I have just watched the Dorothy Coonan Wellman Memorial-The Last Busby Berkley Dancer http://vimeo.com/6660885, a moving tribute to both Dorothy and one of my heroes, Busby Berkley.

 

This may be a bit dated, but here a poem I wrote in 1976 when Busby Berkley died:

 

 

Busby Berkeley

29 November 1895 – 14 March 1976

You were, they said, only five when you won

Your debut. On stage. With your family. Only 21

in the field artillery, the big one, the war to end

all wars, a lieutenant then. Organizing, men.

Still, you were directing then. Drills and discipline.

It had to end. Internment.

And begin. Entertainment.

From Yankee on Broadway to talkies out west,

Goldwyn’s Cantor and faces on parade

launched the rest, from 42^nd Street, the feet,

dancing in the Footlight Parade, a charade.

And more. Fashions of 1934. Geometric. Replete

In Kaleidoscopic frames

And rotating stars in Dames.

From whoopee to scandals Roman and real

From two weeks to Ziegfeld, a campy appeal

those palmy days of flying so high,

from Caliente to Paris, a cabin in the sky

And how many wives? And now the style survives.

In life’s zeal, so flamboyant

Real to reel enjoyment.