Ruminations while waiting in line

Posted on December 8, 2010 by Exile on Pain Street

* * *

The play we saw was in a small theater inside the same complex where the mega-monster-hit Wicked is playing. Wicked is a big magnet for out-of-towners. (That’s not a put-down. Mrs. Wife and I saw it when it opened and it’s a fine show.) Many tourists who were there to see Wicked were wandering into the lobby of our tiny theater looking for the Wicked box office. I was playing helpful New Yorker and sending them off in the right direction.

Do you know what makes me nuts? Tourists who walk around town in the middle of winter with deep tans. I see it all the time! Do you know what that means, don‘t you? That means they JUST GOT BACK from a vacation and here they are in New York City vacationing SOME MORE. I realize this is all born from envy and I don’t resent them or anything, but it does make me crazy.

The theater was right across from The Palm restaurant. The Palm is a chain of steakhouses here in the U.S. I ate there once but my dinner was so insanely expensive that I didn’t really enjoy it all that much. Fine food and the fine dining experience is wasted on me. I have no appreciation for it whatsoever.

Speaking of fine dining, Elaine Kaufman just passed away. She was the owner/impresario of a famous restaurant on the Upper East Side of Manhattan called Elaine’s. It was given a nod in the Billy Joel 1978 hit ditty Big Shot.

They were all impressed with your Halston dress
And the people that you knew at Elaine’s

Ms. Kaufman would stand at the entrance of her restaurant and judge people who wanted to eat there. Some got in. Most didn’t. And if you were granted a table, it could be near the kitchen in the section of the restaurant snidely referred to as Siberia. So even if you’re in. You’re not in.

I can’t stand New York snobs. I hate when people are treated shabbily because they don’t have enough money or power. People like Elaine Kaufman make me sick. Good riddance.

Have a swell time in hell, Elaine. Hope you got a good table.

Here’s the elegant Ms. Kaufman throwing a garbage can lid at a paparazzi in 1978.

A shelter from the cold with benefits

Posted on December 5, 2010 by Exile on Pain Street

I had a few hours to kill after work and wandered into the New York Public Library; the big branch on 42nd Street and Madison Avenue. They were open until 8:00 p.m. that evening and I needed a place to get out of the cold. If you go to the third floor, you’ll find a huge reading room with high, carved wood ceilings and big windows that let light pour in. The long oak tables have electrical outlets built right into the tabletops so you can plug in. Plus, there’s a Gutenberg bible on permanent display in a glass case at the entrance to the reading room. You don’t stumble across that ever day!

These photos of the main entrance off of 42nd Street make it look like a mausoleum or a crypt. It’s the fault of my camera; it’s not poor lighting or design. It looks more grand in person.

The city is getting all dolled up for the Christmas season. I love this time of year and, believe me, it has nothing whatsoever to do with religion. The town looks great and people really do seem lighter.

The sign carved into the stone at the balcony, right at the tip of the Christmas tree, says Astor Cort. In the 19th century, the Astors were the wealthiest family in America and they financed this library, along with other public works. The Waldorf-Astoria, Astoria, Queens and Astor Place in the East Village are among the dozens of places that bear their name. The reward for all that philanthropic work was to lose John Jacob Astor IV on the maiden voyage of the Titanic.

I stumbled upon a fantastic photography exhibit that’s worth your time x 100 if you’re in the neighborhood. I didn’t even know it was going on! NYC: a surprise around every corner. Recollection: Thirty Years of Photography at the New York Public Library is up through January 2nd. I thought it would be a pedestrian collection of pics but I was wrong. All the heavies are represented: Robert Capa, Berenice Abbott, Diane Arbus, Richard Avedon, Margaret Bourke-White, Henri Cartier-Bresson, Weegee and tons more. So fun. And it’s FREE! FREE! FREE!

Penny Diane Wolin. “That’s His Mother, He Never Married;” from the series The Jews of Wyoming. Gelatin silver print, 1985. © Penny Diane Wolin.

Amy Arbus. “Ann Magnuson on Park Avenue.” Gelatin silver print, 1981. © Amy Arbus.

James De Sana. “David Byrne.” Gelatin silver print, ca. 1980. © James De Sana.Arnold Genthe. “Edna St. Vincent Millay.” Gelatin silver print, 1913.

Daisy does Manhattan

Posted on December 3, 2010 by Exile on Pain Street

Guess who blew into town for a few hours? Straight from the Trailer Park! Mizz Daisyfae was passing through Manhattan en route to a business trip on Long Island and I thought it would be appropriate to show her a few of the sights. I assumed that after dealing with the horrid LaGuardia airport, she might require a drink or two. What?! It’s medicine to calm the nerves!

I had a pretty grand scheme. I thought she should take in the Edward Hopper exhibit at the Whitney and see at play in the evening. (She is, under her skin, an actor.) But a biblical rainstorm saturated the area so instead of landing at around 1:30 as scheduled, she didn’t get into town until 6:00. Poor thing! She had to settle for the abbreviated tour. Fortunately, by the time she got to town, the clouds parted and the rain stopped.

She showed up none the worse for wear at our appointed meeting spot at Grand Central Station. It was rush hour and the place was as busy as…well…Grand Central Station. I pointed out the restored ceiling mural, took her down 42nd Street so we could gawk at the beautifully illuminated Chrysler Building and headed for Bryant Park.

The ice skating rink is up and running. Thank you, Citibank! At the north end of the rink is a fun little restaurant/pub called Celsius. There’s indoor seating on a second level but on the ground level you can take a table outside right next to the rink. The War of the Worlds-type devices hovering above the tables are heating elements that keep you roasty-toasty warm. You feel like a french fry under the lamp at McDonalds. They’re very effective.

The menu includes several hot drinks that are all infused with the spirit of Christmas, if you know what I mean. Daisy had two cups of Christmas cheer to my one. She’s fast! We watched people fall on their asses and slam into the boards. It’s like drinks and a show. I had a bowl of chili that was way, way better than you could expect from a restaurant that only exists for two months out of the year.

Daisy and I sat and kvetched about all of you. The rink was surprisingly empty when we got there! I think the afternoon storms kept people away. By the time we left, it was pretty full of holiday revelers.

We took a little stroll up 5th Avenue to Rockefeller Center. The tree is lit and, again, the crowds were kept to a minimum by the mid-day tempest.

Miss Fay takes in the big Rockefeller Center tree, skating rink and statue of Prometheus.

I took her from 30 Rock, past the neon façade of Radio City Music Hall and down through Times Square. I showed her the ball that drops on New Years Eve and she said, “It’s smaller than I thought it would be!” Boy, if I had a nickle every time I heard that. Ba-dum-bump. I’m here all week.

I accompanied her on a downtown subway to Penn Station, got her ticket for the Long Island Railroad and chucked her on a train. Not bad for three hours.

C’mon! Who’s next!? Step right up.

Bloody, bloody mess

Posted on December 2, 2010 by Exile on Pain Street

They just announced that one of the many great hopes for Broadway this season, Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson, is set to close in a few weeks. This is an excellent lesson in how much sway and power critics have and, in some cases, don’t have.

There’s an unusual bumper crop of new musicals this season. There are 11 new musicals that have already opened or are set to open. I tend to NOT see many musicals. If I have a little coin in my pocket for a cheap ticket, I’ll usually opt for a play. But I did see this last month.

It came with a good pedigree. It was born downtown at The Public Theater, which can get kind of avant garde-y at times. I liked the premise; President Andrew Jackson is played as an emo punk rocker. The songs are all rough-edge loud numbers that, supposedly, could have fit into Rent (which I never saw). All this noise is going on while Jackson wipes out the entire Native American population. Excellent fun. I thought I had nothing to lose!

The critics fell all over themselves with praise. The Public is a small theater so, naturally, a ticket was impossible to come by. The producers saw sugar plum dollar signs dancing in front of their eyes and they moved it uptown to a Broadway house. They re-reviewed it when it reopened on Broadway and there was more gushing from the critics about the lead and the score and how it was going to pull the kids into the theater.

Well, guess what? It was really boring. The songs were pretty snappy but there were long stretches—especially after Jackson takes office—where not a hell of a lot happens. Again, someone behind me fell fast asleep and started snoring LOUDLY.

So stuff it, Ben Brantley of the New York Times. It’s closing on January 2nd. And although I’ll never get that evening back, you owe me the cost of the ticket, you dickhead.

I loved the ad campaign. Look at that imagery and tag line on the poster! Fantastic. It didn’t help.