You don't really know loneliness unless you do a year or two with a one-night band. Sing until about 2 a.m. Get in a bus and drive 400 miles. Stop in the night for the greasy hamburgers. Arrive in a town. Try to sleep. Get up and eat.
—Singer Georgia Gibbs
It was a hot. muggy, starlit night in the dusty Ontario lake town of Port Stanley (pop. 1,480). The fish flies swarmed, and the rickety Stork Club Ballroom had just disgorged 800 jazz fans. By 2:25 a.m., all 23 bandsmen had clambered aboard the big silver, red and white bus, followed...
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