Saturday, December 1, 2012

Part 4

Back in Maximum City for the remainder of our Eurotrash Tour. Our hosts Jody and Emmett were vacationing themselves in the American Southwest, so Marti and I had the West 46th Street brownstone to ourselves. No time that afternoon to do much more than drop our bags and dress for a night on the town. First stop: Carnegie Hall.

On the program that evening were Mozart, Verdi, Strauss, Mahler and Bartok. Valery Gergiev conducted the World Orchestra for Peace -- comprising top players from the Vienna Philharmonic, Boston Symphony, Mariinsky Orchestra, and more -- in the The Solti Centennial Concert. Soloists were Romanian soprano Angela Gheorghiu and the German operatic bass René Pape. Call it a classical music supergroup. The performances were superb.

On this trip I had been reading Bill Zehme’s great gossipy bio The Way You Wear Your Hat: Frank Sinatra and the Lost Art of Livin'. In full Rat Pack mode, we decided to hit Patsy’s, Old Blue Eyes’ famous haunt, for post-concert dinner.

Frank at Patsy’s.

Striped Bass Marechiare. (Marti.) Family owned, Patsy’s has been serving authentic Neapolitan cuisine since 1944. I love me some Old New York.

My call: Sweet Sausages San Gennaro. Delizioso!

Time to walk off that robust dinner, which had concluded with a scrumptious Cassata (Cannoli Cake). On a tip from Jody and Emmett, we strolled to Ink48, a former printing plant repurposed as a boutique hotel at Eleventh Avenue and West 48th.

Lounge lizards. The Press Lounge rooftop bar at Ink48.

First we take Manhattan.


Our longtime DC-area pals Gina and Aaron drove up to NYC to see us today. Marti and I were thrilled to see them again.

We started our afternoon with lunch at the Carnegie Deli. You want heart attack cuisine? I think that was an EMT van parked out front.

After lunch the four of squeezed into a taxi and went uptown for some culture.

Andy Warhol’s Cow Wallpaper [Pink on Yellow], 1966. Silkscreen on wallpaper. Love it. I first encountered these serial bovines at a huge Warhol exhibition at the Whitney Museum of American Art in 1971.

And now for our spilled-milk Andy Warhol story. In the late 1970s in a Greenwich Village gallery Marti and I came upon this numbered screenprint edition of Warhol’s Mick Jagger on Arches Aquarelle paper, complete with original signatures by Warhol and Jagger. The price? $1,100. But it might as well have been $11,000,000. At that time we didn’t have a spare grand to spend on art for the apartment. The print is worth more than $60,000 on the market today. Oh well. You know what Keith and Mick have to say about always getting what you want.

That evening we went to see our bud Alan Merrill at The Gardens, Lower East Side. We all sang the gang choruses on "I Love Rock 'N Roll." Gina and Aaron were in da house (or garden), as well as our friends Courtney Lee Adams Jr., rocker Jimmy Kunes and his squeeze Corinne.

Jimmy is the current frontman for the classic rock band Cactus. Along with Alan and our pal Marc Black, Jimmy sang at Marti’s big birthday bash in NYC in 2008.

After Alan’s gig we all went across the street to Manitoba’s for a hang. It’s Handsome Dick Manitoba’s (lead singer of The Dictators) dive bar.

The munchies hit, so Courtney recommended that we get Italian dinner at Lavagna on East 5th Street. While we waited for a table Marti, Gina and Aaron looked at silly costumed dog pics on Courtney's phone.

Great restaurant call, Courtney!

Courtney stayed downtown close to home after dinner but we hardcores taxied up to the Press Lounge at Ink48 for nightcaps on the roof.


Final day of the 2012 Eurotrash Tour. Kicked it off with brunch at the Galaxy.

Bob and Aaron.

With Gina and Marti. Serious gal pals.

We parted company with our friends, went back to finish packing, then hit Times Square one last time. Wouldn’t you know? There was a street festival goin’ on.

October’s here and the time is right for dancin’ in the street.

This gal outshines the lights of Broadway.

Can we jam down one more sausage and peppers sub before the car service arrives to take us to the airport and our flight home to Paris?

We came to jam, baby.


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