August 24, 2009
1) When I got my First Real Job (which lasted six months working for New American Library), I was living in Plainview and commuting. For the first week or two, David and I were taking the same train. He gave me all his favorite commuting tips about where to stand on the platform and so on, and he told me how many post offices (? That’s what I remember them being, but that doesn’t seem right) there were between the Hicksville station and Penn Station). I remember thinking, “Once I’m an Experienced Commuter, I too will have observed and known all these things.” Which of course didn’t happen: that was just David being a first-class noticer. I was reading One Hundred Years of Solitude and he started quoting the first line of it; a Spanish-speaking woman saw the book and overheard us, saying “To me, it is all true.” I thought, “Wow, this is great! I’ll be having literary conversations with strangers on the LIRR all the time!” and of course that was the only one….
2) I did some totally minor favor for him for which he was disproportionately grateful. Every year thenceforth, he’d send a package of dog biscuits for my dog @ Chanukah—very sweet and thoughtful gesture.
3) Exchanging emails with him and mentioning an obit which I found amusing: it was for someone who’d been the artist who’d designed the credits for a number of movies in the fifties (one of them was “The Man with the Golden Arm”). David knew who this person was by name immediately, adding, “He was incredibly stylish.” Stupid detail, but it just struck me as very David that he knew who this person was and that he could sum him up so neatly.
Emily Schulman
Showing posts with label Film. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Film. Show all posts
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Did David have a hand in this?
August 20, 2009
Saw this in the paper and could only smile. One wonders if David pulled some strings with the big guy:
"The five surviving members of Britain's Monty Python comedy troupe reunite for a 40th anniversary gala in New York, where they will accept a British award and help launch a documentary.
The British Academy of Film and Television Arts (BAFTA) announced Wednesday it's presenting its Special Award to the comedy group whose sketch show, Monty Python's Flying Circus, was first broadcast on Oct. 5, 1969.
John Cleese, Terry Gilliam, Eric Idle, Terry Jones, and Michael Palin are to attend the event on Oct. 15. The sixth Python, Graham Chapman, died in 1989.
'I believe these trinkets are more important than people think,' Cleese said in a statement.
The gala is co-hosted by the Independent Film Channel (IFC), which is airing the new six-part documentary, Monty Python: Almost the Truth (The Lawyer's Cut) in October.
'It promises to be a rare and memorable occasion bringing the hugely talented Monty Python team together again, and we feel that the Special Award is a fitting tribute to this much-loved and singularly British institution,' said BAFTA chair David Parfitt."
Matt Mendelsohn
Saw this in the paper and could only smile. One wonders if David pulled some strings with the big guy:
"The five surviving members of Britain's Monty Python comedy troupe reunite for a 40th anniversary gala in New York, where they will accept a British award and help launch a documentary.
The British Academy of Film and Television Arts (BAFTA) announced Wednesday it's presenting its Special Award to the comedy group whose sketch show, Monty Python's Flying Circus, was first broadcast on Oct. 5, 1969.
John Cleese, Terry Gilliam, Eric Idle, Terry Jones, and Michael Palin are to attend the event on Oct. 15. The sixth Python, Graham Chapman, died in 1989.
'I believe these trinkets are more important than people think,' Cleese said in a statement.
The gala is co-hosted by the Independent Film Channel (IFC), which is airing the new six-part documentary, Monty Python: Almost the Truth (The Lawyer's Cut) in October.
'It promises to be a rare and memorable occasion bringing the hugely talented Monty Python team together again, and we feel that the Special Award is a fitting tribute to this much-loved and singularly British institution,' said BAFTA chair David Parfitt."
Matt Mendelsohn
Taking Woodstock
August 16, 2009
Gang,
It was so nice to see so many of you at David's memorial last week, and to meet many folks I'd heard David speak of over the years. A big consolation through the shock and sadness was to see how many disparate groups of people David had reached out to, and how carefully he maintained friendships with so many different circles. It's truly galvanizing to see that a life lived in fervent embrace of the arts could touch, move and change so many people. (And wow, my brother belonged to the Science Fiction Book Club too, and had many of the books Matt mentioned in his beautiful remembrance of David.)
I went to see a new film last week, "Taking Woodstock," at an early screening. David would have loved it. I couldn't stop thinking of him during it. It's based on a book called "Taking Woodstock: A True Story of a Riot, a Concert, and a Life," co-written by a guy named Elliot Tiber (he's the protagonist of the movie). Tiber is the fellow who held a permit--gained under dubious circumstances--that allowed the concert to happen after several towns rejected it. The movie begins as a touching picture of life in a dull Catskills town, and of the Tiber character's struggle to care for his aging parents. I highly recommend it--and if only David were still here, we'd have been talking for hours about it...
Peace and love,
Steve Daly
Gang,
It was so nice to see so many of you at David's memorial last week, and to meet many folks I'd heard David speak of over the years. A big consolation through the shock and sadness was to see how many disparate groups of people David had reached out to, and how carefully he maintained friendships with so many different circles. It's truly galvanizing to see that a life lived in fervent embrace of the arts could touch, move and change so many people. (And wow, my brother belonged to the Science Fiction Book Club too, and had many of the books Matt mentioned in his beautiful remembrance of David.)
I went to see a new film last week, "Taking Woodstock," at an early screening. David would have loved it. I couldn't stop thinking of him during it. It's based on a book called "Taking Woodstock: A True Story of a Riot, a Concert, and a Life," co-written by a guy named Elliot Tiber (he's the protagonist of the movie). Tiber is the fellow who held a permit--gained under dubious circumstances--that allowed the concert to happen after several towns rejected it. The movie begins as a touching picture of life in a dull Catskills town, and of the Tiber character's struggle to care for his aging parents. I highly recommend it--and if only David were still here, we'd have been talking for hours about it...
Peace and love,
Steve Daly
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Missing a dear friend
August 11, 2009
I met David in 1986 when we both worked at CAMI. David worked in Publicity with Dolph Timmerman, and I worked down the hall in Theatricals. Though we were colleagues for a few years, our friendship really took off after David left for the job with Life.
Through the years we went to countless shows, concerts and movies – and other excursions as well. I will never forget the hike that David, Howie and I went on near Newburgh, NY. We were lost for hours and I was convinced that we would never return – there was David, calmly and analytically reviewing the hiking trail book (the one with the landmarks that weren’t there anymore) and consulting with Howie, while I wailed that our remains would never be found.
Then there was the shopping trip around Manhattan when he needed to buy a suit for some occasion… another odyssey that lasted for hours. I’ve never known anyone to try on clothing more thoughtfully – or take more time doing it.
We both enjoyed the singing of Fred Astaire, and Busby Berkeley movies – we often quoted funny song lyrics to each other -- a favorite that always cracked us up was “Paducah, Paducah, if you wanna you can rhyme it with bazooka, but can’t pooh pooh, Paducah...”
After I got married we saw each other a lot less, but spoke at least every few weeks. David delighted in stories about my daughters. Over this past summer we were not in touch as much as usual. When the writer Frank McCourt passed away recently, I emailed David, asking him if he remembered a panel discussion we attended some years ago, where Mr. McCourt was one of the speakers. David emailed me back that he hadn’t been feeling well. The phone message that I had left for him was returned from the hospital. He discouraged me from visiting, saying that he wasn’t up to having company. We agreed that we would get together when he was feeling better. His last words to me were “thanks for caring.”
I will miss my sweet friend.
Pam Lederman
I met David in 1986 when we both worked at CAMI. David worked in Publicity with Dolph Timmerman, and I worked down the hall in Theatricals. Though we were colleagues for a few years, our friendship really took off after David left for the job with Life.
Through the years we went to countless shows, concerts and movies – and other excursions as well. I will never forget the hike that David, Howie and I went on near Newburgh, NY. We were lost for hours and I was convinced that we would never return – there was David, calmly and analytically reviewing the hiking trail book (the one with the landmarks that weren’t there anymore) and consulting with Howie, while I wailed that our remains would never be found.
Then there was the shopping trip around Manhattan when he needed to buy a suit for some occasion… another odyssey that lasted for hours. I’ve never known anyone to try on clothing more thoughtfully – or take more time doing it.
We both enjoyed the singing of Fred Astaire, and Busby Berkeley movies – we often quoted funny song lyrics to each other -- a favorite that always cracked us up was “Paducah, Paducah, if you wanna you can rhyme it with bazooka, but can’t pooh pooh, Paducah...”
After I got married we saw each other a lot less, but spoke at least every few weeks. David delighted in stories about my daughters. Over this past summer we were not in touch as much as usual. When the writer Frank McCourt passed away recently, I emailed David, asking him if he remembered a panel discussion we attended some years ago, where Mr. McCourt was one of the speakers. David emailed me back that he hadn’t been feeling well. The phone message that I had left for him was returned from the hospital. He discouraged me from visiting, saying that he wasn’t up to having company. We agreed that we would get together when he was feeling better. His last words to me were “thanks for caring.”
I will miss my sweet friend.
Pam Lederman
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
A favorite short film, with Madeline Kahn
August 11, 2009
...My memory just dredged up something that made me literally laugh at my keyboard. If you have ten minutes, watch this clip of a 1968 short film starring, among others, Madeline Kahn in her first screen role. David and I LOVED this movie as kids. It's brilliantly funny and yet brilliantly understated at the same time. In a matter of minutes you'll be howling with laughter ad will quickly see how it perfectly embodies David's sense of humor.
http://videolimbo.blogspot.com/2008/08/madeleine-kahn-in-de-dva-dove-1968.html
Matt Mendelsohn
www.mattmendelsohn.net
www.mattmendelsohn.com
...My memory just dredged up something that made me literally laugh at my keyboard. If you have ten minutes, watch this clip of a 1968 short film starring, among others, Madeline Kahn in her first screen role. David and I LOVED this movie as kids. It's brilliantly funny and yet brilliantly understated at the same time. In a matter of minutes you'll be howling with laughter ad will quickly see how it perfectly embodies David's sense of humor.
http://videolimbo.blogspot.com/2008/08/madeleine-kahn-in-de-dva-dove-1968.html
Matt Mendelsohn
www.mattmendelsohn.net
www.mattmendelsohn.com
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Memories
August 9, 2009
I hope I can add to the photographs...in the meantime, my memory in words. It got long...
I met David my first day of college. I must have met dozens of others too, including Jeff and people who became life-long friends, but where those memories of first encounters have grown hazy, my first impression of David remains vivid. He was standing on the steps in front of the 130s, wearing his Mao cap, eager to talk. He was brimming with confidence and ideas and strong opinions.
Much later, after we both moved to New York after graduation, he told me that New Yorkers all claimed him as their own. Jews identified him as Jewish, Puerto Ricans as Puerto Rican and African Americans thought he was black. When I first met David, I knew that college students were supposed to be people who were interesting and fun and went to free events. David was all of that. We spent hours in conversation and this, I knew, was exactly how college students were meant to pass the time.
I struggled to keep up with David. He talked about the youth orchestra trip to China as if I had played trombone and unloaded instruments right beside him. He spoke of filmmaker Buneul and his “Andalusian Dog” and something that sounded to me like “Lodge Door.” Was he already a fan of Henry Miller? I think so. We saw “Clockwork Orange” together at Wilson Hall. When I wanted to see the made-for-TV movie of Marilyn French’s “The Women’s Room,” David accompanied me to the TV lounge in a nearby dorm. I also got to know Howie and Sue and Dave and Joy—almost as if they were characters in a book I had yet to read. (And it was a full cast of characters…if your name doesn’t appear here, it’s my failure of memory, no doubt.)
David and I auditioned for Pep Band the same afternoon. David, of course, was selected. I failed to win a spot playing clarinet and was sorry but not surprised. I knew how poorly I played. But David took it to heart. He didn’t argue with me about my ability, but he mourned with me my lost opportunity at making music with other people. He was so articulate in how there should be such opportunities, even for third-rate players, that forever after that I thought of David whenever I heard about a “no-audition” community orchestra.
David had firm ideas about so many things. I was never quite able to negotiate his forceful certainties and so we argued. We were romantic for just a moment—perhaps from his birthday to Thanksgiving--but he remained a generous friend for years. I owed my part-time job working in the UVA music department to him. He selected a Robert Graves poem to read at Jeff’s and my wedding: “The Starred Coverlet.” Later, when we were both establishing ourselves as freelance writers, he passed along freelance jobs that he thought suited my strengths. My work for Millbrook Press began thanks to an introduction from David.
If David and I drifted apart in the last 10 or so years, the fault rests with me. Jeff is traveling with Cari Howard to the funeral today. Right now I dearly wish I could attend. Instead I am home with a toddler and a teenager who made a 1,400-mile roadtrip to the midwest with me. I hope many, many stories of David’s fabulous sense of humor get shared this afternoon. He had a special appreciation for visual jokes. Maybe Jeff will get a chance to share the sea cucumber story.
I think now, if David were the first person to greet me in some vast ecumenical heaven, that I would be pleased. Who better to point out the most interesting corners! And if, by chance, he insisted that Buneul be the first soul that I meet, that would be ok too.
Liz Marshall
I hope I can add to the photographs...in the meantime, my memory in words. It got long...
I met David my first day of college. I must have met dozens of others too, including Jeff and people who became life-long friends, but where those memories of first encounters have grown hazy, my first impression of David remains vivid. He was standing on the steps in front of the 130s, wearing his Mao cap, eager to talk. He was brimming with confidence and ideas and strong opinions.
Much later, after we both moved to New York after graduation, he told me that New Yorkers all claimed him as their own. Jews identified him as Jewish, Puerto Ricans as Puerto Rican and African Americans thought he was black. When I first met David, I knew that college students were supposed to be people who were interesting and fun and went to free events. David was all of that. We spent hours in conversation and this, I knew, was exactly how college students were meant to pass the time.
I struggled to keep up with David. He talked about the youth orchestra trip to China as if I had played trombone and unloaded instruments right beside him. He spoke of filmmaker Buneul and his “Andalusian Dog” and something that sounded to me like “Lodge Door.” Was he already a fan of Henry Miller? I think so. We saw “Clockwork Orange” together at Wilson Hall. When I wanted to see the made-for-TV movie of Marilyn French’s “The Women’s Room,” David accompanied me to the TV lounge in a nearby dorm. I also got to know Howie and Sue and Dave and Joy—almost as if they were characters in a book I had yet to read. (And it was a full cast of characters…if your name doesn’t appear here, it’s my failure of memory, no doubt.)
David and I auditioned for Pep Band the same afternoon. David, of course, was selected. I failed to win a spot playing clarinet and was sorry but not surprised. I knew how poorly I played. But David took it to heart. He didn’t argue with me about my ability, but he mourned with me my lost opportunity at making music with other people. He was so articulate in how there should be such opportunities, even for third-rate players, that forever after that I thought of David whenever I heard about a “no-audition” community orchestra.
David had firm ideas about so many things. I was never quite able to negotiate his forceful certainties and so we argued. We were romantic for just a moment—perhaps from his birthday to Thanksgiving--but he remained a generous friend for years. I owed my part-time job working in the UVA music department to him. He selected a Robert Graves poem to read at Jeff’s and my wedding: “The Starred Coverlet.” Later, when we were both establishing ourselves as freelance writers, he passed along freelance jobs that he thought suited my strengths. My work for Millbrook Press began thanks to an introduction from David.
If David and I drifted apart in the last 10 or so years, the fault rests with me. Jeff is traveling with Cari Howard to the funeral today. Right now I dearly wish I could attend. Instead I am home with a toddler and a teenager who made a 1,400-mile roadtrip to the midwest with me. I hope many, many stories of David’s fabulous sense of humor get shared this afternoon. He had a special appreciation for visual jokes. Maybe Jeff will get a chance to share the sea cucumber story.
I think now, if David were the first person to greet me in some vast ecumenical heaven, that I would be pleased. Who better to point out the most interesting corners! And if, by chance, he insisted that Buneul be the first soul that I meet, that would be ok too.
Liz Marshall
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