From her dressing room, Virginia Graham, the hostess of an all-girl TV cackleklatsch, slyly eyed her guests of the day as they paced the studio.
"They're smelling each other," she smirked to her producer, "like three bitches at the Westminster dog show."
Then Virginia patted her Clairoled pouf, pinned on a diamond as big as a blintz, and walked out to plant her guests around the living-room-style set. As soon as the four of them had adjusted their on-screen smiles, the TV tape machines began to roll. "Hi everyone," chirped Virginia, "and welcome to Girl Talk."
In her six years on the...
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