Fools make feasts and wise men eat them.

Benjamin Franklin, 1733

Mj had followed the guru’s wave all evening, secretly, with better concentration than usual; and suddenly the Fred in his mind hit a lilting 2/4 slow-dance beat, soft enough for a soprano to sing and be heard whispering:

Huh shuh bye,...

And the Pennsylvanians grew tender and whispery:

Hushaby-hushaby....¹

After a silence Bill said, "Betty Ann came to find me, didn't you, after the concert?" He looked at her terribly sternly, probably because he was trying hard to remember something terribly important.

Or maybe he was trying to stay awake.

"Mm hmm."

The soprano floated an octave higher on a pure tone, and the Pennsylvanians echoed the soprano’s ‘Hushaby’.

"Oh, and then he brought US –."  Bill wrinkled his whole big sun-round face: "Is that right?!"

Betty Ann was dreamy and tired. "Yeh, the Secret Service man. To the dining room."

"No, no, first he took us up to Chief Stewart."

She thought about that: "Yeh."

How could they forget such things?

...Loo-loo-loo looooo-LOOOooo, Huuuuh-shuh-baaaaaaaye!...

(Loo-loo hushabye…)

A silent downbeat opened each line,

(Bwm) Dream-of-the aaan-geeeeeehls Waaay-up-haaaaaaigh!

(Dream of the angels way up high…)

Bing Crosby soared to crooner's heaven:

(Bwm) Loo-loo-loo looooo-LOOOooo, Huuuuh-shuh-baaaaaaaye!

(Bwm) Ma-ma-won't goooooh-ah-waaaaaay!...

(Mama won’t go away…)

Bill was righteous. He was militant for some reason: "This Secret Service guy took us up to Chief Stewart and told him the story, we were just married f'r petesakes why can't we go to the dance!"

"The chief steward?" mj figured out.

Bill nodded. "He took us to the chief steward of the White House."

"Mm." Mj had finally made a contribution to correcting something important.

"And Chief Stewart ushered us into the dining room."

But Bill would not quit saying ‘Chief Stewart’ when it was ‘Chief Steward of the White House’. Weren’t they two different things?

Maybe not.

Then who was ‘Chief Stewart’?

Chief Stewart, mj figured out later, when he had found a chance to let his mind wander around creation about this mysterious man, must have been Bill’s Huron tribal brother with long straight black hair in a pony tail who had lost his tribe just like Bill. Only, instead of working for Fred Waring like his Huron brother, Bill, he had hit the streets and ended up homeless; though he was every bit as sharp and canny and multi-talented as Bill Blackburn. There was no tribe left, of course; so he designated himself 'Chief' honestly.

And President Richard Nixon, weary from battling over White House tapes, had walked out the front door of the White House one super-early dawn and paced Washington Square with the Secret Service sticking to him like flies. The President was trying to clear his mind out, and start over with a new lease on life or something. And President Nixon had stumbled across this guy who called himself ‘Chief Stewart’, just waking up from a 3am nap on the sidewalk, wrapped in cardboard against the cold. Nixon had talked to the Chief and learned he had done gourmet once, and so he had taken him on, and in, as Chief Steward of the White House.

And certain pundits, of course, thought this was one of the ‘lamest’ of mj lorenzo’s ‘jokes’ ever! But he emailed them back when Sammy told him about their comments (on a web page), to remind them: that it was a joke aimed at Bill and at himself, mj. He wanted to make light of the fact that there were very few areas, if any, in which mj lorenzo, despite his ‘superior formal education’, could outdo Bill Blackburn; but that proper English word usage was one of those very few areas. And they should ‘get their funny bones back in joint’.

"The Presidential Dining Room," Bill strained, trying to recall details, "brought in champagne, was it?"

"Uh huh." Betty Ann was deadpan, or tired; or both.

"Yeh," said Bill. "Brought in champagne; here were all these," he laughed, "waiters and stuff, attending to our needs, and we're sittin' in here on our..."

"Honeymoon!" she warmed to the telling.

"The day after our wedding."

"Nine days to Christmas," she looked at Dlune.

"In the Presidential Dining Room having our own –."

"Banquet!" she completed.

Dlune was in candyland, incredulous. "Just you two!?"

"Just us two," said Bill, "and waiters, and Chief Stewart and –."

(Bwm.) Sleep-in-my aaaaaahrms-whaaaaahile,

Yooooou still caaaaan!

(Bwm.) Childhood is buhhhhhhhht ahhhhhhh

Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!...

"People like that," he continued. "And Lucy Winchester it was, wasn't it?"

"Yes," said Betty Ann, "the White House social secretary."

"Walked in the room and saw us there." Bill looked wistful: "Betty Ann says, 'Ohhhhhh, I wish we could be out there, dancing’!" Bill paused before telling his last and final tale of social protest. "And I told Lucy Winchester the story!"

And I Told Lucy Winchester the Story

He said: "How they brought us up to the room and gave us a Presidential Banquet with champagne and private service, but would not let me and Betty Ann dance with the President and Mrs. Nixon because the Pennsylvanians had ‘forgotten’,” Bill emphasized the word with a furry white-bear eyebrow shrug, and a pause, “to bring my damn stinking tuxedo!

“And she said, 'Bill, I'm sorry, we never thought of that!' She says, 'You come with me!’ and she took us out to dance!"

Bill checked with his sidekick. "Right?"

Demurely she confirmed he was not lying one little bit. "Mm hm..."

Bill continued. "She says, ‘It's alright! Go! Dance’!"

(Bwm.) E-ven when yoooooou're aaaaaah

Greaaaaaat biiig maaaaaaaaan,

(Bwm.) Ma-ma won't gooooooooh a-waaaaaaay.

Hushabyhushabyhushaby...

Bill added matter-of-factly, "So we went out and we danced the rest of the night at the White House. Vice President Agnew was chasin' Betty Ann around tryin' to get her to dance."

Mj got in two more important questions: "Was it Agnew or Kissinger?"

"Agnew," Bill looked at his sidekick. "It was Agnew, wasn't it?"

"Vice President Agnew," she confirmed. "Kissinger gave me the eye when he went zippin' around the corner there."

“And what about the President and Mrs. Nixon?” asked mj.

“Weren’t there,” said Bill.

Bwm. Child-hood is buuuuut aaaaah dreeeeeam...

Huh-shuh-baaye...  Huh-shuh-baaye...

Sleeee-eeeep, baaaa-beeeeeeeey, sleeeeeeeeeeep...

"And we danced there at the White House," Big Chief Bill wrapped it up in a traditional sacred Huron tribal way, a quiet powwow closing style, "until it was time for us to get in the limousine and go home to bed. And that was it," he finished the tale. "That's the story you wanted."

Sleeeeeeep.. sleeeeeeep.. sleeeeeeeep...

How I loaaaaahve.. yooooooooou.. troooooooue...

(soprano obligato:) troo-ooo...