Halloween

Colette as La chatte amoureuse
This is the makeup design I am considering for an early Halloween party. I am already practicing my meowing --and oh! My purring is coming along quite nicely, too, thank you!

Gloria Vanderbilt's Sybaritic "Breakfast for Two"!

Breakfast for Two
6 eggs
1/2 stick butter
Freshly ground black pepper
Black or red caviar, about 1/2 pound

Accompaniments:
Pumpernickel
Champagne

The night before, remove the eggs from refrigerator and leave in a bowl. They will be ready at room temperature by morning. Prepare a double boiler by putting a good-sized dollop of butter, about half a stick, in the top part. Add a few grinds of pepper, but no salt. Place on the base of the double boiler, partly filled with warm (not hot) water, bring very slowly to a boil, stirring the butter occasionally until it is melted. Break the eggs into the melted butter. With a wooden fork, gently stir yolks and whites until lightly but smoothly blended, but not cooked at all. Remove the double boiler from the heat and allow the mixture to settle in. Eggs are most sensitive, and need time to adjust to new conditions.

Use your instinct to know when to replace the double boiler on the stove (!). Turn heat on the stove to very low. With a wooden spoon, stir the mixture from time to time, so that gradually it begins to scramble. Now and then remove the double boiler from the stove to allow the eggs to take their own time. At no time should the mixture start sticking to the sides of the pan. The eggs are ready when they are loosely bound together in large curds. Remove from the heat immediately and divide onto two preheated plates. In the center of each serving put several large spoonfuls of large grain caviar. Serve instantly with slices of dark pumpernickel and a split of ice-cold champagne.

From Food in Vogue by Maxime de la Falaise, copyright 1980, Doubleday & Company, New York.

The Death of Innocence...

Jim Hoskins, publisher of "The Garret" and "The Naoj" (January 1968)


James Hoskins, in a picture taken from a TV transmission, killed himself in the Channel 9 studio after a hostage drama that stretched about 10 hours (October 1980)

The Cincinnati Enquirer has an unsettling article in Saturday's paper which brought back a lot of old memories. 25 years later, hostage drama still chilling; Channel 9 reporters suddenly were inside a crime story by John Kiesewetter retells the story of former hippie poet Jim Hoskins' hostage-taking episode inside the WCPO television studios, following the murder of his girlfriend in their apartment in Over-the-Rhine. I remember that day very well. My family and I were on our way to my grandfather's funeral in Kentucky and I recall the drive across Fourth Street downtown to get to the bridge and knowing that the SWAT team was stationed only one block away, waiting for Hoskins to make his next move.

Ubersexuals VS. Metrosexuals! (meee-owww!)

ubersexual men (macho) are displacing metrosexuals (hetero but overly groomed)

HIP-OP PRINCE

From the New York Post's "Page Six" column:

PRINCE'S penchant for platform shoes may be sending him to the operating room. The 5-foot-3 funkster has supposedly been told he needs hip replacement surgery at the unusually young age of 47. "He used to wear high-heeled boots every day and doctors told him that may have contributed to his condition," a source tells the National Enquirer. "Over the years, he has battered his body so much that his joints, especially his hips, are causing him a lot of discomfort." Prince, a Jehovah's Witness, is thought to be against having surgery because the religion does not allow blood transfusions. He's been prescribed anti-inflammatory drugs to help him cope. A rep for Prince could not be reached.

Tonya and Nancy: The Opera?

Stand back, Jerry Springer! You aren't the only notorious American to have an opera named after you. The Associated Press reported this little item on Friday:

BOSTON — The Nancy Kerrigan -Tonya Harding soap opera is now a musical opera. The figure skating saga that captivated the country 11 years ago — with the ubiquitous video of Kerrigan crying "Why me?" after being attacked and hit in the knee — is the basis for Nancy and Tonya: The Opera, to be performed at Tufts University next spring.

..."This is the classic envy story and it was just so strange and got stranger by the day," said Elizabeth Searle, who wrote the opera's libretto. "Tonya and Nancy was the first completely insane scandal that took over the country," Searle said.

The 43-year-old Searle said she did not consult the two skaters about the one-act opera, which was pieced together using actual quotes uttered by the women and others involved in the scandal. Searle plucked from newspaper reports, FBI transcripts and her previous novella about the skating rivals, "Celebrities in Disgrace," which is being made into a short film. Tufts graduate student Abigail Al Dorry is writing the music.

The opera opens with Kerrigan and Harding holding dueling news conferences at the 1994 Olympics, just weeks after the attack on Kerrigan.

"There are elements of parody in it, but I really feel for this story," Searle said. "Girls in America are either raised to be Tonyas or Nancys. I think any girl can relate to these two women and what they went through."

"She loves Quaaludes"

Really! I mean, jeez. How was Nigel supposed to know? I'd only taken them twice. Well, OK. Let's make it three times, alright?? The first time was at a party at Mike "Weatherwoman" Fenwick's party in Mt. Adams (circa 1972-73) -- egged on by my best friend Steve O'Banion. Steve, a great dancer for a white boy! -- was always trying to get me to come out of my shell. That night I guess I did -- after a couple of glasses of wine and a 'lude, we were twirling across the room in what felt like a sophisticated dance and then suddenly I went all limp, like an overcooked noodle and collapsed right on top of Mike's coffee table!

Next, came a verrry long Amtrak train trip (can we say, "almost 24 HOURS?") on "The Cardinal" from Cincinnati to New York City by way of Washington, D.C. with my very special long-haired, soft-lipped, sweet friend, Bradley. Can this be 1975 or so? Our mutual friend Nina was already ensconced in the East Village in a flat on St. Marks Place which she had generously offered to share on our visit. I have a lovely recollection of dining with Bradley amongst white table linens in the diner club car, enjoying the scenery -- or whatever one can think of as "scenery" while speeding through the wasteland which constitutes the picturesque byways of the state of New Jersey.

I must say that B. and I had a wonderful side trip on this visit to see the original Off-Broadway version of Lanford Wilson's The HOT L BALTIMORE. With a cast encompassing such actors as James Cromwell; Richard Masur; Conchata Ferrell (a REAL find!); Al Freeman Jr. and Charlotte Rae (and if my program is correct, an actor named in it as "Ron Paul Little", later known as Horshack in "Welcome Back, Kotter" as Ron Palillo!)

Last occasion of bad girl 'lude usage was circa -- hmmm -- maybe 1976?? Dinner with old friend Robert Ahr -- ummm, may we call him an Alice Cooper lookalike? It was winter and he picked me up with his white Volkswagen Thing. It was COLD! He had a place downtown, with an artist's studio above it, and all I can remember is that dinner consisted of stalks of celery dipped in Marzetti's Honey French Dressing, right out of the jar, as an hors d'oeuvre. The rest of the meal was something pasta-oriented, with the uneaten portion flushed down the toilet since there was no garbage disposal! Robert, never one to shirk his familial duties, had also earlier treated me to a visit with his elderly, shall we say, relatively infirm, grandmother. She was a real Hell-raiser, properly offering us itty-bitty drinks of wine in tiny communion-size glasses and yet inviting me to accompany her into her bathroom when she had to go, like Tallulah Bankhead supposedly used to do! While I found myself rather nonplussed at Granny Ahr's conversational habits, I really don't think it was the appropriate place to continue our conversation!

They call him Bootsy, baby!

Bootsy with protege, Freekbass

Calling all P-Funk fans. PBS is airing a special called Parliament Funkadelic: One Nation Under a Groove as part of the series Independent Lens this week. Check your local listings for time and day; in Cincinnati it will air on WCET Sunday, October 16 at 11 pm.

Anybody not born under a rock knows by now that the bassist for P-Funk was a young man born in 1951 in Cincinnati, Ohio by the name of William Collins. While he still lives here and works out of his own home-based recording studio, mentoring other promising young bassists like his protege Freekbass, he answers to the name of Bootsy, baby!

In His Own Sweet Way

Maestro Erich Kunzel embraces his friend, Dave Brubeck, after an unforgettable performance at Music Hall (Photo: Glenn Hartong, Cincinnati Enquirer)

Cincinnati was the capital of the jazz universe Sunday night as the Dave Brubeck Quartet joined forces with the Cincinnati Pops to celebrate Maestro Erich Kunzel's 40th Anniversary with the Cincinnati Symphony.

I had been looking forward to this very special event for weeks and invited my friend, bassist Mike Sharfe, to be my "date" for the night. Mike was excited to have the chance to see former Cincinnatian Michael Moore, the Quartet's bass player, again and made a beeline toward the stage when Mr. Moore appeared to arrange his equipment prior to the concert. Later, Mike pointed out to me that Mr. Moore plays an unusual Czech-Ease Acoustic Road Bass, with all of the qualities of a conventional string bass while reduced in size and weight enough to fit in a taxi cab, through airport x-ray machines and below the maximum size restrictions of airplanes.

Anyway, our seats were outstanding, in the sixth row of the orchestra (Thank you, Steve!). A measure of just how wonderful they were is that seated across the aisle, just five seats away, was financier and philanthropist Carl Lindner and his wife Edythe, whose generosity is making possible the Pops' upcoming tour of China.





Dave Brubeck, piano; Bobby Militello, alto sax and flute; Michael Moore, bass; Randy Jones, drums