Sitting Pretty: The Life and Times of Clifton Webb

Chapter 5. Dancing into Xanadu

55 5 C H a P t e r 5 Dancing into Xanadu Several times during our run at the Casino, Valli Valli told me that I should take up modern dancing. Until The Purple Road closed, I had taken the suggestion as only a rather nice compliment. The dance craze swept the country that summer of 1913. Cabarets were springing up everywhere , particularly on the roofs of Broadway hotels, and dance teams were drawing bigger crowds than many successful plays. Maurice and Walton, the Castles at the Cafe Martin, and Joan Sawyer and Carlo Sebastien at the New York Roof were the headliners. When, as it must to all plays, closing night came for the by now deeply rutted Purple Road, I drifted over to the New York Roof to see the much discussed Turkey Trot. After watching Sebastien and Sawyer’s gyrations for a turn or two, I invited one of the girls at our table to try it with me. This was actually the first time that I had ever danced on a ballroom floor, and I found the sensation quite pleasurable. A few moments after we returned to our table the headwaiter appeared at my elbow, discreetly murmuring that a lady would like to speak to me. Thoroughly delighted, I followed him through the maze of tables to the edge of the floor, where a man was sitting with one of the most ravishing blondes I had ever seen. The girl introduced herself as Bonnie Glass and her companion as Al Davis. She explained that she was dancing at Murray’s Roman Gardens and was looking for a partner. “I just saw you in The Purple Road,” Bonnie said. “I saw you dance just now. Would you like a job?” “Yes,” I said, pursuing my infallible formula. Although my plans for the future were something less than nebulous, I did not disclose this to Miss Glass. Simulating a pose of thoughtful reflection, I wondered whether even I had sufficient effrontery to carry this one off. d a n C i n g i n t o X a n a d u 56 “Do you do the Tango?” she inquired. I allowed a discreet elevation of my right eyebrow and a drop of my left shoulder to convey the sentiment at which my truthful nature balked—that the tango and I were indeed old and intimate friends. “The Maxixe?” she said. “But of course,” I said. They looked at each other and Al Davis made a gesture which might conceivably have been a nod. “What’s your salary?” Bonnie asked. I had heard it rumored that Hal Ford, the leading man in The Purple Road, received $150 a week. This seemed to me an altogether satisfactory figure. “One hundred and fifty dollars a week,” I said. “Okay,” Bonnie said. “Drop by the Gardens tomorrow for a tryout.” In exactly that fashion did I become a dancer. a critic from this period termed Webb’s introduction to ballroom dancing a “sheer fluke.” however, many professional ballroom teams began their careers in this informal manner. Webb was already a dancer, but he was not a ballroom dancer. he learned the basics of ballroom dancing from Bonnie Glass and then relied on his native talent to transform himself into the consummate ballroom dancer he became. Webb and Glass delighted audiences for the entire 1913–1914 seasons. his slim physique and suave personality contributed to their impact as a team. Weeks later, when Bonnie and I had become great friends, she said to me, “Tell me the truth. When I asked you about the Maxixe, had you ever danced it?” “No,” I said. “Neither had I,” Bonnie said, with a burst of that infectious laughter which was one of her most wonderful traits. She was a warm, impulsive, and generous person. I supposed that I fell in love with her, as nearly every other normal male did, and she treated me half the time as a small boy, the other half a sophisticated family friend on whose sage counsel she might safely lean. It was unquestionably in this role that she saw me one night years later, when we met at Castles by the Sea in Long Beach. We hired a double chair for a peaceful hour’s ride up and down the boardwalk. d a n C i n g i n t o X a n...