ON TINY FEET

Oh, what memories were revived by Colman Andrews’ and photographer Mark Edward Harris’ “Hip Before Their Time” (Sept. 22).

In the late 1940s, I remember being dropped off at the western door of the Beverly Hills Hotel and walking past a painting of Elizabeth Taylor on “The Pie” in a hallway window on my way to my Elisa Ryan dancing class. These classes were in addition to the cotillions at the Riviera Country Club, where I recall the sound of all those new patent leather shoes on the wood floors, and the mirrored ball sending stars around the grand ballroom. (Curiously, “The Pie,” which, I think, was really called King Charles, was stabled at the polo fields at the Riviera.)

My brother was in the younger dance group, Lads and Lassies, but I never believed that he enjoyed it nearly as much as I did. We learned dozens of dance steps, old and new. I loved all of it, and still don’t understand how I ever married someone who doesn’t dance.

Patricia M. Newman

Thousand Oaks