Sunday, November 14, 2010
Michael A, the Cat Coat, and Bathing in the Tears of Time
I just re-connected to an old friend on FaceBook, that miracle community that conjures up the past and posts it for all to see, and for you to remember.
Michael A. - a man I shared all manner of Northwestern University adventures with - a man who i've known since our teenage days as "Cherubs" there....Michael and I were close...even on into the days in NYC, when our apartments were mere blocks away from each other on the Upper West Side...oh, those days...when he began his career as Editor for various magazines, first convention and travel mags, on into various subjects...now home decorating, he told me...i used to go to his tree shaded apartment on 107th Street and we'd light a little fire (am I imagining that fireplace there? I know he has one in the Village place he moved to after 107th street)...we'd read...watch tv...complain about love and disappointment, discuss our next life moves...he even wrote theatre criticism, now and again, as he established his life in the City.
During college, Michael and I used to invade the back stage dressing rooms of actresses we admired, and once on a 1967 college-days trip to NYC, after seeing her in a show, we lied our way backstage to meet Geraldine Page, telling the Ethel Barrymore Theatre Stage Door man we were reporters from the Northwestern University newspaper, and needed to interview Miss Page...we were invited into her dressing room...and for a series of nights, after each different show we saw, and as she cleaned of her makeup from each performance of Black Comedy/White Lies that she was in at the time, we sat with her for what seemed like hours talking about her career, theater in general, and our dreams of being part of it. She spent her nights after her performances waiting for her husband Rip Torn to finish his show down in the Village somewhere (why does the name The Deer Park come to mind...was that the name of the play he was in?), so while she waited for him to pick her up, we had the privilege of sitting in her dressing room and "interviewing" her. We were such little con artists!
All we did was bathe in the reflected glory of this marvelous actress...her dressing room smelled of greasepaint, Albolene, "the Method", and perfume, and she always had her dresser fix us tea! We felt blessed by every sight and sound, as her fellow actors in the show would stop by to say goodnight to their leading lady...... Michael Crawford , a young Lynn Redgrave, Donald Madden ...John Dexter was the director of this production, Peter Shaffer the playwright ..... we were ecstatic to be near these people we were only familiar with from reading about them in the New York TImes....and Geraldine Page could not have been more gracious.
I wore a truly tacky but warm (and I thought glamorous) cat-fur coat at that time...made of calico cat patchy fur but soft and ...well...distinctive...and Michael and me and the cat coat , as I called it, were ubiquitous at Broadway stage doors during that Spring Break of 1967: we pushed our way into everywhere! Well...maybe I did the pushing...i thought if I could just soak myself in their atmosphere, meet those celebrities, drain their psychic blood by asking them questions...maybe I would be one of them one day....and my need, my passion to do that...talk our way into back stages so we could breathe it all in...fueled so many of our shared adventures. Michael was my more-than-willing accomplice...we both loved live theater so very much.
And we adored Geraldine Page for letting us into that world. She got my number right away, and as we finally departed from her with autographed photos in hand, after several shared nights of dressing room chat, she looked me squarely in the eyes and said "You will get what you want, Evalyn...oh yes, you will!" ...making me feel that she was both approving and archly criticizing my clearly aggressive energies...she saw the "Eve" on the make...oh my yes, she surely did.
And that was the sort of adventure that Michael A. and shared a deal of in college! I had a very close and dear friend in Michael - he went through my dramas with Paul and the split of our marriage with me...he held my hand at times when I felt my sadness and pain would force me to float off the face of the earth...Michael was often my anchor and my rock of salvation. And then, one day, I woke up and realized - not having a clue why - that Michael and i had drifted away from each other, and days would go by when we spoke not at all to each other...then weeks...then months..and the years passed.
How an intimate friendship like that disappears bewilders me...i truly can't remember why we lost touch...but we did...and this morning - at about 5:30 , with me in Virginia and Michael in NYC, his current golden retriever ( I imagine) Pym by is side, I saw his name on my chat list on Facebook, and i typed him a message. We "talked" for 30 minutes....and then, when we "parted", I cried. My heart ached, and i cried as I began to write this blog entry. I told him that I love and miss him.
And this is true. And as my tears warmly stream down my unwashed face, as I write about this lost friendship, I'm praying that Michael and I can be together again one day soon, as friends and aging mischief-makers.... that this Facebook "re-connect" truly re-connects us..
Michael A. - a man I shared all manner of Northwestern University adventures with - a man who i've known since our teenage days as "Cherubs" there....Michael and I were close...even on into the days in NYC, when our apartments were mere blocks away from each other on the Upper West Side...oh, those days...when he began his career as Editor for various magazines, first convention and travel mags, on into various subjects...now home decorating, he told me...i used to go to his tree shaded apartment on 107th Street and we'd light a little fire (am I imagining that fireplace there? I know he has one in the Village place he moved to after 107th street)...we'd read...watch tv...complain about love and disappointment, discuss our next life moves...he even wrote theatre criticism, now and again, as he established his life in the City.
During college, Michael and I used to invade the back stage dressing rooms of actresses we admired, and once on a 1967 college-days trip to NYC, after seeing her in a show, we lied our way backstage to meet Geraldine Page, telling the Ethel Barrymore Theatre Stage Door man we were reporters from the Northwestern University newspaper, and needed to interview Miss Page...we were invited into her dressing room...and for a series of nights, after each different show we saw, and as she cleaned of her makeup from each performance of Black Comedy/White Lies that she was in at the time, we sat with her for what seemed like hours talking about her career, theater in general, and our dreams of being part of it. She spent her nights after her performances waiting for her husband Rip Torn to finish his show down in the Village somewhere (why does the name The Deer Park come to mind...was that the name of the play he was in?), so while she waited for him to pick her up, we had the privilege of sitting in her dressing room and "interviewing" her. We were such little con artists!
All we did was bathe in the reflected glory of this marvelous actress...her dressing room smelled of greasepaint, Albolene, "the Method", and perfume, and she always had her dresser fix us tea! We felt blessed by every sight and sound, as her fellow actors in the show would stop by to say goodnight to their leading lady...... Michael Crawford , a young Lynn Redgrave, Donald Madden ...John Dexter was the director of this production, Peter Shaffer the playwright ..... we were ecstatic to be near these people we were only familiar with from reading about them in the New York TImes....and Geraldine Page could not have been more gracious.
I wore a truly tacky but warm (and I thought glamorous) cat-fur coat at that time...made of calico cat patchy fur but soft and ...well...distinctive...and Michael and me and the cat coat , as I called it, were ubiquitous at Broadway stage doors during that Spring Break of 1967: we pushed our way into everywhere! Well...maybe I did the pushing...i thought if I could just soak myself in their atmosphere, meet those celebrities, drain their psychic blood by asking them questions...maybe I would be one of them one day....and my need, my passion to do that...talk our way into back stages so we could breathe it all in...fueled so many of our shared adventures. Michael was my more-than-willing accomplice...we both loved live theater so very much.
And we adored Geraldine Page for letting us into that world. She got my number right away, and as we finally departed from her with autographed photos in hand, after several shared nights of dressing room chat, she looked me squarely in the eyes and said "You will get what you want, Evalyn...oh yes, you will!" ...making me feel that she was both approving and archly criticizing my clearly aggressive energies...she saw the "Eve" on the make...oh my yes, she surely did.
And that was the sort of adventure that Michael A. and shared a deal of in college! I had a very close and dear friend in Michael - he went through my dramas with Paul and the split of our marriage with me...he held my hand at times when I felt my sadness and pain would force me to float off the face of the earth...Michael was often my anchor and my rock of salvation. And then, one day, I woke up and realized - not having a clue why - that Michael and i had drifted away from each other, and days would go by when we spoke not at all to each other...then weeks...then months..and the years passed.
How an intimate friendship like that disappears bewilders me...i truly can't remember why we lost touch...but we did...and this morning - at about 5:30 , with me in Virginia and Michael in NYC, his current golden retriever ( I imagine) Pym by is side, I saw his name on my chat list on Facebook, and i typed him a message. We "talked" for 30 minutes....and then, when we "parted", I cried. My heart ached, and i cried as I began to write this blog entry. I told him that I love and miss him.
And this is true. And as my tears warmly stream down my unwashed face, as I write about this lost friendship, I'm praying that Michael and I can be together again one day soon, as friends and aging mischief-makers.... that this Facebook "re-connect" truly re-connects us..
Labels: Facebook re-connections
Comments:
<< Home
My dear Michael A. wrote this in response to the blog about my re-discovery of him...:
Michael Adams November 15 at 3:17pm Report
Thanks for the sweet reminisces on your blog. The GP memories were a total rush. (And how did you remember The Deer Park?) I especially recall her gold satin dressing gown and her imitation of Truman Capote, just after having filmed A Christmas Memory. (Her signed photo to me has pride of place in my bathroom!)
I also remember room service at the Americana, where you and Mama stayed in New York. As I recall, a burger cost $6--outrageous, I thought!
I also recall talking our way into Sammy Davis' dressing room after Golden Boy . . . to discuss the "race riots" on the NY campus.
Anyway, we will see each other again . . . have a lovely trip to your new home. I'll see you there, I'm sure. xo M.
p.s. I did indeed have a fireplace on 107th. However, I was not a cherub. Taught there for four years, but was never a student. We met as freshmen . . . :)
Michael Adams November 15 at 3:17pm Report
Thanks for the sweet reminisces on your blog. The GP memories were a total rush. (And how did you remember The Deer Park?) I especially recall her gold satin dressing gown and her imitation of Truman Capote, just after having filmed A Christmas Memory. (Her signed photo to me has pride of place in my bathroom!)
I also remember room service at the Americana, where you and Mama stayed in New York. As I recall, a burger cost $6--outrageous, I thought!
I also recall talking our way into Sammy Davis' dressing room after Golden Boy . . . to discuss the "race riots" on the NY campus.
Anyway, we will see each other again . . . have a lovely trip to your new home. I'll see you there, I'm sure. xo M.
p.s. I did indeed have a fireplace on 107th. However, I was not a cherub. Taught there for four years, but was never a student. We met as freshmen . . . :)
I would love to see a picture of the cat coat if you have one. It sounds unique!
# posted by 
: 1:57 AM
: 1:57 AM<< Home
Post a Comment