It's like losing a friend. I looked forward to reading every page—the baseball scores available nowhere else, the smart editorials culled from papers around the world, Art Buchwald, the Times crossword. It was the last vestige of the snappy NY paper, with its distinctive Bodoni display face. . . As a student, I had Jean Seberg's job for a spell, late nights. The paper was literally fresh off the press—the ink smell was strong. My territory was the 6th arrondissement—blvd Saint-Germain, Montparnasse, the little streets in between. James Baldwin was a regular. Bartenders would pour me a cognac, American kids on teen tours would be snotty, but never buy the paper. Philippe Petit tightrope-walked between the chestnut trees. Rat Man would flash his rat from beneath an overcoat. My piano prof, Michel Sardaby, let me sit in for a tune with him every night (usually John Lewis's "Bluesology," in F) at the club where he gigged just off blvd Saint-Michel. On the way out I'd sell an extra 5-10 papers. Good times. JK
ed note: read about the demise of the IHT here. sdh
How well I remember those days. Before you got the gig, we'd reserve time at Le Select or the Rond-Point or wherever and solve Will Weng's puzzle. He favored "Haile --- " as a clue and we were highly delighted. And the ball scores, which we got 24-36 hours after the fact. And the occasional pieces originating from the Paris offices: there was one on Mal Waldron, who used to accompany Billie Holiday and was now living in Paris. In the photo above, is that you posing with Jean Seberg? Did you take her to the Rosebud for jazz and chili?
Posted by: DL | October 14, 2013 at 03:18 PM