Leigh Keno: an Elegant Highboy

Leigh Keno: A Hamilton Original

You know him as a peripatetic TV host and one half of a matched-set of enthused antique furniture appraisers.

I first knew him as a hyper, wired sort of guy in the class a year ahead of me at Hamilton College.  A local-area kid from Herkimer, one exit over on the NY Thruway, Leigh was a pretty good drummer who sat behind the kit for Robbie and the Nylons, a new wave band on campus that occasionally shared rehearsal space with the band I was in, Rogue.

Queen Anne, c. 1760

Leigh and I also took a couple of the same courses in Art History from notorious department head Rand Carter, although Leigh must have really been paying attention.  He and brother Leslie (Williams '79) have parlayed their love for the "breakfront," the "high-boy," and all things "clawfoot" into a multivariate avocation - not only as an appraiser, collector, gallery-owner, philanthropist and all-around personality, but most recently as impresario with Keno Auctions.

Come to find out that Leigh's quite involved with the antique and collectible car market, personally as a race-car collector & driver, and ceremonially as a judge at the annual Pebble Beach Concours d'Elegance charity event.  And in 2005, he wrested a National Humanities Medal from the hands of President George W. Bush.

In college I had a '74 Chevy Nova 350-SS. No match for Leigh's 1938 Jaguar SS 100 . . .

Though I didn't know Leigh well, from our paths-crossings I can attest that what you see is what you get - he's really that nutty, animated and passionate about the 18th century furniture that your great-great-grandfather, in his youth, thought was long in the tooth.

Will Leigh Keno be our last link to the Golden Age of the American empire, now in such wretched decline?

Shekhar Kapur, Dim Sum and the Director's Cut

"But how does it turn out ???

Kate Hudson as Ethne, the late Heath Ledger as Harry: What Destiny Awaits?

On its opening weekend in 2002, my nearly 9-year-old daughter and I attended a grown-up historical romance film, "The Four Feathers." In a nutshell, British Officer boy (Harry) meets girl (Ethne), boy goes to war (in Sudan, 1884), boy deserts troops in moment of cowardice, boy cannot live down disgrace, boy loses girl to upright best friend (Jack).  After the war though, at the film's end, Ethne has just broken her engagement to Jack - and is seen reaching for Harry's hand.

Exiting the cinema, my daughter demanded of me, "But who does she end up with?" as it is not clear whether Ethne (beautiful Kate Hudson) will choose the imperfect Harry or the valiant, polite Jack (Wes Bentley).  "I don't know," said gallant Dad. "I'll ask the Director what happened next."

He of many a lush and lovely epic

Four days later, I was in London seated for lunch with Shekhar Kapur at his favorite dim sum place in Soho, and I pressed him on it.

Now, in 1999, Mr. Kapur had dazzled with the spectacular Elizabeth starring brilliant Cate Blanchett, dashing Clive Owen, Geoffrey Rush, and all sorts of stupendous costumery.  By 2002 coming off Four Feathers Shekhar was involved as the Film guy in our little UK-based Music/TV/Film outfit, Artist Network, and I as the U.S. "suit" had business with the Londoners that October.

We spoke at first about business, then at length about Shekhar's wild idea for a caste-struggle science fiction concept set in a futuristic upstairs/downstairs India where water is rationed.  After we solved the scarce resource problem, we turned to Four Feathers and I pressed him on it:

"She is not with Jack, this much we know - but there remains affection between them.  However, Harry has clearly been a first and enduring fascination for her, and we see that she is willing to reach out to him."  So she ends up with Harry?  "It's not that simple.  If she is to proceed in her love for him, he will need to change. The relationship cannot succeed unless he will undergo a growing process.  We don't know whether this will occur. But we see that she is willing to consider giving him the chance."

Perfect.

My little girl, now 17, is beginning to learn her own lessons about love, not from the movies, and certainly not from her gallant Dad. As Ethne demonstrates, time and mystery go hand in hand: they dole out their measure of wonder and tragedy, and provide us the drama in life.  So much of drama is in not knowing...

As for dramatic resolution, fans of Elizabeth waited 9 years for the sequel, Elizabeth: The Golden Age.  But until a sequel to Four Feathers is produced, only Shekhar, you and I know what happens next.

Don't spill the beans!

George Clinton: Live from House of Blues at Atlanta Olympics

As I was publishing a CD-ROM 100-year history of the Summer Olympic Games, with help from my close personal friend Bruce Jenner, I rode the Discovery Channel gravy train into Atlanta in July, 1996.  Saw sensational gold-shoe sprinter Michael Johnson blaze to a 19.32 second 200m. record, took in volleyball and diving, and saw/did everything possible.  But my first thrill was to mingle with George Clinton.

Clinton Agonistes: Mothership Reconnection Tour

I spied multi-colored George as he and I waited at the same baggage carousel in Atlanta Hartsfield Int'l Airport.  It's not all a stage act: this guy's act is ALWAYS-ON.

George is a stocky guy who can't stand still, so he wandered about keyed up, sort of like James Brown would when he repeatedly "couldn't decide" whether to exit the stage or charge back into the spotlight.  Ambling in ever-widening oscillations through and around the crowd whilst waiting for his bag to appear, Clinton was a blur of color: ribbons and feathers woven into his hair, woven as fringe on his jacket, and - lo and behold when the bag appeared - growing from the suitcase.

It had to be his bag, so I positioned myself a bit upriver of GC at the carousel, and as the suitcase approached me I reached for it, holding my hand dramatically in mid-air 6 inches from the handle.   Like an imposter half-rising from his seat on To Tell The Truth - "No, I'M Bootsy Collins!" - I froze my hand and then turned to raise an eyebrow at George.  He smiled, I smiled - and THAT WAS ALL!

Enjoyed the Olympics, but left a day early, on the Sunday morning following the Olympic City bomb blast.  Headed back to President Clinton's Washington DC, known to P-Funk fans as "Chocolate City:"

Ah, blood to blood.  Ah, players to ladies

The last percentage count was eighty

You don't need a bullet when you got the ballot

Are you up for the downstroke, CC?

Chocolate City

Are you with me out there?

And when they come to march on ya

Tell 'em to make sure they got their James Brown pass

And don't be surprised if Ali is in the White House

Reverend Ike, Secretary of the Treasure

Richard Pryor, Minister of Education

Stevie Wonder, Secretary of Fine Arts

And Miss Aretha Franklin, the First Lady!

(Clinton, Collins, Worrell)

T.A.P.O.A.F.O.M.

SLACK TIME! - New Year's Eve with David Lee Roth

Diamond Dave: Everybody Wants Some - I Want Some Too!

Twenty-six years ago today, DLR and I "hung out"  in the Village on W 4th street....

December 30, 1984 - 'twas a Sunday morning and I'd spent the week crashing with Hoboken friends in advance of a big New Year's Eve party, but Saturday afternoon had relocated to Manhattan to join my visiting family who had rooms booked at Morgan's, the new Steve "Studio" Rubell / Ian "54" Schrager hotel on Madison near 38th.  Following Sunday breakfast I called the Hobokeners and we agreed on a noon meet-up at McBell's tavern, a great old Irish place on Sixth just south of Washington Place where a decent steak and cold beer could be had cheaply.

Doesn't do justice but you get the point

As I'd cabbed down to the neighborhood around 11:00, with time to kill - slack time - I was prowling "Geoffe's Trail" of neighborhood record shops and turned west off Sixth Avenue onto West 4th, where it bent northward to cross Cornelia and then Jones streets.

Mid-block, I spotted a small bric-a-brac place - really no larger than a walk-in closet, and the wallspace chock-full of cheap sunglasses.  Stepping in, I saw a large mane of blond hair over the back of a jean jacket that had a gorgeous, WWII Memphis Belle warplane 'nose art' style, hand-painted Pin-up-Girl-in-Champagne-Glass image.  'Round turns David Lee Roth - at the time, my absolute #1 idol in the world - and says to me "Hey buddy!"

I'm your Ice Cream Man

[Ulp] "Hi, Dave! What are you doing here?"

"We're just picking up some fine glasses for tomorrow night! You're gonna watch me hostin' the MTV New Year's Eve party, [Rothian pause & head-swivel] - ain'tcha?"

"Big party in Hoboken - we'll be watching on TV" was my 'cool' response.

I'd been such a huge Van Halen fan and recalled how, a year earlier, VH had released their mammoth "1984" on New Year's Eve, and MTV had then beaten that drum for months.  Dave was one of the most recognized mascots and dependable faces on MTV - a total showman and font of shameless zingers and self-promoting bravado.

"Well, why don't you and your friends come on by? You tell 'em you're with me, and come right by and see us!" With a hardy laugh: "We're hard to miss!"  Then Dave introduced me to his entourage - two beautiful young black-haired girls (one Asian as I recall), and to his compadre Eddie Anderson. "Eddie'll getcha IN!"

David Lee Roth - Swash, Buckle and Blow-dry

Dave was definitely pumping iron in those days, and I knew from reading Creem, Circus & Hit Parader that he was into he-man adventures such as skydiving, cliff-jumping and running through the Amazon jungle blitzed on 100+ proof Brazilian sugarcane cachaca. Thinking fast, I mentioned that I was presently managing a film for National Geographic TV called "Iceland River Challenge" documenting a team's trek across Iceland above-ground via snowshoe and ultra-light aircraft, and below the ice in kayaks through underground fjord channels.

Dave expressed genuine interest in the methods of traversing the wilderness, was with-it enough to speculate on how they surmounted Iceland's waterfalls (the ultra-light solution) and the perils of underground kayaking through ice-caverns.  We agreed I'd send him a copy of the program upon completion - Dave gave me Eddie's address and promised to watch the show.

After 10 minutes of bantering while Dave tried on 30 pairs of sunglasses and mugged for the girls (who coo'd and ooh'd over every pair), we shuffled out onto the sidewalk.  I recalled reading that Dave's uncle Manny Roth had been the owner of old Greenwich Village haunt Cafe Wha? during the 60's, including at the time of Jimi Hendrix' "kidnapping" from the club a month after Woodstock in September '69.  Couldn't figure out how to work that into the conversation, but it turns out that we were all standing only about 3 blocks from Cafe Wha? on MacDougal street.

I nervously looked up and down the block.  it was 11:50 and I thought, "is it too much to ask that my ne'er-do-well friends might be on time and turning the corner headed for McBell's, they'll see me with the God of Rock, and we'll all hang out all afternoon drinking beer with Dave and his crew?"  Yes, too much to ask. 

"Sam throws a party - I AM THE PARTY"

In 1984 you needed to watch Star Trek to see anything remotely like a cell-phone, much less one with a camera.  Thus no call to the friends nor any photo of me and my new, close personal friend. But knowing those clowns'd never believe me otherwise, I pulled a small pad of Morgan's graph-paper style stationery from my pocket and asked Dave to write something "friendly" to my friend Ellen, a big fan of his (why, only recently she'd grabbed a Creem magazine from me, torn out the pin-up of Dave, and rubbed it warmly between the legs of her lavender Reminiscence-issue Fiorucci  jumper-alls).

Ever the gentleman, Dave obliged.

Went to McBells, got change for the pay phone, and called the clowns in Hoboken.  They were just getting up hungover and would try to get into the city by 1:00 (arrival time ended up being 1:30).  For the first hour or so they didn't believe me but, bellies in place at McBell's bar, they ultimately fell in line deferring to the mind and analytical powers of one in our party - the Goteboy - who set upon the task of studying rock 'zine evidence and, under the hot lights of McBell's, extracted and analyzed my own handwriting samples using a shot-glass for a lupe. Upon his proclamation of authenticity my tale stood and still stands tall to its full epic stature.

DLR's EP: heavy metal front-man turns lounge lizard

Following night we indeed had MTV's NYE Bash on the telly alright, and saw the stars of the day - Joan Jett, Frankie Goes to Hollywood, etc. - performing and parading, along with Dave in his guest MC role along with the MTV VeeJays all night.

Although VH had not yet announced a ways-parting, the big news of the night was DLR's release of solo project EP "Crazy From the Heat" and the premiere of the California Girls video

Slack Time:

The jean jacket image has always stayed in my mind: a voluptuous girl (Vargas prototype) comfortably seated in, and arms & legs languorously draped over the lip of, a champagne glass, with "Slack Time" inscribed above (homage to the WWII classic "Sack Time" adornment of the night-time bomber squadron: check out these reproductions and hang one in your rec. room).

Happy 20!!, One and All

In Prayer with James Baker

Blessed Are The Peacemakers

As a faithful congregant at St. Columba's Episcopal church, I attended services, enjoyed the spectacular, variegated music programs of Judy Dodge and John Hurd, placed a toddler in the nursery school, and avidly partook of community life.  I was not alone, as this congregation, a mile up the road from the National Cathedral, was truly a fantastic and welcoming community.

Saw many a familiar face at services: sitting in the first few pews one was apt to spot Morton Kondracke, Ray Suarez, or Judy Woodruff.

There is a portion of the Episcopal service, known as 'bidding prayers,' or Prayers of the People, which begins (emphasis mine):

With all our heart and with all our mind, let us pray to the Lord, saying, "Lord, have mercy."

For the peace from above, for the loving kindness of God, and for the salvation of our souls, let us pray to the Lord.
(Lord, hear our prayer.)

For the peace of the world, for the welfare of the holy Church of God, and for the unity of all peoples, let us pray to the Lord.
(Lord, hear our prayer.)

For our Bishop, and for all the clergy and people, let us pray to the Lord.
(Lord, hear our prayer.)

For our President, for the leaders of the nations, and for all in authority, let us pray to the Lord.
(Lord, hear our prayer) ....

In times of war anywhere in the world, Reverend Billy Tully or his successor Jim Donald would offer specific reference to Kosovo, or Kuwait, or Israel, or Iraq, or Darfur, and we would collectively pray for peaceful resolution to strife.

Imagine sitting in the central nave on Sundays during January and February 1991 with Desert Storm gathering, looking to the right, under the balcony, and seeing James Baker - the sitting Secretary of State.  Head bowed, hands together, deep in prayer.

It's not so common today, but I recall always feeling fortified to know that our leaders have a frame of reference bigger than themselves, when so much of the fate of the world hangs in the balance.

Blessed are the peacemakers - Those who strive to prevent contention, strife, and war; who use their influence to reconcile opposing parties, and to prevent hostilities in families and neighborhoods. Every man may do something of this; and no man is more like God than he who does it.

John Harter's Hard "Road Test"

Seventeen years ago this morning, my first daughter was born.  In that instant, I first truly and fully understood what it is to place someone else's existence ahead of my own.  Who knew it would be John Harter?

A few hours following baby's arrival shortly before 9:00am, I made a mad dash out to the Sibley Hospital parking lot to retrieve something from my Isuzu Trooper.

Crossing the lot, I saw a figure exit his own car with coffee in hand and head straight for me.  I recognized ABC 7's ace reporter John Harter, crack automobile reviewer in WJLA's 5pm block, whose "Road Test" reports I always enjoyed.  He was fearless: not afraid to take any new car and spin out at top speed.

It was sunny but bitter cold.  Harter ran with one hand clutching the collar of his sharp looking 3/4-length topcoat against the frozen air; his other hand held the cherished Starbucks latte.  At 20 paces ahead of me, Harter caught his toe on the pavement and bit the dust, the coffee flying out ahead of him and his face and (gloved) hands taking the brunt.

"Hey, you're John Harter!" I blurted as I scrambled to help him to his feet.  He brushed himself off, shouted "That's the end of that coffee!" and quickly pulling himself together, brushing the gravel off his pants and coat, and resumed flight.  "I just had a baby!" I yelled after him, and he shouted back over his shoulder "That's great!  Congratulations!" 

My baby is seventeen today, and recently acquired her "Operator's License."  She's a careful driver - no spin-outs allowed!  Harter covered a lot of pavement for WJLA, but on Christmas Eve morning in 1993,  the rubber met the road in a whole new way for Gentleman John.

Ted Kennedy: Hale Fellow, Well Met

"(D)" stands for Dapper & Debonair

I was handling a strategy project for the Washington Post Co., and working closely with Katherine (Weymouth) Scully, counsel to washingtonpost.com. It fell to the two of us and a junior business development colleague to entertain the principals of a Charleston, SC-based technology company during their visit to Washington DC, and we planned a delightful evening: drinks at the Capitol Grille, followed by a beautiful Turkish dinner at trendy Cities in Adams Morgan.

Then we'd be off on a mad dash to the Post’s printing plant in nearby Virginia in time for the 11:00pm switch-throwing that lurched the 6 HUGE, brand new Mitsubishi presses into gear producing the nightly print run. Just fascinating machinery! - the newest, biggest stuff on earth, driving the old hand-held inky newsprint product. Upon exiting Cities we were nearly struck by a limousine that disgorged a rollicking cavalcade, led by a white-haired circus-master.

Teddy: Rip. Snort. Hoot. Holler!

Here was Teddy, in full tux and with a boisterous clan of revelers - he was roaring, guffawing, and backslapping. "That's Senator Kennedy!" exclaimed our guest, running up to shake his hand. I got my two cents in: "Amherst MA constituent, Senator!" and his smile widened, his glow intensified. "That's the ticket! Good old Lord Jeff! And how's your fine University?"

The centrifuge was spinning and within 10 seconds our respective parties of 5 and 6 had passed through each other like Sharks and Jets in a choreographed rumble and were each on our way - they IN, we OUT.

In 2006 the Senator visited Amherst and broke ground on the new UMass Integrated Sciences Building.  After he passed away in 2009 and I read his autobiography, I gained a new and deep appreciation for this man whose policies I often disagreed with, but whose passions and commitment I greatly admire. Whose life was so very extraordinary and contributions so deep...

Kennedy/Porter 1980

... And whose love for a good time so legendary - and witnessed firsthand!

Larry King & the Bar Fly

The King is Retired - Long Live the King!

The King & (current) Queen Shawn

Spotted, as I ran through the bar at the Regent Beverly Wilshire hotel, one February night in 1996: Larry King, the King of Talk.  I couldn't stop to chit-chat, nor could he: Larry was sweet-talking some tasty-looking young slip of a thing who wiggled about in a little black dress.

Shortly, bless her heart, Shawn Southwick would take him away from all that foolishness...

"Marriages came and went in quick succession: high-school sweetheart Freda Millar (1 year), Annette Kaye (briefly), Playboy bunny Alene Akins (2 years), Mary Sutphin (3 years), the bunny again (5 years), math teacher Sharon Lepore (7 years), businesswoman Julie Alexander (3 years) and singer/TV host Shawn Southwick (12 years and counting)."  [Thank you, Navamsa.com !]

It's Good To Be The King!