Update 7-20-10

Hi,

It was, again, a great party.  Actually, it was a terrific series of parties, which went just about the way we planned.
   
For me, the reunions began on Thursday, with lunch in Philadelphia with Marc Jonas and Rich Sternhell.  The three of us met a couple of years ago for lunch when I was east, and we met again though at a different restaurant.  Marc looked especially Tom Wolfe spiffy, explaining he had a couple of speeches to make that day.

Friday, I wanted to get to the hotel early, to avoid the Hamptons traffic and to remind myself where everything was.  I was possibly picking up Peter Rosen at the Islip Airport if he couldn't get a hotel shuttle, but he did, so I met him at the hotel.  Peter had spent the previous night with friends at a former Woolworth's mansion, a cottage of about 26,000 square feet.  I'd spent the previous night in my 16-foot square childhood bedroom in Green Acres / Millbrook.

Peter and I soon found Art Halprin, who was sunning by the outdoor pool, and Neil Guberman, who was mixing drinks for Art and himself.  While Peter unpacked, I checked out the hotel, Art and Neil roasted, then Peter and I had lunch.  Suddenly, it was almost five, time for the party to begin.

I got my red South baseball cap and headed to the bar.  Andrea Schwartz Neenan '67 was the first to join me there.  It's a good thing you had that hat," she said, "because I was looking for you five minutes ago and was about to ask at the desk if there was another Hyatt in the area."

Within an hour, there were a dozen of us -- Andrea, Peter, Art, Neil, Peggy Cooper Schwartz, Stu Kandel, Mary Ferranti Kahn, Henry Gabbay, Barbara Brill Frohman, Danny Stellabotte, Irene Saunders Goldstein, and me.  Andrea had started by pulling a chair up next to mine, then we made a triangle, and then a continually expanding circle, which involved moving a half-dozen bar tables.  Around eight, after talking steadily in constantly-shifting combinations for three hours, we decided to stay in the bar for dinner.  So we rearranged the tables and chairs in the corner of the bar we'd commandeered, ordered food, and continued talking.  After the bar stopped serving food at 9:30, we moved up to Art and Neil's room to continue talking -- and drinking.  Somewhere between eleven and twelve, we broke up, seeing most of us had done some traveling that day or the day before, and we wanted to get some rest.  Andrea and Peggy had come from Florida, Peter from Atlanta, Art from Colorado, Neil from Pittsburgh, Irene from Washington, DC by way of a conference in Los Angeles, and I also came from Los Angeles, by way of Philadelphia.  Barbara, Stu, Mary, Danny, and Henry were local, but their homes were scattered all over Long Island.

Saturday morning, I think Peter had breakfast with Irene and Peggy.  I had breakfast with Laura Waxman Ulric '64, her husband Ken '64, and B.J. Peres '62.  That was supposed to last a couple hours, but it stretched almost four, which made me a bit late for the party at Valerie Nelson Gillen's.  Meanwhile, Benette Steindam Pizzamenti '66, and her husband Dennis '65 were having lunch with Susan Joseph Tuckerman '66 and Craig Purcell '66.

At Valerie's, Linda Cohen Greenseid, Robin Feit Baker, and Dennis Shapiro joined us.  There was plenty of food, great weather, a wonderful pool, Valerie's terrific sense of humor, and her incredibly patient husband George, who listened to seemingly endless stories spanning over fifty years.  Some of us swam, all of us ate and ate, and all of us talked, and talked, and talked.  Still, someone was keeping track of the time because we'd promised to meet Booker Gibson at the nearby Irish Coffee Pub at 5:00.

Five of us -- Peggy, Irene, Peter, Neil, and I -- managed to separate ourselves temporarily from the party, and we drove to the surprisingly large Pub, where we met Arlene Ainbinder Lynn '67 and her daughter and Emily Kleinman Schreiber '61 and her husband Len.  We all talked happily to Booker, who looked pretty much as he always has though he claims he's going to be eighty in the fall.  Before we left, we posed for pictures for Emily, and Neil took pictures of Booker's red Miatta with the license plates that read "Booker G."

By seven. we were back at Valerie's, and by eight, we were at The Hull House, a seafood restaurant Valerie had recommended.  There were at least three huge lobsters eaten at that table and a spread of other fish.  By eleven, we were at the hotel again, back in Art and Neil's room, telling and telling stories.  Slowly, the group whittled down, and Dennis and I were the last to leave, I think around three.  I know it was nearly four when I got back to Valley Stream.

Sunday, I slept late, but I know other people had a farewell breakfast because Art called me around ten.  Some of us had hoped to meet Martha Morenstein for lunch, but those plans tangles, so I went back to sleep.  Instead, much later, I saw my mother and sister Marilyn '68, and we had paella at a Portuguese restaurant in Jamaica.  Tuesday night, after Italian food with my aunt on Monday and a Chinese lunch with my uncle on Tuesday, I met with Linda Cohen Greenseid, Dennis Shapiro, and Paul DeMartino at Linda's home.  Robin Feit Baker was supposed to be with us, but the only time she was free, Paul and I weren't, so Linda's husband Michael ate Robin's share of the generous amount of food.  Again, we were only supposed to stay a couple of hours, but we finally worked ourselves free at just under four.  It's amazing how we all can talk.

Monday evening, Linda Tobin Kettering '69 and I had snuck in a half-hour catch-up in the middle of her busy schedule and a joyous-though-severe thunderstorm -- we don't get that kind of rain in Los Angeles -- and Tuesday morning, I slipped over to South to see Liz King Giordano.  I also gave a her a dusty, politically incorrect relic of South's past, which my brothers Michael '76 and David '78 unearthed in my parents' basement:  a Confederate hat, complete with a battered plume and Rebel insignia.  I'd last worn the hat at the '64 North-South game.

I'd taken the hat to Valerie's Saturday to show the group, and I'd hoped to give it a proper send-off, perhaps in a midnight bonfire on the beach.  But bonfires are illegal, and we never made it to the water, so I left the hat for Liz to show South's principal and staff.  Going back to my mother's, of course, I couldn't walk across the bridge though it isn't really gone:  its short span has been removed, but the dirt bulkheads remain.  I wanted to drive anyway, because I wanted to search down a pair of five-foot stone horses Benette had spotted near her childhood home, where her brother still lives.  The horses names, according to their bronze plaques, are Cleopatra and Marc Anthony.

The last South alum I saw was my brother David, at lunch Wednesday at Houston's in Roosevelt Field, but I did talk that night with at actress friend of mine, formerly of New York and Los Angeles and now singing regularly in Philadelphia.  She fondly remembered being directed by Barnet Kellman on Murphy Brown.

Overall, I've got enough stories to last a couple of years though I can't tell most of them.  One I can tell is from Stu Kandel, who'd worked about twenty years with a man before they were both coaching a soccer game one afternoon against South.
    "I used to live in Valley Stream," the man said.
    "Where?" Stu asked.
    "A place called 'Green Acres.' "
    "Which street?"
    "Brentwood."
    "What number?"
    " '81."
    Stu's old house.  The man and Stu had lived there almost successively.
    "That story just gives me the chills," Peggy Cooper Schwartz said.  There were many others which might have verged on libel.

So thanks to Allen Moss, who first suggested to Judy Peters Sylvan and Stu Kandel that we gather for a 45th.  And thanks again to Paul DeMartino, who made 200 cold calls in the summer of 2001 and first reassembled the class.  Thanks to Irene Saunders Goldstein, who finally broke the gridlock this spring and chose the hotel, and to Terri Donohue Calamari, who led us there to begin with.  Finally, huge, special thanks to Valerie Nelson Gillen and her husband George, for giving us an absolute center for the reunion.

Many pictures were taken.  Again, all should be send to Stu Borman at:  sborman@gmail.com   Even though Stu's presently in Hong Kong, he promised to get the pictures onto the class site as soon as possible.  I think he just wants to see them.

The South '65 e-mail addresses:  reunionclass65.blogspot.com

The South '65 photo site:  picasaweb.google.com/SouthHS65 


Rich