The Persian Room, part of Manhattan Hotel Plaza, is a kind of Metropolitan Musem for living canvases, where genteel singers, chiefly female. keep the blue-rinse and cufflinks crowd smoothly entertained through dinner, under a ceiling so high that the usual stratum of nightclub-blue smoke rises healthily out of sight. Right now, though the tinkly quiet has vanished, extra chairs have been packed in, and jam ming crowds nightly try to fight their way past the velvet ropeĀ for the smoke is on the performing floor. Ethel Mer man is there.
No Crooner....
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