Show Business is very highly regarded in America.

Secretly and down deep almost everybody wishes they could perform in front of an audience and listen to that wonderful sound called - applause. Receiving money or verbal recognition is OK, but it doesn't compare to loud clapping or a standing ovation for singing, dancing or telling jokes.

Let me tell you about my one experience on the stage.

I was working as a busboy in the Catskill Mountains in a small but nice hotel in Liberty, NY. The name of the place is not clear in my mind and the year was 1951 or 1952.

After the meal was served in the dining room, the guests left and the staff cleared the tables and set up for the next meal. It was about a two-hour procedure. There was an element of merriment and gaiety about having successfully finished one's duties and many of us would loudly sing out the popular songs of the day.

Guy Mitchell, Patti Page, Mario Lanza, Frank Sinatra and Tony Martin were some of the stars of that period. We would sing along with them in loud, booming voices. However, whenever I joined in, the other guys would put napkins in their ears and request silence from me.

Honestly, I could never carry a tune and was always told that I should be a "listener" even though I thought I was singing perfectly. The louder I crooned the more laughter and derision I was given. I was immune from all negative comments and it did not affect my arias.

At this hotel, at the end of the season, the entire staff put on a show for the pleasure of the guests. The bandleader was a NYC music teacher named Bernie and he was the musical director of the performance.

A closing act became the problem. We had all tiptoed to Tchaikovsky's Waltz of the Flowers, but there was no coda to the performance. Bernie approached me and asked me to sing the closing number for a gag. "The people will be stunned," he said. "Bernie," I said, "What if I am on tune and sing great?" He comforted me by saying, "Greenberg, you don't have to worry. You will never, ever be on tune!"

"OK, I'll do it!" said the singing busboy - me.

At the end of the show I walked slowly onto the stage with all the stage presence I could muster, trying to look cool and debonair. "Ladies and Gentlemen, I would like to sing that great American classic song - Old Man River. Hit it, Bernie!" As I began to sing I could sense the confusion in the audience. "Is he kidding - or what!" was the message that floated up to me on stage.

This bewilderment only made me sing louder and by the time I was almost finished the audience was rocking with tears and laughter. They sent this huge body-builder, Barry, to carry me off stage (in other words, they were giving me the hook).

As he lifted me over his massive shoulders, I held tightly onto the microphone and sang the last verses of my song. He carried me off stage, but he could not silence my singing. I was a hit!

There you have it - my lone triumph in Show Business.