Artie’s to do list for May
- Call Elaine for update
- Contact Cuzzin & Liam
- Get electricity, gas, water turned on
- Take more old, crappy stuff to dump
- Wash bedding & towels
- Bomb house with paint
- Replace torn screens
- Paint floors
- Buy yardwork stuff
- Revive perennial garden
- Fix leaks in roof
- Buy an electric heater
It rains during the night on Thursday. Artie finds at least five places where the roof leaks. Add it to the to-do list. Five things more. When he looks out to the skyline, he sees a wall of gray. Boston Harbor is socked in. So is he. In a moment of intense loneliness, he calls his answering service to check his voice mail. There is a message from his son, Liam, saying that he will take the “T” and be at the Quincy station by 1 pm.
Good.
There are two messages from Meiko asking when she can come out to Boston and outlining in lurid detail the sexual favors she will perform for him upon arrival.
Good.
And there is a long message from his agent, Elaine Siegal, chronicling the latest events surrounding My Mother, My Lover….:
Artie, it’s Elaine. Whoever said there’s no such thing as bad PR never met you. I don’t know if you are sticking to your pledge to boycott the media, communications technology, and the world in general, but if you’re not, you should. Let’s start with the best news. The National Organization of Women is willing to pay you $50,000 to be the keynote at their annual convention in Houston in August. That’s $50,000 plus a bulletproof vest.
You didn’t see Oprah Winfrey, I hope. She devoted an entire show to you. Rosie O’Donnell appeared as a guest wearing a t-shirt with your picture in a red circle with a line through it. I tell you, a woman her size shouldn’t be getting on such a high horse. All the shit she’s done, and she’s saying this stuff about you.
Letterman’s made that “Today’s Dumb Ass” feature into a nightly section. I called the producer to give it a rest, but he said that when people stop laughing, he’ll stop featuring you.
Wellesley College wants you as a commencement speaker, but I think they’ll pull some stunt like giving you an honorary noose instead of a degree. I don’t think so.
This will really frost you. You remember that nice boy from Esquire who wrote that piece called “ART As In Arthur?” It was scheduled for the May issue, but they’ve pulled it and had him rewrite it with the title “Arthur Gordon Just Doesn’t Get It.” He was very apologetic, but I don’t trust the little prick.
[Editor’s note: Who says AI is not yet ready for prime time? Here’s Artie on the cover of Magek Magazine. SB SM]
There are a million requests for interviews and quotes, but I’m just telling everyone you’re unavailable. I don’t think anyone will try to track you down, but you can never be sure, so keep your head down and your sunglasses on.
I keep racking my brain as to how we can turn this publicity into a positive. Tell me what you think of this idea. What if you embraced your new evil role? You know, like one of those WWF wrestlers who is the bad guy and whose job it is to get the crowd united behind the good guy. Maybe you could say that’s what you were trying to do all along with My Mother, My Lover…. to re-energize the movement for female equality. I’m not saying it will work, but think about it.
By the way My Mother, My Lover…. is still doing well overseas. Box office is good and the critics think it’s very funny and quintessentially American. I know it’s not a comedy, but it never hurts to laugh. So I hope you’re enjoying your little cabin. Let me know if you want some company, and I’ll come visit. I promise it will be better than the Sixty Minutes party. Love ya, Artie!
Artie had invited Elaine and about fifty friends to his house in Brentwood to watch Sixty Minutes. It was very early in the My Mother, My Lover controversy, back in the days when Artie thought damage control was still an option. Elaine had advised him to take the high road and not to respond to the critical attacks. As a result of his silence, however, everyone wanted to interview him.
When Sixty Minutes called to make their pitch, Mike Wallace, personally, told him he thought media people were rushing to judgement without even seeing the film. The press, in true sheep tradition, were focusing on the reactions to the movie, rather than the content of the film. No surprise there. Artie, in Wallace’s opinion, had played the situation just right in refusing interviews. He was reminded of when Robert Bly’s book Iron John was published. There was an initial hue and roar about it being the “bible of the men’s movement” but Bly let the critics bluster themselves out then came out with a defense that had impeccable credibility. The academic community stampeded onto his bandwagon, and now the book is universally acknowledged as a classic work of scholarship.
“Ex-act-ly!” said Artie, thumping his hand on the desk. He immediately agreed to the interview, even though standard operating procedure was to let Elaine make the call on interviews. He explained to her that he had acted impetuously because FINALLY someone in the media was willing to look beneath the surface. Say what you will about ol’ Mike Wallace, but at least he had been around long enough to recognize a media witch-hunt when he saw one. Plus, he had the clout and the cajones to be able to take the contrary stand. Let the critics peck away. The counterpunch was on its way, and it would be a knockout.
Wallace and the Sixty Minutes crew spent an entire day with Artie. Everything was relaxed and casual. Wallace proved as affable in person as he had been on the phone. They took a walk around the grounds of Artie’s house. They had lunch outside on the patio. They sat in the dark wood womb of Artie’s library. The questions were softballs. The reporter asked Artie about film and reality, the state of the American culture, the changing roles of the sexes. Through his body language he encouraged extensive responses, letting Artie pontificate as if he was addressing a class of college film students. Artie could tell that Wallace was completely respectful and sympathetic, and that only his mantle of journalistic professionalism kept him from stating his agreement. He finished with:
“Final question, one word answer, do you respect women?”
Artie smiled broadly and comfortably. This, he knew, was Wallace’s way of repaying him for a good interview. He removed his glasses so that there would be no barrier between him and the camera and said with warmth, confidence, and sincerity “Absolutely!”
“Thank you, film maker, writer, artist, and man, Arthur Gordon” said Wallace reaching over to give him a handshake. Arthur returned the thanks. After holding the pose for a few seconds, and hearing the call of “cut”, Wallace leaned back and chuckled.
“I love that touch of taking your glasses off.”
“You only gave me one word, so I had to make the most of it,” said Artie.
“If I had given you a few more you probably would have said “Absolutely….. but only when their clothes are off.” Wallace laughed heartily at his own humor.
“A little crude,” thought Artie, but he laughed and repeated the punchline “Absolutely…. but only when their clothes are off.’ Mike, you’re terrible.”
Wallace, continued “AND THEN ONLY FOR ABOUT TEN MINUTES!” And he laughed harder. Artie, relieved that his interview was over, and caught in the spirit of the moment, joined right in. Later it occurred to him that maybe he laughed a little too hard.
For the party, Artie served his signature poached whole salmon. He wasn’t sure how this developed, but in Hollywood he was always known as a guy from “back East,” and in his case this meant Harvard, Boston, and the sea. There was an irony to this., Despite the Brahmin images that were conjured up by the associations of coming from “back East”, Artie came from a pretty ordinary family that had a modest cottage on Indian Mound which is a long way from Hyannisport, Kennebunkport, Nantucket, or Martha’s Vineyard, but a short distance from Dorchester, South Boston, and Jamaica Plain.
The salmon schtick came from his former wife who came from a very social family that really knew how to throw parties. When she (she being “Evelyn”) left him to run with the wolves in the desert, he worked hard to discover the caterers with whom she worked. Now, he could pull off the poached salmon routine as easily as going to the market for a bag of chips. Signature poached salmon was only a phone call away.
Spirits ran high. Many of the people invited were involved in the film and had indirectly felt Artie’s pain. By the time Sixty Minutes came on, the martinis and champagne had been served, and everyone was ready for a triumph.
The lead-in for the piece was Wallace asking his closing question:
“Final question, one word answer, do you respect women?” Then, cut to Artie, squirming uncomfortably and stammering, the light glaring off his balding dome:
“Absolutely….. but only when their clothes are off.”
Then, cut to Mike Wallace, his face a puddle of disgust with a single eyebrow arched in skeptical disdain.
Cut back to Artie, laughing too hard at Mike Wallace’s “ten minutes” crack.
Fifty semi-drunk guests of Arthur Gordon, holding little plates of poached salmon and glasses of champagne, were paralyzed. Artie finally broke it by muting the television, dinging his glass and proclaiming:
“A toast! Here’s a toast to the host…..who’s toast.”