63 Carmine Street

So, I lived at 63 Carmine Street for many years. Willem De Kooning lived in the apartment just above mine in the 1950s. I know this because I recently read a biography about the artist and they called the apartment a cold water flat. No improvements were made in the building from the time he lived there till the time I did, so you can only imagine what it was like. It did have sunlight, wasn’t tiny, was fabulous on location and had a shower in the kitchen.  It was rather boho in keeping with the creative life I was living.  

I did comedy at the time and some of my characters required props, which people generously donated to me. Several people gave me toy rifles. I can’t recall what character I was doing that required a rifle but I had quite the collection. Carmine Street was not as gentrified as it is now and I had a window overlooking the street with a fire escape.  So I placed one of the toy rifles diagonally in the window.  It prevented the window from being opened and I wanted a potential bad person to think the gun might go off. It worked.  It also served as a marker, everyone knew my apartment. Many adventures and hilarity occurred at 63 Carmine but for now I shall tell of one tale.

When I first moved in I decided to throw a party. I handed out invitations to all. At the time, I was in a comedy group called Premises, Premises. We had a Tuesday night gig for years at the Bitter End. We were doing well and kept getting better and bigger gigs.

And low and behold we got a good gig on the night of my party. I was furious at first, surely the date of the gig could be changed.  No one wanted to try. Okay, I thought, the gig was close by and I will only be gone for an 1½ hours. The night of the party people came and it was really starting to happen and was great fun. When the time arrived for us to leave for the gig, I told my neighbor to try and keep people from leaving. Maybe people wouldn’t notice I wasn’t there. We went to the gig and time stood still. Everything was delayed and in slow motion.

Finally, I returned to my apartment. A smattering of people remained, apparently they did notice.  I was  upset.  Then low and behold the doorbell rang and kept ringing. Part 2 had begun. The late night folk arrived and went straight into late night.  The party was a success!   

This was the kick off of my time at 63 Carmine Street. The adventures were many and more stories will be told.

Bad Bosses or I Escaped a Reign of Terror

So, I recently escaped from a bad boss.  I don’t know if I’m completely ready to fully explore the depths of her reign of terror yet, but she was most definitely Robespierre.  She might have needed more pharmacological help than she was actually getting.  She made my life hell and it took me many months before I got everything together before I could leave the job. 

I think back on all of the bosses I’ve had, and most of them have been decent.  Even some of the crazier ones seems like saints compared to what I just endured.  However, some of the bad bosses stand out.

Extortionist – There was the crazy real estate lawyer who demanded that we (the word processing staff) work all hours of the night for him. He was a big character and a bully. After a while I suspected something wasn’t right with his operations. Those who have a guilty conscious often have radar for those who suspect them.  He was right and I was right. I was let go, only to find out many months later that he was found guilty of extortion.

Gentle Speaker – It's been my observation that those who speak softly are those hiding the blackest souls.  This boss barely worked.  While I toiled day and night – feeding coal into the engines of the Titanic, he had a dalliance with a much younger staff member.  His family lived 500 miles away.  He tried to fire a colleague who had just been diagnosed with cancer.  After all he said, It’s nothing personal it’s just business.  

Robespierre – She had no sense of humor, least of all about herself.  She had a few sides of her personality and I never knew who would enter the room. All these sides were well in the range of terrifying. She had no idea what I did, and yelled at me for working over 11 hours a day. “What do you do!!!,” she would say. Rather disconcerting. She constantly criticized and yelled at me. At the same time would tell all who would listen that she studies how to communicate with people. I always wondered, from who? Stalin?

She would advise me to do something, and then if it didn’t work out, blame me. One day, we had a big event uptown. She specifically told me to be downtown that day. Then when the day arrived, barraged me with emails asking why I wasn’t uptown. A half hour before the event she called, demanding why wasn’t I uptown, when I reminded her that she told me very specifically to be downtown, she said, why didn’t you tell me? I hung up frustrated.  I ran and made it to the event on time. I decided then and there, that I would no longer be subjected to her harassment and bullying.

And so, I left. One should never be bullied by anyone. Life is too short. 

Monopoly

So, one day after school, my friend Lynn and I were in my house waiting for her mother to pick us up. We needed to go to this one particular store that sold jewelry. It was the store where we bought each other Sweet 16 presents. Our friend Robin’s Sweet 16 party was the next day, so we had no time to lose. The doorbell rang, who could it be -  my cousin Raymond.  In a family of characters, Raymond was the oddest duck, in fact he had his own inlet. He had many advantages, he was very handsome, smart and educated but somehow couldn’t find his way. However, on this very day he found his way to my family door.

We explained our situation. He was undeterred and suggested a game of monopoly. Fine. We started to play. 

The doorbell rings and it is my brother’s friend Andy. Andy joins the monopoly game.

Moments later Lynn’s mother calls for us.  We had no choice, we had to shop for the present.  We left.  Andy and Raymond continued playing monopoly together. 

An hour or so later, my mother comes home from work.  Every now and then I giggle to myself about my mother walking in to find Andy and Raymond playing Monopoly alone.  And my Mom being who she was, probably didn’t even blink an eye.  I imagine she went to change out of her work clothes, went to the kitchen to start dinner, as Andy and Raymond continued to play. 

I don’t think we ever spoke about it.  It was just one of those things that happened in my family home.