|
The train spends along through the night, clickety clack, then a tabloid newspaper appears superimposed on the screen, headline visible, then wild applause on the soundtrack, more clickety clack, another train, a new headline, applause, clickety clack, headline, applause, and on into the night until at last a train pulls up at the Palace, and another star is obviously born.
. . .
In between, Abel has all sorts of things to check. For instance, he is waiting impatiently for a late story to arrive about a memorial for Oscar Hammerstein. Also, new editorial material is submitted for his approval. His assistant brings over the "move" list a weekly feature that tells where people in the industry have gone, broken down into "N.Y. to L.A.", "L.A. to N.Y.," "Europe to U.S." and so on. It is one of the best read things in the paper, and Abel checks it over carefully. Nothing much gets by him. "Is this right," he says, "only one of the Cowsills is moving!"
"He's trying to make it on his own," the assistant explains.
Abel nods, satisfied, and turns back to his page one. "Are you with me or agin me?" he says to Paddy.
. . .
|
