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BREAKUP — The Truth Abou
A more poignant story has seldoi
been told. But then, no tw
people have ever said good -by quite like th
RICHARD A D D I S 0
After that eventful call, Vic had just nine days to decide, to remember how they had loved one another, to think of their gay reunion at the Stork Club in New York — and to ponder what Rita herself had admitted to him that day on the trans-Atlantic telephone
What the columnist saw and recorded: Rita Haywor*1-, oeioved of Vic, was being seen here, there and everywhere wit C-son Welles
p
M
M
28
THE good ship U. S. Coast Guard Cutter D , in port for refueling,
rode at anchor serene and confident. Down below in the crew's quarters the sound of jubilation rose in a blurred crescendo punctured by staccato laughter. On deck, midship, watching the waves do a frosty rhumba before they piled themselves up against the side of the ship, a big bosun sat, silent and motionless, his handsome profile etched by the sun on the scrubbed deck.
Out of nowhere it came, the sound of a tremulous tenor airing his sorrow over a portable phonograph.
"I wonder who's kissing her now. . . ."
The big bosun smiled. In a second
his toes were wig-wagging to the
weepy rhythm. Suddenly the music stopped. The big bosun shrugged.
He had lapsed back into his revery, watching the gulls swoop like Stukas.
A blond seaman came along the deck, carrying a portable. He walked over to the big bosun and sat down.
"What'll it be, bosun?" he said. "Glenn Miller doing 'Black Magic' or Harry James on 'Velvet Moon?' "
"You could start off with 'My Gal Sal,' swing into 'The Pity of It All' and . . ."
Scorchy, the seaman, blinked. "You mean you still want to hear those records?"
The big bosun came to. "This still routine — I don't get it."
"There's nothing to get, mate, ncv.h ing at all. The way I look at it. ci are like streetcars — there's anothc: in five minutes."
The big bosun swung around grabbed him by the shoulder. "Sup posing you give it to me straight."
"You really want it?"
"Shoot, sailor."
"Okay, mate. A bunch of us is dow below listening to the radio and . well . . . I'm twisting the dial aroun when all of a sudden this Broadv a. columnist — Howard Barnes. I thin name is — starts coming over real gcoc We're listening with only half an ea when the guy comes out with it."
"With what?"