Buck Hill

Gawker Stalker: 1947 Edition

Saw Myrna Loy at The Cotillion Room on Saturday. Guess she's into the "jive," huh? I smiled when she walked past on her way to the W.C., but she didn't respond. A lot shorter than you'd think.

Frankie Laine at the Copa. What a nut! Looked like a rented tux, too. Total one-hit wonder.

I swear I just ran into one of The Andrews Sisters (one of the brunettes -- the uglier one?) on 7th Ave. I was just leaving the IRT station, and she (Patti?) nearly ran me right over on her way to, I don't know, make it with Bing Crosby or something. I guess I wouldn't be worrying about looking where I was going if my career had died along with Tojo [not dead -ed]. Maybe she's heading out to meet Truman about bombing the reds and reviving her career in the war bonds racket.

I saw Richard Rodgers outside the St. James Theatre. Cigarette break (he smokes Luckies!). Looked tired and NOT HAPPY. My friend kept trying to get me to ask him for tickets to Ohio! or whatever it's called (it's still running!), but I told him I heard it was boring. Too bad Hart died, Rodgers doesn't look very happy now that he has to write songs about cows or whatever.

I was at the Oak Room the other night (don't ask), and I noticed this really serious-looking egghead type totally trying to make it with a swell-looking dame at the other end of the bar. Couldn't hear what he was saying, but he kept writing stuff down and giving it to her (room number? algebraic equations? abstract art?). Anyway, as I was settling my tab and mentally preparing myself for a return to the cloakroom (Plaza hat check kid is always surly), I hear the bartender telling some other guy that the creepy egghead is Walter Lippmann. What an asshole.

Two sightings yesterday!!! First, at 21 (I don't care what Winchell says, it's still THE HOTTEST BAR in NEW YORK) I saw none other than CARY GRANT, who is EVEN HOTTER in person!!! Oh my god, I nearly kissed him right there!! He is sooo cute, and even though I think he was a little drunk, he was still totally charming to everyone, and wasn't even in one of the private rooms! Then (this was less exciting), I was trying to get a cab on Madison at like 10 and who should be stumbling around dressed like a total skank with some grungy hepcat type but Shirley Temple. She's such a hoe-bag these days. Doesn't she have parents? Or is she still owned by Zanuck?

This was a weird one. I was at the Diamond Horseshoe and saw Walt Disney and Salvador Dali. They were together, chatting pretty friendly-like, but I couldn't really make out what they were talking about. Anyway, I wanted to tell Salvador that Walt was a fascist, but my wife told me not to make a scene. Dali probably knows already. Anyway, I don't really like either of them that much.

Ok, someone will have to settle this one for me: my gal SWEARS she saw Bing Crosby at Cafe Elysian on Thursday. Now, I was there too, but I only caught the back of this guy as he left. I mean, I couldn't tell the back of Bing Crosby from the back of Jack Benny. But this is HOBOKEN, people! Bing simply wouldn't be there, unless personally escorted by Frankie "Maresy Dotes" Sinatra. Anyway, it's looking like there's a Bing Crosby DOUBLE prowling the streets across the Hudson. And he wears Oxfords. Are the '30s back now? |