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Between shows there were interviews. Here, New York Post columnist, Earl Wilson, visits Jane in her tiny dressing-room. Magazine and newspaper writers beat a path backstage.
Whenever Jane stepped into the street, fans surrounded her — she always obliged. This was outside the swank "21," on one of the rare occasions that Jane left the Capitol to dine.
If she had thought back to her New York experiences of last year, she might have chosen to stay home this time. Last year she lost ten pounds (that left eighty-eight) climbing to and from her dressing-room upstairs at the Capitol. And everytime she turned around, someone had a question, or was pointing a camera at her.
This year it wasn't much different — except for the dressing-room. The stagehands at the Capitol had built her a sort of lean-to, covered with burlap. It stood backstage against the rear wall and it was the noisiest place in the city.
The few people she met went out of their way to please her. Tony Canzoneri, the former ring champ who was on the same bill with Jane, called up all the restaurants near the Capitol one night, to find out who served pizza. (Pizza is an Italian pie made of cheese and tomatoes.) And if no one thereabouts served pizza it wasn't his fault. If Jane had to eat soup it was because that's what they served around the corner from the Capitol half-an-hour before showtime.
There was the little boy whose name she never learned — he was too shy. But all day, every day, he waited near the stage door with a bouquet. of flowers in his hand. When Janie came dashing o.ut, he gave her the bouquet and helped her into a taxi.
The closest she ever really came to New York was when she sang to New Yorkers from the stage: At night, after the last show, she saw it from her window — the lights, the cars, the flavor of glittering excitement. But the view was all — there had been no time for fun. The End
Caught in the act:
Jane wowed 'em all with tunes from
Dale With Judy, Luxury Liner.