Social Diary 11/1/05 - An Unholy Halloween

An Unholy Halloween

A scene from last night's Unholy Halloween in honor of DPC. 10:30 PM. Photo: JH.

Yesterday was Halloween in New York. Need I tell you? I remember Halloween as a kid. The kids put on costumes and went trick or treating. It was about the treating. I was never very clever about costumes. I put a sheet over my head and called myself a ghost. And carried a big bag. For the treats. Chocolate candy bars were the best. In those days, chocolate candy bars were not so commonplace, believe it or not. Apples and penny candies and sour balls (!?) were the norm. Nevertheless, in the small town where I grew up, we could cover a lot of territory and there’s always safety in numbers, no matter what you’re looking for no matter where.

Here in New York, in the buildings, the kids go to the apartments which have signed up on the papers posted in the elevators. I never sign up. Bah humbug. Well, mainly because I’m not going to be here. Because I’m going out. To a Halloween party. Although I don’t put a sheet over my head and carry a big bag anymore (although maybe I should). And I eat too much chocolate as it is.

The invite

This year the party I went to was given in my “honor.” Like the invitation says. In New York parties are always given in someone’s “honor.” Gives a little bit of a spin and a purpose to things. This was proposed to me about two weeks ago by a public relations man named R. Couri Hay. Couri, to his raftload of friends, is famous for his parties – especially his Halloween parties. He called me up and in his stentorian delivery explained that there was this great big mansion on East 64th Street that was right and ripe for the perfect Halloween party and that he had assembled a group of hosts and hostesses and wanted to give it in my honor, what did I say? What could I say? All right, Okay, You win.

That was that. Out went the invitations to whomever. Nowadays in New York, because of my line of work, I’m sure to know some people. And because Mr. Hay has a lot of clients whose works or whose play is often present on the New York Social Diary, I was sure to know quite a few of them. As far as inviting people – I’ve never given a Halloween party and because it was being organized by Mr. Hay, I figured I’d leave it to his devices. And he’s not without devices. Ahem. The last party I went to of his (which was on the NYSD) was his birthday, in a restaurant way downtown. A mob scene featuring in the middle of the room, a young man wearing only a skimpy bathing suit, and tied to a circular rack, being “whipped” by a feather. You see what I mean? Who knew what Couri Hay would come up with for Halloween if that’s what he’d do on a simple birthday.

Well, what he came up with was a blast of a do. You can see from the list of his “magicians” on the other side of the invitation. I got there about 8 o’clock, which was the called for dinner hour (not applicable). There was already quite a crowd in this vast house that was fantastically decorated with lightning flashing at the top of the staircase (four floors to the top).

There was a woodpaneled room covered with cobwebs (well, no real cobwebs). There was the coffin, with Couri in it part of the time. There was the music from all those Alfred Hitchcock movies (courtesy of Tom Finn), and there was Couri dressed like Count Dracula the vampire (with a streak of blood running from his mouth). In another room was Alex Donner’s fabulous rock band playing the songs that Tom Finn was spinning in another part of the house. And on the first floor, in the dining room was the buffet by Robbins-Wolfe, with tables set for the wine and the champagne (Veuve Cliquot flowing like water) and a delicious dinner.

Halloween parties, when they are good, like all parties, when they are good, have to do with the looking. Looking here, looking there, looking everywhere. JH went got up as Batman. His pa also showed up as Batman (so it runs in the family), and his ma made her debut as Spiderwoman. (There was also a Spiderman in the crowd). I went got up as myself in a dinner jacket (what else is new?). Someone told me I was Batman’s butler. Okay, I’ll take it. A lot of the costumes were brilliant and funny and clever and daring and fascinating and ... a lot of things. JH was busy with the Digital. Patrick McMullan’s photographers were busy all night. Rob Rich and Cutty McGill were busy all night. By the time JH left, he was exhausted from the long day, sweating from the Batman costume and not looking forward to the work ahead.

I wasn’t actually looking forward to it being the Old Stick in the Mud that I am underneath that black tie and front gleaming white. But I have to admit, it was really a hoot and a holler. By the time we departed, about eleven-thirty, this great big mansion was filled to the brim on all four floors with revelers and gawkers and gremlins, goblins, ghosts and the usual suspects. A good time was had by all, even the reluctant ones like me. And the food and the drink was good for what ails all of us at this time.

Tina Louise

Melissa Berkelhammer passing through

DPC, Jason Hirsch, Jesse Roshanzamir, and Arik Roshanzamir

Cutty McGill and the gals

Asha Puthli and Jonny Roshanzamir

JH with his father David Hirsch

The bird man

Emma Snowdon Jones

Roger Webster and Renee

Yung Hee and Janna Bullock

Spiderman

L. to r.: The trendy three; Denise Wohl, Scott Briggs, and friend Matthew.

The devil

John Flanagan and DPC

Somers Farkas

R. Couri Hay

Janna Bullock

Dennis Basso and Michael Cominotto

Grace and Chris Meigher

Bentley Meeker

Debbie Bancroft

Denise Rich and R. Couri Hay

Alice Judelson

Diana Quasha

Andrea Stark

Jill and Andrew Roosevelt

Felicia Taylor

Sharon Bush and Gerald Tsai

Douglas Hannant and Frederick Anderson

Michael Witmer

Geoffrey Bradfield and Helena Lehane

Rochelle and David Hirsch

Colette

Ivana Trump

Nikki Haskell

Charlie Scheips

The Last Samurai

Mr. Blueballs

Taylor Stein

Dr. Howard Sobel and Larry Wohl

Michele Herbert

Mark Langrish and Jeff Caldwell

Amanda Hearst, DPC, and Frances Hayward

Colette, Mary McFadden and friend, Edgar Batista, Kirat Young, Sharon Sondes, and Geoffrey Thomas

Drinking in style

Anand Jon

Chappy Morris and Melissa Stanley

Fabian Basabe

Members of the Alex Donner band

Leah and Zorro

Amy Rosi

Jason Hirsch and Arik Roshanzamir

Cynthia Moureto

Andrew Saffir, Bettina Zilkha, and Daniel Benedict

Mai Harrison, Grace Meigher, and Sharon Hoge

John and Nina Richter, Liz and Jonathan Elliot, and Heather Cohane

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Last Friday The World Monuments Fund held its annual Hadrian Award Luncehon 2005 at the Pierre where they honored John Julius, Viscount Norwich.

The WMF is an organization dedicated and committed to saving, rescuing, protecting and preserving imperiled works of art and architecture worldwide. This reads like a hifalutin objective on the face of it. But the face of it is just as important in history of civilization as it is in day to day life. And man, men and women, us, are/is often inclined, as we are with ourselves and our own individual family heritages, let things around us erode, corrode, fall apart all the time, even in our daily lives.

We destroy, neglect and abuse that which marks the good and the great. The WMF is one of those organizations where someone has “done something about it” and made a more than valiant effort to keep us connected to ourselves which is our past, our history.

Carlos Slim Helu, John Julius, Viscount Norwich, and Dr. Marilyn Perry (Photo: Mary Hilliard).

So each year, the WMF holds this luncheon to remind and to raise funds to continue their work, and honors someone who has done something constructive about its objective. Last year it was give to Carlos Slim Helu. Mr. Slim is evidently the richest man in Mexico. Someone told me at the reception before the lunch that he’s the fourth richest man in the world. Well, good: he can donate the cash that’s needed to carry out a lot of the work of restoration.

The year before it went to Eugene Thaw who is both a connoisseur and a philanthropist and a scholar. And the year before Mr. Thaw it went to Helene and Michele David-Weill – again rich philanthropists who can foot the bill to keep up the repairs and restorations.

The list of honorees for the eighteen years is impressive: James Wolfensohn, Harvey Golub, Loard Sainsbury, the Honorable Simon Sainsbury, Sir Timothy Sainsbury, Richard Hampton Jenrette, Phyllis Lambert, HH The Aga Khan, Lord Rothschild, David Rockfeller, Dominique de Menil, Marrella and Giovanni Agnelli, Mrs. Vincent Astor, HRH the Prince of Wales, Paul Mellon, and Carlo De Benedetti.

The award was named for the Roman emperor whose reign was marked by military success and artistic patronage; paradox and irony in all its glory. We are our own worst enemy.

Hadrian commissioned new construction while also conserving the masterpieces of Greek and Roman civilization. He restored the Pantheon and the Forum of Augustus in Rome. He collected Greek and Roman sculpture at his villa at Tivoli. As a patron of the arts, the emperor manifested a concern for the survival of outstanding artistic treasures coupled with a desire to convey the standards embodied in these works to his contemporary world. If you’ve ever visited Hadrian’s villa in Tivoli, as I have, you will see that the centuries have eroded away all but the most skeletal remnants of his world. As I said, paradox and irony.

Now, although many are not inclined to believe this, we are witnessing the decay and destruction of so much of our heritage while Mother Nature is simulataneously moving in on us. The WMF is working hard to prevent as much as possible.

Exiting the reception room for cocktails and into the Grand Ballroom for lunch

and

This year’s honoree, Viscount Norwich, embodies the historical thrill of heritage – the son of two very prominent people of their time – Duff Cooper, the British diplomat and his wife Lady Diana Cooper, one of the great beauties of her age. Their son grew up to be a historian and writer.

When he came up to the podium to accept his award he remarked on how unusual a choice he was because he had no money to give. Nor had he ever restored anything. Or protected or preserved anything. The most he had to offer to the cause was his unrelenting enthusiasm for history and his willingness to share it whenever and wherever possible. Venice, for example, is one of his favorite places and he is a frequent visitor. And when in Venice, he often takes people on tours of the city. And when his tourists are thrilled or excited about what he exposed them to, then he too feels satisfied. That is, in his mind, his contribution.

The Hadrian Award up close

Viscount Norwich is, to the American mind, the quintessential Englishman – witty and droll, all of which is presented with a highly likeable modesty, or better: humility. He said, as he was about to receive his award that it was “both a pleasure and an honor.” And that, “there are very few things in life where something that is pleasurable is honorable, and very few things which are honorable that are also pleasurable.”

Because of his work as a historian, which includes the hosting of several video documentaries about historial sites, he’s traveled all over the world and seen many wonderful things.

The problem we are now confronted with, he said, is “numbers.” Because the population has grown to record numbers, all tourist sites are confronted with huge crowds of visitors – far more than many sites were ever built for accommodating.

An upshot of this, which he finds deeply disturbing and upsetting is: graffiti. Everywhere one goes now in the world, the monuments are marked with graffiti. Only in the US, he said, has their been legislation to stop this. And because of it we, in this country, have been successful. But elsewhere, everywhere, from Venice to the Taj Mahal, there is graffiti defacing great works of art and architecture.

Some, he said, like to argue that it is art. Viscount Norwich disagrees strongly. The art are the creations – the monuments we are trying to save. The rest, specifically the graffiti, is nothing but desecration and only desecration. This is our inclination as creatures roaming the planet. This, it seems has always been our inclination, throughout history, recorded and unrecorded. Now, however, for the first time in at least recorded history, we are facing something never within our experience: Mother Nature moving in to make the final judgment. The WMF is working hard to assuage her verdict, and that is why its work and these luncheons are so profoundly important to all of us.