CHAPTER EIGHT

EIGHT
Patti was already at the table, with her friend
Lucy. The neck of a champagne bottle poked at an
angle from an ice bucket on a stand. I knew it was
Veuve Clicquot without looking. When anyone at my
table orders champagne, even if they specify another
brand, the waiters all know to bring VC.
Jimmy Gandolfini was at my table one night
when this happened after he ordered Perrier Jouet. He
was telling me about a play he had read, with a great
title – God of Carnage. When he first mentioned it, I
was afraid for a moment it might be a vampire project.

CHAPTER SEVEN

SEVEN
After my dinner in Nassau County, I went to
my house and changed and then went to Elaine’s.
The place was as lively as ever. A sense of bonhomie
pervades this Upper East Side saloon like no other.
Someone once said that Elaine’s is lit so that everyone
looks good. This is true. I’ve studied the lighting
there off and on since the place opened and have yet
to figure out what elements come together to lend
everyone that certain glow. It is quite likely more than
a mechanical configuration. Elaine’s is the other side
of the rainbow.

CHAPTER SIX

SIX
The blood hunger began to rise once I was on
the street. I avoided Times Square and headed east.
Sometimes I stroll through the new Times Square
pedestrian mall and walk north just to see the
dazzling spectacle of light, even though it now has
almost nothing to do with theater. Tonight, though,
the thought of throngs of human beings did nothing
but whet my appetite. The saloons on the block were
lit up and crowded. I ignored them, knowing the
blood lust would get more intense, more demanding,
should I mingle and press against warm flesh.
It was too early to feed and too early to go to
Elaine’s. Graydon Carter’s Monkey Bar is three blocks
east and ten blocks uptown from the theater. I decided
to walk there. Madison Avenue was nearly deserted.
Some shop windows in the Forties were still lit up
behind metal gates and grates that protected shoes,
suits, shirts, electronics, and dresses. There were a few
humans walking on that stretch of the avenue at that
hour.

CHAPTER FIVE

FIVE
David Belasco was probably as close a friend
as I have ever had among mortals. He was also my
theater mentor. What I learned from him about make
up, lighting, casting, the whole schlemiel, changed
my existence. He was probably the greatest genius in
American theater to date – playwright, impresario,
designer, theater owner, actor, director, producer – or
what was called a manager in his day.

CHAPTER FOUR

FOUR
I took a cab to the Belasco Theatre to check
on the progress of Pretty Lady. Rehearsal was just
breaking up. I was the recipient of smiles, kisses,
quick hugs, hellos and goodbyes as the cast and
chorus left the theater. Everyone seemed upbeat and
optimistic.
Normally, that would concern me with a show
this close to opening. I like my people to worry.
There’s nothing like worrying a show into existence to
give it a certain edge.

CHAPTER THREE

THREE
“You made Page Six today,” Patti announced as
she entered the living room of my brownstone. She
was wearing a cream color satin shift belted to match
her mid-thigh-length red leather coat. She knows I
love the color red on a woman. What she does not
know is how much I want her; or, if she suspects, she
has no idea of the way in which my desire would
manifest.

CHAPTER TWO

TWO
There is always someone in New York who
must be fooled. This time, again, it is Elaine, who
maintains the best saloon on the planet. This watering
hole is located at Eighty Eighth Street and Second
Avenue. I have been going there since she opened the
place, which coincided with my reincarnation, so to
speak, as Gus III. Toward the end of Gus III, Elaine
was complimenting me, if it can be called that, a little
too often.
“I don’t know how you always look so young,
Gus,” she would say.