Two-Book Party for Renowned Chelseaite

Stefan Brecht, who lives in the Village, kept a studio in the Chelsea Hotel throughout the seventies, eighties and nineties.  He says his first studio was very nice, but his second, on the 10^th floor, had a huge hole in the floor.  His friends included the avant garde filmmaker Harry Smith, and David Remfry and his wife Caroline Hansberry.  (Photo: Stefan & Bob Nichols)

I have a piece on Brecht’s recent two-book party appearing in last week’s The Villager.  Debbie and I both went to the reading, an Australian film crew in tow.  (They were filming a documentary about the Chelsea Hotel.) The crew had me wired like a stool pigeon for the event, but I don’t think I got anything scandalous, and anyway, unfortunately, I don’t have access to the tapes.  But here’s a few choice quotes (scribbled down by hand) on Stefan’s photographs of the 8^th Avenue sidewalk that I had to cut out of the final version of the article:

            When posed the question of whether of not Brecht’s photos represent a sort of historical record of the time, artist David Remfry—who shared Havana cigars with Brecht in the Chelsea Hotel—says, “No, they’re not a record.  The photos are focused on the moment you’re walking over that stretch of pavement.  There are not many clues.  They could be documents of London or Moscow or anywhere.” 

            And Susan Birkenhead, the Broadway lyricist responsible for “Jelly’s Last Jam,” says, “I look down at the sidewalk all the time.  I think maybe it’s because I have a dog.”  Birkenhead doesn’t think the 8^th Avenue sidewalk has changed physically since the eighties, though she does agree with her husband, Jerold Couture, that the sociological character of the neighborhood has certainly changed dramatically.

            On the other hand, fiction writer and activist Grace Paley, who has lived in an apartment on 11^th Street in the Village since the early 80s, says that when she first moved in there were no trees on her street.  While Brecht kept his eyes on the sidewalk, Paley was closely watching another physical aspect of the neighborhood.  “I always kept my eyes on the trees,” Paley says, considering the presence or absence of trees, and the extent of their growth, to be indicative to the health of a neighborhood.  “Back before that they never thought to plant a tree.  When I moved in they planted some of  the first ones on  my street, then they started planting them all over New York.”

            Most revealing, however, was poet Robert Nichols remark that the photos reminded him of Australian aboriginal paintings, which, though they look like abstracts, are actually maps of physical and spiritual landscapes recognizable only to someone who has grown up in that culture and that locale. -- Ed Hamilton (Photos: Mai Lei checks  out the book. Wally Shawn greets a fan.)