A More Recent Relic: At The Blue Room, New Orleans.

About a year ago I came across an interesting piece detailing the renovation and re-opening of the famed Roosevelt Hotel in New Orleans and in introducing the article I mentioned memories of spending evenings there with friends dancing to the house band and drinking cokes.

Today, the daughter of my beloved dance teacher posted several photos of the old dance company and this photo was among them. Top and bottom at left are the teacher and husband. Girls on the floor, boys on the bandstand.  (Click the image to embiggen.) While I don't remember everyone in the photo, I am still in touch with those who hung around for years and became friends. And yes, I am in the picture, though it's unlikely that you'll find me without help.

HINT: I sorta stand out like a sore thumb! No, I am not the redhead on the right with the big hair.  She was Louie Prima's daughter, and a damned good dancer, too.

It was posted on FB and I was tagged in a bunch of others, too.  But this one is validation that I didn't dream or make up stories about our time together in the 50s and 60s.  If I get over the embarrassment, I may post a few others in a separate post - if you promise not to laugh too hard.

I once had this photo (an original 8 X 10,  from The Blue Room photographer - all good hotels had one on staff back then) but lost it with everything else in the break up.  I am thrilled to see it again, even in digital form.  

Please don't think that I am an "Elder Sage" (thank you Ur-spo) wanting to live in the past.  On the contrary, I want to share what a wonderful past it was and how those years laid the foundation for becoming the person I am today.  Remembering what I learned from that time is a treasure to me. Reliving the past is not my thing.

OK, if you haven't been able to find me, here I am.  I was the only guy in a very thin 1960s necktie and a white sport coat.  Well, it was summer in NOLA, after all...and those pencil-thin ties were all the rage.

Update-2013: I've been informed that I am wearing a light seersucker suit,  not a sport jacket. Seems my attire that evening was the envy of all the other guys in their heavy dark suits.

Hard to believe, huh? That I had real hair back in those days, I mean. If memory serves, I believe this was taken in 1961 - and I was 15 years old.

Well class, the bell has rung and that ends this short journey through history for now.

And so it goes.
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