ABSTRACT
By now, in 1982, Charles Pierce had played just about every important nightclub in the United States, including Molokai, Hawaii. He had triumphed in London, England, and had turned down offers to appear in Australia and Edinburgh, Scotland. In New York City he had entertained at the Village Gate, The Ballroom, Grand Finale, and Les Mouches. On the East Side he had knocked ’em dead at posh Freddy’s, where an array of celebrities flocked to see him. There were Lucille Ball, Claudette Colbert, Paulette Goddard, Debbie Reynolds, Dorothy Loudon, Ingrid Bergman, and gossip columnist Liz Smith, who told him, “Darling, this is cabaret. You can say anything you like.” Not that he needed her permission!
