AND THE BEAT GOES ON

My usual Sunday morning starts off by coming downstairs from my shower and dressing to the strains of: Mozart? No, Wagner? No. Perhaps: Hayden, no?  The washing machine: yes.

busy, busy, busy

 To show she is no slouch, TLW, (The Little Woman) who is on the payroll of a local farmer to awaken his chickens, is busily at work sorting pictures and cutting cardboard backings for a large manila envelope she plans on putting in the mail.

All this was going on before dawn; TLW was setting the world on fire before anyone has awakened enough to even look for matches! As I watched a smile crossed my face and she asked why I was smiling. “Because I’m married to you!” was my reply. That should be enough answer to any women who asks her husband such a question. The whole scene brought me back in time when I was just a young graphic designer in a New York City As agency high above the streets of Manhattan.

There was a man that occupied an office, related to the owner of the agency who did nothing. This is not an exaggeration: he did NOTHING! He would come in about 10 or 11 am, sit at his desk, and go through an art book or some very artsy magazine. He would pour himself vodka straight up and continue to peruse through his publication. He was an elderly man, married to the owner’s sister, and had use of only one arm, his left arm. His right arm was shortened and his hand and fingers just hung out there, unusable. But he was extremely handsome and extremely talented. He was also famous with a rich legacy. During the Great Depression, FDR choose him in the 1930’s to paint one of the ceiling murals that  graces Rockefeller Center!

But every day, the fellow would arrive at the office and sit in his chair, go through his reading material with a very expensive magnifying glass with a gold handle, his drink sitting there at 11:30 in the morning. He would get up from all that, come into my office and shoot the breeze with me while he occupied another drawing table and create this pencil sketches for a book publisher of westerns. He would then send it off to the publisher who would hire an illustrator to paint the scene.

Once he was done with his little chore, he would return back to his desk and off to lunch. Around 3:45 or 4:00 pm, this very talented man would return to the office, pour another vodka and fall asleep at his desk, out cold!

my drink of choice also!

This was an issue with many creative people I knew in the business, if you wanted to deal with them and make any sense out of it, you’d better see them before lunch, their liquid lunch! I once had an associate later in life who followed the same pattern, but instead of falling asleep after lunch, he became outrageous in his remarks, kind of fall down funny and said things that made me laugh all afternoon. There was so little reverence coming form him after a Jack Daniels Manhattan. He would start at lunch for two hours drinking, then return to the office and after five, rather than go home, went directly to the bar for a few more, then drive home about 30 miles away!

The funny thing is, I absolutely loved these guys.