An Unrepenant Chelseaphile

It was last Spring when we first met Robert and for a while it seemed like he was going to be one of those tourists who just never leaves.  And in a sense, he hasn't left. He's over in Australia blogging for the love of the Chelsea.  Except for the occasional party that lasted until dawn he was a great neighbor! We're fairly certain he'll pass through the Chelsea's doors again.  If he's lucky, he'll be in time for the reoccurance of that god awful stench. 

1. What do you do? That's a cruel thing to ask a man having a mid-life crisis.   I am a writer, I guess. Most of my adult life has been spent partying, reading and collecting degrees. I'm the cliche of the eternally unfinished PhD. My specialty is political-history or, if you believe my supervisor, becoming distracted. My real interest is cultural history.

2. When did you stay at the Chelsea?

My first visit was a crazed five nights over New Year 2003-2004. It's a long and humiliating story. A projected trip was brought forward the moment that a NY contact learned the closing date for Taboo [the doomed Boy George penned musical]. We scrambled and I arrived on borrowed money and borrowed time.

That was the New Years Eve that NY went onto Orange Alert. My first time out of Australia and I make it to JFK for the biggest post S11 lockdown to that date. Of course, I had no idea that the military with machine guns everywhere were unusual or that the choppers patrolling the avenues were not exactly NY in 'normal' mode. I only found out when I worked out a way to make the television in my room work.

My second visit was much more planned. I spent six weeks at the Chelsea and did the Tonys awards, the after ball and all the shows. It was absolutely the best six weeks of my life.

I have never felt more welcome, comfortable or secure.

3. What inspired you to stay at the Chelsea?

I was called.

I can't cite a time that I became conscious that the Hotel existed. I started on things Warhol at age 14 and turned into a naughty punk kid not much later. The Chelsea just is. If I hadn't been able to stay there I would have done things very differently, had a very different adventure. The main purpose was to live in the Chelsea way for as long as my little Aussie dollars could keep Stanley happy.

4. Who is the most famous person you've ever ridden with in the elevator?

Ethan avoided me! I was mortified. Rufus Wainwright went as far as leaving the country to avoid me.
Jean Paul Gaultier joined me, destined for the Penthouse it seemed, for one ascenscion. Johnny Knoxville was a pleasant surprise but nothing was as exciting for me as Renee Ricard.

Does Boy George count given that he was my guest?

5. What's your favorite Hotel Chelsea story?
Every single thing that has happened since the building was conceived.  It is one story with a lot of threads.

During my stay, the night that the people in Stars Wars costumes invaded the foyer en masse counts for the absolute unlikeliness of it all. One might expect a lot at Hotel Chelsea but Darth Vader fetishists caught me well off-guard. 

I think that I drank a small former Soviet state worth of vodka the weekend that the burlesque dancers were in.

I took immense pleasure watching the painter in the lobby slowly recreate the place. Some of the most special moments were quite simple, a visit from Libby the cat or having a day in bed to recover from 3 nights non-stop in SF by pretending to be Janis Joplin, so messed up that I could only call the deli. We just don't have that kind of luxury here.  [or authentic onion roll!]

I sat and watched Manhattan until dawn in my window-bay one morning.  Several hours passed easily just taking it in.

The best story to tell about the place is the one about Dee Dee Ramone's book, published at my blog. Some people just smile and wonder if I've had my medication changed again. Those who matter understand.

6. What's the best/worst thing that happened to you at the Chelsea?  Apart from the dumpster on Level 8, you mean? best: I learned what it is that makes me a worthwhile person  worst: having to leave

7. What in the world inspired you to launch 23rd & 7th: For the Love of the Hotel Chelsea?

It happened!

I half blogged the trip but I was having too much fun to be thorough. Nearly a year later, things worth sharing still occur to me. I'm an unrepentant information junkie, I might as well share my scavengings. 

Hotel Chelsea makes a good linking theme for my blog. It is quite reasonable to say that most of my great obsessions have a connection back to 222w23. Back as far as Lily Langtree, indeed as far back as the anarchists who first conceived the building as a co-op, it has been home to people who figure large in my life. Being an emeritus punk-rocker with an Andy Warhol obsession and a love for twentieth century American drama makes the place hard to avoid. Only GB Shaw remains 'untied' at this stage. The people who have passed through that hotel extend through philosophers who have shaped me to the artists who have interpreted my world and the little known revolutionaries who I am proud to claim as cultural ancestors.

Establishing the blog when I came home has given me somewhere to test all the things I learned in NY, mostly stuff about believing in me. Slowly but most surely I have started to think of myself as 'a writer' again. The blog keeps me engaged with the Hotel in a way that is productive and it keeps me in touch with other Chelseaphiles. I sometimes fear killing my readers with Liza Minnelli news but no fatalities have been reported yet....

The Chelsea Effect -which is real- has settled and I'm working on a small play. The goal is to find the almost lost language of working class Australia, my people.

My business card says dilettante, cultural critic, burden on the health-care system and consultant. I'm thinking about replacing consultant with 'life-coach'.