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Bill Hopalong Cassidy Boyd is heading
Station, Sue finished telling Alan about the Waldorf with its vast marble and red plush lobby, its milling mobs, its excitement.
But Paramount had advised the hotel that celebrities were coming; as a result Sue and Alan were spirited from their taxicab into the exclusive but unimpressive private lobby reserved for guests in the ultra-ultra Waldorf Towers, lifted to their twenty-eighth floor suite in a practically empty elevator.
“Is this the Waldorf?” asked Alan, disappointed.
Nothing at this point seemed quite real to Alan, the city, the hotel, the deference of the Waldorf staff.
SEWSPAPER interviewers came with the luncheon, and Alan couldn’t eat. At dinnertime, he was on the air with a prominent radio commentator.
Sue urged him to have some food; he couldn’t live on excitement.
He wasn’t hungry, he insisted. Besides, he didn’t get it. Why all this fuss?
“Come along,” said Sue. “We’ll take a little walk.”
And they left the hotel, and walked across to Broadway, into Times Square. And they looked up at the giant marquee above the Paramount Theatre.
“This Gun for Hire,” it said, “with Alan Ladd.”
It blinked on and off, as Alan watched, hypnotized. He couldn’t believe it. But suddenly, a teen-ager in the passing crowd spied him and squealed, “It’s Alan Ladd!” In the next five minutes, he signed a hundred autographs.
They fought their way back to the hotel, and, this time, Alan was grateful for the “private” elevator.
“It’s amazing,” he said, “amazing.”
“How about a sandwich?” said Sue. “You know,” he said, “I think I am hungry-”
It was one a.m., but Sue called the kitchen and ordered two hamburgers, with coffee.
The sandwiches arrived on a tray glittering with silver and crystal. Alan eyed the check. “Two-fifty, for a hamburger!” he gasped, “it’s ridiculous.” He was too indignant to eat.
Jellied doughnuts and coffee were in the too recent past.
Newspaper reviews the next day proclaiming him a new star dimmed the memory of his lean days. Alan felt rich enough to wire the shop in Chicago: “Please air express Girl with Harpsichord.”
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