Oliver on his terrace. 8:30 PM. Photo: JH.

August 17, 2009. Hot and muggy weekend in New York. A very quiet weekend in town. How do we determine? Masses of available parking spaces along East End Avenue and the cross streets. Usually there isn’t a one to be found no matter the time of day. I finished Anthony Trollope’s The Way We Live Now. What is most compelling is his method of story telling. The characters – all of whom live in and around London in the last quarter of the 19th century – could be living in New York right now. If the novel had been published today you’d be trying to figure out who the characters were in real life. The center of almost every one of them is money. The motivation is money. The ambition is focused on money. And the verdict is: guilty.

The boats on the East River Saturday and Sunday afternoons.

One of the two main characters is a financial tycoon who is a version of Bernie Madoff. Toward the climax, the author writes of this Madoff-like “tycoon” Augustus Melmotte: “He had audacity almost sufficient for the very dangerous game which he was playing; but, as crisis heaped itself upon crisis, he became deficient in prudence.” In case you’re wondering how it’s gonna end. And when the story draws to an end, another character who worked for Melmotte remarks about his great fall: “He was a great man; but the greater he grew he was always less and less wise. He ate so much that he became too fat to see his vittels.” The other main character is a titled woman of uncertain means, widowed, middle-aged, Lady Carbury, mother a wastrel of a baronet son, already gone through his meager inheritance and now a card-playing (and losing) drunk. The Lady sacrifices everything she possesses in hopes that her son will marry an heiress and save everyone from “ruin” (a favorite word among the Victorians for losing everything, including reputation). Toward the climax, Trollope writes of the Lady, after her schemes and dreams have all been dashed on the rocks of her son’s dissipation: She spent the evening quite alone; and as she thought of her life past and her life to come, she did, perhaps, with a broken light, see something of the error of her ways, and did, after a fashion, repent. It was all “leather or prunello,” as she said to herself; -- it was all vanity, -- and vanity, -- and vanity! What real enjoyment had she found in anything? She had only taught herself to believe that some day something would come which she would like; -- but she had never as yet in truth found anything to like ... It had all been in anticipation, -- but now even her anticipations were at an end. The leather/prunello business is from Alexander Pope’s “Essay on Man, iv”: "Worth makes the man, and want of it the fellow; The rest is all but leather or prunello ..." Prunello (if you didn’t know/I didn’t) was a heavy woolen material frequently used in earlier times for ecclesiastical robes or the upper of women’s shoes or boots. Trollope’s volumes are large. This one was 1000 pages. I don’t think I’ve ever read a novel that long before. Length however, is inconsequential because Trollope rushes you through the story so quickly that as you get to the last hundred or so pages, you kind of wish it would get longer. The title, which sounds modern, is a reference to accepted behavior in a society where money determines all (and then becomes its own poison as debt). It’s impossible not to liken it to our present day social and financial circumstances. One optimistic aspect of the novel is that the story (published in 1875) demonstrates that none of this present business, nor the players, is new. And we’re still here. Although.

Bridgehampton Tennis & Surf Club, the location of the BEACH BALL to Benefiit the Animal Rescue Fund of the Hamptons.

Meaning, for a sweet story about some sweet dogs, some real dogs, this past Saturday night at the Bridgehampton Tennis & Surf Club, they held the annual ARF Beach Ball to benefit the animal Rescue Fund of the Hamptons. Ellen and Chuck Scarborough, Liz Brown and Leslie Alexander, Sandra McConnell, Amanda and Lewis Berman, DVM Will Ameringer and David Bohnert were co-chairs.

Dr. Frank Weiser, Arnold Jurden, Larry Friedland, Marilyn Friedland, and Ann Jurden.

The ARF Beach ball started years ago as an informal clambake organized by a small group of people as a get-together picnic with music blaring from the back of someone’s truck on the beach. Now it’s one of the top parties of the summer season with dinner and dancing on the ocean in support of a great and noble cause: The Animal Rescue Fund of the Hampton’s valiant cats and dogs. This year Ellen and Chuck Scarborough’s dog Oliver received the ARF Medal of Valor for saving the Scarborough’s cat from the jaws of a coyote.

Susan Madonia and Pat Patterson

Chuck and Ellen Scarborough with Oliver (medal of valor honoree)

Randi and Richard Jacklin

Steven Deering and Mark Fichandler

Patty Francy, Beverly Negreann, and Mickey Siebert

Jean Shafiroff and Melanie Wambold

Chris Kelly and Ross Thompson

Kristin Thompson, Jannette Patterson, Richard Thompson, and Betty Sherrill

Sandra McConnell and Chris Obetz

Pat and Ed McLaughlin

Jessy Kyle and Elaine Lawrence-Green

Scott Stackman, Rachel Sumer, and Hal Lehr

NYSD readers know we are animal lovers over here. JH’s Oliver came to him from ARF ten years ago. Ol had three homes via ARF before he met JH and hit it off. I often dog-sit Ol when his master leaves town. He’s a real character, very independent and quiet witty. And how is a dog witty? You have to be there to see; sorry. I recently had a new canine join our famiy from the ASPCA. Her name is Jen Jen and she’s eight years old they tell me. She had all kinds of medical problems (all of which have been cleared up thanks to the ASPCA) but she’s in fine shape.

The newest addition, Jen Jen.

Missy and Byrone.

Whoever had her must have disciplined her harshly because whenever she is not eating or going out for a walk, she goes right to her dog bed and stays there. Her two cousins Missy and Byrone move around the house when I do and sleep on the bed. Every night I take Jen and put her on the bed with the other two. But as soon as she thinks the coast is clear, she jumps off and returns to her bed under my desk. She’s only been with us for two months. It may be awhile before she feels secure that this is her home.

JH's Oliver in repose, houseguesting.

It pains me to think of how people treat their pets. If I think too much about it it enrages me. I have to remind myself that many treat not only their pets and other animals thusly but also their children and others too. A few years ago in my neighborhood someone put up posters on the streetlights: “Teaching children respect for little animals is teaching them respect for their neighbors and for each other.” In other words, a better world for all of us. A la "Mad Men" ...

Bob Schulenberg's The New York Cocktail Party, 1961.

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ARF photographs by Lisa Tamburini.

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