September 1968
To the casual observer, Napoleon's dating choices might seem indiscriminate. One could assume he was attracted to any pretty woman who crossed his path. That assumption would be untrue.
Apart from any "dating" required by his work, Napoleon had certain criteria to be met. Attractiveness was high on the list, but intelligence and a compelling personality would trump even beauty. And as he got older, maturity and sophistication came to the forefront.
Other considerations had to do with the likelihood that the young lady in question would want a more permanent relationship. That was out of the question, of course. Napoleon wasn't against an ongoing arrangement, but it had to be casual, no strings attached.
Then there were the restrictions placed on his social life due to his work. Generally, fraternizing with the enemy was off-limits, but Mr. Waverly turned a blind eye with Napoleon. He knew Solo could play the game and to use women like Angelique or Serena to the benefit of U.N.C.L.E. And if he enjoyed the sex while getting information, or working out a deal, where was the harm in that?
Waverly did prefer Solo to keep a low profile with his female companionship. He didn't want to see his chief operative's image splashed across the pages of the tabloids with some starlet hanging off his arm. Napoleon could have pointed out that he knew for a fact that THRUSH agents carried pocket sized photos of him and Illya.
When he met Nell Silver Napoleon decided that she was worth the risk. Nell wasn't a starlet, but a working theater actress. That was definitely a mark of distinction in this town, but New Yorkers were rather nonchalant about theater folk.
Nell was appearing in a musical about a family of eccentrics. She played the idealistic "do gooder" sister and had a big comic number in the middle of the second act. Cute rather than beautiful, Nell had short dark hair, a turned up nose and a wide expressive mouth.
One afternoon, Napoleon had been picking up a few groceries in a neighborhood market when he heard an engaging bell-like laugh from the area around the meat counter.
"You'll have to sing for your lamb chops, Miss Silver," the white-coated attendant joked as he leaned over the counter.
"Lucky for you, Harry, they're the very best chops," Miss Silver said. Napoleon craned his neck to see a small woman in trim black trousers and a red turtleneck. She drew herself up as tall as her petite frame would allow and sang for her supper in a voice that stunned Napoleon with its power and range.
"Don't throw bouquets at me.
Don't please my folks too much.
Don't laugh at my jokes too much
People will say we're in love"
The deli crowd burst into enthusiastic applause. Miss Silver turned to them and executed a formal bow, obviously an action for which she'd had practice. She accepted her paper wrapped chops and went about the rest of her shopping.
Napoleon made like a secret agent and trailed her through the market as he tossed items into his basket. He caught up with her at the checkout line.
"Your impromptu performance was just wonderful," Napoleon said as she placed her items on the counter.
"Thank you," she replied with a laugh. "I don't know if it could be termed 'impromptu' since Harry extorts a song out of me every time I buy meat."
"I should thank Harry, then. I'm Napoleon Solo, by the way." He said as he extended his hand.
"Nell Silver," she said as she shook his hand. She paid for her purchase and reached for the brown paper bag.
He offered to carry her groceries; she hesitated for a moment and then agreed. He had no idea in which direction they would be walking. He only knew he was intrigued by her and wanted to continue the acquaintance.
"That was a very professional rendition, back there. Are you in the theater?" he asked as they walked along.
"I am," she said, "Though it is a precarious business. Tomorrow I might have a different answer."
She told him that she'd been a Broadway gypsy for years, singing and dancing in the chorus of a half dozen musicals. She had seen some of the biggest stars performing as she watched from the wings. She'd also done her share of summer stock, gaining experience by playing larger roles.
"I'm in rehearsal for a new play. The plot is a little light, but the score is fantastic. It's a really good part."
"I hope to see you in it when it opens. What's it called?"
"In For a Penny." she replied. "I'm a little terrified-it opens in six weeks."
He carried her purchases up to her small apartment, a third floor walkup. It was what he expected for a young woman in New York, possibly her first place without roommates. He looked around the combination living/dining room while she put the groceries away in the kitchenette. There were photos showing Nell in the cast of several plays. She came to stand by his side.
"That was 'Bye Bye Birdie,'" she said, pointing to one showing several girls in 1950s full-skirted frocks. "My first job on Broadway. I couldn't believe my luck when I got cast in the chorus. When it closed, it was back to waitressing." She identified some of the others: "'Hello Dolly', 'Oliver', 'Funny Girl'. There were a few that closed so fast, we didn't get photos taken."
"I'm impressed," he said.
She offered him a drink and they relaxed on her sofa. Napoleon remembered he'd abandoned his grocery basket at the store, the desire to meet this girl had been so strong. He was in unfamiliar territory. He was used to sweeping women off their feet. This seemed dangerously as if he were the swept and not the sweeper.
They got to know each other very well that afternoon. He'd expected to need a few dates to woo her, but Nell was a woman who knew what she wanted. He found himself surprised at how comfortable he was letting her call the shots. Napoleon happily remembered how fit and flexible dancers were.
Afterward, as the two of them lay in her bed, she regaled him with backstage gossip from the shows she'd danced in. One actress hated her co-star so much she would move key props around the set to trip him up. Another actor would eat raw onions before his duet with a performer he didn't like. Nell told him about the time she swallowed a fly during her big "I Cain't Say No" number in the play, Oklahoma!, at an outdoor theater in Connecticut.
He told her he was a businessman who traveled a lot. It wasn't that far from the truth, and would provide good cover for his absences.
Surprisingly, they were still seeing each other six weeks later. Granted, Nell was at the theater until late in the evening most nights and Napoleon was away from New York a great deal, but he found he wanted to see her as much as possible. When he came home from an assignment with his arm in a sling, he modified the description of his profession, telling Nell he was in international law enforcement. It was close enough to the truth.
He was on an assignment in Budapest on opening night, and didn't get to see the show until two weeks later. Nell was right-it was a very good part. Not the lead, but definitely a breakout role in the ensemble. Nell stole the show with her rousing second act number.
The play caused a bit of a sensation in a middling Broadway season. It proved to be very popular and tickets became hard to come by. The newspaper reviews were excellent, especially for Nell. There were predictions of a Tony nomination for featured actress in a musical.
She offered him three tickets and the suggestion that he bring some friends or family. Ordinarily, he'd have been worried that a woman was trying to insert herself into his life, but with Nell, it was probably exactly what it seemed on the surface-a gift of tickets to a popular new show.
He decided to ask Illya if he wanted to bring a date and get a late dinner after the show. Napoleon and Nell often got a meal after the show since she preferred not to eat anything heavy before a performance.
"So this is the answer to the question I hear from the secretarial staff, 'who is Napoleon seeing these days'," Illya said when Napoleon told him about the tickets. "I've seen advertisements for that play. Dating the star? I'm impressed."
"It's an ensemble, but Nell is definitely a stand out. Hey, I bet that new girl in accounting would love to go," Napoleon said. "I don't get it, but she seems pretty taken with you."
"If you don't mind, I think I'll ask Claire."
"Why would I mind?" Napoleon said.
And he didn't mind, not really. But he was puzzled. He and Illya had known Claire since she was a schoolgirl. They'd both felt a certain avuncular protectiveness for the girl. After all, they'd worked with and been close with her father. Napoleon saw Claire as something of a little sister, and as far as he knew, Illya did as well.
That schoolgirl had been a brilliant student and sped through college to a doctorate in biology. She was hired into UNCLE's R and D department a year before and was reportedly doing great work there. She'd saved Napoleon's life when he was poisoned by a THRUSH nerve gas, though she claimed her part in that effort was very small. Napoleon was pretty sure she was being modest.
Illya had always been closer to Claire than Napoleon had been. They had a lot in common, losing their parents early in life and both being scientists. He'd noticed that Illya and Claire had been spending time together since she'd started working at headquarters. They had lunch together in the cafeteria when Illya was in New York and occasionally got dinner after work. Napoleon figured that Illya wanted to keep tabs on their young friend.
"The tickets are for Thursday night," Napoleon said. "Curtain goes up at 8 o'clock. Why don't we meet at the bar around the corner from the Winter Garden at 7:30 for a quick drink. It's called Caliban's."
The bar was busy a half hour before showtime, filled with theater patrons in their finery. From the doorway, Napoleon peered in to find his friends. It was still fairly bright outside, and the bar was smoky so it took a moment to spot Illya's light hair.
Illya was lounging against the bar, his body obscuring whoever was next to him. As Napoleon walked into the bar, he saw that person was Claire, perched on a bar stool. She was wearing a chic black cocktail dress and holding a ruby red drink. Her hair was swept up and she was laughing at something Illya had just said. Napoleon had to admit that she looked sophisticated and elegant and as far from the little girl in her school uniform and braided hair as possible.
"You look lovely," Napoleon said as he kissed her cheek. He nudged Illya, "Glad you cleaned up." His partner had exchanged his black turtleneck for a clean white shirt and a smart gray and red tie.
"Thank you for inviting me," Claire said. "I've been hoping to see this play, but tickets are sold out for weeks."
"Nell is amazing in it. I know you'll enjoy it."
Napoleon ordered himself a drink and pointed out that a small table had opened up nearby. Illya offered Claire a hand as she slid off the bar stool. There was absolutely nothing he could put his finger on, but chatting with Illya and Claire felt like he'd fallen asleep in the middle of a TV program and lost the thread of the plot.
They finished their drinks and walked the short distance to the theater. Illya took Claire's elbow as they crossed the street, in a gesture that seemed comfortable to both of them.
Napoleon collected the tickets from the "will call" window and they found their seats, which turned out to be orchestra seats, five rows back from the stage. Napoleon could tell his companions were impressed. Actually he was pretty impressed as well. His seat at other performances of the show had not been this good.
His enjoyment of the play was increased by watching his friends as they reacted to the performance. Claire, especially, seemed completely enamoured with the theater experience.
"Nell invited us backstage," Napoleon said after the curtain calls and applause were over. Claire practically squealed in excitement as they made their way through the throng of theatergoers. The guard by the backstage door waved them through.
"Nell said you were bringing some guests," he said, shaking Napoleon's hand.
Napoleon led the way through the crowded backstage hallways. Actors and actresses walked by in various states of undress. He'd gotten used to this aspect of the theater in the weeks he'd been dating Nell.
"You were fabulous," Napoleon said after Nell opened the dressing room door. He kissed her as the party of three entered. Nell had taken off the auburn wig she wore in the play and had fluffed her short dark hair. She still wore her third act costume, though she was barefoot, having removed her tights and dance shoes.
Nell shared a tiny dressing room with one of the other principal actresses who was wrapped in a dressing gown, downing a large glass of water. She waved at the newcomers between sips. "I'm going to shower," Nell's roommate said as she grabbed a basket of shower items and a towel from the back of the door. "Nice to meet you," she called out as she left the room.
"Nell, this is my partner, Illya Kuryakin, and Dr. Claire Donovan, our colleague," Napoleon said.
"I enjoyed your performance very much," Illya said as he smiled and offered his hand. "Thank you for inviting us," he said.
"You were absolutely smashing," Claire said, as she shook Nell's hand.
"We should let you finish changing," Napoleon said. He knew Nell was probably starving.
Claire's eyes roamed the room, taking in the mirrors, edged with lightbulbs. Snapshots and magazine photos were taped to the wall around the mirrors. The makeup table that lined one wall was covered with articles of makeup-pots and tubes and brushes. A sofa was tucked against the opposite wall, covered with items of clothing, including a feather boa and a pair of tap shoes in their box.
"Why don't you fellows wait outside? I won't be a minute." Nell noticed the star-struck Claire taking in the atmosphere and continued, "Claire, would you like to hang out here while I change? You can help me with the zip."
"Hey, that's my job," Napoleon said.
"Yes, but you only like to slide them down," Nell laughed. "Now make like a proper stage door johnny, why don't you."
"All right, I can see we are persona non grata," Napoleon said as he elbowed Illya and gestured to the door. As they shut it behind them, they heard the women laughing.
It was pleasantly cool on the sidewalk outside the stage door. Napoleon reflected again on how elegant Claire looked tonight. He saw her around headquarters in smart business clothes under her white lab coat, but cocktail attire was something else entirely.
"Claire seems rather star struck," Napoleon said. "Like a child on Christmas morning.:"
"I remember her as such a serious young person," Illya replied. "An old soul."
"Yes, she was, wasn't she? But she was still a kid."
"A kid who had to grow up too quickly." Illya said. It was not lost on Napoleon that Illya was also someone who had to fend for himself at a very young age.
The two men looked up as Claire and Nell came through the stage door, laughing together. "Stage door johnnys usually have flowers in hand," Nell said.
"Would you settle for a nice steak dinner?" Napoleon asked.
"As it happens, I'm starving, so yes."
Napoleon hailed a taxi, knowing how exhausted Nell was after a performance. Once she had a decent meal, she'd rally. He told the cabbie to take them to the Ascot Grill and they piled into the taxi.
He and Nell had dinner at the Ascot Grill whenever he was in town. Nell loved the food, and the quintet played the old standards he liked. Though Nell performed for a living, he'd been surprised to find that she loved to dance socially. She told him that being held by a lover as they swayed to romantic music was completely unrelated to strict choreography on stage.
The four entered the Ascot Grill and were shown to a banquette by the maitre d who made his regular fuss over Nell. With an appropriately theatrical attitude, he presented them with menus.
They ordered their meals and in a few minutes, the waiter brought their cocktails.
"Napoleon said you two met when he heard you singing in Gristede's," Illya said, turning to Nell. "I'm confused, I didn't realize American markets had Broadway entertainment."
"Only the one near my apartment," she replied, laughing. "It has a butcher who can be bribed with show tunes. I get the best cuts when I sing Rodgers and Hammerstein, though something by Loesser can get me a nice brisket."
"Having seen your performance, I think you deserve the very best," Illya said.
"Absolutely!" Claire concurred.
"Yes, Nell does deserve the best," Napoleon agreed. "And that's where I come in."
"So tell me, Illya, "Nell asked, "Is he this full of himself at work?"
"You don't know the half of it," he replied. "Confidence is not in short supply with Napoleon."
"I know my worth," Napoleon said, with a grin.
Their dinners arrived, and they dug in, especially Nell who had eaten lightly all day and Illya who was typically serious about food. The small talk resumed once hunger had been addressed.
"It's impressive that you're a doctor at such a young age," Nell said to Claire. "I don't know any women scientists."
"There aren't many of us. I'm the only one in my department. But I hold my own."
Illya laughed, "She certainly does. One of the men suggested she could best help them by making coffee. Claire told him what he could do with his erlenmeyer flask."
"I only had to set him straight once. To be honest, this lab is pretty egalitarian after my experience in graduate school. I love working there."
After they had finished eating, the quintet that had been playing a variety of dance music launched into "My Funny Valentine."
"That's our cue," Nell said as Napoleon extended his hand to her. "They know it's my favorite."
Napoleon drew Nell into his arms, enjoying the feel of her lithe little body pressed against him. She moved effortlessly to the music, smiling up at him.
"So tell me about your friends. Illya has such a sexy accent. Has he been in America long?"
"He spent time in Europe and England before coming to the US."
"It must have been hard for him to deal with our Western decadence."
"He grumbles from time to time," Napoleon said, "but after all these years I've come to believe he's a closet capitalist."
"And Claire? She said she's known both of you for a long time."
"We worked with her father. He died when she was still in school, leaving her orphaned. So, we sort of looked out for her."
"That's so sweet," Nell said, "It must have meant a lot to her."
"I think it did," he said, remembering her shock that he and Illya had made it to her graduation ceremony. "She was closer to Illya from the start. He understood what she was going through as he lost his family when he was young.."
"They seem to have a powerful bond," she said as she tilted her head to her left, indicating Illya and Claire, who had joined the dancers. "How long have they been a couple?"
"They're not a couple," Napoleon said.
"Are you sure?" she asked. "They look an awful lot like a couple."
They definitely were having fun. Like all section two agents, Illya knew how to dance. He might be more likely to be carrying a tray of canapes, but he could hold his own on the dancefloor at the embassy parties they occasionally were required to attend. Illya and Claire were laughing together as he twirled her.
Napoleon was familiar with all of Illya's expressions: hunger, concentration, physical pain, contemplation and the smirk he got when he'd bested his partner's score in target practice. But the smile on Illya's face as he looked down at Claire was remarkable. That level of grin was reserved for when Napoleon made a particularly embarrassing blunder on assignment. He had to admit that Illya and Claire could certainly be taken for a couple.
"She's just a kid," he said, mostly to himself.
"She told me she's twenty-five," Nell said. "That's not a kid. At least not in the theater. I was eighteen when I came to the city and lived with three other dancers in a tiny apartment. Had to fend for myself against lecherous producers and scrounge a living out of what they pay dancers."
"The first time I ever saw Claire, she was a skinny little girl in a school uniform with braids hanging down her back."
"From what I've heard, she's got a doctorate, an apartment and a job. That's a grown up by anyone's standard."
Napoleon stopped dancing, arms still holding Nell. "I'm feeling very old right now."
"Let's sit down, Methuselah. I think you need some chocolate mousse."
They returned to the table and ordered coffee and a chocolate mousse, of which Napoleon was sure Nell would eat more than half.
"You could ask Illya if he and Claire are together," Nell said.
"He's always played his cards close to the chest when it comes to women," he answered. "I don't suppose it's my business either way."
"I wonder if seeing Claire as a young girl is what's bothering you. Take a good look at her, darling."
Maybe she was right. The image of Claire, a child shattered by the news that her absentee father was dead and facing life alone in the world had remained embedded in his mind. But she had grown up, gotten educated, experienced relationships and began her career. And she had done that with his and Illya's support.
He dug into the mousse and savored its richness on his spoon. Nell had already eaten half of it as he had predicted. Napoleon watched as Illya and Claire continued to dance. While there was a certain intimacy between them, it didn't seem to be overtly sexual or even specifically romantic. Clearly, though, something was there.
Napoleon was soon distracted by the sensation of Nell's stockinged foot teasing along his shin. It was time to abandon speculation about his friends' relationship and consider the look of those warm brown eyes regarding him. Maybe it was his own romance he needed to concern himself with right now.
Note: I have always been fascinated with Broadway. I did a bit of research for this story, and I fibbed when I wrote that the 1968 Broadway season was middling. In 1968 you could find George M, Avanti!, Forty Carats, Hair, Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat, Promises Promises, Jaques Brel is Alive and Well and Living In Paris, and Zorba.
I also found this great article with photos of Broadway dressing rooms: The Dressing Rooms of Broadway: 33 Photos Over Nearly a Century - The New York Times ( )