Almost opposite the Texas Tavern is the fourteen storied, international-standard Chevron Hotel where bejeweled, furred, coiffure, gowned and garnished they are tripping out of taxis all a-twitter, or else with studied savoir faire. It is the big night out. Englebert Humperdinck, the international singing star, is packing ‘em in at the hotel’s Silver Spade cabaret room. The doorman, all decked out in his guard’s uniform, is assisting the ladies and their obedient men friends from the cars, but they hardly notice him because up there, up the steps, somewhere in the hotel, Englebert is waiting for them.