So, Thursday night was the second installment of Nora Burn’s New York Stories at the Stonewall Inn. I was lucky enough to be in attendance, as well as tell of my own little slice of Big Apple pie. The lineup (other than yours truly) was pretty legendary, as was the audience, who likely had stories that were just as good. We learned that:
Nora Burns – “toured” with Tiny Tim in strip malls and had the good sense to keep track of funny folks she met along the way…
Paul Alexander – grew up in New York City, among the fabulous freaks and recounted a student fashion show crashed by a drag queen bride…
Brenda Bergman – the hilarious victim multiple robberies, married a Pakistani man for money ($1500, which she was immediately robbed of) and SO much more, God love her… (I was so enthralled by her stories, I forgot to take a picture)
Tom Eubanks – described the personal loss of St. Vincent’s hospital and the hole that it’s left downtown
David Ilku – regaled us with crack smoking parties in Kiss’s manager’s penthouse and the simple 80s pleasure of “just snorting some lines” with the boys…
Bob Russell – entertained –and bummed us out– with the sadness and syncronicity of murders & suicides in the 70s
Anita Sarko – brought back her memories of the Mudd Club and a loaded Chrissie Hynde, with Keith Haring at the coat check…
David Schweizer – had a LOT of sex in the 70s and was haunted by a phantom Peter Berlin on the streets of the empty city
Lucy Sexton – spoke of the magic of making vomit disappear at Florent and police who arrive to collect a dead body, only to pretend it’s all about the plumbing
Linda Simpson – read her vintage column from “My Comrade” about Lady Bunny, Wigstock and Guiliani’s futile persecution of transsexuals
And me, I told the following story, along with a couple of others…
NEW YORK STORY TELLERS: Host Nora Burns, Tom Eubanks, Lucy Sexton, Paul Alexander, Anita Sarko, David Schweizer, Linda Simpson, David Ilku, Trey Speegle (not pictured, Brenda Bergman, Bob Russell)
“When I was a young gay boy, growing up in Houston, I dreamt of what New York City was like and I LOVED Andy Warhol and I always wanted to work at Vogue. I moved here for six months in the summer of 80 and then moved back to Houston, briefly. While back home, I went to a museum event that New York performance artist, Colette was at. You know Colette right? – “Colette is Dead” – performance artist, right? – no she’s not dead, that’s just what she was called. Anyway, she performed at the Contemporary Arts Museum and there was a party at a club called The Island, which was like Houston’s Pyramid. I met her there and we were drinking champagne and getting pretty drunk, and she asked me what I did. I said, ‘Oh, I work for Vogue and I go back and forth from Houston to New York?’ I didn’t work at Vogue. Who does that? goes back and forth from New York to Houston… so, 6 months later I come back to New York and it was coming up to my 21st birthday, my ex-boyfriend Haoui Montaug, offered to give me a birthday party at the Peppermint Lounge in Times Square. So, I went to check it out and who was performing there…? Benjamin Liu as Miss Ming Vauze (THE worst lipsync but THE best outfits ever…) That night I met a guy, Philip Monghan, and fell in love. I went back to Houston to get myself together to move back to New York and in with Philip and his roommate, Roberta Wagner>. One of Roberta’s best friends friends was Mickey Soutendijk, who was the Art Editor at Vogue. Mickey needed an assistant. She interviewed me and then hired me! (Applause. Thank you. I got a job at Vogue at 21!) About 6 months or so later, I run into Colette at a some nightclub downtown and she says to me, “So, what are you doing now?” And I say, “Oh, I’m still working at Vogue.”
So, as the old adage goes, “Fake it ’til you make it.” It was such a fun night hearing everyone’s stories. It brought home another old cliché – we all choose our real family. Corny as it is, I kinda felt like these were my brothers, sisters, cousins and uncles – half of which I had never met. It was a lovely family reunion. Thanks, Nora.
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