Living with Legends: Hotel Chelsea Blog

The Truth About Those Fancy Hotels

Part I: A Diabolical Plot

            Those fancy hotels work like this: first, they take your money, say for a week, in advance.  Then they gas you, so you either die, or get fed up and leave early.  In either case, they get to rent your room out again to some other sucker, thus doubling their money.

            One night I was sitting in my tiny room in the Chelsea, drinking and writing.  I had gone out for another six-pack, and had just got back into the hotel and was walking down the hall towards my room.  It was February, and the hall was freezing cold.  One of the rooms on the hall had the door standing wide open; I could see inside it and the window was wide open too.  A middle-aged woman with long, dyed-blond hair came out of the room, wearing a long, suede coat and holding a sandwich.  I had never seen her before.
            "Hello," I said.  "How are you?"

            "I have to eat my dinner out here because my room is filled with smoke!" the woman screamed.  Her eyes were darting back and forth in her head like she couldn't see very well.  She didn't wear glasses, though it seemed like she needed them.  There was no smoke in her room.

            "That's terrible," I said.  "Why is your room filled with smoke?"

            "What the hell are you asking me for!?  Why don't you ask them down at the front desk?!"

            In those days the hotel was filled with crazies.  We used to joke that the Chelsea was the last stop on the way to the nut house.  Sometimes it made me wonder what I was doing there myself.  Crazies and creative types: the line was kind of blurred.   
          But not in this case.  "Well, can't talk now.  Gotta run," I said, and turned my back on her and walked away down the hall.
            She followed after me, screaming: "I don't want to talk to you!  I'm just eating my dinner!  Why are you asking me about the smoke?!  Huh!?  Why are you asking me about the smoke?!  You've been living here for years!  You know what's going on!"

            At this point I had been there for less than a year.  But I was beginning to get an inkling as to what was going on.  They would rent these transient rooms out to just about anybody: pimps, prostitutes, con men, street hustlers—people who couldn’t get a room elsewhere--often at exorbitant rates.  The theory was, that kept the rent down for the permanent residents, the writers and artists and musicians.

            Breaking into a run, the old woman hot on my heels, I made it to my door.  On the verge of panic, I fumbled around finding the right key, but got it into the lock before the woman could catch up to me.  I slipped inside and slammed the door in her face.  Goddamn crazy bitch.

            Something I had said or done really set the woman off.  She screamed for two hours about how there was a conspiracy to kill her.  The management of the hotel, and the long term residents, were in cahoots in this plot.  Unfortunately, the halls wrapped around in such a way that my window was directly across from hers.  I couldn’t concentrate on my work, and it didn’t take long before the old woman was driving me nuts.  I was grateful when she went out in the hall and screamed, though I don't think anybody else in the hotel appreciated it. (Copyright 2006 Ed Hamilton)

Next Week: Part II: Ghosts Of The Old Hotel

All Tomorrow's Parties - Feb 27 - March 5

Monday, Feb. 27,
Former Hotel Chelsea resident and author of The Chelsea Manifesto, Yves Klein, has a very nice piece of work on display at the Art Dealers Association of America Show. The show closes today.
Seventh Regiment Armory on Park Avenue

Tuesday, Feb. 28, 10:30 p.m.
Susanne Bartsch and Kenny Kenny invite you to the NYC premiere BURLESQUE EXTRAVAGANZA starring: AMANDA LEPORE & AMBER RAY; choreographed by: THIERRY MUGLER
hosts: SOPHIA LAMAR, KIM AVIANCE, ANDREA, AMANDA LEPORE
DJ TOMMIE SUNSHINE downstairs: DJ RYAN
door: THEODORA & ADAM
14 east 27 st

Wednesday, March 1, 5 to 9 p.m (Opening Reception)
Work by former Hotel Chelsea resident and illustrator Edward C. Caswell is the subject of an exhibit at the new Museum of Brooklyn Art and Culture.
512 Hancock St., Bridgeport, Conn

Sunday, March 5, 8:00 p.m.
Former resident Rufus Wainwright will take the stage along with Ben Kweller.  Tickets are $10 for students and $15 for the general public. They will go on sale this Friday (March 3) at the Schine Box Office at noon. Tickets are available exclusively for students Friday and Monday, but will become available for both students and the general public starting Tuesday.
Syracuse University, Goldstein Auditorium

If you have an appropriate event for "All Tomorrow's Parties," please send information to [email protected]

You Can Never Be Too Fabulous

Susanne Bartsch, here, here, and here. (Photo: Women's Wear Daily)

The Chelsea's Literary Cache Not Good Enough for the Accompanied Library

Earlier this week Page Six reported that the Accompanied Library stopped by the Chelsea looking for a new home, but decided against relocating here.  Too bad. We could use a library in the building.  Their noisy parties got them evicted from the National Arts Club. (Photo: fashiontribes.com) More photos on flickr.

THE Accompanied Library - the young-fogey private book club housed inside the National Arts Club - is getting unceremoniously evicted from its Gramercy Park digs. The 250-odd members, who were just featured in the PAGE SIX magazine, must pack their books and be out March 1. Live-in residents of the National Arts Club complained about noise from the weekly parties - most vocally Tim Nye, the millionaire entrepreneur whose apartment shares the sixth floor with the Library and who sublets the space to the group. He has decided not to renew its lease. Neither Nye nor his lawyer could be reached. "The Library has outgrown its space," Alexander Jutkowitz, a Library spokesman, tells PAGE SIX. "But Tim Nye, initially a supporter, is no longer one. As it succeeded more and more, he became less and less a supporter. In the short term, we’ll move to different venues," he says. The Library recently scouted the Chelsea Hotel as a potential permanent residence, but decided against it. (Source: The New York Post)

Green Building

For the sake of art, they managed to turn the Communist Building across the street from the Chelsea green last Friday.  It was very atmospheric. (Photo: musiquegirl's flickr pool)  The building formerly housed Kalem silent film studios.

Bus Load of Tourists Heading Our Way

Tomorrow (Feb 25) at 10:30 a.m. and 1:30 p.m., a two-hour bus tour leaving from the 92nd Street Y at 1395 Lexington Ave. in Manhattan takes you to spots that the great Welsh poet Dylan Thomas frequented, including the Chelsea Hotel, the Algonquin and St. Vincent's Hospital. (Source: Newsday, Feb 24)

Gorgeous Model Types Headed Our Way

(via Craigslist) SATURDAY FEBRUARY 25TH at 2:00pm Casting Call
New York Based TV/Music Production group seeks young female actresses of all shapes and sizes for a new hip hop music related tv pilot. We are looking for actresses between the ages of 19 and 28. You will be asked to impersonate several contemporary hip hop artists, as well as, create your own female Rap Idol!

We are not looking for rappers who can act, we are looking for actors who can rap. You will NOT be given the opportunity to have your personal work reviewed or seen. We will be looking for gorgeous model types in addition to comical offbeat characters. Sorry guys, Ladies Only!

Is this one for you?   Please email [email protected] and express your interest. We will get back with you in a timely fashion. Actresses chosen for pilot will be compensated accordingly.
Time: 2:00pm - 7:00pm
Location: The Hotel Chelsea 222 west 23rd Street New York, NY 10011

Supertones Surfin Dude Tim Sullivan

Tim Sullivan is the guitarist for NYC's best surf-rock band, The Supertones. 

What do you do?
Musician, Surfer, Dancer, Artist

How’d you get interested in surf music?

My dad and granddad were surfers from California, so I started to surf at a very young age, like around 1961 or so.   And in 1963 my Uncle Len Costello gave me his old flat top guitar. When I heard tunes on the radio like Rebel Rousers, Wipeout, Pipeline, and Walk Don’t Run that I wanted to play so my mother got me guitar lessons from a guy who played in a surfband and I learned all of those early surf tunes.  I later went to music school and studied classical guitar and all that stuff, but the thing I was best at was playing surf music.  I’ve put out about 10 records over the years with my band The Supertones.
How long have you lived in the Hotel?
Since 1982
What inspired you to move into the Chelsea? The lead singer in the band (The Stringbuster) I was in had lived here all through the 70’s. The lead singer, the other guitar player, and myself were livin on 28th street by F.I.T., when we had to move out very quickly. And since the lead singer had known Stanley for years, we all moved into the Chelsea. Since I’ve lived here I’ve lived in 5 rooms: 522, 511, 423, 220 and 719. {That must be the record for room hopping}
Do you think the Hotel has a creative energy?
The Chelsea is a very special creative place here in NYC.  Everyone who is creative and famous has passed through here at one point or another.  It has a center of creative energy that is very powerful and spiritual.  I think you have to live her for awhile to really appreciate it. 
What's your favorite Hotel Chelsea story?
There are many, but the one that stands out is one that happened in the early 80’s when I was livin in room 511.  The singer and the lead guitarist had got into a big fight because he was quitting the band.  And it carried out into the street in front of the hotel, and when the other guitarist got into a cab on 23^rd St. the singer grabbed his very rare 150 Gibson Gold Top and smashed in into 1000 pieces as he rode off down 23^rd St. in a cab looking out the back window at what just happened to his guitar.
Who is the most famous person you've ever ridden with in the elevator?
Uma
Tell us about Dan's Guitars?
It has been a music store since the 30’s.  I don’t know what it was called back then, but in the 50’s it was called Interesting Records, then in the 70’s it became Chelsea Music.  I started to work there in 83-92.  When I started there we sold records, musical instruments, and posters.  The place was full of old, out of print, useless records that we couldn’t give away, so I ended up throwing out 1000 worthless records to make room for vintage musical instruments and guitars to buy, sell and trade.  It was great because I got to play guitar and listen to a lot of great musicians who pass through the Chelsea.  I learned a lot about making money and playing music.
Tell us about one of your favorite writers, Herbert Huncke?

Everybody loved Herbert.  A very sweet, smart man who had seen the world through the underbelly of the drug and beat scene of the 30’s,  40’s, 50’s, 60’s, 70’s and 80’s.  For an old man he had a lot to say about life and when he talked he was very articulate and well read.  I miss him.

What is the best/worst thing that has ever happened to you at the Chelsea?

The best was working in the guitars store.  The worst was worrying about the Chelsea being sold to some big company that wanted to turn the place into a mall for rich people with way too much money.

The Tourists Are Back

Staying at the Hotel Chelsea made blogger Tia Maria homesick for Kentucky, in a good way.  No one will be surprised to learn that she's also writing a novel.  Our tourists are the most literary in town.

They were shooting a scene for a movie at the hotel. Pretty cool, huh? The place reminded me of Old Louisville. I felt right at home. After a full year in Jersey, I finally realized what I've been missing. Old buildings. Like this.  Read more about her stay at the Chelsea.

CHUNKY MONKEY

Diane was an artist, a painter, though lately she didn’t work much.  While Charlie was on tour Diane roller bladed around the city.  With him gone her energy seemed boundless.  She'd sail past you, almost knocking you down and you'd think she was on her way home, but no, she'd come around the block and lap you before going into the Chelsea--like she had just exactly that much more energy to use up before she could rest.
     Charlie was a musician in a cowboy bar band.  He wore a toupee to cover up his bald spot while he was on stage, even though he usually wore a cowboy hat on top of that.  But he didn’t wear either of them when he was around the Chelsea.
       Charlie snuggled up to Diane on the couch while they were watching TV.  He turned and tried to kiss her, pawing at her breast, but Diane scooted down the couch out of his clutches.  She took a swig of her beer and continued to stare straight ahead at the TV.  But Charlie sat bolt upright and said crossly, "You don't like to have sex with me anymore, do you?  We haven't done it since I've been back.  You think I'm fat, don't you?"
          He was fat alright, downright obese.
          "It's not that honey, it's just..."
          "It's just what?  Look, I'm trying to watch my weight, you think I'm not trying?"
           "Well..."
           “I am trying," he declared, "It's not easy.  You think its so easy."
          "I know its not easy honey, but you've got to show a little self control.  Last night you ate that whole pepperoni pizza and that whole pint of Chunky Monkey..."

"I did not eat that whole pepperoni pizza!”
             "But you ate the whole pint of Chunky Monkey!"

"I did not eat that whole pepperoni pizza!!!" Charlie roared.

"Well, OK," Diane admitted, "I had one slice."

"So!" Charlie exclaimed in triumph, "You admit you exaggerate."

"OK, maybe you are trying to control yourself."
           But Charlie was on a roll: "And about that Chunky Monkey.  Here you come waltzing in the door with a pint of Chunky Monkey, like there's nothing in the world wrong with that, la de da, and here I am trying to watch my weight."

"The Chunky Monkey was for me," Diane said.

"So what am I supposed to do?  That's what I want to know.  You say I'm not trying, and then in you waltz with the chunky monkey.  La de da.  And you know it's my favorite."

They're all your favorite, Diane thought.

"And while we're on the subject of self control,” Charlie went on, “how much did you drink while I was away?"

"Just a couple drinks a night," Diane said defensively.  "No more than usual."

"Oh the usual!  Well that's not much, now is it?" Charlie said sarcastically.  Then he added, "Dan told me he saw you dump a load of liquor bottles the day before I got home.  He said he could hear it all the way down the hall."

"I wish Dan would mind his own business."

"When you live in glass houses, don't throw the first stone."

"Oh, please."

"Dan also says you had people streaming in and out of this room night and day, including some MEN."

"Dan is an asshole."

That seemed a fair assessment to Charlie.  Still, he sensed he had the upper hand, so he wasn't ready to let the matter drop just yet. "You've been sleeping around on me, haven't you?" he said.

"Now you're being absurd."

"Well, how about it?" Charlie insisted.

"I'm not even going to respond to that," Diane said.

Charlie thought about the groupie—actually a middle aged housewife--he had sex with while on tour, but he didn't feel it would help his case to bring up this point.

"I'm going to bed," Diane said.  She finished off her beer then got up and moved to the bed, which was behind a screen they had set up at the far end of the room.  Charlie watched TV for a couple of hours, snuck in a late snack, then he came to bed to.

Ten years from now, still at the Chelsea, they’d be having pretty much the same conversation.  Ten years from now, her beer beside her on top of the toilet, Diane would be kneeling before the tub and giving Charlie a sponge bath to get at the places he couldn't reach. (Copyright 2006 Ed Hamilton)

All Tomorrow's Parties, Feb 20 - 26

Mon. - Fri., 11:00 - 6:00
Welcome the Chelsea Hotel's most recent painter in residence, Angelbert Metoyer.
Angelbert is working on a large format painting which will be part of the "Force of Nature 2: Indigo Temple,"exhibit.  Some of Angelbert's work is already on display at the Paul Rodgers/9W Gallery but an opening is scheduled for March.
Paul Rodgers/9W Gallery, 529 West 20th St., 9th fl. NY NY

Tuesday, Feb. 21, 10:30 p.m.
Happy Valley Tuesdays with Susanne Bartsch & Kenny Kenny.  Show:  The Fabulose Kim Aviance & Kevin Aviance.  DJ Larry Tee.  Host Amanda Lepore, Kim Aviance, Andrea & Sophia Lamar. (Photo of Susanne is from New York magazine)
14 east 27 st NY NY

Mon. - Fri. Now - Oct. 2006
This exhibition, "Moved by Music: Herbert Gentry," will showcase never seen prints based on original paintings and drawings by former Hotel Chelsea resident Herbert Gentry (1919–2003). The exhibit will also highlight works from the personal collection of Gentry's widow MaryAnn Rose.  Rehema C. Barber, the exhibition curator, gives a gallery talk on the show Friday at noon.
Wadsworth Atheneum Museum of Art, 600 Main St., Hartford CT.

If you have an appropriate event for "All Tomorrow's Parties," please send information to [email protected]

Irene Zevon Tschacbasov (1918-2006)

Members of the Chelsea Hotel community were shocked and saddened to learn of the passing of painter Irene Tschacbasov over the weekend.  Irene had lived in the Chelsea for the past 50 years.  We all admired Irene's quiet dignity.  Her husband Nahum Tschabasov, also a painter, died in 1984. His work hangs in the lobby of the hotel to the left above the check-in desk.

Thanks to Elizabeth for sending the picture.

The Algonquin Gives Writers A Break

If you've got writers block, skip the Hotel Chelsea and go straight to the Algonquin.  If you stay here at the Chelsea, the block will probably get worse, since the "Do Not Disturb" sign will put a lot of extra pressure on you.  (It says: Do Not Disturb.  I'm Writing The Next Great American Novel.)

The Algonquin, New York's other historic literary hotel -- home to the Round Table of the '20s and host to guests such as Dorothy Parker, E.B. White, James Thurber, John Updike, and William Faulkner -- offers a "writer's rate" to anyone claiming writer's block. The deal is a $20 discount on a classic room, when available, Sunday through Thursday.  (via Newyorkology)

Lost Footage of Edie Sedgwick

Filmmaker David Weisman recently discovered over 30 hours of pristine 35mm outtake footage from the film CIAO Manhattan, believed lost for decades. Some of the footage features Edie Sedgwick.  Watch the film long enough and you will see some great footage of Uma Thurman's mother Nena. A lot of Nena's scenes didn't make into the final version of the film. Former Hotel Chelsea resident Viva is also in some of the footage that was filmed at Max's Kansas City. 

HE'S BACK

We thought we were rid of Ethan Hawke when he moved out a few months ago.  But the creative spirit of the Chelsea has apparently sucked him back into our vortex of insanity.  He was in the hotel earlier this week, filming the movie version of his brilliant debut novel, The Hottest State.  We were on the elevator, packed full with a group of his minions last night.  A female member of his production crew was screaming into her cell phone: “I’m almost there!  I’m two seconds away!”  To our horror, the elevator slowed to a crawl, then stopped entirely, between floors.  Luckily, we were able to pry the elevator doors open and step off on the first floor, or we would have been in for a rough night indeed.

Here’s wishing Ethan luck in his filmic endeavors; we’re praying he doesn’t turn out another Chelsea Walls.

Rene Ricard Goes Quack Quack Here

Luke's Farm Media brings us the first episode of "Uncle Rene" and gives us an inside look at life in the Hotel Chelsea.  Click here to play the video. The fabulous Rene Ricard, for those of you who are way out of the loop, starred in a couple of Warhol flicks back in the day. The internet, it's where everybody gets their second 15 minutes of fame. (via Chelsea Hotel Vlogs and Pods) Photo by Peter Hujar

Good News

Just as mysteriously as it disappeared Hiroya's mural has been returned to its place of honor. 

MIA: Hiroya's Mural

For many years one of Hiroya's graffiti-based paintings held a place of honor in the stairwell between the 7th and 8th floors here at the Hotel Chelsea.  If you came through the Chelsea lobby between 1997 and 2001, then you probably even met the Japanese painter. He may have even tried to sell you one of his paintings.  Sadly, Hiroya died under mysterious circumstances a few years back, but it was comforting to know that his art was still with us here at the Chelsea.  Sometime after midnight Friday, Feb. 10 Hiroya's mural was removed from the wall.  If you know what happened to the painting, don't keep it to yourself.

Valentine's Day at the Chelsea Hotel, 1977

     I was a senior in college, invited to New York for a long Valentine's Day weekend by a young man a few years older than I, who lived in a small apartment on Avenue A, with the bathtub in the kitchen. Next to it hung a vintage robe, a debonair manly number in purple wool twill, with white piping around the lapels and a heraldic crest on the pocket.  It was mine to keep, and keep it I did, for a very long time.
      We visited his grandmother, who lived in a mansion on the Upper East Side, where a maid served us cocktails in the library amidst first editions of books published in Paris in the 1920's. The grandmother had acquired these books in Paris in the 1920's, because her friends were writing them, and she kindly, and modestly re-told first-hand stories about legendary writers because I was an English major, writing a thesis on Virginia Woolf, and hung on every word.
      Our weekend also included dinner at Lady Astor', a restaurant on Lafayette Street, which I don' t believe exists any more. Too bad, as the table in the front, which could be completely enclosed by heavy green velvet curtains with gold tassels (just like the curtains Scarlett O'Hara desperately fashions into a cap and dress), was very romantic. And the young man also invited me to a party, a Valentine's Day party, given by some friends of his who lived at the Hotel Chelsea, about which I knew not much. I learned though.
      The lobby and the stairway walls were entirely painted with murals by residents. I seem to recall my date pointing out to me works by notable residents, but I can't remember the artists' names. I recall riding up in a creaky elevator, perhaps with an elevator operator, and I believe that its walls were decorated too.
      The party was given by a couple of guys who were recent graduates of Yale, but I have long forgotten their names. Their apartment was just a room or two, and jammed with party guests. As we entered we were handed paper hearts, and instructed to write our names on our heart twice, tear it in half, and deposit one half in a large pickle jar, and hold onto the other half of the heart. There would be a drawing later, for a door prize.
       Only slowly did the word circulate through the party that the door prize was in fact a hustler, a man as handsome and blond as my date, but much more muscular, a bit older, and wearing more leather. He mingled like a guest, and I had to ask exactly what a hustler was. And then I wondered what my date (who liked boys as well as girls) would want to do if either of us won him. I love to win even the smallest little prize, a magazine subscription, a to-go mug--but loosing the drawing that night was fine with me. The guy who did win dropped everything, and left instantly, all smiles, victorious and proud, with his prize. I felt pretty cool to just be a guest at a party where something so decadent could happen. I've never been back to the Chelsea, and that handsome hustler comes to mind whenever I hear or read of it. I hope that he survived the incipient epidemic that we had no inkling of, that deliciously licentious Valentine's Day.
       As for me and my date, we went back alone to the apartment on Avenue A, where I was told that the ornate carved bed had been a gift from the Baron von Rothschild to the grandmother, his paramour, once upon a time.

Cynthia Baughman lives on a farm in Douglassville, Pennsylvania with her husband, dog, and three goats. She writes short fiction, journalism, and media criticism. She is currently working with filmmaker LeAnn Erickson on a documentary about women mathematicians involved in a secret ballistics project during World War II.

All Tomorrow's Parties - Feb 13 - 19

Tuesday, Feb. 14, 10:30 p.m.
Susanne Bartsch and Kenny Kenny spread their love around.  Tonight's Happy Valley Tuesday Valentine Party is in honor of Patrick McMullan's Kiss Kiss, 200 pages of kisses.  Winner of the "best couple" competition receives a special editional signed copy of Kiss Kiss.
Happy Valley 14 East 27th St., NY NY

Tuesday, Feb. 14,
For our international readers, Hotel Chelsea resident Scott Griffin's production of Arthur Miller's satirical black comedy "Resurrection Blues" begins previews tonight in London. Robert Altman is directing.  We hear that a former resident may be attending the official premiere next month so we hope to have reviews and backstage gossip and pics. (Photo: The producer in the lobby) We also hear rumors about a film with Altman directing.
Old Vic Theatre, Waterloo Road, London

Thursday, Feb. 16, 8:00 p.m.

Sarah Vowell is not Stanley Bard's BFF. All the more reason to stop by her reading. "have I had anyone mad at me. I wrote about the Chelsea hotel where history not as hygienic as I would have liked. And the lovely people who run it and they were lovely, I talked to them, they seemed upset about my honesty there." (Source: BookTV) 
Lisner Auditorium, 730 21st Street, NW, Washington, D.C.

Saturday, Feb. 17, 8:00 p.m.
Last chance to catch No Great Society.  A riveting neo-beat riff by Elevator Repair Service. In this world premiere, ERS veteran and enigmatic physical performer, Susie Sokol and sonic artist Ben Williams conjure Jack Kerouac and a piano-pattering Steve Allen.  The performance pieces together interview bits and movie script fragments showcasing Jack Kerouac's mind.
PS 122, 150 First Ave., at East 9th, NY NY

If you have a relevant Chelsea Hotel event that you would like featured in "All Tomorrow's Parties," please e-mail the information to [email protected]

Pics from Arthur Weinstein's Opening

Great pictures from Friday nights opening party courtesy of Linda Troeller.

Colleen, Arthur's wife, and friend.

Arthur and friend.

Arthur and April of Suite 303

Chelsea boys enjoy the show.

The Chelsea's Latest Fashion Victim

Vogue editor Sally Singer's oldest son Malachy doesn't seem too thrilled to be attending the Marc Jacobs show.  But at least he got to get out.  If I were in his younger brothers Oscar or Pascal's shoes I'd be throwing a temper tantrum.  Perhaps this explains the howls that rocked the Chelsea the other night.  Hopefully Malachy brought them home a goody bag.
Via Gawker's ongoing coverage of fashion week. 

Don't Forget Tonight's Party

Friday, Feb. 10, 8:00 - 12:00 p.m.
Opening reception for Hotel Chelsea resident Arthur Weinstein's photos and silkscreens is today.  You can find examples of his work on the 10th floor of the Chelsea. (Photo:Lorenzo's photo group)
100 Lafayette Street, NY NY

Elefant Was In the Chelsea

NYC alt band Elefant dropped by the Hotel Chelsea to shoot their forthcoming video "Elefant." Further footage is scheduled to be filmed at the band's February 17 concert in Boston.

F. Paul Wilson Doesn't Believe in the Chelsea's Creative Energy

Author F. Paul Wilson has been generous enough to send us an excerpt from HOSTS, which features the Chelsea Hotel and El Quijote in a couple of scenes.  HOSTS features a recurring character known as Repairman Jack -- a name given him because he will, for a price, fix situations that can't be remedied through official channels -- blackmail, for instance. He lives under the radar with no Social Security number and no official identity -- a ghost in the modern machine. The woman he meets in the Chelsea lobby turns out to be the older sister he hasn't seen in 15 years. She wasn't a lesbian when he left her, but she is now. 
What you do? I'm a writer -- novels (thrillers in all sorts of genres) and short stories. 2006 marks the 35th anniversary of my first publication.

Do you live in the Chelsea neighborhood? No, but I went to high school here. I was a Joisey kid who commuted daily to a Jesuit military school -- Xavier on West 16th. The military part was mandatory then and we were known citywide as Subway Commandos. I came of age in Chelsea -- I learned where to get fireworks in Chinatown, how to get a mug of porter in McSorley's (men-only then), all sorts of cool stuff. I fell in love with New York then and have continued the affair ever since. The city is very much a continuing character in the Repairman Jack novels.

What inspired you to set a scene in El Quijote? I've eaten there quite a few of times. I love their shrimp in green garlic sauce -- you can't close-talk to anyone for the next six months, but it's worth it.

Do you think that there is a creative energy in the Chelsea Hotel? No. I don't believe in any of that stuff. Creativity isn't some sort of astral goo you can leave behind. This is a bring-your-own world. But if you have a few creative bones in you, the idea of staying in the same place -- maybe the same room -- as so many icons of whatever field your working in might spark you to greater achievement. I mean, come on -- Gregory Corso lived here!

What's your favorite Hotel Chelsea story? Well, being into crime and mayhem -- evidenced by the subject matter of my fiction -- the Sid and Nancy story sticks out. But my love of the place goes back to my high school days when I used to wander the city looking for cool buildings. I started making a list back then (still have it) and the Chelsea was near the top. Still is. I simply love the look of it.

What's your favorite El Quijote story? Don't have one...besides the food.
An excerpt from HOSTS: A Repairman Jack Novel © 2001 by F. Paul Wilson
Somewhere in Chapter 5 . . .
            Not going to happen, Jack told himself as he headed down the stairs for the street. 
            He’d do whatever it took to keep this one lousy incident from disrupting his life and his business.
             His business . . . he hadn’t checked his voice mail in a while. 
             Walked over to Broadway, found a phone booth, and tapped in his codes.  One call.  From a woman who said she’d been referred to him as someone who could help her with a problem involving a friend and a cult.  Left her cell phone number but didn’t say who’d referred her or any details about the cult or her problem with it.  Decided she was worth a call back.  An indefinable something about her voice appealed to him, made him want to work on her problem.
               Glanced at his watch: 11:20.  Might be late to call her, but he needed something to do and this could be it.  A new customer with a new fix-it job would occupy his mind and time while waiting for the fallout from tonight’s fiasco.   
              Dialed her number.  When she answered he said. “This is Jack, returning your call.”
            “Oh.  I didn’t expect you to call back so soon.”  A nice voice; soft and mature.  Not too old, not too young.
              We’re off to a good start, Jack thought.
              “Some problems can wait,” he said, “some can’t.  You didn’t say anything about yours.  I can meet you tonight if necessary.”
              “Gosh, it’s late but . . .”
              “Where do you live?”
              “I . . . I’d rather not say.”
              “Not your street address, your section of the city.”
              “Oh.  It’s called the Flower District.  It’s—”
              “Know it.”  Upper Twenties around Sixth, above Chelsea.   “I can meet you anywhere you want down there in about fifteen minutes.”
              “Tonight?  Gee, I don’t . . .”
                “Lady, you called me.”
               A pause during which he swore he could hear her chewing her lip.
              “Okay.  But someplace public.”

Someplace public . . . could meet her on Forty-second Street. Few places in the city more public than the Deuce since Disney moved in.  Maybe too public.  Better to make it closer to where she lived . . .
              Considered the Seventh Avenue Papaya on the corner of Twenty-third, but that was usually a madhouse this time of night.  He grinned.  Maybe he should freak her out and suggest La Maison de Sade, the S-and-M supper club next to the Chelsea Hotel.   Wait—that was it.
              “How about the Chelsea Hotel?”
              “Where’s that?”
              Something not right here.  “Thought you said you lived in the Flower District.  You live down there and don’t know the Chelsea?”
             “I’m visiting.  I’m from . . . from out of town.”
             “Okay then.  It’s right down Seventh from you.  On Twenty-third.  I’ll meet you in the lobby.  Is that public enough?”
              “I don’t know . . . this is so strange.” 

The Jazz- Infused Life of Herbert Gentry

A great profile of former Hotel Chelsea Resident and painter Herbert Gentry (1919 - 2003) iappears in this week's issue of the Hartford Courant.  Mr. Gentry lived in Paris for many years, as well as at the Hotel Chelsea.  The profile focuses mainly on Mr. Gentry's year's in Paris.

"If Gentry's art, which was far-better known in Europe than in his native land, is a revelation to Americans, his equally surprising, colorful, cosmopolitan life has the makings of a Hollywood bio-pic.

Gentry was quite literally born into the world of art and entertainment, according to his widow, Mary Anne Rose.

His mother, Theresa, was a smart, gorgeous, gregarious showgirl, Rose says. A well-known Ziegfeld Follies chorine, she danced at the glitziest theaters on Broadway and had plenty of friends in the art and showbiz worlds. One of her close buddies and fellow dancers was Josephine Baker, who was later to become the toast of pre-war Paris when African American entertainers were the pop rage of all France.

Because of his mother's semi-celebrity status as a stylish hoofer, he grew up in Harlem's Sugar Hill in a home frequented by dancers, musicians, composers, writers and artists. Duke Ellington and the famous white orchestra leader Paul Whiteman visited the Gentry home, where the buzz among globetrotting entertainers was often about Paris as a magical city of light and enlightenment.

Going regularly to the theater with his beautiful, popular mother, Gentry got a vivid backstage view of the entertainment business. His loving, attentive mother made sure young Gentry took piano lessons to insure that her son was cultured. And the Big Apple's then robust jazz scene of the 1930s and 1940s nourished his burgeoning love for jazz.

Drafted in 1942, he served in the Army, a life-changing, eye-opening experience that took him to Corsica, Algeria, Marseilles, Morocco, Strasburg, Salzburg and, most important, to Paris.

Discharged in 1945, he returned to New York and, pushed by family pressures, resumed his business administration studies at New York University, which had been interrupted by the war. All the while, he longed to return to Paris, then an exciting center of post-war intellectual and artistic ferment, an almost mythical symbol of self-liberation and the bohemian life.

Thanks to the GI Bill, Gentry could afford to make the giant existential leap from boring accounting classes at New York University to the stimulating cabaret scene and academic life in Paris where he studied at L'Academie de la Grande Chaumiere and Ecole des Hautes Etudes from 1946 to 1949.

Gentry went to Paris not just to escape the racism that was then endemic in America, Rose says, but because Paris had always had a magical, romantic hold on his mind since childhood. Besides, Paris was the home of modernism and artistic freedom, even an escape from his bourgeois relatives who wanted him to go into business, not throw his life away on anything as frivolous as art.

``All his mother's dancer friends had gone to Paris, but she stayed home to take care of Herb. His dream had always been to go to Paris,'' Rose says.

While in Paris, Gentry and the first of his three wives, the singer and painter Honey Johnson, established a bustling cabaret in Montparnasse, which was an art gallery and salon by day and a popular jazz club and saloon by night.

Chez Honey, as the Left Bank nightclub was called, became a gathering place for intellectuals, painters and musicians of every color and nationality. The club's principle rule was that racism would never be tolerated in this polyglot, multiracial melting pot of a cabaret. Gentry's only other rule was that ``you had to be hip and sensitive.''

Among Chez Honey's celebrated clientele were France's intellectual power couple, Jean-Paul Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir.

Other luminaries at the swinging salon included such famous expatriate African American writers as James Baldwin and Richard Wright; such painters as Romare Bearden (one of Gentry's closest friends), Beauford Delaney and the jazz-obsessed Larry Rivers; and such entertainers as Eartha Kitt, Orson Welles and Marcel Marceau. The club's nightly jam sessions also drew a legion of jazz greats including Ellington; Lena Horne; Louis Armstrong; Sidney Bechet; Dizzy Gillespie; Benny Goodman; the saxophonists Don Byas, James Moody and Zoot Sims; drummer Kenny Clarke; and pianist John Lewis.

A charming, eminently likable bon vivant, Gentry was pal and gracious host to virtually all the cultural celebrities who were then making Paris an alluring, international cultural beacon, Rose recalls.

``Herb said he only missed out on Picasso, and that modern jazz in Europe began in his club,'' she adds."

WORKERS GIVE ADVICE ON COMBATTING TERRORISM

There’s been scaffolding up around the Chelsea for several months now, seriously detracting from the building’s unique gothic splendor.  The workers put it up in the early summer, went away for the rest of the summer—it was probably too hot to work--then came back and worked for about two weeks in October.  They haven’t done anything since then, although the scaffolding remains up.  When the workers were here they stood on a hanging scaffolding outside my window and yelled back and forth to one another for eight hours a day, when they weren’t scraping or sanding with a machine. (Photo: Shows the scaffolding on the building in August)

There were two workers outside my window (though there were others elsewhere on the building), a New Jersey Guy and a Russian.  They hadn’t met each other before this job, and so the first day they bonded.  “My last rap was a misdemeanor, but they kept me in six months,” the Jersey guy said.

“My last was a felony,” the Russian said, as if it were no big deal.  “And they only gave me three.”

It was comforting to know that if anything went missing, I would at least have someone to blame.

The two workers had to strip and paint the woodwork, and to paint the windowsills—both of which chores made perfect sense.  But they also had to strip the tar off the gutter—gouging and chipping away at it with their putty knives and then buffing it with a circular sander to reveal the gleaming copper--and then to refinish it, which made no sense at all since it had just been refinished earlier that year.  The point, apparently, was to change the color from black to gray, maybe to match the paint.  The jersey guy, who was the most talkative, shared my confusion: “Why the hell are we doing this?  Why are we making it gray?  It’ll be black again in a month anyway!”

I couldn’t do much work with these guys yelling back and forth all day, so I had to resort to transcribing their conversation to kill time.  About ninety percent of what they said was bullshit—the Jersey guy had a lot to say about sports and drinking—but once in awhile they got onto an interesting topic.  At around this time terrorists had just bombed the subway in London, and the cops had started searching people in the subway here:

“They said on TV, if you see somebody who looks suspicious in the subway, let us know,” the Russian said, chuckling.

“Fuck, everybody looks suspicious in the subway,” the Jersey guy said.

“They’re not going to stop it, nothing can stop it.”

“Hell no!” the Jersey guy said.  “If I’m a cop and I see some Arab guy with a backpack, I’m not gonna say, open that up.  What am I, a fucking idiot?  He’ll blow us both up.  Just keep going buddy, blow some other place up.  I wanna get home to my wife and my kids.”

“I’ll search some old lady, instead,” the Russian said.

“So the Arab blows some people up, and your boss comes up and says, ‘Hey, why didn’t you stop that guy?’ ‘Oh sorry chief, I must’ve missed him.’  What are they gonna do, fire the guy?  Better than being dead.  ‘Sorry chief, I’ll do better next time.’”

On this one subject I feel like these guys may have had the proper mindset to provide us with some insight.  They were at least half right about the gutter, by the way: it’s not quite black yet, but it does look pretty goddamn scummy.  The black sealant was better because it hid the dirt.

(Copyright 2006 Ed Hamilton)

All Tomorrow's Parties - Feb 6 - 12

Tuesday, Feb. 7, 10:30 p.m.
Susanne Bartsch and Kenny Kenny invite you to Heatherette Fashion Show After Party with Richie Rich and Traver Rains.
Happy Valley 14 East 27th St., NY NY



Wednesday, Feb. 8, 6:00 p.m. - 2:00 a.m.
Welcome to the hottest night of the week. El Cuarto Rojo "The Red Room" is a weekly Latin party managed by the Chelsea's own, Vic Stone. This week, DJ Checo provides a fresh, fierce latin mix of salsa, merengue, cumbia, reggaeton, bachata & more, with some old school funk and classics thrown in. Drink specials including coquitos and chichaitos. No jeans, caps, or sneakers. Free before 8:00.  Women $5:00; Men $10:00.  Weekly every Wednesday.
Serena in the basement of the Chelsea Hotel. 222 W. 23rd, NY NY

Thursday, Feb. 9, 9:00 p.m.
Jason Wu, a doll costumer, will introduce his first collection for real women based on the sculptural styles of Charles James (Photos: Wu on your left, James on your right).  A mere sixty-five dollars will get you one of Wu's Barbie ensembles on E-bay.
Bryant Park, NY NY


Friday, Feb. 10, 8:00 - 12:00 p.m.
Opening reception for Hotel Chelsea resident Arthur Weinstein's photos and silkscreens is today.  You can find examples of his work on the 10th floor of the Chelsea. (Photo:Lorenzo's photo group)
100 Lafayette Street, NY NY

Saturday, Feb. 11, 4:00 - 7:00 p.m.
I know a few Chelsea residents who are astrology buffs. Stop by the Marc Jacobs store on Bleeker Street and visit the favored astrologers of the fashion insiders, Stella Starksy and Quinn Cox.  They will be providing free consultations in the store window this month. 
Display window of Marc Jacobs, 403 Bleecker St., at W. 11th St. NY NY

Anniversaries
Thursday, February 9
Brendan Behan's Birthday. Get drunk and pass out in the lobby of the Chelsea Hotel.
(Photo: Bluehour's Flickr Group)

Friday, February 10
Anniversary of the death of Arthur Miller. I decided to move to the Chelsea in 1960 for the privacy I was promised. It seemed a wonderfully out-of-the- way place, nearly a slum, where nobody would be likely to be looking for me. If you read Miller's entire essay you'll discover ..."and a young woman with eyes so crazy that one remembered them as being above one another, would show up in the lobby now and then, distributing a ream of mimeographed curses on male people whom she accused of destroying her life and everything good, and threatening to shoot a man one of these days. I had a serious talk, or what I took to be one, with Mr Bard and his son Stanley who was gradually taking over, but they pooh-poohed the idea of her doing anything rash. As I slowly learned, they were simply not interested in bad news of any kind. Of course she shot Warhol two days later as he was entering the lobby from 23rd Street, aiming for his balls. But this only momentarily disturbed the even tenor of the Chelsea day, what with everything else going on."
Do not point out to Oprah that Valerie Solanas shot Andy Warhol while he was at The Factory. Oprah has been confused enough by the memoir form lately.

If you have a relevant Chelsea Hotel event that you would like featured in "All Tomorrow's Parties," please e-mail the information to [email protected]

William Burroughs, 2/5/1914

Wondering how to properly celebrate the birth of William Burroughs?  Shoot some heroin in the eighth floor bathroom at the Chelsea Hotel.  Or if that's too authentic for you, take a trip to the sanitized Beat Hotel in Desert Hot Springs California. An upscale, commercialized version of the original Beat Hotel in Paris, the Beat Hotel is an intimate hotel with eight guest rooms and a pool and spa.  And furnishings are actually from the "Beat" period.  (See, an actual typewriter! Apparently you have to bring your own bongo drums.)  Beginning this weekend the hotel kicks off the InterZone Beat Festival, an homage to the Beat Generation.  Highlights of the event include Beat-related photographs and a performance by Grant Hart, Huskur Du founder and long-time friend of Burroughs.

Hotel Chelsea Fashion News

From a recent NYTimes profile of William Ivey Long.  By the time Long graduated from Yale in 1975, he had been in college and graduate school for 10 years and had no idea how to look for a job. He moved into the Chelsea Hotel to be near one of his idols, the couturier Charles James, who lived there and for whom Long worked, unpaid, until James died in 1978. But he couldn't find work in the theater and had what he calls ''breakdowns'' for two years. ''When I came to New York, I was so scared that I would eat one banana and one yogurt a day, and I weighed 135 pounds,'' he said. ''So I arrived with the least amount of energy you could possibly have. I can only imagine now that here was this scarecrow person, lacking the kick and drive and the clawing that I have shown is the center of my work ethic ever since. (Source: New York Times, Jan 29. 2006)

Our resident fashionista Sally Singer declares that New York is back in fashion again. "I think it's another indication that the momentum of fashion and Fashion Week has moved back to New York," says Sally Singer, Vogue's fashion news/features director. (Source: Newsday, Feb. 2, 2006)

Zaldy was one of the designers up for this year's Fashion Group International's Rising Star Award.