The Looking Glass: THOSE WERE THE DAYS

AT MODERN CONVENTIONS, WHAT'S A REPORTER TO DO?

Think of an old sea dog standing near the rotting docks of a big-city harbor, gazing out at the water, recalling the days of the great ocean liners, willing back just one more voyage on which plutocrats in white dinner jackets and women in evening gowns washed down caviar with champagne in dining rooms of paneled wood and stained glass.

Think of an aging musician stopping on a street corner where a great dance palace once stood, yearning for one more Big Band night, when men in white dinner jackets pressed golden horns to their lips while a woman in a...

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