In the early 1990s? (the exact year escapes me) I would go on Sundays with another teacher, Angela, to a NYC restaurant (long closed) called Mulholland Drive Cafe. It was on Third Avenue and about 64th Street and it was owned by Patrick Swayze.
The place was not that big and it was a weekly hangout for Al Goldstein and his hangers on... and plenty of porn stars surrounded him. It was "Al this and Al that" and even though it was 1PM they dressed with a lot of sparkle and glitter and like they were going to a disco. Plus, I never saw heels so high. He was the center of attention and he sat on his throne there at some long table at literally a higher level at the top of a few steps. Al Goldstein, (of Screw magazine and Midnight Blue, on public access TV) was sort of famous back then in NYC.
After a few weeks, Al became more interested in me and Angela than his regular crew. So he sat with us and after we gave him some back story and information about us, he said (one of his ex wives) was a teacher. So then the conversation became all about the schools... a subject that always got me talking. It still does. So by the way, if the schools returned to a more traditional learning model with students seated in rows (not social groups) and a basal reader (not a leveled library with books grouped by genre) and textbooks in the subject areas and a strong phonemic awareness program with quiet classrooms instead of "productive noise" and again allowed teacher directed lessons instead of reducing the teacher's role to that of a facilitator, there would seriously be no child left behind. I think I would be a great U.S. Secretary of Education. I would bring back a Scott Foresman basal reader with a comprehension workbook and remove Common Core standards from the paradigm. But, I digress.
Years after that, Al was living near me... on 8th Avenue and 15th Street, and when he would pass my building, if I was outside, we would stand on the sidewalk and talk for a while... always about the schools. He seemed lonely and he would talk of his son. He was so proud of him, but talked about other issues with him.In 2004, he started working at the old Second Avenue Deli. Then, he fell on very hard times. He was unrecognizable. And soon thereafter, he passed away.
Here is a comment posted on YouTube: "I was walking down Broadway in Jackson Heights on (sic) summer night in 2004 when I passed Al. I turned around and said "Al?" He turner (sic) around. By that point he was broke and down on his luck. We had a very nice chat. Seemed like a nice man. No airs." That's the Al Goldstein I knew.
Here is an article about Al Goldstein worth reading. But the writer gets it wrong, unless there was a different "legendary brunch" restaurant on Lexington Avenue where he held court at a different time. We definitely met him at Mulholland Drive Cafe on Third Avenue.
Years later (in about 2010), I was sitting with Robyn Byrd, at a Comic Strip comedy club holiday party. We talked about the old channel J... and even about Steve Gruberg, who I also knew from the neighborhood... and whose show I would call into from time to time. Steve also passed away. Time passes so quickly. The world keeps turning.
This is a photo I took of Robyn Byrd.
WARNING!! ADULT CONTENT!!!
Do not open and watch if easily offended by mature content and words and references which could be considered offensive or tasteless. It is Al Goldstein, so expect Al to be Al.
In the 1980s, I was teaching at a NYC public school located in the midtown area of Manhattan, which received and enrolled many students from hotels which housed homeless families.
Some of those hotels were: The Carter, The Prince George, and The Martinique. The conditions in those places were very terrible and the filmmaker/actor Lee Grant made a documentary called "Down and Out in America" which told the stories of some of those residents and families who lived in those shelters.
Part 6 of the series told the story of Bruce and Kathy, who lived in The Martinique. That shelter was located on Broadway and West 32nd Street. The very old building went through changes: it was a Radisson for a while and now it is back to the name Martinique. Back then, it was total filth and squalor.
I knew Bruce and Kathy. Their children attended the school in which I was a teacher and I had one of their children in my class and Bruce brought the children to school every day. Kathy was rather quiet but Bruce talked a lot. He had a great deal of issues and problems. Theirs was a situation where you hoped help would offer up some positive change but matters were so devastating for them that a conclusion seemed fairly evident and apparent.
I remember one afternoon after school I was walking to Macy's and I saw him passed out in some seedy doorway... with one of his children sitting by his side on a step as another passerby ran to a pay phone to call for assistance.
They were not the only ones with sad lives that passed through the hallways of the schools in which I taught. But their story is the only story that became one part of a documentary you can view at the link above.
Luke Sacher and I connected after I sent him an E-mail in which I praised the videos he posted at his YouTube channel.
We began telephone conversations and we spoke on a regular basis and after a short amount of time we bonded closely regarding our mutual interests.
I am delighted to call Luke my friend. He enhances my life in layered ways and each time we talk I grow so much because he is so intelligent, referenced, and well educated.
I value my conversations with Luke and he sincerely inspires me to learn, to be more creative, and to consider all the nuances within daily life.
His work is extraordinary and his documentaries are award winning.
Luke's documentaries include: AIDS BLOOD AND POLITICS, The Rat Pack for A & E, Who Killed Adam Mann, and RADIUM CITY... soon on Vimeo.
In about June of 1997, I wrote a treatment for a Seinfeld episode called "The Liquid" and then submitted it to ICM to be considered for representation. I was never sent a reply.
But, during the week of Thanksgiving that year... I was more than shocked to have received this letter (below) from Tim Kaiser, a producer of Seinfeld. He stated that: "we are returning this submission to you unread."
Apparently, my submission to ICM was not placed in the circular file. It must have been sent to the writers of Seinfeld. It was submission worthy? How else would the Seinfeld producers have received it?
I love this: "While we know that outside submissions can yield the occasional diamond in the rough..." And, "Believe me this was a difficult decision...."
How was it a difficult decision if they never read it? Oh, well. I thought the letter was gracious and kind, and I felt "stoked and pumped."
It was rejected... but guess what? I still had it and knew it was... pretty pretty pretty darn good.
So... I sent the idea to Larry David when he was starring on Broadway in "Fish in the Dark." He never replied to me.
So, after all that rejection: I did it myself in 6 parts, as "Cookie Lipschitz," who is "Yetta Telebenda's alter ego. Please follow through to the end to view all 6 parts.
This was my experience decades ago, during the summer of 1970. Mine. It is not a cautionary tale nor foolish advice for others. I am not an idiot. I know many friends and relatives who constantly travel all over the world to the most remote places and love it. But, this particular piece tells of my time in Europe. And to this day, those two weeks still live inside me. And so does that fear.
So what could go wrong with a TWA Travel Adventure? Barbara and I planned the trip to Lisbon, Madrid, Paris, and Rome. I did not realize that when Barbara invited Ilene, who would already be in Europe, to meet up with us at our first city stop... my adventure would immediately go south.
I was timid back then and very shy and quiet. I suppose that demeanor made me a bully magnet: a target for the unresolved angers of others... in school, in camp, and elsewhere. So when that "mean girl" Ilene talked dopey weak minded Barbara into dumping me and going off on daily explorations without me... Barbara agreed and off they went leaving me alone every day to decide whether, after leaving the hotel, I should wander left or go roam right. The only good day I had was going with my friend Tina to the Louvre, a meet up we had planned before we even left Manhattan since we knew we would be crossing paths during our two separate vacations.
I had one night with the two sadistic mental torturers: I have a photo of the three of us in a Madrid cafe... but to protect their identity I will not post it. Trust me, the misery on my face in the picture is palpable. Seriously, who does that? What kind of "friends" trot off and leave another girl behind to spend days and nights alone in foreign cities? I do not think it was a plan... I think Ilene instigated it and the lemming Barbara followed along.
And if that was in Barbara's nature, why didn't she let me back out when I had a change of mind about even going? That fool called my mother to tell my mother she had to convince me to still go. And of course my mother put some shtik of guilt inside me saying I would ruin Barbara's summer if I did not go.
In Rome, those two horrible girls, Barbara and Ilene, talked me into going to an isolated beach house (at some deserted location) with three guys they had just met that day. That night, we arrived there after a 45 minute drive. It was very dark and nobody else was even around.In that cabin, most of the light bulbs were broken and there was no working toilet. Some bed was turned on the side and all the furniture was broken. It was just a long wide empty beach under a moon... and us: three guys and three girls.
I think I passed out. I cannot remember how we got back to the hotel. Years later, I wondered if they used the interior of that place for the set of the film Hostel.
I remember being alone in the Lisbon hotel room one night (once again Barbara and Ilene flat left me, going off for perhaps another dangerous escapade) and wishing that when I opened my eyes the two weeks for that trip would be over. I just wanted to go home. I was so tired of having every dinner alone in a foreign country, I felt so deserted... I even got paranoid that they realized I was Jewish and restaurants were poisoning my food. I lost a great deal of weight during those two weeks away.
Anyway: even though we were an organized TWA group, we did not have structured days... we only gathered at the airports and every experience at customs was a personal nightmare. Did I look suspicious? Did I look like a smuggler? My unlocked luggage was ALWAYS picked for inspections. ALWAYS. EVERY.SINGLE.TIME. I had actual hallucinations that drugs would be planted in my suitcases and I would be framed. Why? Because I was the Jew! I began to feel they had some nefarious plot to throw the American Jewish girl into a prison and that was decades before "Locked Up Abroad."
Some time later, after I was back in New York City, I read about Billy Hayes's Midnight Express Experience and thought... "there but for the grace of G-d."
The fear from that summer still lives inside me. I think that trip triggered my OCD. I was very young, changing, and just at that time did not have the skills or confidence to handle the matter or manage my situation. My thoughts were unrealistic, and as I developed and grew older I probably would have had a great time alone in those wonderful cities. Of course, I probably had a tendency to develop that anxiety disorder because I was a nervous kid and a worrier... but that trip in 1970 sealed the deal. I spent years after that going into panics that never impacted others but certainly thwarted my own life. And after that traumatic and hurtful experience that summer, I got off easy. I could have developed agoraphobia.
And though I have traveled many times to diverse locations since that time, I never went back to Europe.
(continued below)
After that year, during summers... I spent many days at Long Beach, Long Island. I never had to travel far to find a place that gave me strange comfort.
And the trips I really enjoyed after that were the "safe" ones I took with Jerry. So rest in peace, Jerry. And I still maintain you drove that night back from the Syosset movie theater with your eyes closed. And that night was the third time I saw this film:
