LifeSoFarLaRue

Another year in my New York life was spent at the Four Seasons restaurant in the Segram Building on Park Avenue, the birthplace of the power lunch.  This unique dining mecca is no more but in it's heyday was THE place to see and be seen.  Many celebrities of the day dined in the elegant surroundings. The beauty of the restaurant changed with every season.  In Spring, the trees in the various rooms were adorned with pink blossoms.  In Summer, lush greenery. In Autumn, the leaves of red and gold.  Then in Winter, bare white birch branches.  Every last detail changed with the seasons right down to the ash trays.  (When the restaurant merchandise was auctioned off after its closing, a set of the four ashtrays sold for just under $10,000.oo.) The pages wore Nehru-type jackets, embroidered with the restaurant logo.   In Spring, the jackets were pink, then green for Summer, orange for Autumn and finally in winter, brown. I was a page.  As a page, you  escorted diners to their

In New York City, on 57th Street, west of Fifth Avenue was a most unusual store by the name of Hammacher Schlemmer and while it still exists today, it has decidedly moved into the electronic age, selling all sort of programmable paraphernalia (at least, according to their catalog).  Back in the time I'm speaking of, it sold a mix of exotic and strange things. While I was not directly involved in this incident,  I relate it as an anecdote of the surprises one finds in everyday New York City. One winter, as my friend, Fabian was doing early Christmas shopping, he had journeyed from store to store, browsing and buying, eventually ending up at Hammacher Schlemmer. Heading for their food department (I'm not sure it still exists) he was checking out the various items, squatting down, most likely looking for escargot, when he received a slight tap on the shoulder. "Young man," said a rather husky feminine voice, "Could you pass me a tin of elephant meat?"

In the early 70's, there seemed to be a plethora of beggars all over New York City.   They would attack your car with pails of water and squeegees in hand, should you have to stop at a light.   Some people would turn on their windshield wipers in an effort to deter these vagabond entrepreneurs.  But I always felt a bit sorry for them and would usually give them some spare change if I had any. There also were the homeless ones who simply begged for money with no effort to offer you a service of any kind.  Two brief encounters come to mind. The first.....I was dressed to the nines and on my way to the theater to see some show or another when a dowdy older woman approached me.  "Got any spare change," she asked. I replied that I didn't and walked on. Not to be hindered and seeing my attire, she called after me "Got any spare gold?"  It made me laugh. The Second....Never take anything for granted.  One time, I saw an apparently homeless man half sitting

As a starving young actor in New York, I would take a seasonal job at Macy's around Christmas time, not only to earn some cash for presents but also for that Macy's employee discount.  I worked in Men's Cologne for two seasons, purchasing my fair share as gifts and then got "bumped" upstairs to the Toy Department, mainly selling dolls. One blustery day in early December, a woman wearing a substantialy large black coat with a floppy black hat and huge dark sunglasses approached my counter. "Yes, Ma'am, may I help you?" I inquired. "What is your most popular doll?"  She intoned in a sexy, husky, voice. I proceeded to show her the one that was selling the most.   Alas, I don't remember which one that was after all these years.  It may have been a Betsy Wetsy.  At any rate, at the time it was a hot item. She held the doll, examined it closely, checking its undergarments and eventually said, "I'm thinking this will do nicel

In the 90's, in the upstate town of Warwick, New York,  we had a nice modest, two bedroom home which started out as a week-end retreat from the sins of the city. And into this haven of relaxation, we brought a dog by the name of Gizmo. Fabian would spend a lot of time upstate while I was still working in the city.   So, to fill up some of that time, he took Gizmo to obedience school.  By the end of the school term, Gizmo would do most  of the required commands such as stay and sit.  This came in very handy when you were traveling with him.  On command he would stay in the car until he was released and allowed to get out (leashed, when need be) One time, mid-week, Gizmo had a barking fit and no amount of Fabian's commands would get him to stop.   He would jump up on the bench beneath the windows in the family room, paws on the sill and continue to bark and growl.   Finally, Fabian went to the window and saw a young man crouched down by the bushes in the front yard.  Fabian w

I was the stage manager for a production of "Gypsy" at the Meadowbrook Dinner Theater starring Ann Sothern as Mama Rose. When a certain show had a large number of roles to be filled, some of the actors would "double," playing more than one part.  Such was the case in "Gypsy."  Playing Electra (one of the strippers) was a young woman named Tina Faye who also played the small role of Miss Cratchitt, secretary to Flo Ziegfeld. Early in rehearsals, Tina was absent for some reason or another and as stage manager I read her part, standing in, on stage, while the director blocked the scene.  When that particular scene was finished I saw Ms. Sothern take the director aside for a short conference.   I don't recall if the producers were included in their conversation. At any rate, much to my surprise, it was quickly announced that "the role of Miss Cratchitt will be cut out of the scene.  In her place, we will now have Mr. Cratchit to be played by LaR

In my 1958  Freshman year at Kansas State Teachers College (as it was known then), my roommate was from Redbank, New Jersey.  Sad to say, I can't remember his name.  I think ir was Chris something.  He was a nice guy and a true friend at the time, as we both navigated through the beginnings of college life.   We lived in a private home with two other fellows, each duo sharing a room. As the Thanksgiving holiday approached, "Chris" planned a trip back to his hometown and asked me if I would like to join him for the cross-country trek via his car and with the promise of seeing NYC for the first time.  After a bit of pleading, my parents said yes, noting it might be the only time I ever got to see New York.  Little did they know that I would come to live there forty years! But, back to Thanksgiving.  I'm not sure how long we took off from school, but I think there were some added days beyond the specified school vacation time so that we could make the drive back and

 In the small Kansas town, where I grew up, most of my early pre-teen social life centered around the church, and the MYF  (Methodist Youth Fellowship).  Of course, there were grade school social events as well, but the biggies were with the church. There were pancake suppers (or were they breakfasts?), fund raising events such as Paper Drives (now we call it recycling) and even an occasional film with religious themes like the life of Martin Luther and the Diet of Worms. You can imagine my surprise when I learned this was not about eating worms or dieting for that matter. In the Summertime, we had Bible school for two weeks, where we learned crafts like making paperweights and (yes) basket weaving as well as studying the good book. I remember the choir (of wish I was a member) did our version of Handle's Messiah around Easter after weeks of practicing.   Also, the Nativity was staged at Christmas along with appropriate songs such as "Away in a Manger" and "Sil

At one time, there was a nightclub in New York named the "Grand Finale."  In early 1975 a few of us decided to go see the legendary Chita Rivera do her new act,    She did her customary singing and dancing with four back-up boys, interlaced with stories and songs about her various Broadway shows including "Bye, Bye Birdie" and "West Side Story" making it a  most enjoyable evening. For her encore, she announced that she was going to do the "World Premier" of a new song by Kander and Ebb.  This was greeted by enthusiastic applause.   And she began. "Come on, boys, we're gonna paint the town." It was lightning in a bottle and merited a standing ovation at the end. The song, of course was "All That Jazz" from the new upcoming musical "Chicago," which she later starred in alongside Gwen Verdon in June of that year.   And to think, I heard the world premier.  New York was always full of surprises. And this was on

I have seen Bette Midler live numerous times over the years including Carnegie Hall and various Broadway stages.  But the one time that was, and is very special to me was one night at the Copacabana in New York City. I can't remember how may of us were in our party (I'm thinking six) but I do recall we got the tickets well in advance of the Friday night performance on January 13, 1978.   Yes, it was Friday the 13th.  8 O'clock. We had a ringside table (No.3) and the show was all I expected it to be.   Bette was in great voice and sang all of her hits (up to that point in time).   Intermission came with the service of more drinks to the reveling crowd. There was a cover charge for two drinks beyond the price of the ticket (a mere Twenty dollars which is nothing by today's standards).  At any rate, the show went on again and she sang them all...."Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy," "Chapel of Love," "Do You Want to Dance," etc. Except for one.

I worked at the Meadowbrook Dinner Theater in Cedar Grove, New Jersey, a number of years climbing the theatrical ladder until I was the Stage Manager. (I also acted in a number of shows.) One of the shows that I stage managed was a production of "West Side Story."  The star was Tab Hunter.  (I also played Gladhand, the teacher who chaperones the dance at the gym in this production.) As you may know, at the end of Act One is the "Rumble" with switch blades flashing.  Since this was theater-in-the-round, the audience was quite close to the action and as the Jets and Sharks battled it out, nervous laughter could be heard from the nearby tables.   On opening night, Mr. Hunter playing Tony, was evidently overcome with the emotion of the moment and yelled "Shut up." At intermission, I went to his dressing room prepared to read him the riot act for being unprofessional.   Before I could say much of anything, he said that he was sorry and it would not happen

There was a "green grocer" about two blocks north of our apartment in NYC.  I would often shop there on the way home for the freshest vegetables to cook that night. One particular sunny afternoon, I was perusing their artichokes, feeling for firmness, when I heard a voice behind me.  "What the hell are those?" was the query from a woman whose voice sounded familiar. "Artichokes." I replied without turning around. "How do you cook'em?" was the next question. I turned and was a bit dumbstruck but proceeded to explain that I submerged them in boiling water along with a lemon cut in half and cooking them until the leaves were easy to pull off.  Then, letting them cool and serving them with a small bowl of mayonnaise into which you dipped the leaves and pulled the meaty part off with your teeth until all the leaves were gone and you arrived at the "choke."  I further informed my newfound inquisitor that one must be careful of the

In this blog, I will endeavor to amuse you with some of the stories of my "Life So Far" from Kansas to New York City to Naples, Florida and various stops along the way.  Hope you enjoy them. This first one really isn't a story but an observation. I moved to New York City in 1963 and quickly discovered the many marvels it held. One of the premier jewelry stores in "The Big Apple" is, as you well know, Tiffany's which sits on the southeast  corner of 57th Street and 5th Avenue and is well noted for their window displays.  While the windows are relatively small by department store standards at about four feet square with very thick glass, when I lived in the city I often found magic in them.  They were always seasonal when the time was right, be it Easter or Christmas. One year, around St Patrick's Day, there appeared the one window I will never forget.  It was simple and rather plain until you looked closely.  As you approached the window, from a dis