 |
 A milder, sunny Wednesday in New York
 |
Sitting atop a rock formation in Central Park with The Sherry-Netherland to the right and the Bloomberg/Beacon Court Building to the left. 4:00 PM. Photo: JH. |
| March 26, 2009. I went down to Michael’s to lunch with JH and our Washington correspondent Carol Joynt and her son Spencer, who’ve been up in New England this week visiting colleges. Michael’s was its Wednesday busy. Former Senator Bill Bradley was there, as was Kerry Kennedy lunching with Jim Wolfensohn, former head of the World Bank. Norman Pearlstine with Steve Rubenstein; Susan Silver with a very studious looking lady said to be a former Miss Israel. Designer/retailer Jackie Rogers with Ann Rapp. Around the room: Manolo magnate, George Malkemus, Peter Brown, Jack Kliger, Sean Cassidy, Michael J. Wolf, Polly Bergen and Diane Sokolow; Patricia Watt and Beverly Camhe; Brian Balthazar with Diane Clehane, Harry Benson, Jane Hartley, Ambassador Carl Spielvogel, Jon Hart and Fred Zollo; Martin Puris, Pamela Keogh, Chris Meigher and daughter Elizabeth and friend; Laurie Tisch and friends in the bay; CNBC’s Jonathan Wald and ABC News’ Bianna Golodryga; the four wise men (or wise guys, take your pick) of Michael’s: Dr. Gerry Imber, Michael Kramer, Jerry Della Femina and Andy Bergman. |
 |
Spencer Joynt, DPC, Carol Joynt, and JH at Michael's. |
New York has seem uncharacteristically quiet these past few days. The current financials have produced a sense of that with a lot of us. I decided to look through the NYSD archives to see what it was last year was like on this day, and the year before: Quiet also.
So, it’s that time of the year. School vacation; people away skiing or down in the tropical climes like Palm Beach and St. Barth’s. However, that said, looking through the archives, I did stumble upon a story I’d forgotten which we ran at this time in 2007. One of the funnier stories of marital “infidelity,” and worth repeating, what struck me was the contrast in attitudes about marriage among the rich of today versus a couple of generations ago. A retrospective definition of “civilized” that just doesn’t apply anymore.
Tales of Manhattan; A Man and His Dog ...
“What I like about rich people, is their money.”
— Nancy, Lady Astor
Once upon a time, not that long ago, in little ole Manhattan, there lived a man of a certain social station, and distinguished pedigree, what used to be called a blueblood. He was also married to a wealthy heiress with a background only slightly less-distinguished than his, although she was far, far richer. The marriage was long and successful (his second), producing issue to carry on the distinguished name.
So distinguished was the name and so ample were the family trust funds that he lived the life of a gentleman, or what used to be called a club man -- one whose daily labors often took him to his club for a glass and a rub, or a swim or a lunch or a game of cards. The fact that he was not “gainfully employed” – even at a bank – was not remarkable or unique for he had friends all his life who occupied the same position, as did many of their forebears.
Besides his lovely and mild-tempered wife, another beauty in the man’s life was a mistress, whom we shall call Lady Love. Lady Love was mistress of long standing – very long -- fifteen, twenty, twenty-five years. She too was married, and to a popular gent who for reasons of his own ignored his wife’s extra-marital interests. An “arrangement,” or at the very least, “an understanding.”
These were all sophisticated, worldly people, these people, the kind who used to (and still very occasionally) populate the beach clubs and golf links in Southampton/East Hampton, Palm Beach and Hobe Sound, appearing to not having a care in the world. Except maybe their golf game ... or their gout. Their images, as portrayed in the social and fashion magazines, are glamorously leisure-oriented. Although truthfully, their lives, while luxuriously appointed, are often quiet, even dull. Except for those little ... Moments, those ... peccadillos.
Anyway, so the story goes, our Manhattan Man had Lady Love for many years. It was common knowledge in their set. Whether or not the Man’s wife was aware, was not so common knowledge. And, as we know, the wife is often the last ... to know.
Although this particular lady must have had some very provocative clues that surfaced. There was one particular incident that comes to mind, when the husband, who was no longer a spring chicken, one weekday evening after dinner announced that he was going to take “Rover,” their adored purebred, for a nice long, long walk. Which he did. And on his way to wherever the long walk was leading them, he just happened to pay a visit to his Lady Love. With whom he dallied away a couple of lovely hours by her fireside.
Long walk over, he returned home, as if only a few minutes had passed. Except, he’d forgotten one thing -- Rover. Omigod.
“Where’s Rover?” the Wife, asked with alarm as he entered the apartment.
“Oh, well,” fumbled the Man, embarrassed by his forgetfulness but unable to give a straight answer, “well, I don’t know how to tell you this, but as we got to the Park, Rover’s leash slipped out of my hand and he ... ran away!”
The Wife, suddenly alarmed and desperate, called the police. And because she was who she was, the police came to call almost immediately.
The Man repeated his story to the police, “his leash slipped out of my hand ... and he ran away.”
So the police in an effort to help, asked the Man to take them to that place in the Park where the dog ran away. Embarrassed but unable to admit it, the man complied, and off they went.
Now, of course, we know the dog wasn’t lost in the Park, and the Man knew the dog wasn’t lost in the Park; and that the Man hadn’t even gone near the Park with his dog, but had gone straight to his Lady Love's apartment. Nevertheless, the Man showed the cops the “place” where Rover had got off the leash. And of course there wasn’t a pooch in sight.
Charade over, the cops drove the Man back to his apartment with the bad news for his forlorn and desperate wife. However, when they arrived, what should they find but a very angry yet happy Wife, holding their beloved Rover and glaring at her husband.
“My god,” the Man said in front of the police, “Rover is so smart he knew exactly how to find his way home. Now that is what comes of fine breeding,” he declared proudly.
Well,” said the wife, “I don’t know about that, but I do know that what you also get with ‘fine breeding’ is a liar and a cad,” she said, adding, “I had the doorman take a photo of the blonde who returned Rover to his home, and her name was (Lady Love)!”
Postscript: The couple, who have since left us for more celestial spaces, remained married until the end of their lives, as well as, fortunately, Rover’s life. |
 |
|
Comments? Contact DPC here. |
|
|
|
|
