As I had not done major comedy acts at The Arcada Theatre yet, I wanted to start a few years ago. And what better person to go after than Martin Short? What a guy, and what a talent — a gift from Canada for whom we should be forever grateful.

As each day goes by, I miss the glory days of television more and more. Growing up we would regularly see legends making guest appearances on virtually every show on the tube. Today, you rarely or never see older stars — even any of the cast from “Friends” or “Dallas” — on Jimmy Kimmel, late night TV or “The Weakest Link” game show.

I would like to tell you about an old friend of mine who passed away during COVID. His name was Nick, or as I called him, “Uncle Nick.” He was 94 when he left us, full of the vim-and-vigor of a man half his age.I met Nick a few years back at the first big restaurant I owned, the Onesti Dinner Club at the former Old Church Inn in St. Charles. I had it set up like a supper club of the 1940s. Live music and a dance floor surrounded by white tablecloths and crystal wineglasses.If you knew Nick, you would remember him as a charming, dance-floor wizard, with an infectious smile, a full head of wavy silver hair, a dapper demeanor and a tap in his step.Our conversation on the last day I saw Nick recalled the nights he would tear apart the dance halls with his “lady friend.” It brought back memories of the Forties and Fifties when there was a grand ballroom in every neighborhood, and every classy restaurant had a bandstand and dance floor.“We lived to dance back then,” he would say. “I was selling shoes. My buddies worked in filling stations (gas stations), and the girls all worked in department stores and bakeries. But on Saturday nights, we all dressed in our best outfits, polished our shoes and greased back our hair,” Nick said.This conversation brought me back to the countless times my dad also reminisced about those days. His favorite place was the Paradise Ballroom on Crawford Avenue (Pulaski Road, now) and Madison Avenue, a bit west of his Taylor Street/Little Italy neighborhood in Chicago. On “big” nights he and his buddies would go further north to the Uptown area to attend the regal Aragon Ballroom or take the elevated train to the Trianon on the South Side.He would tell me about how it was back when he was in his 20s at the old ballrooms. “Everyone was dressed up. But all of us only had one suit, if we were lucky,” my dad said. “So we would trade suits among one another from one week to the next, just so it would appear as if we had many changes of our ‘classy clothes’. We had a shoemaker friend who would let us borrow newly polished shoes that were left behind at his store. I was lucky because our family had the local tailor shop and cleaners, so I was never short of ‘borrowed’ clothing!”Although these ballrooms were all pretty much built from 1910-1930, it wasn’t until the 1940s when the Jazz Age morphed into the Big Band, or Swing, Era when dancing became more of an athletic experience, rather than acceptable choreography.All my dad’s stories were centered around Frank Sinatra and the Tommy Dorsey Orchestra, the Glenn Miller Orchestra, Artie Shaw, Harry James, Horace Heidt, and Les Brown and his Band of Renown.As I read up on the ballrooms of the 1910s and 1920s, it was interesting to find there were very strict rules with regards to what clothes were worn and which dances were allowed. Fox trots, waltzes and slower dances were OK; the Charleston and other “fast” dances were “the work of the devil.”There were even attendants who walked around to make sure couples were not dancing too close to one another!As I continue to open my themed restaurants, theaters and speakeasies, I make sure the decor gives a nod to those classic eras when the people and the places looked upscale and gaudy. It was a time when class reigned, and elegance ruled.2020 marked the 100th anniversary of Prohibition, and of course, the 100th anniversary of the “speakeasy.” As most speakeasies were actually out-of-the-way, hidden, shot-and-a-beer, gin joints, classic movies of the day represented them as grand showrooms with dance halls and Cab Calloway-style bandleaders. Today, we are once again living the Roaring Twenties!

These days, I get many young people who come up to me at shows and thank me for keeping the “vintage” music alive. They call themselves “old souls” because they like Led Zeppelin, the Who and the Beatles.

During his first show at the Arcada Theatre, I was absolutely blown away by not only the talent of former Eagles’ vocalist and guitar player Don Felder, but also by his story and just how much I love this music. So much so, we invited him back!

In honor of the celebrated African American Heritage Month of February, I thought I would touch on some of the legends from that community I have been blessed to work with over the years.

Last July, I wrote a column on my experience with Chicago Blackhawk legend Bobby Hull. Bobby passed this week at the age of 84. I will always remember that smile, even when he was in pain.

These long winter days, for “inner” warmth, I play my vinyl records on an old phonograph. For old time’s sake, I keep a Dean Martin record — or his daughter’s, Deana — nearby.

As we celebrate Abraham Lincoln’s birthday next month, let’s remember his White House was inundated by music. Every Wednesday and Saturday night, the 32-member Marine Band serenaded the public there. The President regularly invited musicians and vocalists into the house or onto the grounds to perform, particularly talented children, of whom he always had a special fondness.

The Chicago 6 was a group of hometown Bears and Blackhawks superstar musicians that loved to jam together, performing for charities and having a blast.

This being my final column of 2022, I just wanted to heartfully thank all of you who have loyally kept up with my backstage escapades each week.