Chem Dawg In New York
Kicking it behind a working J of Chem Dawg i think back to my return to New York from San Francisco. First off, it was cold. The apartment i shared an apartment with Harvey was located right behind the Plaza Hotel. For someone used to the Village, midtown life was like going to an exotic country. Harvey had grown up in Miami and attended the U of M. He was a young agent at the firm founded by Joe Glazer, the man who championed black jazz artists from Louie Armstrong to Billie Holiday to Billy Eckstine, as well as guiding Dave Brubeck to fame. With Harvey's crowd came the uptown, night-club girls, who were quite different from the art girls, the folk girls, the jazz girls, and the hippie girls. They weren't even like the young career girls. These babies had grown up in cabanas from Miami to Long Island and they lived in apartments funded by daddy, while they shopped and trolled for a husband. One such lady, an upstairs neighbor by the name of Maxine, told me, "I just want to be a show business wife..." Okay, better than some who spent their days getting their bee-hives waxed and evenings playing Pokerino on 42nd street, where such parlors proliferated like fluorescent algae. Sure, i realized they were toxic but to me it was just another facet in the philosophical jewel. ( Maxine later married Richard Pryor )
Harvey and myself had a great time eating in the local Delis, going to see artists Harvey repped, dating the local wildlife, getting high and watching Charlie Chan movies.
i had secured a day job as a Social Worker in the Bronx. My territory included Fox avenue which was as far from the Plaza Hotel as it was from the Taj Mahal. The gritty tenements were permanently in the shadow of elevated subway stations, and the grimy thunder of trains passing overhead, blotted out sound and sky. The streets were grim and dangerous. My clients were huddled in damaged apartments that made Los Angeles look like a ghetto vacation spa. At least in California you could see the sun, clouds and hills. Otherwise it was bureaucratic business as usual.
At night we would hang with Richy, or the Twins. Ray Lofaro had married a lady named Nancy, and had a son. He had also gone into the advertising/commercial biz with a vengeance.
Don Defina was busy editing a feature film called Lilith, starring Warren Beatty and Jean Seberg. Jerry Cole had jetted to London and had returned with the latest word in style. He was still dabbling heavily in heroin and hookers. He was also hanging with some of the more criminal elements in Greenwich Village, while at the same time making inroads into the underside of High Society. He was into the "Jake Shots", Dr Jacobs' mix of amphetamine and B12 that JFK reputedly took. The Twins were still The Twins, at the hub of a constant whirl of drugs, jazz and sex. Their living room was crowded nightly. Jim Butler, my army pal, had already co-written a couple of off-Broadway revues and was hanging with Ralph Pine, actress Maurie Wienstock and a few others in the Emerson/Boston crew, including poet Dale Landers. So all of these separate crowds had begun to clone, as groups were doing everywhere in the country.
The reaction to JFK's assassination and the resistance to the war was stiffening. The Beatles had put out two hit singles, Carnaby Street, London was exploding, New Wave English Cinema was big box office, Bob Dylan was on his way to being a megastar, the Stones were slouching into view, the black communities were starting to organize, everyone seemed to be restless, looking for something that was right around the next corner. And in January of 1964, it was...
The Beatles, Mal Evans and Me
Now along with the night-club girls came the uptown hookers. These ladies were different than the downtown bohemians who became call girls to support their alternate life-style ( a term still uncoined in '64 ). No, these ladies were the real thing. In fact Nikki, a Park Avenue madam, was known for the leopard skin decor of her salon. She was also a devotee of Lucumi, Afro-Cuban Voodoo. Nikki and her co-workers Gloria and Estrella, liked to get high, and hang out with Harvey, Richy and myself. Fine with us. Nikki was into cocaine, which i tried but didn't particularly fancy. Later that would change.
About that time a friend called with an unusual request. A merchant seaman was in town with a big piece of hashish that he was willing to trade for LSD. Fortunately The Twins were holding sealed glass vials of LSD from Sandoz Labs (still legal at the moment ). So the seaman came over, a big Arnold Swartzenegger kind of dude. And he had a six-ounce slice of hash. At the time, an ounce of hash was selling for $100. LSD for ten bucks per sealed vial. Two vials later he traded me a piece of fine, black hash for the acid. Suddenly i was a businessman. i sold the hash i didn't smoke and with the profits bought a pound of good weed. Nikki and some others gave me some solid references and i soon had a cool clientele. One notable was Rodney Dangerfield. Within a few months i left my Bronx Social Work behind and became a boutique pot dealer. Things were chugging right along. About that time the Beatles were due to arrive. A few of their top advance staffers including Mal Evans, were looking to score. Mal came to my place with Diane Agostini, the daughter of noted artist Peter Agostini. She looked like an art deco cameo with white ivory skin. Mal was a tall, affable, enthusiastic chap and we hit it off immediately. During out conversation he let on he was looking for speed. One of my friends had left a couple of vials (things were much purer back then) of Methadrine which i was reluctant to take, knowing it would consume two days and leave me depressed. i gave them to Mal who asked, how much? On the house, i replied and we became fast friends. Soon he would help me in a big way.
Coming Soon: The Summer of Sarah Lawrence and the Disco Girls (Ondine)
Not to mention Princess Francesca and Richie Berlin..
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