eggy Lee heard Bobby Darin before she ever saw him. Not singing in a nightclub, on the radio or record player. Maybe it would be more accurate to say that she felt his presence first. It was, she remembered later, early spring of 1958. One night after doing two hot shows at the Mocombo, she and three of her guys had dropped into Shep's, an after-hours establishment for musicians. This was a place of their own, where nightclub entertainers and their friends could unwind after an evening's work. It's impossible to simply roll into bed right after finishing a set (unless you have something on your mind other than sleep), so the gang would wipe off their makeup, change into a clean shirt, and head on over to Shep's to talk, drink a lot, and clown a little bit.

It had been a good night for Peggy and her boys. She was tired after the show but still far from being able to sleep. She and her crew slipped into a booth. Peggy relaxed gratefully into her seat. 'Close your eyes,' she sang inside her head, 'close your eyes, rest your head on my shoulder and sleep, close your eyes.' She paused for two beats, then bent her head down in conference with Sid, her base player, to discuss the chord progression for Lover. She had been singing this song for a few years, and she liked to make some changes now and then to keep it fresh. Their low voices were drowned out by a wave of raucous laughter from the booth behind them. A full-bodied male guffaw issued from over the seat back. Whoever it was, they were laughing so hard that the booth was shaking. Peggy lost her train of thought about Lover (how she hated to be interrupted!). Who on earth was that? She had never heard that voice in Shep's before, she was certain. She pulled away from the sleek, balding head of Sid the base player and peeked over the top of the booth to see a very young man laughing so hard, he was hanging onto the table for support. She did not hear the story that prompted this volley of merriment. Someone evidently had just finished telling a ribald joke. All she caught was the punch line: "Shoot me, Norton, shoot me!"

The laughing young man had brown hair and the darkest brown eyes she had ever seen, clearly visible even though the corners of those eyes were crinkled almost shut with laughter. Normally pale, his cheeks were flushed from the exertion of laughing so hard. He recovered enough to look at his friends in not-quite-mock seriousness. His chest, which had been heaving with laughter a second before, settled down sufficiently for him to intone, "Entertainers are the royalty of this country. They make their own rules!"

"In your dreams! Last I heard, Frank Sinatra had to pay his alimony same as everyone else. I hope someone is taking this down?" one of his neighbors in the booth asked.

Brown Eyes, facing Peggy the spy, was seated across from two other young men. They were all dressed in dungarees and jackets a bit too light for this time of year. Peggy decided they were newcomers to Southern California who thought that it must be at least 80 degrees every day. It had appeared that way to her when she first arrived, as young Norma Egstrom, from frigid North Dakota so many years ago. Since then, as Peggy Lee, she had learned always to have a warm wrap on hand to protect her from a sudden chill. That, and a small hip flask hidden away in a pocket. It seemed that every day, the trains disgorged another cattle car of musicians, armed with more optimism than real prospects, from the East Coast who thought that balmy California would open her arms and take them in. Most of them did not last two weeks out here. This looked like part of the most recent shipment.

The third young man, another pale one, with equally pale slicked-down hair, pretended to write in the palm of his hand as though it were a reporter's notebook. "Walden Robert Cassotto, er, excuse me, Bobby Darin, agrees to be crowned King of America." The two young men seated opposite from Bobby Darin laughed together.

Bobby smiled, but he did not laugh. "Just you wait, my vassals, just you wait."

He was still smiling as he caught the eyes of the woman peeking over at him from the next booth. Intelligent eyes, creamy skin, blond hair cut short with just the right amount of curl to frame the lovely face. Peggy withdrew her gaze and settled back down in her seat as soon as she saw the stranger looking at her, but not before he acknowledged her presence with a slow wink. "Exactly how much does a vassal make, anyway? More than a drummer?"

Quiet settled back over the two booths. Drinks were served to both tables (bourbon and water for the older set, Cokes for the younger). Soon the younger booth was shaking again with mirth. It was like a volcano erupting in the otherwise sedate room.

Sid the base player slid himself out of his seat and presented his considerable height and weight to the skinny young swains next door. "Good evening, boys. I hope we're not being too LOUD for you?"

The volcano suddenly went to sleep. The two young men seated together on the one side directly behind Peggy settled down into their seats by inches, growing small in the presence of a real adult.

Bobby Darin promptly stood up and presented himself before the occupants of the adjoining booth. At his full height, he was a neat and compact figure, dressed in a white shirt, dungarees and summer jacket. He looked a bit rumpled from traveling, but was otherwise clean and presentable. Peggy immediately noticed his hands which looked large and strong, not too large for his slight figure, but almost at odds with the rest of the slim young man. His brown hair dipped slightly down over a broad, intelligent forehead. His eyes were so deep brown, they seemed almost black. Those eyes were looking at her, friendly, faintly inquisitive.

"Excuse us, Miss Lee, for bothering you. We promise to keep it down. Please allow me to present my associates, Kent Wilcox and Russell Stokes."

The two friends, who had slid awkwardly out of the booth, murmured into their shoes their extreme pleasure to find themselves in the company of Miss Peggy Lee. The older musicians looked at the younger ones in silence. Peggy wanted to laugh out loud, but never made a sign of it. She gave a slight nod of her head to indicate that she took no offense, but said nothing.

After an awkward silence that seemed to last about an hour but which was, in fact, not more than 10 seconds, Kent Wilcox said gravely, "And this, if you haven't already heard, is Bobby Darin."

Kent and Russell practically collapsed in a heap behind Bobby, laughing, silently this time. "Okay you guys, okay, that's a cue. It's time to leave." Bobby Darin began to move them toward the door. "They're still punchy from the train trip, poor slobs. So nice to have met you, Miss Lee!" With that, they shuffled out the door.

Peggy Lee watched the retreating young men. "Who was that?" she wanted to know.

Sid the base player knew everyone in the business. He smiled after the boys. He could have been any one of them twenty years ago. "Don't you know, that was Bobby Darin!" He had never heard the name before now.

Peggy watched the boys through the plate glass window as they crossed the dark parking lot in a knot, laughing and punching each other on the shoulders.

She said to Sid, "Remember, when happiness was to be out of the cold for the price of a Coke?" Peggy wondered briefly if there might be a song lyric in there somewhere.

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