High life
Faulty recall
Taki
INew York t is amazing how good the Bagel feels after the stench of the Big Olive. As long as one sticks close to Park Avenue, that is. Autumn is the best of times to be in New York, with parties galore and nature in her finest. Even the muggers are on their best behaviour, with statistics showing only three children murdered this week. This is not to say that the Bagelites have changed their colours. Far from it, in fact.
The first letter I opened was from a transplanted Noo Yawrker, and it reached me via the sainted editor. The sender, one Abe Levy from Seattle, claims that a few years back, while riding in his taxi, 'he tapped me on the shoulder and when I turned around I saw Taki with his fly unzipped. "There's fifty dollars for you if you let me give you a ---- job, and double that if you'll roger me" '. He then goes on to write that he threw me out of his cab and that I said: 'all you bagel-faces are the same'.
The sainted one did not deem the letter suitable for publication, but passed it on to rue in case I 'might recall the occasion'. In a strange way, I almost wish I did. After all, as they say about Wrigley's gum, double your pleasure, double the fun. Alas, I don't recall. One thing is for sure, however. Mr Levy is no New York cabbie. He writes too well and uses too many posh Brit expressions for a Bagelite, and I suspect the epistle comes from some left- wing trendy Brit working for radical maga- zines in the good old USA. I found it so funny that I took it with me to Mortimer's, showed it to everyone, and to my horror saw parts of it appear in a gossip column in the New York Daily News the next day. Chalk one up for Levy.
My next letter was from Mrs William Buckley, a great lady who is a close friend. It was co-signed by Jamie Niven, son of David, and also a good buddy. All they wanted was 15,000 bucks to benefit the Museum of Modern Art. In return, I could participate in a tribute to Gregory Peck, 'one of the most magnetic actors ever to grace the motion picture screen'.
As I like Jamie and adore Pat Buckley, I whipped out my chequebook and was ready to sign when I remembered the role Peck played in slandering Robert Bork, a great judge in my not so humble opinion. (Peck made a short film depicting an America where back-room abortions take place and where blacks are denied access to buses.) Never has a piece of paper been ripped up as quickly as my cheque was, although I did ring Pat to tell her that if the museum ever honoured Bork the money would be delivered by messenger, in cash.
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