Last night I participated in an event at the Algonquin on 44th Street cohosted by the hotel and Penguin.
We seated ourselves around the round (actually, now oval) table. We have an oval table at our house but what happens around it is not so witty.
Another Parker-ism: You can lead a whore to culture but you can’t make her drink. (She was challenged to use “horticulture” in a sentence.)
I settled myself in the spot of Dorothy Parker (1). The seat was still warm. My fellow author David R. Gilham took his place beside me and we talked, answered questions and read a bit for a good-humored audience.
Can you take a guess at some of the other faces above?
2. Robert Benchley
6. Harpo Marx
9. George S. Kaufman
12. Edna Ferber
3. Matilda, the hotel mascot (now replaced by another Matilda)
By a few sentences in, my butterflies had flown, and I was ready to spill the tale of a beautiful, brave New Amsterdam woman who investigates a series of grisly killings alongside a sensitive stud soldier. The victims are orphans, and the killer may be a supernatural Indian spirit.
What would Dorothy Parker make of that?