Travel Blog

Crowds filled A1A Saturday night and packed bodies leaned from the balcony of the Elbo Room. From a distance, it looked as if spring break had returned to Fort Lauderdale (a couple months late), but up close the faces, and many of the figures, revealed themselves to be well past college.

A little before dark Connie Francis took the stage that had been set up in the middle of the street and sang, in a faraway voice, "Where the Boys Are." It struck a chord, now fifty years later. New York has Sinatra, San Francisco Tony Bennett, but not many cities our size have a trademark song and singer.

Mayor John "Jack" Seiler asked Francis to do one more number, and she obliged with "God Bless America." People sang along, or listened quietly, lost in thoughts of country or still focused on lost youth.

Then Francis slowly made her way to her limo through a crush of admirers. "Connie, we love you," someone yelled. "Connie, you did great." "Connie, you look beautiful." "I'm looking at Connie," someone said into a cellphone, "I'll call you back."

Then the limo pulled away. "They all had hard lives," one man said to another, while others headed to the beach to watch the movie that made us famous.