people who live in glass houses...
“Philip, do I take my hat off or do I leave it on? Am I indoors or outdoors?” – Frank Lloyd Wright to Philip Johnson on his glass house.
I’m watching Charlie Rose interview Philip Johnson 2 days after he died. He’s talked to enough people that when most important people die – unexpectedly or not – he is able to pull out an interview. I’m jealous of Charlie now, and often, whenever I see him with someone having a conversation more interesting than most I’ve ever had. I’m seeing the self-proclaimed “oldest-living homosexual” talk to him, and I wonder how it is that these are people I have come across in my life. Four years ago, I came down an elevator in a job in a building in a life I no longer have – and am happy for that – to see this man on the ground floor, Johnson, waiting to come up to press party held in New York for a museum/zoo he designed in Texas. There were armadillos and there were and peacocks at this party, and that is not a lie.
When someone is 98, they should have done a lot, and he rightly had a lot to talk about, though both these interviews in the show were several years old.
I don’t know what kind of sailor he’d have made, but apparently Johnson wanted to join the navy as a young man. Not allowed of course, even then, but what he said to Charlie gets it better than any GLAAD campaign or Will & Grace episode ever has. Not allowed, and “That kind of official hurt is quite strong.”
A bit later, he’s back on his game – someone you’d want to have dinner with. Or at least sit next to while he was eating and bitching about someone. Here he is, a billion years old and he’s flirting with Charlie Rose the way that Alicia Keyes did just a few weeks ago. There are none, of course, but I want to ask my friend who works on the show for tickets. Or an internship. I could enforce wardrobe continuity, for instance. Charlie often ends up with one of his French cuffs somehow tumbling out of his suit jacket. Guests don’t seem to mind, and he sure as hell doesn’t, but it’s always struck me as the ultimate sign of confidence to be able to interview a world leader looking like you’ve just stumbled out of a bar. I realize, of course that some people think he’s a hack, but they’re wrong.
Back to the architect and my old job: Held up on either arm by two people helping him make his way to a party I’d never be invited to, I knew even then that someone like that was someone I’d remember. Tall, skinny, impossibly large, but appropriate, round glasses. It’s years later, he’s dead, I’ve moved on, but every time I walk by his lipstick building, think of the four seasons restaurant dinner I’ll someday enjoy with friends, see the trump tower at Columbus circle that he made his own after making it less ugly, I think of him.
Charlie just asked Philip where he’d be buried. “Scattered,” he replied. I think back to that elevator, and I wish I’d said hello.
I’m watching Charlie Rose interview Philip Johnson 2 days after he died. He’s talked to enough people that when most important people die – unexpectedly or not – he is able to pull out an interview. I’m jealous of Charlie now, and often, whenever I see him with someone having a conversation more interesting than most I’ve ever had. I’m seeing the self-proclaimed “oldest-living homosexual” talk to him, and I wonder how it is that these are people I have come across in my life. Four years ago, I came down an elevator in a job in a building in a life I no longer have – and am happy for that – to see this man on the ground floor, Johnson, waiting to come up to press party held in New York for a museum/zoo he designed in Texas. There were armadillos and there were and peacocks at this party, and that is not a lie.
When someone is 98, they should have done a lot, and he rightly had a lot to talk about, though both these interviews in the show were several years old.
I don’t know what kind of sailor he’d have made, but apparently Johnson wanted to join the navy as a young man. Not allowed of course, even then, but what he said to Charlie gets it better than any GLAAD campaign or Will & Grace episode ever has. Not allowed, and “That kind of official hurt is quite strong.”
A bit later, he’s back on his game – someone you’d want to have dinner with. Or at least sit next to while he was eating and bitching about someone. Here he is, a billion years old and he’s flirting with Charlie Rose the way that Alicia Keyes did just a few weeks ago. There are none, of course, but I want to ask my friend who works on the show for tickets. Or an internship. I could enforce wardrobe continuity, for instance. Charlie often ends up with one of his French cuffs somehow tumbling out of his suit jacket. Guests don’t seem to mind, and he sure as hell doesn’t, but it’s always struck me as the ultimate sign of confidence to be able to interview a world leader looking like you’ve just stumbled out of a bar. I realize, of course that some people think he’s a hack, but they’re wrong.
Back to the architect and my old job: Held up on either arm by two people helping him make his way to a party I’d never be invited to, I knew even then that someone like that was someone I’d remember. Tall, skinny, impossibly large, but appropriate, round glasses. It’s years later, he’s dead, I’ve moved on, but every time I walk by his lipstick building, think of the four seasons restaurant dinner I’ll someday enjoy with friends, see the trump tower at Columbus circle that he made his own after making it less ugly, I think of him.
Charlie just asked Philip where he’d be buried. “Scattered,” he replied. I think back to that elevator, and I wish I’d said hello.
posted by quickstuff at 28.1.05
2 Comments:
Very nice. I would suggest that your interviewing skills post-bar are stellar as well. And one need look no further than Ernestine Bradley to be reminded of your balls-to-the-wall approach at the Women for Bill Bradley Benefit Breakfast. World leaders, indeed.
best post since the one about taking the pre-fire-f%*ked A train to water!
Steve
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