Kenneth M. Walsh
Thirty or so years ago, one late afternoon, I stopped at the East railing to look at Prometheus and watch the skaters. A woman came onto the ice -- a Brooke Astor type of about 70 in a black skating dress with gold sequin hem -- and, when "Blame it On the Bossa Nova", sung by Edy Gorme, came on, proceeded to do a dance on skate point, waving her arms back and forth, entrancing the crowd. At the end, after her applause, her butler skated out and put a mink or sable over her shoulders, and they left the ice. I love New York.
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