Julia Reed | 04/30/2009 8:40 am
Julia Reed: Trapped at the Table With Brooke Astor
In response to: Have you ever felt trapped? What were the circumstances?
Like everybody else, I’ve felt completely trapped at dinner parties, especially at ones in New York where the sharing of VERY SERIOUS THOUGHTS seems the order of the day — or night, as it were. Once I was at a dinner where everyone was made to go around the table and speak to a variety of current events and it came time for a man who had recently made a trip to the Gaza Strip to speak. (This same man, who shall remain nameless, had previously been my dinner partner at another party and regaled me with jokes he read from cards taken out of his wallet.) Anyway, I have a lot of thoughts on the Gaza Strip myself, all wildly different from this guy, who is an ardent supporter of Israel. But even if I had wanted to respond to him, I couldn’t have. He droned on and on until I got busy devising ways that I might surreptitiously crawl under the table. The wine had stopped in deference to the great import of what he was saying — no waiter was allowed to cross into the lofty oratory zone — and I was desperate. Finally, there was a timid knock on the dining room door — a still-very-much-with-it-and-adorable Brooke Astor was also at the table and her minder had standing orders to come and fetch her at 10 PM no matter what. This did not stop the droning, alas. But it did make me wish more than anything in the world I had a minder — and I have never been more jealous of anyone in my life than the happily departing Brooke.
Writing this reminds me of a dinner party a few weeks ago at my mother’s house on the Gulf Coast of Florida where I was the nominal host (but let me hasten to say that I had little to do with the fun of the party). The museum whose board I chair in New Orleans, the Ogden Museum of Southern Art, has a “satellite” in a nearby community called Watercolor, and my great friend William Dunlap, the artist and the most unreconstructed liberal I know (or did know, until unreconstructed libs became the order of the day and now Bill has plenty of competition), had just had an opening. His old college buddy, who is way to the right, was there, along with some devoted arts supporters, a restaurateur/columnist/cookbook author, an architect and assorted other friends. The right-winger made one of the arts supporters (a great woman on the board of the Seaside Institute) so mad that at one point she stood up and looked like she might be about to hit him. Several of us pelted Dunlap with napkins after he said Al Gore was a terrible candidate but would have made a great president. We drank a lot of wine — which never quit flowing — and ate grilled Roman steaks and this dish I made up with warm field peas and enormous Gulf shrimp in a sherry wine vinaigrette. I can’t remember what we had for dessert, but afterward we took the wine out on the porch where we sat in the wicker chairs and kept talking and laughing and listening to too-loud music until late into the night.
Writing this reminds me of a dinner party a few weeks ago at my mother’s house on the Gulf Coast of Florida where I was the nominal host (but let me hasten to say that I had little to do with the fun of the party). The museum whose board I chair in New Orleans, the Ogden Museum of Southern Art, has a “satellite” in a nearby community called Watercolor, and my great friend William Dunlap, the artist and the most unreconstructed liberal I know (or did know, until unreconstructed libs became the order of the day and now Bill has plenty of competition), had just had an opening. His old college buddy, who is way to the right, was there, along with some devoted arts supporters, a restaurateur/columnist/cookbook author, an architect and assorted other friends. The right-winger made one of the arts supporters (a great woman on the board of the Seaside Institute) so mad that at one point she stood up and looked like she might be about to hit him. Several of us pelted Dunlap with napkins after he said Al Gore was a terrible candidate but would have made a great president. We drank a lot of wine — which never quit flowing — and ate grilled Roman steaks and this dish I made up with warm field peas and enormous Gulf shrimp in a sherry wine vinaigrette. I can’t remember what we had for dessert, but afterward we took the wine out on the porch where we sat in the wicker chairs and kept talking and laughing and listening to too-loud music until late into the night.
Read more about: Brooke Astor, Dining, Entertaining, Florida, Food, Gaza Strip, Lifestyle, Society, William Dunlap
- Dear Margo: When Dad/Gramps Just Ain't Interested
- Could Mammograms Fall Victim to Obamacare? by Liz Peek
- Liz Smith: Sharon Stone, Steve Tyrell, Sarah (You Know Who), Glamour, Lesley Gore – and More!
- Queen Martha, by Cynthia McFadden
- LIZ SMITH FLASH! The Kennedy Conspiracy and the Mafia
- Remember shopping pre-Internet? What era/memory in the evolution of shopping do you think of most fondly?
- The Love Goddess: In Sickness and in Health ... But Hold the Sickness
- Let Down and Felt Up? by E.D. Hill
- The World in Vogue (Photos)
- Mr. wOw: Falling in Love Again With 'Marlene'
- Dear Margo: When Dad/Gramps Just Ain't Interested
- LIZ SMITH FLASH! The Kennedy Conspiracy and the Mafia
- Liz Smith: Sharon Stone, Steve Tyrell, Sarah (You Know Who), Glamour, Lesley Gore – and More!
- Queen Martha, by Cynthia McFadden
- wOw Celebrates Literature With 'Words Move Me'
- Liz Smith Remembers the 'Good Old Days' of Department Stores
- Could Mammograms Fall Victim to Obamacare? by Liz Peek
- Remember shopping pre-Internet? What era/memory in the evolution of shopping do you think of most fondly?
- Mr. wOw: Falling in Love Again With 'Marlene'
- The Love Goddess: In Sickness and in Health ... But Hold the Sickness
- Could Mammograms Fall Victim to Obamacare? by Liz Peek
- Dear Margo: When Dad/Gramps Just Ain't Interested
- Let Down and Felt Up? by E.D. Hill
- Remember shopping pre-Internet? What era/memory in the evolution of shopping do you think of most fondly?
- Mr. wOw: Falling in Love Again With 'Marlene'
- LIZ SMITH FLASH! The Kennedy Conspiracy and the Mafia
- The Love Goddess: In Sickness and in Health ... But Hold the Sickness
- Queen Martha, by Cynthia McFadden
- Liz Smith: Sharon Stone, Steve Tyrell, Sarah (You Know Who), Glamour, Lesley Gore – and More!
- The World in Vogue (Photos)
wOw Features
Reader Voices
Dear Margo: When Dad/Gramps Just Ain't Interested
The Palin Book, as Dear Margo Sees It
9 Reader Comments (so far…) Sign In or Register to comment
Julia: this was fantastic!
I live in a very liberal area and I am (as most posters know) a moderate Republican. Each one of my friends has a different way of handling this "deformity" of mine. One (she and I have been close for 11 years) shouts out when I enter the room, "Oh, man. She’s here… our token Republican!" Another group of friends (almost all guys: they are a HOOT) always go grab me a beer and ask me what I think of _______.
I really try not to discuss politics at parties, and have never had it been much of an issue with my friendships (other than the smart ones will ask me what I think and allow me to disagree with them). The last time I went out and REALLY raged was after a benefit I did for an art school downtown. Myself and the school staff, including several people that are VERY liberal, just put on Bowie records, drank champagne and danced until 5 in the morning… and at one point, the director put his arm around me and said… you know, you make me almost want to LISTEN to a Republican!
And isn’t that the truth. If we are all sanctimonious, nobody will listen to us. When it’s time to party, throw off those political shoes, kick those bare feet up and CELEBRATE! We all need to cut loose.
Thanks for a great post!
There was a time when I not only went to great dinner parties, but gave them. And that was a time when everybody drank a goodly amount before dinner, during dinner, and after dinner. I look back at those times with nostalgia, wondering why we weren’t having the kind of political debates we would be having now. I remember talking a lot about women’s rights––women’s place in the world––civil rights–––just a lot about what was our place in the world. But because of the jocularity––enough booze makes any dour Dick happy or at least not part of the conversation––not many wanted to engage in too serious a discourse. There was a time, however, when one of the guests, an executive at the Ford Motor Company, who didn’t imbibe, held forth for what seemed an eternity on the Mustang’s positive entry into the Ford line-up. It was like someone had splashed cold water on all of us seated around this large table patiently waiting for him to finish which he wasn’t doing. Suddenly, one of the women jumped up, whirled around to where this man was sitting, took him by the hand and said, "Honey, it’s about time you learn how to dance!" (There was music in the background) To our surprise he refused her request, stating that he never danced. But no sooner had he uttered his refusal, we all got up, went out to the dance floor, and left this poor man sitting there forlorn and alone. Shameful! but so liberating!
Thank you, Joan, for your delightful piece and reminding me of "The Way We Were."
… oh, c’mon, PDP! You can’t fool me. You still know how to drag them out onto the dance floor (or better yet, just give them that look you have, even in cyberspace print!) You still got it, girl!
Julie Reed — you have made me laugh again. I love your articles. Reminds me of the following story….
We were visiting friends when the "ice storm" of the century hit. Our friends were supposed to host a dinner party. Alas, what should we do. Power lines were down, there was no electricity. Nothing was moving. Trees were falling over. It was unlike anything any of us had experienced. So my husband and our male host decided they would fire up the gas grill and we would just "do our best". Since the couples attending all lived in the neighborhood - we sent out a runner to inform them to "please come and bring something different that we could share".
Needless to say - the menu was quite interesting. Eggs and bacon, french toast with yummy syrup and grits. All cooked on the gas grill. Also, banana and peanut sandwiches grilled outside. And, of course, wine. Everyone clothed in 2-3 sweaters, wool pants and 2-3 pair of socks. And, everyone with warm hats. We moved the table in front of the fireplace. As we were all about to eat - one of the guys said grace…
"Lord, thank you for all of this food and the creative efforts of all. And, most of all, dear Lord, please thank Al Gore for this "Global Warming". Several of us spewed our wine all over the tablecloth!