COVER-UP

The year is 1935. It is November of that year. The place is

Greensburg, Pennsylvania. More specifically, a hotel in Greensburg. The weather is starting to change from chilly to cold, with occasional overnight snow flurries. The country is approaching and preparing for the holidays. It’s that time of year when, for most folks around this part of Pennsylvania, celebrations include Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year’s. Festivities are on the minds of many people, and children are almost holding their breath, hoping that those overnight snow flurries will stick, and tomorrow morning there will be snow.

The Sky Room at the Penn Albert Hotel features a jazz trio with a pianist who doubles on vibraphone, a guitarist, and a bassist. Over in the corner, near the bar, there is a large Christmas tree, shimmering with icicles, bright lights, and ornaments. The Sky Room is beginning to fill up as it usually does on most weekend nights. And this time of year has brought an almost palpable increase in the sense of expectation to this setting. It is, after all, that time of year. The patrons are made up of the regulars who are on a first-name basis with the bartender, the couples having a drink while awaiting a table, the out-of-towners, and perhaps some local first-time visitors.

It seems reasonable to assume that at least some of these people have their own, often secret, anticipations about what the evening might offer. What might be on their minds? What, for instance, might be the anticipation of the regular who one more time, one more holiday season, is seated at the bar, drink in hand, avoiding looking too closely at their image in the mirror behind all those inviting bottles, hoping that something or someone positive is about to show up? What about the outof-town businessperson, nursing a drink as they contemplate their trip back home for the holidays? And what about the couple awaiting their table, hoping to have a pleasant evening together? The answers to these questions will forever lie buried in the past. There are, however, two people among these others for whom answers to these questions might, at least in part, be provided.

On this particular evening, the jazz trio will be joined by a singer who, while waiting for the trio to finish setting up, is having a drink at the bar. Seated close by is a woman. These two have met here before, but this meeting will be different – quite different. The woman appears to be lost in thought, and indeed she is. Her thoughts are drifting back to the first time she met this singer. The scene is replaying in her mind’s eye.

***

She sees herself in the Sky Room, but there are no holiday trimmings. Judging by the way people are dressed, it looks like the weather outside is pleasant. On the bandstand is a piano, a vibraphone, a guitar with an amp, and a string bass. The three male musicians are dressed in their usual tuxedos. They have just now finished setting up, and one of the musicians, the vibraphone and piano player, leaves the bandstand and walks over to the woman seated at the bar. He motions her to a table right next to the bandstand, and he and the woman sit down. After a brief conversation, the man gets up, walks back to the bar, and says something to the singer; the two of them then proceed to the table. The pianist says something to the singer, the woman holds out her hand, the man bows very slightly and shakes her hand, and after a very brief pause, the pianist returns to the bandstand as the singer takes a seat at the table with the woman – five people gathered together among the many others who have, for assorted reasons, found themselves in this time and place.

Who are these five people? Two of the musicians will remain a mystery. But what of the others? What about the third musician (the pianist), and the singer? And who is the woman? Well, to the pianist, she’s no mystery. They’ve known each other for many years. That’s at least a small part of the reason she is here on this particular night. It is not known how many times she’s been here before. The bartender didn’t seem to pay special attention to her, so she is not one of those regulars mentioned earlier.

The woman is the older sister of the pianist. Her name is Beatrice Eleanor Davis. Most people call her Bea. Her pianist brother’s name is Carson Meade Davis, and people call him by either his first or his middle name. The singer’s name is Lucian Benedict Clawson, and most people call him Lew.

Bea is twenty-seven years old, unmarried, and lives with her parents in the small town of Jeannette, Pennsylvania, which is situated next to Greensburg. It is the smaller of the two towns but boasts some fame as the home of multiple glass manufacturers. It has been referred to as “Glass City,” having, at one time, grown to house seven glass companies and the largest tableware glass factory in the world.

Carson is twenty-one years old and unmarried. His current residence is unknown, although he probably lived at home until recently, given his age. He will continue his career in music, playing in dance bands around the country, eventually ending up in San Francisco near the end of 1940.

Lew, twenty-six, lives in Greensburg, just blocks from the hotel, and sings with the hotel orchestra at the ballroom venue downstairs, but occasionally comes up to the Sky Room to have a drink and sing a couple of songs with the trio.

In the 1930s, unmarried women, once they reached Bea’s age, might be viewed by some as headed toward spinsterhood. At that time, the average age of a woman when marrying was twenty-one and a half. It is unknowable if this fact of her life played a part in Bea’s psychological state on this particular evening. Whatever the circumstances, she is now sitting with Lew in the Sky Room.

***

Bea asks Lew, “Do you mind if I smoke?”

Lew responds, “Not at all. By all means. Please allow me.”

At this point, Lew takes out his cigarette lighter, lights Bea’s cigarette, and, reaching into the breast pocket of his dark gray blazer, brings out his own pack, which he places on the table between them. He tells Bea, “Please help yourself to these. I may have one later. I’m trying to limit the number of cigarettes I smoke. Unfortunately, they sometimes affect my voice and not in a way that is pleasing to me.”

Their table is one of those round affairs, of a size not meant for eating but large enough to comfortably accommodate two or three people who wish to enjoy their evening drinking and smoking. There are two rather large cut glass ashtrays on the table. Bea and Lew are situated so as to be able to face the bandstand, which is slightly off to their right and not more than ten feet from their table. This affords them an unobstructed view of the keyboard, with the bass player and the guitarist at the piano’s long end. There are four microphones, one each for the instruments and one positioned in the crook of the baby grand. The couple’s positions at this table also mean that they are nearly shoulder to shoulder and the third chair is placed with its back to the bandstand.

After listening to the group play “Tea for Two” as their first number, it is Bea who picks up the conversation.

“How soon will you be getting up to sing?” she asks Lew.

He replies, “I’ll wait until they have played a few numbers. Don’t forget. I’m just more or less sitting in with your brother’s group.”

“Carson didn’t mention how you two know each other,” she says, inquiringly.

“I first came up to the Sky Room just to hear the group,” he tells her. “I usually get a half-hour break from my job with the orchestra that plays in the ballroom downstairs. One time when I came up, the trio was on a break, and Carson and I talked. We talked about music, family, and our personal plans regarding career – you know – those kinds of things.”

“May I request a song when you get up to sing?” she asks.

“Certainly, you may,” he says and then adds, “Say, how ’bout letting me buy you a drink?”

“That would be nice,” she says.

Lew goes over to the bar and comes back with two drinks. After handing one of them to her, he sits down and turns his chair so that while he is still close to her, he is now facing more in her direction. He offers her a cigarette. She accepts, and as he lights it, he lightly touches her hand.

Bea doesn’t react to Lew’s actions – the turning of his chair or the light brush of his hand across hers – but her facial expression and body language speak of acceptance. Lew Clawson is an attractive man. His friendly personality has an energy about it that Bea finds irresistibly intriguing.

Just then, the group finishes playing Cole Porter’s “Anything Goes,” and Carson takes the microphone and invites Lew to the bandstand. Lew gets up, walks to the bandstand, and after saying something to the group, begins singing “Cocktails for Two.” Never having heard him sing before, Bea finds his voice to be as pleasant to listen to as is his company to keep.

So, that was where it all began.

And as that memory fades, Bea comes out of her reverie, realizing that Lew has just suggested that they grab a table. They sit down, and a few minutes later, the trio finishes a jazzy version of “Jingle Bells,” and Carson takes a microphone and invites Lew to the bandstand. Lew steps up onto the bandstand. And just as Bea has now seen him do several times over the last few months, Lew begins to sing, but this time the song is “White Christmas.” He finishes...