Just got back from the Second Great Doper Boneyard Tour. Ever so many people there, many of us dragging friends with us: Oxy, Billdo, Ukulele Ike, Stuyguy, Miamouse, Mehitabel . . . Ummm, who else was there? I missed a few names.
We lucked out with weather: sunny, hot, humid; but no rain, despite rumblings in the background. Our tour guide was terrific: perky and knowledgeable. I took two rolls of film, both of famous graves and of the handsome and lovely Dopers admiring them. I’ll e 'em to Oxy to post next week.
Let’s see . . . How about Trinity Graveyard next, or a NY History Walking Tour?
Bert Savoy, Olive Thomas, Damon Runyon’s wife, Marilyn Miller, Florence Mills, Clyde Fitch, George McManus, George M. Cohan, Irv Berlin, the Castles! And Anna Blakesly Bliss, that mysterious wench!
I’m up for anything else NYC historiical. This tour blew me away…I thought I knew most of Woodlawn, but that big honking grieving statue-man with the twisted hands and feet…the Italian stonecutters’ nephew who died in the Pacific in WWII…the stonecutters who did the work on Lincoln in the Lincoln Memorial…that was WILD.
Not to mention the two intertwined marble lesbians.
My favorite (from the Woodlawn brochure): "Bert Savoy (1888-1923)…One of the greatest female impersonators in vaudeville, Savoy always referred to men as “she,” and in an age when questions of gender identity were unexplored, he was as effeminate offstage as on…At the height of his fame, Savoy was killed by lightning in an accident on the beach in Long Beach, L.I. It is said that immediately before being struck, Savoy heard thunder and exclaimed to his companions, “Mercy, ain’t Miss God cuttin’ up something awful!”
I took the film in and it will be ready tomorrow after work; I’ll e-mail photos for Oxy to post, and of course anyone who wants actual prints, lemme know. I wanna see the one of Ike and I doing the Castle Walk in fronmt of Vernon & Irene’s graves (you can actually see them spinning!).
By the way, Bert Savoy died 80 years ago this summer! Had I known we were going to see his grave, I’d have brought a pansy with me (insert obvious joke here).
Erin, Alex and I had a very nice time. I was also glad that the young 'un (mostly) behaved. I tried to keep him back as much as possible while y’all were talking.
It was a little fun putting faces and voices with names. And it wasn’t intimidating like I thought it might turn out to be. Erin thought I was disappointed because I was missing some of the conversation, and while some of the stories behind them were interesting, I couldn’t help but be taken up by all the loving craftsmenship and beauty that went into each structure. (So I wasn’t paying rapt attention to begin with)
We’re hoping to go back with the hubby & rest of kids in the bike trailer one Sunday soon.
Oh, Ike, we forgot to go back and see Hootie McCootie, or whoever that jazz guy was! I see we also missed Lotta Crabtree and Laurette Taylor . . . I guess you can only reach so many dead folks in one day . . .
I hope you took a photo of George M. Cohan’s grave. I’d love to see it. I sang myself hoarse in high school when we did the musical George M. I guess I’ve been singing his songs ever since!
Sadly, I ran out of film before we got to the Cohans, but here is a photo of his lovely mausoleum.
"His mother’s buried there; his father’s buried there; his sister’s buried there; and he’s buried there. Right next to their mausoleum is that of Sam Harris—I suggested they put a big stone “&” between them.
Cootie Williams, Duke Ellington’s lead trumpet player for about a million years, and the dedicatee of the classic Ellington tune “Concerto for Cootie.” He also led a small ensemble in the late '40s best known for their recording of “Gator Tail,” with the very famous tenor saxophone solo by Willis “Gator” Jackson, known to every reader of Kerouac’s On the Road.
I’m a single guy with no children. I’ll probably never accomplish anything in this lifetime that will cause my memory to linger (I can’t even get Eve to remember me from the time she leaves a cemetary until the time she posts). And the odds of my dying in some bizarre and colorful manner that people will talk about is unlikely. So if I’m going to get any visitors after I die, I’ll have to rely on indirect means. I figure a good monolith is my best shot for immortality.
I got several ideas from yesterday’s tour. There was the fifty foot tower (smart woman; she even had a backup plan of being killed by a revolving door on New Year’s Eve). There was the enigmatic symbolism of floating eggshells, duck people, and foo dogs. And there were statues of nude lesbians. I’m thinking a hundred foot tall granite depictation of the lyrics of Arlo Guthrie’s American Pie being acted out in charade fashion by nude women will ensure people will drop by.
Nemo! The problem was, I remembered your real name but not your Board name, and I didn’t want to post your real name here, in case hordes of deranged groupies showed up at your door!
(And yes, there actually was a woman at Woodlawn who was crushed to death in the revolving door at the Plaza on New Year’s Eve!!)
Wouldn’t have bothered me so much if you hadn’t forgotten both my presense and my name in the Greenwood tour thread. I was starting to think it was some kind of Sixth Sense thing where I thought I was meeting people but nobody knew I was there.
Anyway, how about this idea; a lifesize bronze statue of Porky Pig with a mechanical waving arm and the epitath “aba-dee-aba-dee-aba-dee-that’s all folks!” Is this fair use or should I worry about my estate being sued for trademark violations?
Well, at least I didn’t go around calling you by the wrong name, like I did with Stuyguy. My only excuse is, “I never remember a name, but I always forget a face.”
I’ll pick up the photos today and send 'em to Oxy to post.