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Gordon's!. Gordon's--the colourful!. Gordon's--the exotic!. Gordon's at two-thirty in the morning!. Brilliantly lighted, packed to suffocation, strangling in the smoke, sticky with sweat; shrill with gin, begotten of dirty messes in mouldy cellars and proudly carried in monogrammed silver flasks; clamorous with the new music but lately imported, duty free, from the head waters of the Congo and brought to triumphant perfection by the highest paid orchestra in the States--fresh from New York where its engagement had been abruptly terminated by a padlock. Gordon's Gardens!
Fiddles squeaked, saxophones squealed, oboes giggled, clarionets wailed, tubas yawped, triangles clanged. "Lament of the Damned," perhaps?. Not at all!. "I'm Lonesome and Blue for You."