APRIL 1991

As of this writing I’m awaiting the end of the war. It may be over by the end of this column. Thousands of Iraqis are turning themselves over to the Allies as the troops move towards Kuwait City. Meanwhile everywhere in California the fashion is red white and blue flag with occasional yellow trim. The American way has never been more comfortable or stylish. When I see the flag these days there are moments when I feel like I did when I was a little girl all proud, ready to believe we are right, absolutely without a doubt, the only answer, the best, the bravest. But I’m not that child anymore and have witnessed many secrets, lies and promises broken. The politics of war continues to confuse and upset me. The momentum turns the conflict into force majeure. It’s out of control. Man-made earthquake, tidal wave, electrical storm. Why does one situation get us to refrain and another to attack? This year’s friend, next year’s “just cause.” Looking back at Vietnam, I’m not sorry I took a stand against that war, but I am sorry I shunned the soldiers that went there and came back. This time I didn’t join a peace march, but I valued the idea of peace more than ever. The world’s too small to be playing military games in the night. But I also knew I didn’t want to wear a veil or go without a full tank of gas. And Hussein was not a good candidate to win a popularity contest. I saw one staged telecast on the streets of Baghdad while he was accompanied by some armed guards. Only a dozen and a half people jumped around and kissed his hand. I was sort of embarrassed for him. Maybe a mustached dictator whose name starts with the letter H and inflames the masses with words like swords is vexing to subconscious memory.

At the beginning of February I slept a lot and gave up on the news. It was too much of a laser and military report show. My dear friend Mark Harris who packages television programs had his second big bash in less than two months. This time the event was held at the Bel Age Hotel for his 50th birthday! Henry Jaglom, Cindy Gibb, Sam Denoff, Steve Verona, Gail Ramsey, Liz Sagal, John Slan, Paul Seigel, Anson Williams and Bobby Columby were among some of the guests.

A few days later I went to the opening of Fleetwoods, a new elegant blues supper club on Santa Monica Blvd. It was a great party and I have high hopes for this new night scene envisioned by Peter Lepore. Mick Fleetwood is the man above the title. He wanted a place to hang out with some of his friends. He played a set and mingled with John McVie and John Mayall. Rod Steward and his model/wife, Rachel Hunter, came by. Bobby Brown, Terence Trent D’Arby, Katy Sagal, Gary Busey, Anne Beatts, Bo Diddley and John Lee Hooker all mixed it up while eating some of the best pastries, and excellent food prepared by Jean Francoise, former chef at L’Orangerie. Support your local Blues club. America needs to love its grass roots as much as it’s troops.

Valentine’s Day was spent at Matteo’s with children’s theatrical manager Suzanne Schachter and a couple of guys. We watched Gene Barry drink coffee and Tom Selleck eat pasta. We waited on the rumor that Frank was going to drop by. The room glowed in red leather and red light. It was a heart-felt night, but not “blue eyes” in sight.

I went back to New York City to do another Poetry In Motion event at Tommy Tan’s in Tribeca. Michael Lally and I greeted old friends from the Lower East Side who read side by side with Hollywood. Patty D’Arbanville and Alec Baldwin dropped by to read. Alec’s poem about the war was powerful. I was invited to hang around the Grammy rehearsal at Radio City Music Hall. I caught Tracy Chapman practicing her acoustic keyboard tribute to John Lennon. Imagine was never more beautiful than there in the dark hall with that sole figure and her tender voice. Wilson Phillips, Aerosmith, Bob Dylan and Bette Midler also rehearsed that day. To rehearse the event for the cameras, cards are put in the seats with the names of people who will be at the show. I enjoyed wandering around in the sea of musical chairs. I thought opera singer Kathleen Battle seated next to The Eurythmics was a curious choice. I sat in Bonnie Raitt’s front-row seat because I know and like her. It was the most popular seat during rehearsal. After the Grammy show I went to Tatou for the RCA party. I spotted Lisa Stansfield, Bruce Hornsby, Kool Moe Dee, Jeff Healy and Michael Hutchence. I also got to see Neil Simon’s new play, Lost In Yonkers and then got to tell him how much I liked it afterwards at Ian Schrager’s new Paramount Hotel. It’s got a great kids room which I checked out for future consideration. Returning to LA was a breeze. There were no long lines at the airport, no heavy traffic, a row full of seats to sleep in, and early arrival. Maybe the airlines can keep things running this smooth and easy when the war is over.

I’m at the end of this month’s entry and the war goes on. Iraq has withdrawn from Kuwait. Operation Desert Storm moves north. Next month I hope to be writing about all the post-war parties I’ll be invited to. See ya.