“Do you think my dreams failed, so I became some saloon pianist to live vicariously through others, hoping for a break?”
“I don’t know you well enough, Eunice. I don’t mean to suggest that at all. It just seems that you feel you were cheated out of fame or something…that you were really close.”
“I was only close because I loved the business. My talent was run-of-the-mill, at best. Growing up in a town of 1,500 people in the middle of Minnesota, I was the best dancer and singer in town. I thought I was as good as anyone. I didn’t know until I got to New York that I was average, at best. After a few months in New York, I knew I wasn’t going to be a star. I could have just packed it up and moved back to Glencoe, gotten married to Adolph Wertheimer, and lived on his farm.”
“Do you have any kids?”
“No, Sammy and I were too into each other. We were selfish that way. Not willing to share our love for each other with anyone else.”
“Do you regret it?”
“Sometimes, but I wouldn’t marry for anything but love, and I made other choices I don’t regret at all. I got to perform and hang around with some of the most famous entertainers of the age — Sinatra, Sammy Davis, Jr., Ann Miller, and Judy Garland, just to name a few. Most of them wouldn’t remember me. But I was there, living my dream. These pictures are a constant reminder of the extraordinary things I got to do in my life.”
Who’s this?” Adam asked, pointing to a picture of Eunice and a dark haired, debonair gentleman.
“That’s Sammy,” she sighed. “I miss him so much. I loved him from the first minute I met him and have never stopped.”
“How long has he been gone?”
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