Elsie de Wolfe Leaves the Stage for Good
and turns to decorating, her first major job being the interior design of the Colony Club. "Dividing her time between New York and Europe, Elsie de Wolfe and her "companion" Elizabeth Marbury together rode a rising tide of fame, fueled by the attentions of the popular press." [The Barnard Bulletin].
I ask you, who doesn't love a field trip to the local art museum?
I ask you, who doesn't love a field trip to the local art museum?
Untitled. R. Stone and friends. Private collection.
The following message received this morning:
"Mom says you made them all wear baseball caps when you took them to the Met and afterward they all knew you were gay."
First of all, I'm surprised it took them that long and they needed baseball caps to do it; however, before I get going here, a word of caution for those just joining us: it may be too hard to follow, but try scrolling down a couple entries. As for the rest of you, a few background details by way of my defense --
Item One: my students BEGGED me not to make them wear their school uniforms that day because they were sick and tired of being mistaken for a Brownie Troop. At personal risk but out of compassion I agreed to their demands, only to find out their everyday wear consisted of an alternative uniform! Yes, pressed jeans, topsiders and pastel Lacoste polo shirts with the colors turned up -- the "All American Boy" look popular at the time in certain other circles as well. (and btw you could NOT get into the Mineshaft wearing this outfit. Trust me. The only way Tommy got in was to strip at the door, and the last I saw of him was his naked body being passed overhead from person to person as he disappeared into the darkness. Not a big guy. Portable. But I digress...)
Item Two: Gentle Reader, my life in those days, circa 1978, (at the age of seven) meant traveling from the lower west side (where I lived) to the upper east side (where I taught) -- a commute from what was essentially one single sex community to another. What I came to learn was that fifth grade girls and gay men have a lot in common -- at least the ones I taught and the ones I hung out with. Each group had its own strict dress code (as noted); each leaned toward shallow, violent and competitive relationships. And although occasionally nervous around the opposite sex, both communities knew the value of a good joke, the power of a fashion statement, and the importance of healthy skepticism toward those in power, whether they were grown-ups or heterosexuals, or (as was the case for some of us) both.
Item Three: I got a deal on those hats (16 of them, Size S, Red) at a store on 14th Street, so I'd have something to identify in the crowd besides a bunch of (easily lost, diminutive) blond pixie haircuts. And yes, we got more than a few looks and some rolled eyes. But I didn't lose one of them, thankyouverymuch, and believe me, given who their fathers were, you did NOT want to be the guy who explained to the CEO of SolomonBrosMorganGuarantyStanleyHearstChaseArthurAndersen, "Uh gee, we were halfway through the Wrightsman Rooms and I turned for like I swear half a second and when I looked again she was just, well, gone. Sir."
No, not a good career move. As it was, I lasted a year, more or less, before I left the biz altogether.
But that day, I got them all back safely, everybody got a hat, and nobody got hurt. How many little minds I might have scarred I can't tell you.
I rest my case.
The following message received this morning:
"Mom says you made them all wear baseball caps when you took them to the Met and afterward they all knew you were gay."
First of all, I'm surprised it took them that long and they needed baseball caps to do it; however, before I get going here, a word of caution for those just joining us: it may be too hard to follow, but try scrolling down a couple entries. As for the rest of you, a few background details by way of my defense --
Item One: my students BEGGED me not to make them wear their school uniforms that day because they were sick and tired of being mistaken for a Brownie Troop. At personal risk but out of compassion I agreed to their demands, only to find out their everyday wear consisted of an alternative uniform! Yes, pressed jeans, topsiders and pastel Lacoste polo shirts with the colors turned up -- the "All American Boy" look popular at the time in certain other circles as well. (and btw you could NOT get into the Mineshaft wearing this outfit. Trust me. The only way Tommy got in was to strip at the door, and the last I saw of him was his naked body being passed overhead from person to person as he disappeared into the darkness. Not a big guy. Portable. But I digress...)
Item Two: Gentle Reader, my life in those days, circa 1978, (at the age of seven) meant traveling from the lower west side (where I lived) to the upper east side (where I taught) -- a commute from what was essentially one single sex community to another. What I came to learn was that fifth grade girls and gay men have a lot in common -- at least the ones I taught and the ones I hung out with. Each group had its own strict dress code (as noted); each leaned toward shallow, violent and competitive relationships. And although occasionally nervous around the opposite sex, both communities knew the value of a good joke, the power of a fashion statement, and the importance of healthy skepticism toward those in power, whether they were grown-ups or heterosexuals, or (as was the case for some of us) both.
Item Three: I got a deal on those hats (16 of them, Size S, Red) at a store on 14th Street, so I'd have something to identify in the crowd besides a bunch of (easily lost, diminutive) blond pixie haircuts. And yes, we got more than a few looks and some rolled eyes. But I didn't lose one of them, thankyouverymuch, and believe me, given who their fathers were, you did NOT want to be the guy who explained to the CEO of SolomonBrosMorganGuarantyStanleyHearstChaseArthurAndersen, "Uh gee, we were halfway through the Wrightsman Rooms and I turned for like I swear half a second and when I looked again she was just, well, gone. Sir."
No, not a good career move. As it was, I lasted a year, more or less, before I left the biz altogether.
But that day, I got them all back safely, everybody got a hat, and nobody got hurt. How many little minds I might have scarred I can't tell you.
I rest my case.
This is Bobbi Sue Crump (Mrs.) currently residing in Fairfield VT. My husband, Lud, is trying to get me to use all this computer stuff; personally I think it's all a commmie plot. I was trying to get to the sight of Pastor George Snyder of the New Spitzbergen Pentacostal Assembly, but I got you instead. I think you are possessed by Satan, but as I had a lot of trouble understanding what you were saying, I am not entirely sure and will pray on the matter. I do have to say those pictures of the three girls were mighty nice, even if they were a bit loose looking. I will be monitoring your sight over the next couple of weeks, and will be writing to little Zebediah at Jesus Camp asking him to pray for your soul.
Yours in Christ,
Bobbi Sue Crump (Mrs.)
Dear Bobbi Sue (Mrs.), As an old friend of Mr. Snyder, I want to assure you that everything you fear about George is quite true. Except for the possessed by Satan bit. I believe him to be an atheist, therefore the Satan stuff is kind of irrelevant ~ you can't really have one without the other, can you. Incidentally, don't worry about not understanding him; none of us do but he is so throughly charming we just don't care.
[Editor's Note: For many years he doubted the existence of God, but at the same time he was pretty certain he'd dated Satan. If that helps.]
Just thought you'd like to know that my co-workers here at the museum think the YMCA photo is a laugh riot.