No, it’s not because Ginger danced with him the most. I’ve seen many of Astaire’s films where he dances with other partners, and to me Rogers is head and shoulders above all the others. She has an easy style that is relaxed and charming, and she is always acting out the role as she dances.

Astaire exemplified the idea of suavity in his times. He was never known for handsomeness or macho-ness and wasn’t trying for it, but he was definitely heterosexual, and attracted attractive women not only “in the movies” but in life. His first wife, Phyllis, was definitely attractive, and then there was his second wife:

Off-screen, Astaire was more casual than his upper-crust characters. He was devoted to his family. Astaire and his first wife, socialite Phyllis Baker Potter, married in 1933 and had two children together, Fred Jr. and Ava. He also helped raise her son from an earlier union. Fred and Phyllis remained a couple until her death in 1954.

Astaire shocked friends and family when he remarried in 1980. His second wife was Robyn Smith, a famous jockey. Despite a more than 40-year age difference, the pair’s mutual interest in horses and racing turned into romance. After his death in 1987, his widow has been a fierce protector of his name and image.

Here’s a photo of Robyn Smith. He was 81 and she was 35 when they married.

And by the way, if you try to find out who Astaire said was his favorite partner, he gave different answers at different times.

It was Katharine Hepburn who made the famous comment about Astaire and Rogers: “Fred gave Ginger class and Ginger gave Fred sex.” She wasn’t insinuating that they slept together; she was talking about their acting and dance partnership, and I believe she was correct.

Could have been worse. Could have been a Soy Face with the Glory Hole Selfie Grin. But then he wasn’t a Modern Progressive Male.

Yes, Astaire was a fantastic and innovative dancer. But everything about him always struck me as gay–his voice, his mannerisms, his looks–he had “gay face.” I could never visualize any woman–especially an attractive woman–having any interest in him. As they say, “only in the movies.”

Hubert:

Still, a twelve-volume series is twelve volumes. I may be satisfied with the video series.

I once read a nice interview with the author, Anthony Powell. He was an unassuming sort. He freely admitted the books were loosely based upon his life and the people he knew because he lacked the ability to create fiction from whole cloth.

When I was younger, I believed writers and artists decided with the premeditation of a murderer what they wanted to create, then cold-bloodedly set about doing so. I was constantly wondering, “But why did you choose to create *that*?”

Much later, and with the experience of attempting to create for myself, I understood the voyage. You may set out with a destination, but what happens thereafter depends on your circumstances, chance, and the shape of your gifts.

Journalists used to ask Stephen King why he would bother writing horror. His response: “What makes you think I have a choice?”

I think it’s like that.

I had not heard of the Abilene paradox, but had almost that exact experience in grad school. A medium sized group of students were going out to dinner.

We had all quickly reached a sensible consensus of destination before piling into a large vehicle. None of the distances were large nor any choices bad. But half way to the destination, a lady had a change of heart and some slender reed of an excuse as to why we had to turn around and go somewhere entirely different. Needless to say, everyone else was overly polite.
_____

That’s a nice jazzy version of Puttin’ on the Ritz. It sticks with the Berlin sequence. The Taco version changes things around considerably. Probably because he wishes to accentuate the oddity of his version, Taco begins with the syncopated 5/4 timed passages, rather than the straight forward opening measures in Berlin’s version.

Suggest you give Powell’s “Dance” another try. The 1997 TV adaptation was OK but not as good as the books. The novels aren’t long–about 230-250 pages apiece–and they move along quickly once you get into the groove. It’s like a soap opera. You can also read them separately. My favorites are “The Kindly Ones” (the late 1930s and Munich), “The Military Philosophers” (based on Powell’s service as a liaison officer in WWII), and “Temporary Kings” (the subsidized postwar cultural scene–see Philip Larkin’s poem “Naturally the Foundation Will Bear Your Expenses”).

You might also try Powell’s early short novel “Venusberg” (1932). Set in one of the Baltic countries (almost certainly Estonia) during the interwar period, it foreshadows the style and themes of “Dance”.

https://youtu.be/tNmx2Kj628M

The Abilene Paradox. There’s such a thing as Too Much Politeness.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Abilene_paradox

All I can say is that it’s a very good thing that you have not devoted your considerable table-munging talents to the field of Holocaust Denial.

In re to the American military at a later date, about half of those who served were under the age of 28 at the end of the war. Britain suffered 895,000 war dead. Posit half were born after 1890, or 448,000 deaths. I may be mistaken, but I believe the mean number of live births in Britain during the period running from 1891-2000 was around 780,000 or 390,000 males or 3.5 million males from point-to-point. If 450,000 males from these cohorts were killed during the war, that would amount to 13% of the male population of that vintage. Posit 8.5 million born during the years running from 1872 to 1891; 450,000 males account for just over 5% of the total from those cohorts. I bet a lot of British aristocrats survivied the war.

Lincoln Mayorga and Margie Gibson:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BQE-zWH6q9g

No Jeeves input necessary.

There’s that Lincoln again, too 🙂