several times. "Oh man. I've been tak- ing on too many gigs. Oaky, you're the bar mitzvah, 2 to 4 tomorrow" Lainie felt a panic known only to the mothers of bar mitzvah boys — a sense of profound dread based upon a vision of 30 13-year-olds with nothing to do. "No. That's not right;' she said firmly. "It's 12 noon to 4 p.m. I wrote it down for you. Remember?" "Whatever you say;' mumbled Elton. "But if you want me for two ex- tra hours, I'm going to have to fill in with some tapes. My voice is going. And I've got a recording session in the morning." Lainie felt a volcano rumbling in- side her, but knew it was not the time to erupt. "I'll expect to see you 12 noon as we planned," she said, trying to sound like General Patton. Then she hung up the phone and cried like Shirley Temple might if the Good Ship Lollipop was sunk. Would he show up or wouldn't he? Lainie got her answer the next day when she walked into the ban quet room. Behind the small dance floor stood Elton Z., wearing a black tux and a forced grin. With both hands he waved at her, like a kid showing off on a bike saying, "Look ma, no hands." Lainie felt relieved but not entire- ly reassured. There was music all right. But it was coming from a tall tape deck. Elton's guitar lay dormant on a silver stand while he fiddled with some knobs on the big tape machine. Lainie tried to reassure herself. Perhaps this was just "preliminary music"until the party began. In a few minutes, guests started arriving. Lainie glanced over in Elton's direction. Her star entertainer was still fiddling with knobs. And while Elton fiddled, Lainie burned. The room was flooded with record- ed pop Muzak. Even as people took their seats, Elton had not so much as approached his guitar. Lainie's glances now became glares. Had she paid $350 for what you could get free in any elevator? At one of the tables, someone else was also casting an unfriendly eye on the overly laid-back musician. It was Harvey Kleinman, wearing a dark blue suit and a look of contempt. `loon, the luncheon reached the dessert phase. The fruit parfaits were pretty and sweet, but Lainie tasted only the grapes of wrath. Uninspired, the guests weren't dancing and soon they'd all leave. Lainie tossed her napkin on the table and prepared to do battle with the no-good Elton Z. - Then it happened ... one of those Hollywood turnarounds when a plot is reversed in a few heroic moments. Then it happened . . . one of those Hollywood turnarounds when a plot is reversed in a few heroic moments. Rising abruptly from his seat, Harvey Kleinman strode defiantly to the dance floor, coming face to face with Elton Z. "Mind if I borrow your guitar?" Harvey asked. Before the surprised Elton Z. could answer, Harvey had picked up the instrument, put the guitar strap over his head and posi- tioned himself at the mike. Lainie, and eventually all the others, turned to watch. It was the first time all afternoon that anyone's attention had been directed toward the dance floor. "Turn that stuff off:' Harvey com- manded. And Elton obeyed. "Ladies and gentlemen," Harvey said into the .0* mike, cool and confident. "We are gathered here in honor of Glen's bar mitzvah and we are going to help him celebrate!" There was a round of applause. Lainie looked at the man who'd said he'd strut no more. She marveled at the transformation. As if he'd jumped into a phone booth and switched iden- tities, Harvey had changed from Clark Kleinman to SUPERHARVEY! . . . a man of shpiel, able to leap tall shticks in a single bound. In true-vampire Transylvanian accent, he serenaded the audience with "Besame Mucho." People laugh- ed and clapped. Then it was gag time. "Doctor, doctor," Harvey complained into the mike. "Sometimes I feel like a wigwam. Sometimes I feel like a teepee. What's wrong with me? `That's easy; says the doctor. 'You're two tents!' Get it?" Harvey asked. "Too tense." They got it. They liked it. They cheered. Thrrrrum! A giant chord on the guitar. "Hava nagila, hava nagila," Harvey sang. Quicker than you can say "nova lox" they were up on their feet and dancing a multigenerational horah, kids pulling the circle faster and faster as mothers and grandmas kicked off their high heels. When the last limbo was limboed, and the last sher had been shared, Harvey handed the guitar back to Elton Z. who'd watched the whole thing. Lainie came up to give Harvey a hug before he returned to his seat. "That guy's pretty good," Elton said to Lainie, a bit sheepishly. Harvey overheard. Turning to Elton, he smiled. "Kid, when it comes to bar mitzvahs, I'm still the King." 0 THE DETROIT JEWISH NEWS 65