Manhattan Hoedown

MANNERS & MORALS

The occasion for the party was just a routine divorce, but it seemed as good as any to Mrs. Frank C. Henderson.

Mrs. Henderson is known to her friends as Betty and to the public as the woman who put a 71-year-old leg up on a table in the Metropolitan Opera bar last fall. The divorce was a young friend's--handsome John Alden Talbot Jr., whose wife had taken umbrage at his public attentions to Lana Turner. Betty Henderson liked the young man, and wanted to give him a party.

When the guests gathered at the Coq Rouge for cocktails, they were 80 strong. There were young members of cafe society whose seasonal pairings are as familiar to the public as Stan Musial's batting average. There were soubrettes who had not been heard from since Julia Marlowe played Juliet. The once-famed Duncan sisters were there. Fanny Ward, who made a living for years as "the 60-year-old flapper," was trying to look a youthful 76 in an outfit that combined a bridal gown and a Baby Snooks nightshirt.

Betty herself wore pink. Her dress was studded with sequins; her hat was large and sprouted six ostrich plumes. A young gallant brought his mother over to see her. "I've always wanted to meet you," said the young gallant's mother. "My father, who was Barney Baruch's younger brother, was madly in love with you when you were on the stage." Piped young Talbot: "That's nothing. My grandfather had a crush on you, too." Replied Betty: "I remember him well. He and I were having a beer at Delmonico's the night Lincoln was shot."

Turkeys & Bonnets. Moving on to El Morocco, the party supped on roast beef and Baked Alaska. The conversation and the champagne began to slop over a little. Society Photographer Hal Phyfe, a fastidious gourmet and a dear friend of Betty's, fluttered anxiously in the background lest photographers take unseemly shots. Two guests, both past their prime, met in the ladies' lounge. One wore a vast feathered hat, the other a bonnet and velvet chin strap. Said Feathers to Bonnet: "What kind of get-up is that, you silly old turkey?" Retorted Bonnet: "Go roll your wheel chair."

Along about 1:30, the waiter slipped Betty the tab. It came to roughly $2,500. Betty wrote a check, and the party boisterously headed for fresh triumphs at the noisier Copacabana. Betty was having a wonderful time, even though the bottom of her dress was hanging in strips where people had trodden on it. But it was obviously getting too tiring for ladies like her mother. Her mother, Mrs. Robert J. Faulkner, is 95 and does not drink. Leaning on her cane and her daughter, mother was taken home to bed.

Out of a Slipper. Betty rejoined her guests at the Copacabana. There, the fun bubbled over. Young Talbot whipped off a calfskin loafer, poured champagne in it for Betty to drink. Flashbulbs popped. Betty roared with glee. But Mr. Phyfe was distressed beyond words.

Around 3 a.m., Betty called it a night. When she got back to her Park Avenue apartment there was her mother, still up and indignant. Cried Mrs. Faulkner: "You gypped me." Betty soothed her. Next month, she promised, mother was going to get a really big party to celebrate her 96th birthday. It would be at the St. Regis or maybe the Stork Club. She would let the photographers know in plenty of time.

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