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Victories Church, where I would go every day before work and at lunch.
    On that fateful day, I was typing up a contract for Mr. Enright and there was a knock at the door. We had one of those doors with a small pane of glass in it—the glass was frosted and you could only see shadows behind it—and our company's name was on the door: FLYNN ENRIGHT ENTERTAINING AGENTS. When I heard the knock I said, “Come in!” but nobody did. I saw a shadow behind the glass and there was another knock. “Come in! The door is open,” I said again, very nicely I might add.
    Suddenly there was a loud noise, a crash . . . the little window in the door was being smashed in by—I couldn't believe my eyes—it was a rolling pin! Some of the letters on the door were gone and the ones that were left now spelled out FRIGHTENING GENTS.
    Then in a flash the entire pane of glass was gone.
    It was a short stocky woman dressed completely in black and there was a tall boy maybe eighteen years old . . . his hair looked blue to me under the light and he had clear blue eyes, almost turquoise. There was another man, very short and wiry. I was so scared. I was eighteen years old.
    They burst into the reception area and they started jabbering all at once—I couldn't understand what was going on, not one word. When I reached for the phone to call the police, Guy, the short wiry one, yanked the phone out of the wall.
    All the time I thought that the lady was going to start clubbing me with the rolling pin.
    [They sat] down and waited for Mr. Enright to return from lunch and I kept looking at the clock. Those ticking sounds were sounding very loud, let me tell you. I knew he would be back at 1:30 and he was never late. He was a kind man, he always took care of his family, and he was seldom intoxicated during the day.
    At exactly 1:30 he walked in and was about to say, “Maeve, what happened to the glass in the door?” But then he was struck on the head by the rolling pin. They dragged him into his office and closed the door. The short wiry man told me not to get the police. Well, that wasn't going to happen anyway as Victor's mother had used the phone cord to tie me to my chair.

    HUGH BERRIDGE: Teddy Duncan and I were going over some charts in our rehearsal space when Jack Enright called. He said, “You know, boys,I've been giving it a lot of thought. A trio with four people in it is a capital idea! Why not give this Fontana lad a shot?” Well, at that second Rowlie walked in, and when we told him about this, he said that if we let Fontana in, he would quit. Rowlie got on the horn and I heard Jack's voice on the other end. Rowlie kept saying “no” and “I don't think so, Jack.” Then I heard a woman's voice on the other end—she was rattling away, talking a mile a second, sometimes in English, sometimes in Italian.
    Rowlie hung up and said, “You know, perhaps we could use a new direction in our sound.”

    â€¢ • •

    ARNIE LATCHKEY: Zig related to me that after that first show they went back up to their hotel room. Rosie Baer is in there too with a bottle of champagne and a tray of chopped liver and crackers.
    Now Harry and Flo had no idea if Ziggy was gonna do this again. No idea at all. The old man's probably thinking, If the kid don't do this thing again, I'll disown the bastard! So he looks at Zig and says, “Sonny, how would you feel about maybe doing this again?”
    â€œYou want me to go onstage again, Poppy?” Zig says.
    â€œDidn't you hear all the people laughing?”
    â€œYeah sure, I heard,” Zig says. “But you were mad at me at first.”
    â€œAt first, yes,” Harry says. “Now, why do you think they were laughing?”
    â€œOn account of you and mom and the act?” Playin' real dumb.
    My guess is that Rosie Baer is thinking, Oh, Jesus God, the freckled fat boy isn't gonna do it again.
    Harry says to Zig, “Well,