Dear Harlan,
I know an old fence that’s been in need of mending for three long years. What say I bring my tool box and you bring yours and we’ll set that fence aright?
Jonathan
***
Dear Jonathan,
I’m already there, tool box in hand! I don’t quite know where things went wrong. I know I’ve made some mistakes along the way and I know you’ve been a real trump and let me off easy. I guess the mistakes just got too big to keep brushing aside, huh? I can’t tell you why my brain doesn’t work the same way as everybody else’s. Maybe it’s because I got kicked in the head by that mule when I was fourteen. Maybe that jumbled everything up and left me looking at the world a little crossways. (Or it could have been that second kick when I was seventeen. Can’t really put my finger on which one did the most damage.)
But I keep thinking back to that day you fired me from Dandy-D. I can’t think of what it was I did that could have provoked you more than the usual. Unless it was that comment about the Ink Spots and the Mills Brothers. Maybe that was the last straw. I’m telling you, honest, Jonathan, I’ve always had a little trouble telling the difference between those two groups — there wasn’t any malice toward you (because I know you’re partial to one of them although I can’t remember which) or to Negro singers in general. You know my grandmother was probably a Negro, so why would I cast aspersions on my own people?
I know this all happened around Winny’s birthday and I know it always puts you in the emotional crapper when any of those Winny anniversaries roll around. But you know what? At least you had a Winny. And you have Lady Jane and she’s turned into a really special gal. I’m not saying this to get any kind of pity from you. I’m just stating fact. You have loved and been loved back. The revolving door of my love life has spun far too fast for me to know how I felt about any of those dames (or vice versa). And the one chance I did have of walking down the aisle with one of them I pretty much botched up by getting the wedding day wrong and going fishing. It would have been nice to have had a Winny or a Lady Jane, if only for a short while. To trade in that revolving door for the kind that actually opens and stays open. Or maybe one of those Dutch doors where you can open the top part and not the bottom or vice versa just for the fun of it.
But there is a consolation. Friendship. Friendship with my ol’ pal Jonny, restored to its former shine. I’ve got that toolbox, Jonny, and we’re going to get that fence looking good as new. It’s a nice old fence, and nicer still, to find us both working on the same side.
Your friend,
Harlan
***
Dear Harlan,
It’s a deal. I’ll call you this weekend.
Jonathan
27. The cause of death was congestive heart failure. In accordance with her wishes, Great Jane was buried in a simple pine box in the Calvary Baptist Church Cemetery in her home town of Chucking, Arkansas. It was not a well-attended burial service. Yet, in New York City, three weeks later, over 250 people came to her memorial, which was held at Washington Square Methodist Church in Greenwich Village, this number including many employees of Dandy-de-odor-o and at least twenty former Time Square prostitutes whom Jane had reformed and persuaded to enroll in secretarial school. Great Jane had made a lot of friends in the Big Apple. Glover, Three Legs, One Heart, 222-25.
28. “Goodbye, my Lady Jane. I love you so.” Interview with Cassia Diles who overheard the words spoken by Jonathan at the burial site.
29. Damage to Jonathan’s art collection was estimated at nearly $3,500,000.
Cary Bormet did not limit his destruction and vandalism to art work held in private hands; in his rampage he destroyed and variously defaced pieces on display in public collections as well. He is most notoriously remembered as the man who relieved himself in Marcel Duchamp’s urinal, “Fountain.” Adding insult to insult, the art-phobic Mr. Bormet made a point of eating three dozen stalks of fresh asparagus two hours before perpetrating the deed.
30. “And the days dwindle down to a precious few.” Many remember that Walter Huston’s version of “September Song” was among the handful of those songs that Jonathan held most dear in the last years of his life. Few knew that this shortlist also included several of what he called his “silly songs.” JBP.
“Bongo, Bongo, Bongo, I Don’t Wanna Leave the Jungle”
“The Too Fat Polka”
“Good-bye, Mama, I’m Off to Yokohama”
“Does Your Chewing Gum Lose Its Flavor on the Bedpost Overnight?”
“Chica Chica Boom Chic”
“We’re Going to Balance the Budget”
31. Jonathan ordered the Happy Family in Ginger House. Others in the dinner party were more adventurous. Davison got the Surprised Squid in Scallion Panties; Caldwell ordered the Plum Duck and Crispy Chicken in Fragrant Pas de Deux; Diles had the Accommodating Prawns in Discourteously Demanding Lobster Sauce; Haverty had the Sauteed Baby Abalone Mushrooms Kissed and Tongue-stroked by Puckered Snow Peas and Honey-coated Testiculoid Walnut Chunks. Bayer, the bravest of all, tried, and nearly finished, the Kong Style Simpering Slippy Shrimp in Velvet Scallop Squirt Curd, Dragged through a Math of Brazed Beef Tailings. Jonathan’s Diary, July 12, 1956.
32. This period saw a number of major celebrity endorsements. Reinhold, The Story of Dandy-de-odor-o, 188-90. Among the many media personalities approached by Davison was Greta Garbo, who he contends gave serious consideration to ending her long retirement by appearing in a television ad for Dandy-de-odor-o. According to Davison’s journal (10 September 1956), Garbo was also considering two other offers at the time, one for the American Beet Growers Council and the other for Whip-it Whipped Oleomargarine. All three scripts exploited Grusinskaya, the angst-ridden prima ballerina character Garbo made famous in the film Grand Hotel.
Dandy-de-odor-o:
GARBO (to an overly perspiring young male companion who has just ended a strenuous game of tennis): I vant to be alone…that is, until you shower and make liberal application of that wonderful male deodorant product Dandy-de-odor-o.
COMPANION: Roger Wilco! See ya in a jiff, Grets.
The American Beet Growers Council:
GARBO (to a waiter in a restaurant): I vant to be alone…with this big plate of sliced beets.
WAITER: Yes, ma’am. Anything else?
GARBO: Bring me some tripe.
Whip-it Whipped Oleomargarine:
GARBO (to her maid after nibbling a cracker): I love the taste of butter.
MAID: Au contraire, Madam. It is Whip-it Whipped Oleomargarine.
GARBO: What insolence. Go away, Cosette. I vant to be alone. (After the maid has departed. To herself.) Mmm. Whip-it. That’s a name I’m sure to remember. (Turning to the camera.) And you will too. Just ask your grocer for Whip-it!
History will record that Garbo never came out of retirement. Some of Davison’s journal entries I find highly dubious; others are easily corroborated by other sources. This one falls somewhere in between. Indeed, Jonathan’s entry for the same day notes:
“Davison is trying to get Greta Garbo to appear in one of our commercials. That would be a coup. Or does he mean the comedienne Greta Gabor with the pop-eyes?”