Authors: Jamaica Kincaid
Talk Stories (16 page)
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Lester Lanin, the society bandleader, who is from Philadelphia, who as a child played the piano and the drums, who has played at more than ten thousand weddings and at more than three thousand desbutante parties, who has played in every state of the union except Montana, who has committed to memory the tunes of many thousands of songs, who is in his sixties, who has been conducting a Lester Lanin Orchestra since 1937, who was once married to a woman who was a former Miss Texas, held an open audition recently in a room he rented for four hours in a building on Broadway. Sixty-three musicians showed up for the audition. They had heard about it either from the musicians'-union paper or from a column in the
Post
or by word of mouth. Of the sixty-three musicians who showed up, five were women, one of whom played the flute, one the trumpet, one the harp, and the two othersâsisters, who had just come from playing on the
QE
2 eighty-day 1980 World Cruiseâthe violin and the accordion.
Post
or by word of mouth. Of the sixty-three musicians who showed up, five were women, one of whom played the flute, one the trumpet, one the harp, and the two othersâsisters, who had just come from playing on the
QE
2 eighty-day 1980 World Cruiseâthe violin and the accordion.
It was raining heavily on the day Lester Lanin held the audition, and almost everybody in the studioâa large, white, square room with mirrors covering one wallâlooked a little rumpled and damp, the way people look when they have just come in out of the rain. Lester Lanin did not look rumpled and damp. He wore a neatly tailored black suit with a vest, a black-and-white patterned shirt, and a black-and-white patterned tie. He is a small man, about five feet seven, and he stood more or less in the center of the room, surrounded by auditioning musiciansâsay, a pianist, a drummer, a bass player, a clarinettist, a trumpet player, a trombonist, a flutist, and a guitarist. Every fifteen minutes or so, a new group of musicians assembled. Each musician was asked to play something, and the others joined in.
“Do you know â'Swonderful'?” Lester Lanin asked a man who played the trumpet.
“Yes,” said the man. He started playing “'Swonderful,” and the other musicians did their best to join him.
“That's good,” said Lester Lanin. “But a couple of notes were a little corny. Try âSomebody Loves Me.'”
Altogether, in a period of four hours, Lester Lanin asked thirty musicians to play “Somebody Loves Me,” thirty musicians to play “All the Things You Are,” thirty-five musicians to play “'Swonderful,” twenty-seven musicians to play “Willow Weep for Me,” forty-two musicians to play “Muskrat Ramble,” one musician to play “Proud Mary,” three musicians to play “Bad Girl,” the same three musicians to play “Hot Stuff,” four musicians to play “Macho Man,” one musician to play “Freak
Out,” ten musicians to play “Hello, Dolly!,” one musician to play “Ease On Down the Road,” two musicians to play “Just the Way You Are,” and one musician to play “Moonlight Becomes You.” When any of the musicians didn't know the tunes to the songs, Lester Lanin told them to go out and buy a certain songbook, which had over five hundred songs in it, and learn all the songs in the book. He told them that in his orchestras, of which he sometimes had as many as forty, no one played from sheet musicâonly from memory. To a man who was a very good trombone player but knew only one of the tunes he was asked to play, Lester Lanin said, “Many famous orchestra musicians have played with me, but they weren't qualified to play a deb party or other social event, because they couldn't play the tunes without charts.”
Out,” ten musicians to play “Hello, Dolly!,” one musician to play “Ease On Down the Road,” two musicians to play “Just the Way You Are,” and one musician to play “Moonlight Becomes You.” When any of the musicians didn't know the tunes to the songs, Lester Lanin told them to go out and buy a certain songbook, which had over five hundred songs in it, and learn all the songs in the book. He told them that in his orchestras, of which he sometimes had as many as forty, no one played from sheet musicâonly from memory. To a man who was a very good trombone player but knew only one of the tunes he was asked to play, Lester Lanin said, “Many famous orchestra musicians have played with me, but they weren't qualified to play a deb party or other social event, because they couldn't play the tunes without charts.”
At the end of the audition, Lester Lanin said he thought he would use men who had played the clarinet, the flute, the guitar, and the trombone, and the two sisters who had just come off the
QE
2 tour.
QE
2 tour.
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August 4, 1980
August 4, 1980
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Gary Indiana, the punk poet and pillar of lower-Manhattan society, said:
Last night, I m.c.'d a benefit for myself at the Mudd Club, on White Street. A couple of weeks ago, someone broke into my apartment and took the money I had to pay the rent, and my videotape machine and my stereo, which weren't even really mine. I felt like a refugee, and so I gave myself a benefit. Tina L'hotsky showed three filmsâ
Marilyn, Snakewoman,
and
Barbie
. Then Ethyl Eichelberger, along with John Heys and Agosto Machado, did some music from their play, which is a new version of
Medea
. They did a number called “Revenge.” Ethyl, of course, is this drag performer wearing Kabuki eye makeup. Then Max Blagg came on and read some of his poems. I don't know if you know Max. Max is this decadent Englishman. He writes poems about his own feckless romanticism. He is always falling in and out of love. His poems are in the form of letters sent from hotels in South America.
People loved it. They wanted more. So Max, backed up this time by Ethyl, came back, and he read while Ethyl played. That was pretty good. Rene Ricard read a poem called “Prison.” Rene is in
Underground USA
. It's the cult film of the year. Rene also had a small part in
The Chelsea Girls
, and he was in another film, called
Hall of Mirrors
, which Warren Sonbert made in 1966. Around that time, when he was twenty, Rene was probably the most good-looking man in all of New York. Gerard Malanga read some of his poems. One had something in it about some kids at Bennington, and people didn't like it very much. I mean, this crowd didn't care about Bennington. Then Cookie Mueller read a long story about living in San Francisco. It was about all the things she did, and it was fabulous. People loved that. I think they liked that best of all. Cookie is in all the John Waters movies, and a lot of people know her from that, but I don't think many people knew that she wrote. I read my new poem, which is almost entirely based on “You've Really Gotta Hold on Me” and “You're the Top.” A lot of people I didn't even know showed up, but I recognized James Rosenquist, Michel Auder, Chi Chi Valenti, Patti Astor, Kathy Ruskin, and Richard Sohl. I came out of it with four hundred dollars, and I am going to buy a new lock for my door and go to the dentist.
Marilyn, Snakewoman,
and
Barbie
. Then Ethyl Eichelberger, along with John Heys and Agosto Machado, did some music from their play, which is a new version of
Medea
. They did a number called “Revenge.” Ethyl, of course, is this drag performer wearing Kabuki eye makeup. Then Max Blagg came on and read some of his poems. I don't know if you know Max. Max is this decadent Englishman. He writes poems about his own feckless romanticism. He is always falling in and out of love. His poems are in the form of letters sent from hotels in South America.
People loved it. They wanted more. So Max, backed up this time by Ethyl, came back, and he read while Ethyl played. That was pretty good. Rene Ricard read a poem called “Prison.” Rene is in
Underground USA
. It's the cult film of the year. Rene also had a small part in
The Chelsea Girls
, and he was in another film, called
Hall of Mirrors
, which Warren Sonbert made in 1966. Around that time, when he was twenty, Rene was probably the most good-looking man in all of New York. Gerard Malanga read some of his poems. One had something in it about some kids at Bennington, and people didn't like it very much. I mean, this crowd didn't care about Bennington. Then Cookie Mueller read a long story about living in San Francisco. It was about all the things she did, and it was fabulous. People loved that. I think they liked that best of all. Cookie is in all the John Waters movies, and a lot of people know her from that, but I don't think many people knew that she wrote. I read my new poem, which is almost entirely based on “You've Really Gotta Hold on Me” and “You're the Top.” A lot of people I didn't even know showed up, but I recognized James Rosenquist, Michel Auder, Chi Chi Valenti, Patti Astor, Kathy Ruskin, and Richard Sohl. I came out of it with four hundred dollars, and I am going to buy a new lock for my door and go to the dentist.
â
September 8, 1980
September 8, 1980
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At a luncheon, at the Regency Hotel, in honor of Cyd Charisse, the dancer and actress, because her legs were the first pair of legs to be elected to the newly established publicity abstraction called the Hall of Fame for Famous Legs, two women said these things to each other:
FIRST WOMAN: Men don't know how to talk to each other. Men will go out and they will play a game of tennis and they will have a drink, but they don't know how to touch. They don't know how to get into their emotions.
SECOND WOMAN: Yes.
FIRST WOMAN: I feel sorry for men. I look at them and they look so helpless, and I think, God!
SECOND WOMAN: Yes.
FIRST WOMAN: I think things are changing little by little, though. I think among a few men there is beginning to be some loosening up.
SECOND WOMAN: Yes.
FIRST WOMAN: I was talking to the designer Emanuel Ungaro the other day, and I asked him, because he is a Frenchman, who of the men he knew in America today he would say represented this new kind of attitude in American men. I mean men who are beginning to seem more open about themselves, about the problems men have getting through in the world, about how they really deal with their feelings. And you know what he said? He said that the only man he could think of was Alan Alda. And you know what? I had to agree with him.
SECOND WOMAN: Yes.
FIRST WOMAN: Alan Alda is a very interesting man. Did you know he was named Man of the Year? I have heard him talk on television shows about his life. He is very sensitive to the needs of womenâespecially women in a marriage situation. You know, he is the star of a TV show and he has to work in Hollywood, but he makes sure that every weekend he gets home to New Jersey and sees his wife and his children, and he and his wife talk to each other every day. And I don't know if you know that he is a very good-looking man. But that's itâhe doesn't let his good looks go to his head. He's still regular, he still wants to go home to his wife, he still wants to see his children. I think that will be part of being the new type of man we'll be seeing. I think that men will know that they are good-looking and they will just go beyond it, you knowânot try to use it like some kind of weapon. Then they can get into other areas, other things.
SECOND WOMAN: Yes.
FIRST WOMAN: Are you married?
SECOND WOMAN: Yes.
FIRST WOMAN: Then you know what I am talking about?
SECOND WOMAN: No.
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October 6, 1980
October 6, 1980
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Merv Griffin, that great bon-vivant television-talk-show host extraordinaire, has written his autobiography, and to celebrate its publication Richard E. Snyder, the president of Simon & Schuster (and the publisher of Merv's book) threw a party for Merv Griffin in his penthouse suite at the St. Moritz Hotel. Almost everything about this party was great: the food (platters of cold cuts, cheese, pâté, bowls of black olives, three different kinds of bread) was great, and there was lots of it; the flowers were great, and they were all over the place and they were real; the chess set that was there just in case anyone wanted to play a game of chess was great, and it had a real marble board; Bobby Short, the great saloon singer and pianist, was there, and he looked great; Edwin Newman, that St. George of the English language, was there, and a lot of people were willing to swear that his presence alone was great; Christopher Reeve, the star of
Superman
, was there, and many of the people at the party looked at him as if they
thought he was great; Gloria Swanson, the great former Hollywood beauty and actress, was there, and she was wondering out loud if her new bookâher autobiographyâstarted too slow to grab the reader's attention, but a woman who had just said to her, “Miss Swanson, you don't remember me. Barbara Walters brought me up to your apartment the other day,” now said, “Oh, but I think your book is so wonderful, so great”; Barbara Howar, the well-known Washington social person and writer, was there, and she is extremely great; a woman was there who was talking about that great best-seller about that titan of society and fashion Gloria Vanderbilt, and she was saying to a man whose greatness wasn't obvious but couldn't be doubted, “Everything is great. The book is being used at Harvard, Yale, and Dartmouth for the sense of history”; Dan Green, the head of one of Simon & Schuster's great divisions, was there, and he was talking to Dominique Lapierre, the co-author of a fictional book about New York City being held hostage by terrorists who have an atom bombâwhich is an idea so great that most people can hardly get through the day for worrying about it; Joni Evans, head of
her
own book-publishing division under the Simon & Schuster imprint and the wife of Richard E. Snyder, was there, and she is such a great human being that she kept trying to get a reporter to take home some of the food that the great guests hadn't consumed; and, of course, Merv Griffin was there, and he shook hands with the guests and smiled at them, and when he smiled his teeth looked white and gleaming and great.
Superman
, was there, and many of the people at the party looked at him as if they
thought he was great; Gloria Swanson, the great former Hollywood beauty and actress, was there, and she was wondering out loud if her new bookâher autobiographyâstarted too slow to grab the reader's attention, but a woman who had just said to her, “Miss Swanson, you don't remember me. Barbara Walters brought me up to your apartment the other day,” now said, “Oh, but I think your book is so wonderful, so great”; Barbara Howar, the well-known Washington social person and writer, was there, and she is extremely great; a woman was there who was talking about that great best-seller about that titan of society and fashion Gloria Vanderbilt, and she was saying to a man whose greatness wasn't obvious but couldn't be doubted, “Everything is great. The book is being used at Harvard, Yale, and Dartmouth for the sense of history”; Dan Green, the head of one of Simon & Schuster's great divisions, was there, and he was talking to Dominique Lapierre, the co-author of a fictional book about New York City being held hostage by terrorists who have an atom bombâwhich is an idea so great that most people can hardly get through the day for worrying about it; Joni Evans, head of
her
own book-publishing division under the Simon & Schuster imprint and the wife of Richard E. Snyder, was there, and she is such a great human being that she kept trying to get a reporter to take home some of the food that the great guests hadn't consumed; and, of course, Merv Griffin was there, and he shook hands with the guests and smiled at them, and when he smiled his teeth looked white and gleaming and great.
Years ago, on
The Merv Griffin Show,
the actor Forrest Tucker, who was a guest on the show that day, turned to the actor Mickey Rooney, who was also a guest on the show that day, to tell him what a great actor he was. He said, “They can put you up there with anybody. I don't care. You're greater than any of them. You're greater than Gielgud.”
The Merv Griffin Show,
the actor Forrest Tucker, who was a guest on the show that day, turned to the actor Mickey Rooney, who was also a guest on the show that day, to tell him what a great actor he was. He said, “They can put you up there with anybody. I don't care. You're greater than any of them. You're greater than Gielgud.”
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October 20
,
1980
October 20
,
1980
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Harlequin Books, the publishers of Harlequin Romances, recently gave a luncheon for two hundred women readers of Harlequin Romances in the large dining room of a large hotel in New Jersey. The women, each of whom looked freshly coiffed, sat at tables in the middle of which were large bowls of yellow and gold chrysanthemums. The women seemed very excited. Ahead of them: a chat by the director of consumer relations for Harlequin, a chat by a vice-president of Harlequin, a chat by a new writer of Harlequin Romances, a “bridal” bouquet to be tossed into the roomful of women by the vice-president, the cutting of a cake baked in the shape of an open book.
“I watch the Phil Donahue show when I can,” said Grace to her friend Dolly. “But mostly I like to read.”
“I like to read, too,” said Dolly. “TV is too explicit.”
“I like to read, too,” said Maralyn, a friend of Dolly's but not such a good friend of Grace's. “But I don't like things to be explicit. I like an innocent girl.”
“I like an innocent girl, too,” said Gertrude, a very good friend of Maralyn's, though she hardly knew Grace or Dolly. “But I don't like a Barbara Cartland type of girl. They are way to the right.”
“I send my children out the door,” said Nora, the best friend of Gertrude and a very good friend of Maralyn's. “I do my housework, then I make myself a sandwich and curl up with one of my romances.”
“A lot of men object to women reading this kind of book when they are alone,” said Joanne, a good friend of none of the women sitting at the table with her. “But I say it's better than getting into mischief.”
“According to a poll taken among you women,” said the director of consumer relations, standing on a dais and speaking to the room at large with the help of a microphone, “the most romantic man in America is Robert Redford. The second most romantic man is âMy Husband.'”
“Hi,” said the vice-president, standing on a dais and speaking to the room at large with the help of a microphone.
“Hi,” said the new writer of Harlequin Romances. “They say writing is a lonely business, but I don't feel so lonely now. This is so nice! I have not been to a party like this before, and after years of being chained to the typewriter it is nice to get out and meet some real-life readers.”
“hat was delightful,”said the vice-president to the new writer. Then, turning to the women, he said,”The first person to ask a question from each table gets the centerpiece from her table.”
“Why are the men in Harlequin Romances always six feet tall and virile and in their forties and the women small and thin and seventeen?” asked a woman seated at a table in the back of the room.
“Ha, ha, ha, ha,” laughed the vice-president.
“How do you get the authors to write only a certain number of pages?” asked another woman.
“Sometimes the type is larger, sometimes the type is smaller,” said the vice-president. “We don't like to cut out an author's beautiful words.”
Then everybody sat down and ate a lunch of salad, baked chicken, potato puffs, and baked broccoli with bread crumbs. The food wasn't very good, but nobody said so.
â
November 3, 1980
November 3, 1980
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