The New York Event in our memories

[lizzytysh]

Well, schoot! It sounds like she [understandably] would have liked to have one of the pins! I'm glad you had the opportunity to talk with her . She could not be easily confused with another, so I'm certain it was her.

Well, Jeannie....you and me, both! The photo I have been wanting, for a couple years now, is of Leonard sitting at the left end of a rectangular, wooden table ~ his legs are crossed at the ankle and extended lengthwise with the table, and are in the foreground of the picture. He's wearing a suit in the one I want, too. Maybe he did a photo shoot one day. This one was published with a newspaper article, and actually said something about getting a copy of the photo. When I went to the link, I couldn't get to anything even remotely related. I've been looking for it ever since, to no avail . I'll have to check out the ones you're referring to. I know you'd love the one I'm talking about!

~ Lizzy

[lizzytysh]

"Poetry Jam" doesn't address the elegance and grace of the Sunday morning we spent in the beautiful space at Davis Hall. "Poetry Share" does. It was an upper-story corner room, with tall windows on two sides [looking out into the tree tops and blue sky]; with a rich, golden, hardwood floor; a small, blue, velvet sofa and a few comfortable, stuffed chairs [one the same colour of blue]; some folding chairs in rows; and an ebony, baby[?] grand piano. The morning light was fresh, and the feeling of the room was intimate and genteel. These are only some of the highlights.

Natalie Fuhr shared her own, wonderful poetry, yet even more importantly [as the host], she had no qualms about sharing the spotlight and encouraged others to share whatever they would like.....be it poetry, song, or a story. If anyone felt trepidatious, her supportive manner soothed it away. When it came to sharing anecdotal stories related to Leonard, amongst the others, even I [who typically avoids sharing in group settings ~ preferring one-on-one situations for that] felt 'safe' enough to go to the front, sit on the piano bench, and share my own. It felt good.

I wish more of the others had been able to make it. That morning was the loveliest of all for me. Such a wonderful way to greet the day. I had, consistent with my 'New York Event pattern', once again rushed to the hall. I bypassed the offer to walk with Suzanne Holland and her paramour, and instead caught a taxi, ensuring my being there on time, and still feeling I was late. I had feared Natalie would recite first, and I might miss her. I had switched my plans to take the Sunday bus tour, instead taking the Saturday walking tour the day prior, for the sole reason that this was Natalie's hosted segment, and it was important to me to see and hear her recite. Excellent decision! As it turned out, I was on time, and even so, the readings started late, to allow others to arrive first.

Once I was there and settled, some of the [for me] nameless faces came to life through their writings, some inspired by Leonard. One man, who sang so well at the open mic at The Knitting Factory, read some of his poems. Another man, whose manner of recitation intrigues me most of all because of its rawness and down-to-earth sincerity recited several of his by memory. Difficult to describe his style, but it's akin to discovering that 'Vinny's' best friend, or even 'that gang member', loves poetry. He didn't 'look the part' of the stereotypical 'poet'. Tightly built, with very short hair, it could be a scene from a movie, his standing on stage, or in a room, reciting. Reminiscent of the original, Beatnik/Bohemian, no-frills style, I know Leonard would love it, and told the poet so, afterward.

Then, came some names I do know. Michael Wolkind selected Heather Salisbury to assist in the reading of one of his poems, and together they recited, point-counterpoint style, speaking out the male and female parts separately, yet to each other; and joining together on the lines that related the shared thoughts and feelings. Their reading was absolutely charming. Heather did a great job . So did Michael, of course, but then it was his poem , one that spoke to the 'dance' between men and women, as trust is established and a relationship grows. I loved how they brought it to life. I got some photos, and am hoping they turned out well.

Then, our 'very own' Geoff Gompers recited Chaucer by memory, accent and all. What a surprize it was! So concerned was I, that I get the most flattering [and unimpeded by the chair blocking my full view] perspective of him on film, that I got nothing at all! He finished before I took the picture . However, I did get one of him, smiling with legs stretched out and propped on the chair in front of him, before he got up to do his piece. What we miss whilst seeking perfection ! What a treat to see this other side of him , and he did it with such ease and finesse.

Suzanne Holland ~ what a treat! She considers her blindness not as being compromised, but only "an alternate way of being," and when you're with her, or watch her, you know this to be true. The waltz timing of many of her songs makes swaying and singing along a natural response. She sang with her beautiful voice, and introduced one of her songs with her excellent imitation of a whinneying and galloping horse, and ended it the same way. She'll purr like a cat, and as I've heard, does an incredible imitation of a sea lion, as well. If you're ever around her, ask her to share one of these delightful links to the animal world. She enjoys as much pleasure as she gives when she does them. Visually, she's both colourful and interesting ~ long, bright skirts and tops, with her long hair topped with floral wreaths; and she is happy to explain her various, vibrant tattoos ~ the three faeries on one arm represent her three nieces. It's so appropriate that another tattoo is of a dolphin, one of the sea's renowned, magical and intuitive creatures. Suzanne seems equally intuitive and magical. She loved the natural-oil scents I was wearing, and I'll be sending her carved pots of the same Indo Patchouly and Fresh Vanilla. Her attentive and loving paramour related his own Leonard incident. His looks and natural, expressive, speaking manner transported me back to the sixties, when the truly 'cool' ones didn't have to try to be that way. They were just themselves, and they just were.

Another unexpected and delightful surprize was John Bergeron performing solo, playing the piano and singing. I did get photos. It was a morning session that ended too soon. A morning of private performances, uplifting and so in keeping with the warmth of feeling brought about by the Event. If you missed it this time, do all you can to be there the next. If only someone had been there with a video camera. Perhaps in Berlin.

Thank you to all who recited, played, and shared. You gave me a lovely morning. What a gift .

Love,
Elizabeth

[margaret]

One of the stories I remember from that day was of the young man who, when in Montreal just turned up on Irving Layton's doorstep unannounced, having found his address in the phone book.! It seems it really made his (Mr Layton's) day

[lizzytysh]

Yes , and wasn't that Suzanne's paramour who did that ? Come Berlin, me and my notebook will be joined at the hip ~ with my lights-in-the-dark pen . I just ordered one a week ago. It has a tiny bulb at the end that lights the space where you're writing. Great for meetings, but best for Events ! Everything was so crystal clear, while in the moment; yet many miles, more experiences, and some days later, the one word Dick Straub used to describe our New York experience ["Blur"] is soooo appropriate! Going strictly by memory is tough !

~ Lizzy

[lizzytysh]

For all the get-high times of the Sixties, with varying people, substances, and environments, Leonard's room would've been the penultimate.

So, the Chelsea Hotel was a must-do while in New York. I made ~ and paid ~ the reservation months in advance. We saw the glorious lobby while on Evelyn's walking tour ~ of course, the desk man insisted he knew nothing of the specific arrangements made with Stanley Bard for a tour of the other floors.....and Stanley was 'out of town' when we arrived, at the specifically agreed-upon time of 12 Noon [as I recall]. This snafu prompted me to immediately confirm my own reservation, as I had changed the date for the specific night. A relief when the desk man confirmed, "Yes, we have you down for Tuesday night, June 15th." [Whew!!!]

So, there we were.....checking in at last. Aha! The desk man had made a note that Leonard's room was available, and he wanted to be certain we were made aware of it at check-in, just in case! Yes, of course, we were interested! The price, however, was too steep for our last-day-in-New York pocketbooks. So, temporarily enthused, we declined, despite his assuring us that the previous person had paid much more than that~! Well a deal is a deal only if you can afford it!

Though we declined the assistance of the bellman with our bags ~ we'd schlepped them this far; the elevator and our room were now only steps away, and we could certainly handle that! He insisted, with comments to the effect that he didn't want his boss yelling at him. So, okay, we were on our way. Suddenly, there's the boss [Stanley] and somehow [who knows, perhaps he asked what room we were going to] I mentioned that we were going to stay in Leonard's room, but we just couldn't afford it. He stopped the elevator door from closing, and said, "You want Leonard's room!?! You've got Leonard's room. Don't worry. We'll make a deal!" Well, now, that certainly sounded fine to us, so we waited while he got the key, and gave it to the bellman, telling us that this is the room referred to in the song, "Chesea Hotel"; and telling him, "Take them up to Leonard's room, as he gave him the key. That he did, and there we were.

Just inside the room for less than two minutes, Margaret asked which bed I wanted. Standing near the round, corner table, I pointed to the far one, nearest the windows, and briskly walked toward it. Looking at the far-side bed, and specifically thinking of the song, my eye gauged the room according to that bed. Its bedspread cleared the floor by almost 2 inches. However, I missed what was directly beneath me as I strode. The bedspread, on the bed nearest me, dragged the floor, in folds at the corners, by almost a foot.

Presuming I had a clear path, my feet were instantly, hopelessly tangled in the bedspread, and was down for the count, as I slammed to the floor between the two beds. My left knee and right hand and wrist took the impact. In pain and confused, I slowly turned around on the floor to see how what just happened could possibly have happened. There was the dragging bedspread. I leaned up against the end of 'my' bed, and Margaret took a picture.

As soon as the photo-op concluded, I remembered something Lightning had told me about how it was there in the Sixties, and I burst out laughing. I said to Margaret, "Isn't that something? We waltz in here with our baggage, and true to form [and tradition], we're carried out on a stretcher . Well, now, I can truthfully say I've tripped in Leonard's room ."

I'm certain I'm not the first to have ended up on the floor in that room, but the causes may well have been quite different. After a few minutes of lying on the floor and laughing [despite the pain, I loved the humour of it all], I got up and we started taking pictures. Each of us lying on the far bed, in languid and cross-legged poses; the corner table [where he likely wrote]; the fireplace; the windows; the kitchenette; the black-and-white tiled bathroom and sink; and the number of the door [#424] above us, from in the narrow hallway. I must say, the hotel has some irregularities in its flooring, with some unexpected slopes in the hallways and at the doors. Tripping and tripping may well have gone hand-in-hand during those years.

I became a little concerned that we hadn't heard from anyone as to the specifics of the "deal" Stanley was to give us, so I called down to the front desk, rather than wait for a surprize at check-out. Oh yes, he was going to give it to us at his cost, far less than the norm for that room; however, his cost still exceeded our budget. An additional $28 to what we'd already paid meant far more to us than to him. He suggested that we'd save that much just by getting a sandwich and eating in, with our kitchenette right there; and stressed that it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that we should take advantage of, but that he couldn't come down any more, or he'd be losing money. True, true ~ but that $28 might as well have been $280 to us at that point. And, for all he knew, we could've already been planning to eat in. After a very brief confab with Margaret [it takes far less time to arrive at a decision when you're both in the same boat ], I advised him that he really needed to move us to another room, and could he please arrange for me to get some ice.

I enjoyed the scales the opera singer was practicing in the room next door, and kept wishing she'd just break into song, but she was heavy into those scales, and never did. What a beautiful, rich voice, however .

As Lightning said, Leonard tended to come and go at the Chelsea, so there are probably a number of rooms that could be considered "Leonard's room" ~ however, Stanley presented this one as being the one related to the Chelsea song, and also mentioned that it's mentioned by number in one of his books, so it may be one that can lay claim to a lengthier stay. Who knows .

As for the song that resonated most while in that room ~ "while the limousines wait in the street" ~ I must confess that my mind's-eye vision has always been of the top of the limousine being visible below, as one looks out the window onto the street. However, the view from the window looks out onto a courtyard, and the windows of the building on the other side of it. The street is far to the right, and out of sight from the windows.

After awhile, another bellman came and took us to our new room on the 2nd floor ~ a room even more charming in its smaller and unique way. I asked him about the woman singing next door, and he confirmed that she is an opera singer, married to the painter who lives there, but that she's rarely ever there, and he had no idea why she was now. He gave the name of the painter [unfamiliar to me] and, without my having written it down, it's hopeless to try to remember it now, as I couldn't even 15 minutes later.

Ah, but the staff are well-schooled politically. The bellman had worked there something in the area of 15[?] years; and when I asked who amongst the wide array of visitors did he like best, or who was the most memorable, he said something to the effect of he likes them all the same. When I urged that surely there must be one or two that stand out to him, personally, he said something to the effect of, "I never say anything negative about any of the guests." When I clarified that I wasn't suggesting that he say anything negative, but rather something positive, he responded with the same comment. I couldn't resist commenting that he's definitely well-schooled politically, he insisted that it wasn't that, but that he likes everyone the same. [I just let it go with "Okay..." ].

~ Lizzy

[lizzytysh]

I thought I did rather admirably, resisting the bathroom 'freebies' from Leonard's room. However, did get my "Lisa luxury soap" and "Breck Conditioning shampoo", from the room where we actually slept.

Now, the following day:

We bathed and changed, and off we went. I asked to speak with Stanley. He would be there shortly, as he was "schlepping" some woman's bags out [one of his staff's comments, when he came into view]. He immediately asked if we'd gotten into our new room okay, and enjoyed it and then commented positively on [my] "What a transformation!" [dang ~ had I looked that bad ?]. I can't remember how he came to say it, but he said, "I'm 70 today." I said, "Ah, so you're the same age as Leonard..." and he said, "Yes, I am! We grew up together! Well, not really 'grew up' together, but we've been good friends for many years! As a matter of fact, he was supposed to come, but he didn't! I knew he wouldn't, even though he promised me three times! I just spoke with him today, and he said, 'Stanley, I just don't want to come to New York.' I knew he wouldn't come, even though he promised both me and Esther that he would be here, but I knew he wouldn't. He just didn't want to have to tell me 'No' ~ that's Leonard for you! He's gotten spiritual, you know ~ and lately, he's gone even deeper into it. There's a retreat that he really wanted to attend, instead." I asked if the retreat was in India, and he said, "No, in California."

I said, "Well, at least you know he's with you in spirit!" He replied, smiling, "Yes, he certainly is! Always has been, is now, and always will be!" I asked, "So, how about a picture with you, birthday man?" [I bypassed 'birthday boy', as it would've sounded just 'too-too']. He said, "Of course! I'd love to!" and came back out from behind the counter, from where he'd just gone. After the picture, I walked away, but then it occurred to me, whilst talking with Margaret, that I really wanted clarification as to whether Leonard's promise to 'be here' meant strictly for Stanley's birthday, or for the Event. I returned to the desk and asked him, "Was it your birthday celebration that Leonard had promised to be here for?" and he said, "Yes, for my birthday!" I didn't mention the Event in my question, as I knew he was well aware of the Event, and I felt I had gotten the answer to my underlying question. I asked if I could return another time, and get Leonard's room 'at cost' then, when I could plan for it. He said, "Of course you can!" and reached over for one of the hotel's cards, and handed it to me ~ "Just be sure to call me ahead of time." On that trip, I'll take photos of all the art in the hallways of all the floors. They're filled with it, and the lighting is marvelous!

I left feeling that the Event attendees need not feel badly that Leonard hadn't shown up for us, when he hadn't even shown up for his 'good' friend's birthday celebration, despite his multiple promises to both his sister and his friend. It struck me that the chaos of New York was not where he wants his head to be these days, and a retreat on Mt. Baldy, and with Roshi, holds much more appeal.

Later, As I rejoined Margaret, there is Joe Way! He tells us that 'the group' is next door at the El Quijote [the Don Quixote-themed restaurant, where statues and other renderings of him abound, in seemingly every square inch available]. Next door, we find Jarkko and Eija, Anne Way, and Dick and Linda Straub, preparing to order. Jarkko insisted we join them, but our time was so limited at that point, with Margaret needing to catch her plane, and us still having the 'shopping' part of our trip to do, that we joined them for photos only [it would've been so cool to have eaten, too! ]. Besides, if we couldn't 'afford' the extra for Leonard's room, we sure couldn't afford the menu prices at El Quijote ! We'd been wanting to get photos [Margaret's idea originally, but one I quickly agreed with], together with the whole committee [those with whom we'd actually worked] and Voila[!] ~ there they all were, but absent Geoff! Still and all, it was divine-providence timing .

Then, with our time so short, and our wasting much of it, going up and down the street looking for the small windowfront where exotic jewelry and bangles were displayed, where Anne had just bought something, and I had noticed the shop the night before, and wanted to go there ~ that Anne got up from the table, and escorted us directly to it, showing us the correct bell to ring to summon the woman from upstairs, for opening the door to see it. We still had to get to the Mexican Family Grocery shop, where Joe had gotten his 'woman in flames' mousepad, too, so we could get ours. It was a rushed afternoon. Though I had tried to avoid driving in the 'downtown' area, I was 'forced' to, when I thought I'd lost my prescription glasses, and needed to retrace my steps. The upside of that was that I found them, as soon as I found a parking space on 23rd Street, and ended up spending several hours with the jewelry woman, trying on jewelry like we were two children in grandmother's attic. I may have already mentioned elsewhere that I sang "Bird on a Wire" for her, a capella, and will be sending her a wide variety of Leonard's CDs.

I've been to New York perhaps five times before, but this was the first trip where I can honestly say I 'bonded' with it. It's a city where one quickly realizes that a single turn around a corner, or a step in an unintended direction, can open up a whole new set of realities and experiences. Sleep patterns became immediately altered as my body became infused with both the energy of the "City", and the anticipation and excitement of the Event. A high-energy time, filled with cameolike memories and vignettes.

~ Lizzy

[lizzytysh]

Ahhh, Lightning , Lightning ~ the Sixties-Vintage woman, with layer upon layer of anecdotes, facts, and details from those times. A rich patina like that of olde, glowing wood, like a finely woven brocade, she has endless details of interest for anyone who wants to know of that era [or for that matter, any era since] in New York and The Village.

She came to meet up with Margaret and I in our Chelsea room, on Tuesday night, so we could go out together to celebrate Margaret's birthday, a quiet and private celebration. She came bearing small, transportable gifts; and I confess, I weighted Margaret down a bit with the weight of three journals. Lightning took photographs of us with both her camera and ours. Then, we sought the best place for eating. The posted menu at El Quijote bore prices far beyond our means, save a special cup of coffee, and maybe a dessert. So, we opted to go elsewhere. Ended up at a falafel shop, and ate an amazingly good meal, for next to nothing. Lightning's boyfriend called her on her cell phone, and all three of us spoke with him. More golden threads of Vintage-Sixties !

We ended up at the El Quijote and had a birthday drink with/for Margaret. They had a glass of wine. I opted for a dark beer. I left for a bit to make a promised [albeit almost 1/2 hour late] phone call, and then returned. Lightning asked each of us what our favourite thing about New York was. With the question seeming to be one regarding 'favourite' on a 'personal' level [vs. the Event], I was fairly quick to answer, "Central Park!" [regarding the long walk Margaret and I had taken earlier that day]. After awhile and finishing our drinks, we parted, as Lightning still had to return home by subway; and our last night in New York came to a close. ~ and I do mean close! Margaret just PM'd me with her memory, which got lost, along with my consciousness, but which I must include, in her words :

"I recall you collapsing on your bed almost immediately we got back to our room, fully clothed amongst all the paraphanalia still all over the bed. The small amount of alcohol and whatever you took to ease the pain from your trip certainly knocked you out. I moved some of the clutter from around you before going to bed myself."

Thank G~d for caring roommates . At least I finished out my time at the Chelsea, Chelsea-style . Thank you, Margaret .

Thunder, lightning, and rain have begun ~ don't want to lose my computer to the elements. Shutdown time.

~ Lizzy

[lizzytysh]

What a rush of discovery it was to learn, amidst our picture-taking at the El Quijote, that Eija and I own nearly-identical, amber-pendant necklaces. I've always loved my necklace so much, and it was such a high moment when she stepped around someone to exclaim, "I have a necklace just like that ~ it's almost identical! It reminded me of how I hadn't even gotten the chance to tell her how much I love her ice sculptures . Now, I know she'll know I mean it, when I do tell her, as the glow that comes through them has always reminded me of the glow that comes from within amber .

~ Lizzy

[Joe Way]

Hi Lizzy and Margaret,

It was wonderful running into you that day! A very fitting farewell as we left New York shortly afterward as well.

I wanted to add a bit from my perspective as well. I've been to the Chelsea Hotel on a couple of other occasions and eaten at "El Quijote" as well-what a great restaurant and I'm sure Leonard had his elbows on that bar many times during his days there!

When we were leaving and taking pictures, we made note that the storefront right next to the Chelsea is a wonderful musical instrument/guitar store and right next to that is a bait/fishing shop. Well, I was in heaven, I told Anne that she could plunk me right down there and I'd have everything that I could ever need. I've shown the photo of the bait shop to my fishing friends who think that I've betrayed them by going to an urban center instead of into the wilderness where we belong.

It was great to meet you and Margaret in person.

Joe

(By the way, Katie loved her bangles that we brought her from that jewelry lady).

[lizzytysh]

Hi Joe ~

I felt the same way ~ SUPER to meet you and Anne [and your children, albeit very briefly with them]. Amazing how it felt like so much like 'old home week in New York' running into you at the Chelsea on your and our last day there.

You're right regarding Leonard's elbows on the bar ~ that's the 'seat' we opted for when we had our 'Margaret's birthday drink,' though not for that reason. Lightning commented on how upscale it had become since the Sixties.

I noticed that bait shop and it struck me as somewhat anachronistic. Wish I'd gotten a picture of it. Too bad you couldn't have stood between them for a photo, holding one door open with your left, and the other with your right ~ rather 'literally' torn between the two. I wonder if it sprung up after Giuliani cleaned up the harbour, or if it's 'always' been there.

I'll bet Katie did love her bangles ~ they were splendid.

There are so many things left undone in New York. I'd love to go back, and just explore and do. You don't have the exact date for the Sincerely, L. Cohen production yet, do you?

~ Lizzy

[lightning]

It was strange to revisit the Chelsea Hotel after thirty- some years of not having been there and see the changes. For example, dingy yellow halls and walls were painted white and clean . The "No-Smoking Zone" signs told me why ven the ghosts like Janis Joplin, Jerry Ragni, co-author of “Hair”, Shirley Clarke, avant garde filmmaker, Harry Smith, filmmaker, folk music anthologist, Fugs First album producer,magus and revered eccentric, Robert Mapplethorpe, controversial art photographer and my friend Francis, poet, madman and beautiful loser par excellence, don't want to hang out there any more. I recall all the fierce smoking that went on in the 60's and it wasn’t always tobacco.
That could be one factor that kept Leonard away from New York City, another is the possibility of terrorist attack imagined in “First We Take Manhattan” and the Future.” It surely wasn't the prices of the rooms which seem to have increased by ten fold keeping less financially successful artists out . Marianne Faithfull, an ex-druggie, was reported to not want want to stay at the Chelsea when performing in NYC because of its reputation for drugs, but stayed there anyway. The omnipresence of drugs that marked the old days seemed to be gone. Mr. Bard, manager, use to accept pieces of artwork as rent but I doubt if he still does though the amount of art in the lobby has increased exponentially as well as the rent.
Back in the 60’s and 70’s there were no Chelsea Hotel T-shirts, no web sites, no special rates for tourists or extra charges for “Leonard’s room”. The Chelsea was a landmark, a special realm, but it did not exploit its specialness. You could go to the Quixote, have some paella and bottle of Marque de Riscal wine even if you were on welfare. You might see underground movie stars like Warhol’s Viva, Lennon/Ono’s Virginia Lust, as well as Jane Fonda, or rocker/poet Patti Smith, famous artists you admired and, if you weren’t intimidated or plagued by envy, you could talk to them. You might go to their rooms, smoke with them, party with them. Maybe they would make connections for you, offer you their literary agent, a chance to see a famous producer with your script. Among them one of the most highly respected was the majestic and gracious Leonard Cohen. People would whisper to each other when he was there, “Leonard is in the hotel.” When he came to a gathering like the British magician Stanley Amos’ exhibit “Clothing is Art” or attended a soireé in Harry Smith’s room, it made the event even more special. When he would write a poem for one of the beauteous ladies of the court, she might go tearing across the lobby loudly proclaiming her immortality.
The Chelsea was like a big boho fraternity house. People used to say "Where to go after the Chelsea? There's nowhere." or "There's no life outside the Hotel." It was like a movie set. Consciousness was heightened. Life was lived “en artiste.” Magic was afoot. But now an enchanted poetic world seemed prosaic and ordinary.
I wish the people who had gone there had had a more meaningful ChelseaHotel experience but perhaps it can't be courted or ordered up.
Other ghosts whose names I forgot to mention were master beat poets Gregory Corso and Allen Ginsberg, folk singer Phil Ochs, pop artist Andy Warhol, dazzling chanteuse/model Nico, punk musician Sid Vicious and his tragic girlfriend Nancy Spungen, author Mason Hoffenberg, poet Dylan Thomas, radical designer Charles James, poet/ art collector Isabella Gardiner. All these once walked the dingy halls of the palace headquarters of the New York underground, heads held high, and are no more. But you can't go home again said Thomas Wolfe who once occupied room 528.

[lizzytysh]

Yes, it seemed the proprietor[s] had left the unpainted door, almost as an apology to the Chelsea dwellers of olde, a link they could point to [as Lightning did for Margaret and me] and say, "This is how it used to be, how the walls and doors looked, in those days." Perhaps a spot for the olde-timers to gaze upon and feel 'at home.' The hotel has definitely had a facelift, but simply looking at that door imparted the difference in feeling between now and then. I'm glad that door is still there, as it speaks volumes.

I can't imagine Stanley taking art in trade at this point for the pragmatic reason that there's no room left to display it , unless he wants to fill the halls, as well as the common areas on each floor that are already full.

When Lightning shared the story of her dear friend, Francis, and her own, recent experiencing of his presence, I experienced wave after wave after wave of chills. When I reasonably could have expected them to stop, they would come again. I'm convinced his spirit remains.

Margaret still had her small bottle of red wine from her flight over on Air France, and it was the symbolically-fitting and perfect time for us to share a glass with Lightning. Lightning did the toast . I would love to have seen the Chelsea of her time.

[lightning]

(contents of this post were added to the post before the last)

[lizzytysh]

Okay, the one aspect of the Event I could have 'lived without' ~ the Scavenger Hunt. However, I think some variations in it would've made a huge difference ~ say, more time; better [less obscure] clues .

The time limit would be one ~ increase it from 22 minutes to something more than that ! That time frame puts [the majority of] 'our' age bracket into a 'dead run,' with great possibilities for the 'dead' coming true . Seriously, 22 minutes turned out to be abysmally short, and seemingly geared to college-age kids. The contest for me wasn't about a free beer! Who needed that at that time of day [very early afternoon]? It was about a game, where a team with a name like ours ~ "Stubborn Garbage Bags" ~ just should win ! Lightning had thought of it, and we had wholly endorsed it! Who could lose with a name like that!?! Lightning was our captain; Margaret and I, and several others [whose names I don't know ] and two of whom were the Japanese[?] couple, who lost us at the starting gate !

Some of the clues required knowledge of American slang, so if a team lacked an American familiar with the slang, they'd be lost. Even those who are familiar with it [like ours], might be. Well, we did fine on the first lap ~ came in a respectable second, and got all the answers to the questions correct. Not only did we have to follow the clues, to find the correct destinations, but we had to answer the trivia questions correctly, as well, to qualify as a winner.

My desire to win, simply for the sake of winning and bringing honour to our name, had me running to hunt down the addresses we were seeking. Like some kind of crazed bloodhound , I ran ahead of the pack, got the information, and then circled back with the answer, so we could all reverse and go a new direction, regarding the next clue. We did well enough, with this modus operandi, that Lightning and Margaret said, "Elizabeth ~ you need to be team captain!" Okay, so I became the newly elected.

However, things were not to go so well the second lap. Our set of clues [each team had variations] related to the album that so few listen to ~ Death of a Ladies Man. Now, without cheating, and just off the top of your head [and pretend you're under extreme pressure], give me your response to this ~

"Phil Spector may be responsible for the death of a lady, but Cohen won't take responsibility for this 'grotesque' album. An old merchants house is on a street that is equal to the placement of Memories on this album. What is the building number for this location? = Y"

Ha! We could all guess all we wanted, but no one knew for sure what number the song was on the album:? !

Since the way the game worked was to find these various addresses and/or various-digit answers, via Clues X, Y, and Z, and then add them up to find the correct sum [from out of four possibilities that were only one digit apart !], which then corresponded to the 'correct' bar that you were supposed to go to next, every answer had to be absolutely correct!

So that you know what I mean on this, here's an example, with the final number [after adding up the three, various answers] and the bar it corresponded to:

7048 = Acme Underground; 9 Great Jones St
7049 = Bleecker Street Bar; 58 Bleecker St
7050 = Gonzalez y Gonzalez; 625 Broadway
7051 = Bitter End; 147 Bleecker St

No room for error.

Since no one knew the answer to the "Memories" question, [as team captain ] I thought, we'll just go to the third clue, and try getting the answer to the second clue, later, by deduction. Here's the clue:

"Montreal and New York have a longstanding rivalry regarding who makes better rings of boiled dough. There is a huge one on a street named like a massive desire. It is west of Bowery. How many letters are in the name of the credit card it's selling? = Z"

Ohhhkaaay!!!

We figured out that the boiled dough was bagels, so we wanted a huge bagel shop. I scanned our map for a street west of Bowery, and aha[!] there it was ~ "Wanamaker!" I'm thinking 'sexual' [massive desire] and the slang term for a man/boy wanting relations with a woman/girl [this is more of a boy's term ~ something he might say to his buddies, "I really wanna make her!" I was certain I had it, so off I bolted, as it was at least 7 blocks away! No one had disagreed, but then I don't think I gave them much of a chance, either, as I was gone, and would return soon with the bagel shop's credit card.

The correct answer, of course , turned out to be "Great Jones." "Jones" is a slang term for massive desire, but my familiarity with it has to do with drugs, most specifically, heroin. Evelyn said that in New York it has to do with sex and [not going home with your].......... ~ I'd never heard that usage, but even so, I hadn't even noticed the street named Great Jones [quite nearby], and I was already enroute to Wanamaker many streets north. The further I went, the more I realized I had lost my team . Convinced they would be findable as soon as I had the answer, I kept going.

Well, I had the only map, as well as the set of clues ~ which meant they were out there, somewhere behind me, with nothing. I finally found Wanamaker, and then had to run down it more blocks to finally find a [tiny] bagel shop; but it was on a side street that crossed Wanamaker. So, that couldn't be the right one, and they had no credit cards, and I had no team!

Guilt-filled, I tried to wend my way back, and all I saw was Margaretless and Lightningless faces. Hundreds of them. As soon as I found them, I was going to relinquish my position as captain, as I was no longer deserving of the title, for a captain never leaves its troops in the dust . However, I couldn't even do that much ~ they were gone, and they were lost! Well, not in New York [as Lightning knew her way around], but in terms of the Scavenger Hunt, as I had the only mapand clues .

I borrowed someone on the street's cell phone, and called the Help number. I ended up talking to Geoff, who told me what bar I should be at. I tried to call Dempsey's, the previous bar we'd been at, to see if they'd returned there [which, in fact, I later learned they had!], but, the line kept ringing busy. I finally gave up and started toward the bar Geoff had told me was the correct answer. Unfortunately, Lightning and Margaret probably wouldn't be there, as I was also the only one with the sheet that had the Help number, or even the bar possibilities!

However, while crossing a side street with the light, I had just reached the other side, when I heard a scream. I turned around to see a woman lying in the street behind me. She'd just fallen from off the curb. Many of the New York curbs have a heavy, steel[?] strip on their edge, and the curb slants down from the normal height on both sides, until it's ground level, for wheelchairs to cross. She was wearing 'slides' with hard, slippery soles , and her eye apparently didn't take note of the gradient height of the curb, and when her sole/heel hit the curb, she went down. She was writhing in pain, and her boyfriend was trying to help her. I circled back and she was crying, "My ankle! My ankle!" Sure enough, her ankle was turned straight sideways from her leg ~ either broken or severely out of place.

Since [obviously ] no one was expecting me elsewhere, I sat down on the curb and put her head in my lap, so it wouldn't have to be against the concrete of the curb. I removed my jacket and put it across her, as she may have been going into shock, and I held my hat so it blocked the sun from her face. Someone called 9-1-1 and got an ambulance coming, and her boyfriend tried to comfort her. She was from France, and was going home in two weeks, and was devastated with not knowing what this all meant for her [would her insurance cover going to a hospital? was she going to end up with an operation? was she going to be in a cast? what was the rest of her time here going to be like?]. Her boyfriend and I kept assuring her she was going to be alright, and that everything was going to be fine. We both [technically] knew that our assurances were true; but it was obvious that the questions raised by her were now running through our minds, as well.

A rescue vehicle happened to pass by and stopped. They weren't the ones who had been called, but they began to help her, regardless. I wanted to lash out at the rescue guy [but didn't] when he made no effort to conceal her view, when he lifted up her slacks, saw the grotesque angle of her ankle, and the huge, egg-size bump on it. When she looked down and saw the bump, and her ankle at a 90-degree angle from her leg, she screamed and started crying again. Anyone would have. It looked dreadful. Then, the called-ambulance arrived, and began instructing the first one to get the gurney and how to get her on it.

I had to scramble to get out from under her, to keep from getting pinned by the gurney. After standing there a few minutes and watching, I decided I wasn't needed and could go on. About 1/2 block away, I realized I'd left my jacket, and ran back to retrieve it, just as she was being put into the first, rescue vehicle. I felt like the lyric "It could've been a vulture.....I never could decide" as I quickly, but gently-as-I-could pulled my jacket out from off her, and from under the straps that held her in place on the gurney, explaining......."It's my jacket." Ey yi yi ~ was it really necessary that I suddenly feel 'greedy,' for retrieving my own jacket!?!

Finally, there I was ~ Gonzalez y Gonzalez ~ familiar faces, but none that I was looking for. With two bars 'found' and two left to go for the game, this 'Team of One' finally decided I might as well return to Carman Hall. I saw Evelyn on the street and, through her, found the subway. She seemed to think it was fine that we'd all gotten separated, that I shouldn't feel guilty, and that it just goes with the game; but as 'team captain,' I felt pretty inconsolable. I'd let my troops down, and didn't deserve my position. It was the principle! I pretty well 'beat myself up' over it most of the way back, but then I came across Lizzie Madder on the subway . We ended up walking back to Carman together, and had one of those conversations that women talking privately can get into about relationships. We stood outside the hall to finish it, and then parted ways. The one opportunity I really had to speak with her . Okay, so there was a quantifiable upside to it all.

However, I would have loved to return to the 'sidewalk' sale [i.e. a private, garage sale] that several people were having outside their brownstone apartment. Albums, household items, and a long, black dress that I know would've fit me, and that I wanted[!], hanging from the window ledge. They had also pointed us to the correct block and name of the building for one of the answers [the clue had the wrong placement for it] ~ so we really 'owed them one' . It truly would've been preferable for the three of us to have abandoned the Scavenger Hunt and just explored Greenwich Village, together, at our leisure. Lightning later said she knows that she'd have come away with at least another couple albums. As it was, I got to see the bright, red door of the Hell's Angel's clubhouse [one of the Hunt's clue-destinations], but then we had to rush off again! So many things of interest in the Village, but with 22 minutes and counting, who had time to really take them in?

I returned to our room in Carman, and found Margaret and Lightning. Margaret had, had the pleasure of Lightning's vast repertoire of anecdotes and information, as they returned to the first bar, thinking I might have done the same, and then finally made their way back to Carman. I, on the other hand, had my own afternoon.

~ Lizzy

[lightning]

The scavenger hunt was a silly game that wasn't worth the candle. I might have run around the hot treeless sidewalks of NY for $10,000 but for a pint of beer, no way. I don't understand "honor" (plus beer) as a reward for that scrambling, or beating out your fellow man or another team. Elizabeth felt differently and showed amazing energy in chasing after ridculous clues that had little to do with the Cohen event. She's in great physical shape for the fifth decade of life. True, there would have been better ways to spend an afternoon in New York City and I hope future events planners don't use the company that took twenty dollars apiece from us for planning this. When Margaret and I lost the group we tried to phone them we found they had no listing and we were unble to make contact. Elizabeth had taken the sheet of paper with a contact number with her when she got carried away by her passion for winning. She was a truly a champion "Stubborn Garbage Bag."