Wednesday, March 05, 2003 In the mix Amy Fine Collins’ recount of ‘The Colony Elite’- the famed clubhouse of New York society- challenged me at undertaking a remix of her well documented report. The Colony was started in 1922 by Gene Cavallero Sr and two of his colleagues, all previous employees of the Restaurant. The threesome bought the ailing place from their boss, the impressario Joe Pani- who’s claim to fame was to have introduced Rudolph Valentino and Broccoli to the American public. Located at 667 Madison Avenue, the Club moved its main entrance to 30 East 61st Street in 1926, in part due to the presence of a gambling club upstairs which attracted mobsters at all hours- Arnold Rothstein among them. From the mid 20s onwards until its closing at Saturday, December 4, 1971, the Club became a veritable enclave of New York society, with a member list that read like a Who’s Who of American royalty. Collins’ report is a thorough example of -in depth- reporting of bigwigs, grand seigneurs, femmes fatales and monster socialites. -- - I N S I D E - She wrote her letter hurriedly While lunching at Le Cirque- In the letter she complained About the crest of souvenirs That Cubby had sent her Gene had received the letter and By mistake passed it on to The hatcheck man- who after Reading it- donned his Finest Capote spoof- A Parfait d’amour of Crass submission and Gutter Press intuition A less madcap incident Involved the Wanker- The thigh-high Pucci girl- The Blue Mouse- and Patsy Slater- all dressed out In Tutus and Tiaras “This working Mausoleum” “Hattie handing a $100 tip” “A marquise cut wedding ring” “A teacup Poodle” “In memory of Billy Rose” “A schedule for marital fights” “Dames de Lavabo” -The last one cracked her up- Concoction and coincidence Ruled the Restaurant- An account At the Colony soon became a badge of successful availability- Its patrons defined the Major League Of cosseted clientele The back room occupants- A pack of illicit lovers, night owls and stylish homosexuals like Fulco di Verdura- or Van Day Truex Mixed with the bitchy miasma of socialites like Betsy, Nan, Elsie Gloria and Brooke The Colony’s service- Matched a papal palace- A bank of Telephone booths- Heavily draped with thick fabrics- 50 brands of Champagne- Satin cushions for the pets- Topped by Valentino’s splendid décor for the daring- and discerning -Cavallero created a monster- a frothy blue cocktail of prominent socialites- Young patrons would huddle with Marco at the bar- while their wives went into labor at LeRoy’s- “You’d go for lunch and stay till dinner”- “The best manners belonged to White Russian Prince and ladies’ man Serge Obolensky”- “Rico spoke six Languages and could sing Italian Opera by heart whenever a Patron requested so.” –“One would think one woman is sufficient for a man down on his luck?” All specimens of Swans and Mandarins- Doyennes and Demimondaines Fashionistas and Curios were moving Westbound to Eastbound- Heading straight for the -Pesthouse- -- Remix from: THE COLONY ELITE By Amy Fine Collins Vanity Fair – December 2000 -- posted by Walter at 3/05/2003 Sunday, March 02, 2003 C O M P A S S * -- We’re approaching the conclusion of the Make Up Show -A stretch limousine has stalled just out of Baghdad- The pilot: Star in a Sonny sans Cher vehicle- Board Speaker, Neon Vigilante, Faux Cinderella and Hometown Hero -yawns- then reaches out for a Pretzel “I propose to launch my first album here” he says His Album- “Original” a predestined, delusion-infested epic- features One song, One song, One song, One song- © O n e S o n g Inc Under the motorcade- the earth- a spoil of corporate plunder- heaves the road - a caterpillar tracked elevation- will soon be named “Avenue of Enterprise” -a causeway of mutant brain cells “I like this place” he says, looking across the camel-dotted desert “We’ll see the folks at Strauss’- and have these sobs decked out in blue” “Let Halliburton change their names- give Stetsons too” An ominous gleam flares in his eye; and while his icy beak smirks- He draws a deep breath- and in a charade of authority; whispers “Go- cross the divide” The pilot -a poacher and a thief- lowers his window; taps on his chauffeur’s cabin - And beckons his posse to move on- © Walter van Lotringen 2003 -- * Committee to Preserve American Security and Sovereignty -- posted by Walter at 3/02/2003