High life
Costa Brava
Takt
New York Costa Gratsos was Aristotle Onassis's best friend and business associate. Gratsos, who comes from an old shipping family, used to be a legend among drinkers in this town. I remember coming down from school and sitting with him, and another gentleman called Nasso Feraldi, in the bar of the Carlton House, a chic Madison Avenue hotel known for its conservative 'clientele. Gratsos and Feraldi simply stared at each other, nodded, sat down at a table, and began downing whiskys. After about an hour, 1 began getting worried. After two hours of straight drinking, probably one bottle and a half each, Feraldi said he had to go home because he hadn't seen his wife in three days. Gratsos said he had to go to El Morocco because Onassis was waiting for him. He asked me to come along.
When we got there, Onassis was waiting, reading a newspaper while everyone else stared at him. El Morocco was a nightclub where people went to dance. Aristo went to read the papers. Costa and he talked some business, reminisced, „ course meal, and continued drinking uninterruptedly until four in the morning: closing time. I sneaked into my house that night and when my father began shouting at me in the morning about the hours I kept, I told him that I was with Onassis and Gratsos talking business. He told me not to take him for an idiot and stormed out of the house swearing that he would prefer to leave his money to the Greek Communist Party than to a worthless swine like me. That was at nine o'clock in the morning and I went right back to sleep. At a quarter past nine the telephone rang and it was my Daddy. All sweetness too. Costa Gratsos had called him and told him that Onassis and he thought me a genius. Father sent me some money over by messenger.
Well, I hadn't seen Gratsos in about ten years when last Monday I went to a grand party he threw on stage at the Carnegie Hall, where Maria Callas sang her last performance in New York. Costa and Audrey Gratsos threw the party for Arianna Stassinopoulos, the author of the Callas biogriphy. Gratsos loved Maria, stuck by her until the end, and, more important, told Onassis that Jackie K.O. was a woman who not only would ruin his life, but would bring him bad luck.
Gratsos looked as robust as ever this week, and was as charming as he was when I was a child and as generous with his praise toward me. 'Don't let it bother you that people criticise your writings,' he said, and God knows that every time I write something about Christina or Onassis, the clip ping service gets it to him, and, obviously, it hurts him, as he looks on Aristo's last surviving child as a daughter. Gratsos, who had ships of his own, turned them over to Onassis and chose to work for him so that there would be no conflict of interest, between them. When I mentioned Jackie's name, his eyes reacted like flame throwers. He told me that during Aristotle's funeral, he (Gratsos) could not help crying. Jackie rebuked him as if he had committed a faux pas. Afterwards, at Arianna's house, I sat with Bernard Levin, Franco Rosselini, the film producer of Callas's Medea, and Costa. Rosselini said that Jackie had telephoned him and told him that if there were two people she would get one day, it would be Gratsos and myself. I told him to tell her that I am very surprised she remembers either of us, as neither of us has over 200,000 million dollars. Despite the unpleasantness of having to talk about such people, the evening was a great success. Arianna's family fed us in the style to which we are, accustomed, and even the presence of people like Rudolph Bing, the man who fired Callas from the Met, Peter Langan, the mad biter of ankles, the ex-Queen of Sikkim, Hope Cooke, a depressing lady on the make, and my great karate rival William Hickey, did not spoil it.
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