9/21/23
Newsletter #465
The Crack of Dawn
I knocked on Don Bachardy’s door at 8:30 AM. After a fairly lengthy pause, Don appeared through the window in a bathrobe, then slowly made his way to the front door. When he opened the door and looked at me there wasn’t a hint of recognition. I said, “I was Rick Sandford’s good friend.” Rick’s name sparked enough of a positive response so that Don asked me in. He asked if I’d like a cup of coffee and I said yes. He then very slowly made coffee. I offered my assistance, and he wouldn’t hear of it. When the cup of coffee was made, we went out and sat on the balcony off the kitchen. I lived in L.A. for about 25 years. Of all the many places I’ve been in L.A., that balcony there at Chris & Don’s house is one of the very best places. The view is entirely the Pacific Ocean, and it always has a sea breeze.
I asked if I could smoke. This was when a change in Don began to appear. He not only nodded in the affirmative and said yes, he appeared downright pleased, saying, “Yes, yes, of course.” He brought me a saucer to use as an ashtray. Don’s not a smoker and never was. However, the smell of the cigarette smoke was a Proustian biscuit in firing off dormant old synapses in Don’s mind. His eyes lit up. I reminisced about the many times he and Rick and I went to the movies. I added that every now and then Chris would join us. Don nodded, remembering, saying, “Yes, yes, yes, we’d go to the County Museum.” I said, “Yes we did.” He didn’t recognize me, he remembered the smell of the cigarette, which he was clearly enjoying, second hand.
I pride myself in knowing a lot about movies, but I didn’t know shit next to Rick Sandford. Both Rick and I didn’t know shit compared to Don, who had seen everything. Knowing that, I just dove headlong into movie trivia, bringing up the great director, Michael Curtiz, who directed Casablanca, and was himself a real character. Suddenly, Don’s eyes grew even clearer. I’d hit exactly the right button — movie geek. He has an enormous wealth of knowledge that undoubtedly hadn’t been called upon in decades. I pointed down the hill, and brought up Salka Veirtel, who had the classiest salon in Hollywood. Salon meaning a place where the best people would meet and talk. Christopher Isherwood had been part of Veirtel’s salon for a number of years in the 1940s, then she closed down due to the harassment of many of her guests by the House Unamerican Activities Committee. So the salon migrated to Chris’s house (this was before he met Don). Anyway, upon hearing the name Salka Veirtel, Don went right after her son, Peter, who co-wrote The African Queen (1951). Don made some snide comment about Peter Veirtel’s marriage to Deborah Kerr, and he was fully back to reality, and in fine form, too.
However, once he was back and completely remembered who I was, he asked, “How many times did I paint you?” I said, “Three. All in one day.” He was impressed since sitting for him is extremely difficult, with most folks barely making it once. He said, “I’m doing a project. I’m painting people that I’ve already painted many years ago. You fit into that category.” I nodded, “Yes, I do. You painted me in 1994, damn near 30 years ago.” He nodded. “You know what it’s like sitting for me.” I nodded, “Yes, I do.” He said, “I can’t get anybody to sit for me anymore, and I only paint live people.”
He explained at length why painting a live subject is so important. This culminated with him saying, “You have to come by and sit for me again. You understand what it takes.” I said, “I don’t live in L.A. anymore, Don. I live in Detroit.” He nodded and said, “You still have to come by and sit for me again.” It wasn’t a discussion.
So, I’ve decided to use Don’s images to show a tiny selection of who else actually sat through Don’s intense process. Since I don’t charge money for this newsletter, I don’t think I’m really stealing. And I get to slip myself in as part of the crowd.
Not a bad line up.
Meanwhile, it’s hours before the dawn.