When my husband and I were newlyweds, we were both in showbusiness and didn't have much money. On weekends, I earned enough cash to pay for groceries while he danced in the chorus of Broadway Shows and paid the rest of the bills.
New Year's Eve was a big night for me and I usually played three clubs with an act I had put together with stock arrangements that could be bought for a few dollars. When I sang at the first club, I usually brought down the house with tipsy patrons joining in to sing along as I belted out the last few songs. (When I stopped the show, the owners often offered a sandwich on the house.) The show over we would jump into our car and drive to the next club where the patrons were feeling no pain. While I did my act, it wasn't unusual to see someone wobbling across the floor but I still garnered a decent amount of applause. On to club number three--it usually became the new year as we were driving and we blew kisses to each other. The third show didn't do too well. Customers were bombed, heads were cradled on the table, couples were kissing in corners and occasionally someone made a hasty trip to the bathroom. My act was completely ignored. But we looked forward to a New Year and I knew for the next few weeks the budget was in good shape and I believed the New Year would bring me a coveted spot in a hit show. If you believe, your wish comes true.