The Knickerbocker Club

Rudolph, as his father before him, was a lifelong member of the Knickerbocker Club. Sitting, as it does, on the corner of 5th Avenue and 62nd, it was a mere hop from his home (*a note as to the Geographic Density Theory: The Knickerbocker was also on 62nd street, about 2 blocks west of 555).

Rudolph would often take me to the Saturday lunch (women were not permitted at other times), where I was asked not to appear in pants, or other forms of outlandish modern attire. (I believe they were referring to the "pant suit", a creation that even today can be a fashion faux-pas)

Founded by Alexander Hamilton, Jr. in 1871 this established social club can boast a list of historical names: John Jacob Astor IV, Douglas Fairbanks, Jr. , Franklin Delano Roosevelt, and David Rockefeller.

While for some, the comfort of membership lay in its exclusivity, I can assure you that in my case, my reasons were historical. Historical and climatic, for, admittedly, in the dead of January or God forbid - February - it was a real relief to be able to repair to a centrally heated well appointed dining room with ancient waiters and dine as though it were 1865. Actually, my own early eras (Kennedy, Johnson, Nixon) were possibly just as atmospheric in a time travel sense, but when it comes to time travel, a "past-er" pasture is always greener....

In any case, a place like this made it possible for you to understand what it might have been like at a time like that....just how, for instance, that poor unfortunate upper class young woman in the House of Mirth could have just withered away and died in a third rate hotel...just because there wasn't anything she could actually do. (*I recommend the Gillian Anderson version, which is positively devastating, particularly on a frozen February weekend when your parents have gone to the Bahamas and left you all alone in the co-op with no take out. Left you alone to think about what would befall you if you lost your trust fund. Which is when you remember that you don't have a trust fund. Or any funds at all. And it's the 90's for God's sake, so who can you trust? You see what I mean? Positively wrist-slashing.)

But back to the "Knick"....where were we? Ah yes, entering the solid double-doors and making your way past the black and white entry hall, steadily up the winding stairs to the pre-prandial parlors.

Everything, from the hush of the upper rooms, to the ancient waiters, to the reception desk, who knew all the members by name, spoke of tradition, deeply rooted, unmoved - Protestant - tradition. I always felt a bit of a rebel, sneaking my Latin socialist Catholic side into such a conservative anti-Papist stronghold. The infiltration, so to speak, would be good for them, I thought, and secretly I spread my radical vibes across the dining room, hoping to aetherically rattle a wasp or two. They are of course, doing the same to you. All it takes is a holiday visit to get your yearly dose of "solidity, security and civility". Sure to bolster even the most reluctant Puritan gene.

At the "Knick", the status quo, on everything from membership to cocktail napkins, was unchangable. So unchangeable, in fact, that upon my father's death, the membership went along with him. Apparently, I might have been salvaged had I acquired a husband along the way who had been made a member. What was I thinking? This is what can happen when you spend too much time divorcing people. Well, I would have to just...let...it...go. So much for my yearly time travel.

But there is one stone left unturned. I am certain, dear readers, that there are those among you whose hackles are up at the very thought that such a place could still exist. Yet, I must confess, putting aside all of our political viewpoints for a brief moment, to be able to enter this edifice, and partake of even a few of its time-honored rituals, was to have a real glimpse at history, of a New York of ages past that only exists occasionally on PBS...(and they do it so much better on the BBC)...that has to be worth something, right, if only just for the research? Anyway, all of you, soon we will be marching into a more brotherly time (a good thing), and all these trappings will fall away of their own weight. I like to imagine it thus, beginning with a nod to an oft-ignored category ..."anachronistic food"....

Aspects of Aspic

There are aspects of Aspic

that come into play

whether or not you love

Consomme...

and putting aside

today's "Chardonnay"

imagine a Century far far away...

Where New Yorkers like Edith
were once wont to say
"There are only 400,
the rest can away!"

But that window is closing

it's two thousand eleven

and the rules have changed

to get into Heaven....

For a brief fleeting moment

we'll duck in for a fix

And inhale the separatist

Darwinian mix

To the Knick, to the Knick

in the nick of time

The portals are closing

Through the windows we climb,

A gentleman enters and says with a hush

"Your hat, sir, remove it,

Ha...what's the rush?

For the working day's over,

the trading is done

Wall Street suspended

No reason to run

So place your fine carcass

down into a chair,

the one made of leather

the comfy one, there.

Then I'll bring you a whiskey

beyond compare

and a box of cigars

From Cuba, I swear!

Relax sir, you're at home now

With those of your kind

Cholly, and Rolly

and Robby and Lynde...

You'll rest here together

safe by the hearth

catch up on the news,

and affairs of the heart,

you'll have one too many

before you go

No worries, kind sir,

"We don't tell what we know"

You'll chuckle in harmony

and think it best

to keep out the Jews,

and the Blacks

and the Rest

and preserve for your children

a privileged pasture

In which to cavort

while awaiting the Rapture,

"We all know you're dying

of acute obsolescence

but for one afternoon

oh to be adolescent!

to pretend there's a difference

between them and me

no empathy felt,

I'm not equal to Thee!

I don't have to be Christian

I'm better than you

I'll build up my fences

And keep out those who...

Want us to mingle and mix and combine

Dammit! Somebody's got to draw the line.

Quick, all, let's hole up and hide out in here,

And pretend that it's May of our 1800th year

Thus Edith's 400 took to their bunker

and lonely and backward

they all died of hunger....

And then came the flood

and the snow and the heat

there wasn't a Rapture

or a brilliant defeat...

just ashes of ruins

of worn out notions

And no one to save them

No spells and no potions,

And one day came Newman

from out on the Coast

and discovered the skeletons

at their manly posts

"They cried out and died out

in the Knick of time,

There isn't a place for them

Not in this time."

As Newman's 400

gathered to hear,

"Their arrogant era's

died with them, I fear."

And 4000 years from that socialist clime

Nostalgia caught up with political rhyme

Now it's back to the jungle to determine the fittest

Go ahead, kill them dead...They'll be no witness....

The Upper Crust's coming from far and from near

Gath'ring together to tell stories and hear!

How once long ago, was a socialist state

Where Newman's 400 all shared the same fate!

And Edith's 4000 go round again

And then the 4000 turn to 4000 ten

And all of them wishing their times weren't here,

Pining for Aspic and Yesteryear.

LS c. 2009