and the song became “What’s Good About Goodbye.” I still prefer Palmyra’s, but then I would. She finished with “So please don’t you ask me or I’ll have to lie; I never have found where’s the good in goodbye.”
    The wanton secret of motion pictures is that everyone connected with them is a starstruck fan. Yeatsman allowed himself a whistle, as did some of the producers. Mossy was clapping from the top of the stairs, to which he had returned. A shout of “Encore, je vous en prie” from Tutor Beedleman brought a smile from Pammy, but she had finished singing for her supper. She was swept up by her forthcoming costar Trent Amberlyn, joined by her best friend Teresa Blackburn, who was just starting to win good parts herself, and Teresa’s brother Stubby Blackburn, a shortstop for the Los Angeles Angels in the Pacific Coast League. Together they led Pammy away from the piano.
    Even though some guests were going home, others were still arriving. The alert Teet Beale spotted big game. “Ta-ra-ra, Here’s a neat trick, Descending now’s La Dietrich, Blesses us with mirth and fun, Shines brighter than the sun.”