High life
Well placed
Taki
Athens
The first picture that came to mind when I read that Teddy Kennedy had a new woman in his life, and that her name was Lacey Neuhaus, was of a menacing Frank Costello (the now departed Cappo di Tutti Cappi of New York) asking me if I had been out of line with the senator from New Jersey. Now before you get the wrong idea let me explain:
In January 1965, I went to New York in order to get married to my first wife (both her parents and mine insisted that 3,000 miles of water was the minimum distance that had to be kept between them and us). Cristina was a very pretty girl, with a famous name and an unquenchable ap- petite for low lifers and nightclubs. No sooner had we landed when she introduced me to a pretty friend of hers named Lacey Neuhaus. Lacey was blonde and still in col- lege. As I was on my honeymoon, I thought it inappropriate to pursue her openly, so I in turn introduced her to a very close friend of mine who had a weakness for anything blonde and female, We decided that we would all have dinner at Le Club, a sup- posedly chic place on the East Side, which, as it turned out, was as chic as a Kray brothers funeral.
We were seated in a corner. Four nondescript people, two men and two women, were dining next to us. One of the men was fat, the other skinny. Throughout the meal Cristina kept turning round and looking at one of the two men; the scrawny one. Suddenly she jumped up and slapped him hard. It seems that he kept running his hand up and down her back. 1, too, jumped from my seat and went after him. I faked a right to the face and got in quite a good hook to his belly. He doubled up. The fatter man got up to protest and also got hit for his trouble. The two floozies with them began to scream. Suddenly about ten waiters were on me. Needless to say, 1 was immediately cast as the villain. 'But of course, Senator, I heard the maitre d' say, `they will never be allowed to come in again.' We were asked to leave the premises. While on my way out, and while I was try- ing to figure out which among what Gore Vidal has called America's most criminal classes the recipients of my hooks were, I heard the skinny one yell into a telephone that had been hastily brought to his table: `Yes, that little creep Taki.'
Now although I try and pretend that I'm brave, when it comes down to the nitty gritty I am as scared as anyone. Espe- cially when it has to do with politicians or gangsters, who in America are more often than not one and the same. I worried about my wife being disfigured, or myself cor- nered by a few members of some ethnic minority that specialises in such cornerings. After a while came inspiration. I rang my friend Mr C, Frank Costello, the man another Italian would cast Marlon Brando to play ten years later. Mr C did not seem very interested at first, until I mentioned that the skinny man had threatened to have Jerry Catena get me. `Ya mean he said Jerry's name out loud?' he asked me. When I assured him that this was so he asked me, `Was you outa line?' When 1 assured him
`What's it like in the big city?'
that they had been pestering my wife Mr C was decided. 'I'll talk to da bum,' he said.
Now I never knew how Mr C was going to find who the man was, but 1 had seen enough films to be convinced that the old style Mafiosi could do anything. And sure enough I was right. Four days later I was at P. J. Clarke's when I saw the little man I had hit. He saw me at the same time. He started running towards me. When he got close he stuck out his hand and said: `Taki, bab)', how are ya?' It was obvious that Mr C had looked well into the matter. When 1 rang him to thank him he explained that Jerry Catena — otherwise known as Jerry the Knife in the trade — had been very disturb- ed at the thought of doing a favour for someone who had insulted another man's wife — especially in public. When Mr C called him The Knife made up his mind. He rang Mr Skinny. 'Lay off the nice couple, was his advice.
My friend saw Lacey some more after that, but she turned out to be too ambitious even for him. One night, at another night club, 1 saw her with a man who looked familiar but one I couldn't place. When she saw me she looked right through me' Cristina, however, remembered. 'It's the fat man you hit that night,' she whispered. In fact the man turned out to be the very much married senior senator from New Jersey, Harrison Williams. The same senator who last year became the first one this century to be impeached and convicted. The charge was bribery.
I still occasionally run into
ce
Neuhaus but she pretends not to know v‘ ;
But I don't hold it against her. Last week I sent her a telegram congratulating her on her choice of senators. After all, Teddy got away with lying and covering up more than once. Williams did not.
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