room, Mrs. Strasberg sat on the sofa, sucking a lime lollipop, glasses on the tip of her nose, absorbed in Modern Screen. I knew she fancied movie magazines (as I did) because I often noted her at the Broadway newsstand on 86th Street perusing —rarely buying—a stack of movie magazines. And now, here I was inside the Strasberg’s nest. A divine moment! Surely, my challenge was to make an impression. But how? Dare I place myself beside her on the sofa as she perused the pages? Yes, yes, of course. An inspired thought. So, I did. Ensconced, I noted a compelling photograph in the magazine and dared to speak. “Isn’t that Bing Crosby sans toupee?” I ventured. An aging Bing was pictured with his youthful wife, Kathryn. Mrs. Strasberg’s eyes darted from the page to me. “Oui!” she replied sweetly. And then continued reading and sucking. I felt a little like a talking fly on the proverbial wall. I only visited the Strasbergs once, but I had had my moment, minuscule, unimportant, and disconnected as it was, it was mine to treasure…forever. Invitations to visit those who lived in The Belnord were rare…at least for me. In fact, much of my time at The Belnord, I hung out with Rodney, one of the building’s doormen, who was always pleased to see me, even though I often made his doorman life wretched as I careened around the courtyard on my roller skates or on my Schwinn or slammed a rubber ball against The Belnord’s Italianate courtyard wall. My most daring and satisfying athletic feat was scaling the garden’s marble fountain. Unfortunately, my fountain climbing escapades ended abruptly.
At 13, I excelled at one thing. Which is identifying famous people on New York City streets, buses, subways as well as in crowded restaurants and in darkened alleys and theaters. Truly, it’s my gift. And I persisted. My passion for celebrity identification was greatly assisted by my growing up on the West Side of Manhattan in the 1950s and 1960s and living in The Belnord, a Renaissance masterpiece, featuring two grand archways that provide entrance and exit to an inner courtyard with lush landscaped gardens. In the garden’s midst sits a garland-festooned marble fountain. Many famous and near famous lived in The Belnord, and these folks all had famous friends and relatives who visited. Among those living in The Belnord were child actor Brandon De Wilde, writer Isaac Bashevis Singer, actor Zero Mostel, and the head of the famed Actor’s Studio, Lee Strasberg, who resided there with his wife, Paula, and two children. From my second-floor bedroom window, facing The Belnord’s courtyard, I steeped myself in a far more interesting world than I dwelled in. On any given day, I might spy the likes of actors such as Marlon Brando, Richard Burton, James Dean, Wally Cox or Shelley Winters who all, at one time or another, arrived at The Belnord to kneel at the feet of their theatrical guru, Lee Strasberg. The Strasbergs were a fascination. And one fateful day, luck smiled upon me. Susan, the Strasberg’s daughter, whom I knew only slightly and was a few years older than I, invited me into the Strasberg enclave. I savored the moment. I remember a sea of books in numbers of rambling rooms and in a grand living 42
Add a little bit of bo
Illustration by Job Zheng
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