One of the best gifts given to me by Sandy is the complete collection of The New Yorker on DVD. We have every issue printed… all the covers, all the writing, all the cartoons and all the advertisements. You can search the archives by issue, by author, by artist or by subject matter. Besides being a repository of some of the greatest short piece writing (the poetry never interested me, although I’m sure that it’s good, too) and hilarious cartoons, the pages hold a treasure trove of past culture seen thru the prism of its advertising.
There was an advert in a recent issue (April 21, 2008) that caught my eye. I now get current issues the old way… in the mail. A full page in color was given over to promoting the new hard cover Secret Ingredients. The bold headline: From The New Yorker A feast of delicious writing on food and drink, seasoned with a generous dash of cartoons. Then followed a partial listing of the goodies contained therein: Woody Allen on dieting the Dostoyevsky way, Roger Angell on the art of the Martini (you know that I am going to read that!), M.F.K. Fisher on the trouble with tripe, A.J. Liebling on Paris and appetite, John McPhee on Euell Gibbons, master forager, S.J. Perelman on a hollandaise assassin and Calvin Trillin on New York’s best bagel.
This book sounds too good to pass up. Some of my favorite writers… and writing on a favorite pastime of mine: eating and drinking. And here’s the good part… I didn’t have to wait to buy the book… I have every word ever written in The New Yorker on handy DVDs!
I hit the archive… I couldn’t wait to dig out Angell’s piece on martinis (no surprise there!). Angell is a terrific writer, son and step-son of Kathryn White and E.B. White respectively. I also believe that his resume includes being the “Fact Piece” Editor of the magazine. I have any number of his anthologies on baseball. He brings an uncommon literacy to the discussion of the wide strike zone and the finer points of the split finger fastball. His writing on my favorite libation was no less exceptional: “At Lotus, at the Merc Bar, and all over town, extremely thin young women hold their stemmed cocktail glasses at a little distance from their chests and avidly watch the shinning oil twisted out of a strip of lemon peel across the pale surface of their gin or vodka Martini like a gas stain from an idling outboard.”
John McPhee was next. And it is here that we will linger. McPhee is one of my three favorite fact piece writers. The others being John Keegan (war) and Hugh Johnson (wine). I would read anything written by McPhee, such is his skill in turning what might be a “dry topic” into something compelling. His topics are far reaching and varied. I have little interest in geology, other than it’s relationship to the study of dinosaurs; but McPhee’s volume on plate tectonics kept me engaged from start to finish.
I fetched the #4 disc covering the years 1965 to 1973 and retrieved McPhee’s profile of Euell Gibbons from the April 6, 1968 issue. I printed it off and took myself to the comforts of my blue chair. I had never heard of Gibbons, and my concept of foraging is what Sherman’s troops did on their march to burn Atlanta to the ground. Personally, my foraging takes place in the produce section of Costco. But this is McPhee… I’m going to read it.
“Gibbons’ interest in wild food suggests but does not actually approach madness.” {Great sentence. It’s what I call engaging.} “He eats acorns because he likes them. He is neither ascetic nor obsessed nutritionist. He is not trying to prove that wild food is better than tame food, or that he can survive without the assistance of a grocer.” {Great tempo. Great writers have amazing pace in their sentences.} “He is apparently not trying to prove anything at all except that there is a marvelous variety of good food in the world and that only a modest part of the whole can be found in the most super, or super markets.” {There wasn’t a Costco back then.}
The writing flows. That’s the way it is with McPhee: perfect speed. On page 57, on the outside column next to the text is an advertisement for Reis of New Haven. Reis was a neckwear supplier for Chipp, our family clothing business in New York. As a little kid I can remember Maury Reis coming over to our house on a Sunday to show Dad the various colour swatches of the tie designs. By the time I joined Chipp in 1971 Reis wasn’t an important source for us. The advert shows 3 silk foulard ties draped around a wooden duck decoy… “Our exclusive English hand-blocked silk foulards are created by Reis craftsmen of only the purest unweighted silks, hand-sewn and fully lined. When you tie one on, you’ll know it’s a Reis. From $4.50, the tie, at better shops.” Pretty good advertising copy. Even if they weren’t an important supplier for us… it’s nice to be reminded of the “classic” taste that we promoted as well.
I continued reading McPhee’s adventure in traveling with Euell Gibbons… canoeing on the Susquehanna, hiking the Appalachian trail and living off the land. “Dinner revived me. Gibbons had found some catnip, and he made catnip tea. He said that catnip is a mild sedative, and I drank all I could hold.” {sounds like an undergraduate thing} “We built a high bonfire that whipped in the wind. The dandelions, boiled in three waters, were much better than they were the night before, and the oyster mushrooms might have been taken from a banquet for the Olympian gods.” {See, this is what happens when you’re starved senseless… you drink “funny” tea and then begin hallucinating that you’re having dinner with Zeus.}
Here we are on page 64 and we have another necktie ad. This one is for Gino Paoli. Three ties, but the duck decoy has been replaced by a “hot” looking lady with eye make-up meant to duplicate the pattern of one of the ties. “You’re the man in her eyes. Those notable knotables hand-tailored in Italy by Gino Paoli. From the Splendido Tie Collection to suit executive tastes.” Splendido? You must be kidding me. These are department store ties… Paul, Alan and me would have sneered at that stuff.
We return to McPhee’s breakfast on the following morning on page 66, “We stuffed them {persimmons} eagerly into our mouths, because they looked good, but found that all the astringency of the slightly unripe persimmons seemed to be brought out powerfully when they are stewed.” {Anyone could have told you that!} “ They puckered not only our mouths but also our throats. Gibbons observed, with no particular alarm, that he thought his esophagus was going to close.” {I could just imagine my Grandmother, Mommie Soph cautioning against eating under-ripe fruit.}
The clothing ad on this page is for Trend Fashions. I have never heard of this manufacturer. We have a picture of a guy seated in a chair wearing this short sleeved “sweater thing.” Dark hair, cut jaw seated in a “manly” manner. “The Trend is to relaxing moments in full-fashioned, silk textured BAN-LON knits. Meditate in elegance with Trend Fashions Antron nylon mock turtleneck with rib-design front and layered ‘V’ inset. Machine washable, dryable. Spring colors mix or match with our sweaters and walk shorts.” This looks like what you would find in a cheap Pro-Shop at a bad Country Club. This proves that you can find bad taste in every era.
Page 72. “The Appalachian Trail rose and fell in long, untiring grades through the mountains, among hardwood forests that were not at all dense and where sunlight, on that first afternoon, sprayed down through the trees.” {“sprayed down through the trees”, that’s a terrific image. I can see it. I’ll file that away and use it myself if the occasion arises.}
Now we have an ad for DAKS trousers. Instead of a photograph, there is line art. It looks like Al Herman’s work. We used Al at Chipp, too… before we switched over to photography. “DAKS Trousers: from Britain with pride. Why do DAKS trousers come only from Britain? The talents of London tailors and the breeding of British woolens are difficult to duplicate. Even more elusive is the spirited styling, so finely tempered elegance. This is thoroughly British – and thoroughly at home wherever good taste prevails.” Decent copy writing. I have no argument with British woolens. We swore by it. And the craftsmanship of Savile Row Tailors is one thing… but on base line manufacturing I thought we did a better job on this side of the “pond.” DAKS was a department store label camouflaged with an English accent. We preferred to buy the piece goods from Britain; but give it to “our boys” to make into finished products.
The combination ad on pages 86 and 87 is just too much of a distraction. I stopped my reading to examine the split. Page 86 was occupied by a rather large close-up of three fabrics: a glen plaid, a large window pane & “seercord” stripe. Superimposed on the plaid and in silhouette was a line drawing of a guy in a jacket and trousers with his arms folded. “Southwick. There’s a little bit of a peacock in all of us. So go ahead and strut about in Southwick’s new spring sport jackets. See yourself in the bold new colors and contrasts. The broad patterns like window-pane plaids. The ribbed weaves and nubby textures in Shantung, India, Hopsack and blends. And match them up with a few pairs of co-ordinated slacks. Look for the name ‘Southwick’. It’s sewn into the labels of the finest clothiers. Sport Jackets from $80. Slacks about $35.”
We didn’t use Southwick at Chipp… but any of the patterns shown in this ad could have been seen hanging on our clothing racks, too. It sounds silly to say that it seems like a long time ago… it was a long time ago… 40 years.
On the adjacent page there is a listing of stores where the Southwick label could be found in cities across America. Eddie Jacobs Ltd in Baltimore (I remember their crossed tennis rackets logo), Filenes in Boston (a solid name back then, although immortalized thru their “basement”), Brittany Ltd in Chicago (Ivy League for the stockyards), Bunce Brothers in Cleveland (our local competition), Van Driver in Greenwich (I think they had a shop in Stamford, too), Robertson’s in Lake Forest (providing shetland sweaters for Chicago’s “Greenwich”), Lew Ritter in Los Angeles (didn’t match the taste of our friend Dick Carroll’s on Rodeo Dr), Burdine’s in Miami (this was before the advent of South Beach), Paul Stuart in New York (the force in tasteful fashion), Connolly’s in Oklahoma City (another top name), Hillhouse Ltd in Providence (I think I met the owner once), Robert Kirk Ltd in San Francisco (Cable Car Clothes… active mail order presence), Dall’s in Schenectady (I wonder if anyone from Union College even bought a pair of socks from that place), Roots in Summit (shop in New Jersey’s “Greenwich”), Arthur Adler in Washington, DC (Arthur was my Dad’s cousin… I think), Allen Collins in West Hartford (one of my Dad’s best friends had a competing shop: Henry Miller’s), House of Walsh in Williamstown (great tartan stuff), Mansure & Prettyman in Wilmington (I always loved the sound of the name… something from Charles Dickens no?) and the Suburbanite in Wilton (destroyed in a fire a few years ago).
Those names roll thru my mind. The listing in the ad was five times longer… most names of establishments where I had little or no knowledge. I wonder how many still have their doors open?
I worked at Chipp for 25 years with Paul. 8 years with Alan. Our ideas in taste we acquired thru Dad… his taste coming thru from his days as a salesman at J. Press in New Haven. New Haven… home to not only J. Press; but also Athrur M. Rosenberg, Fenn Feinstein and Langrocks. This was the epicenter of “Ivy League Clothing”… when to dress Ivy League meant hand-loomed shetland sport coats, worsted flannels, oxford buttondowns, reppe striped ties and shined loafers. It’s somewhat ironic that this clutch of stores that catered to the WASP aristocracy in America who attended Yale, Harvard, Dartmouth & etc., were all owned by Jews. My Dad would tell me: “We’re their lawyers, their doctors, their accountants and their clothiers”. Surely an oversimplification and not uniformly accurate… but it did have a ring to it.
On page 98 we have yet again another necktie ad. This is for F.R. Tripler… an old “neighbor’ of ours around the corner on 46th and Madison. Another three ties (this is obviously the ideal number to showcase), this time done in a line drawing with a two Easter eggs and flowers to set the mood, “EASTER NECKWEAR. Made in England exclusively for Tripler. Hand loomed Spitalfields silks background colors of navy, copen blue, gold, maroon, silver grey. Woven in herringbone pattern, geometric design or spaced dots. $8.50” In our copy would make liberal use of “exclusively” or its “cousin”… expressly… “Made Expressly for Chipp.”
Before I pick up McPhee’s narrative… I’m still thinking about those years with Paul and Alan. Thinking about how to my eye today’s clothing quality and taste has dropped down the toilet. We have replaced sound workmanship that had enduring appeal, with slick appearance made with no substance. We used to enjoy the sight of a customer coming into Chipp wearing a venerable tweed jacket that he had tailored in 1954, with a pair of India Whipcord trousers that was purchased in 1965, a buff coloured hunt vest made in 1924 for his grandfather, an Atkinson Poplin tie in the Argyll & Sutherland stripe that he purchased on sale the previous July, and an oxford shirt slightly frayed at the cuff. It all worked. Articles of clothes, spanning 45+ years, yet coming from a central core of style and taste that made the appearance timeless. Ralph Lauren has built his business on synthesizing that “timeless” clothing concept and compressing its acquisition to the moment… the clothing equivalent of a convenient TV dinner.
I have to laugh. My “tailored” days are long passed. My present day working kit is khakis or jeans and a t-shirt… a sweat shirt added in the cold months… and boat shoes (worn without socks unless there is over an inch of snow or rain). Oh, I guess I could “clean-up” OK… it’s just not as much fun as it used to be. And besides, I think “ship wrecked” is a good look for me. And it certainly would lend itself to foraging along with Gibbons and McPhee… or at least working a street corner for a hand-out.
“At seven that last evening of the trip, the rain was still humming on the roof of the Volkswagen, and Gibbons and I decided that it would be pointless to try and cook in a state park. As a campsite, we chose a Motel in Mechanicsburg.” {Good call… maybe order in some General Tso’s chicken to take off the chill} Gibbons set me to work peeling Jerusalem artichokes while he carved chicory crowns. In a market in Gettysburg, we had foraged two porterhouse steaks {now we’re talkin’} as a climatic salute to the Susquehanna River and the Appalachian Trail. We also bought some butter, and the dinner as a whole consisted of buttered mashed Jerusalem artichokes, buttered oyster mushrooms, buttered chicory crowns, porterhouse steaks rubbed with wild garlic of the Gettysburg battlefield, and a salad of watercress, sheep sorrel, brandy mint, salt, oil, wild garlic, and red wintergreen berries.” {No Chateauneuf du Pape? And I’m not sure about all that butter.}
Once again, John McPhee has captured me. He has made feasting on weeds sound more appealing than dinning at Chez Josephine’s. Although given the state of my current attire, dinning al fresco with Gibbons and McPhee might be more more appropriate than sitting down in the trendy establishments of the Upper West Side… Still, now that I think back on it, there is something to be said for a shirt and an English hand-blocked silk foulard tie. I am sure that Paul and Alan would agree.
Based on the first two tidbits from Secret Ingredients, I would certainly recommend the book to anyone who enjoys the pleasures that relate to the table… and while I wait to pick up a copy of the book I think I am going to select another morsel from my DVD collection. M.F.K. Fisher? I think she would wear well. Maybe I will even find an advert from Chipp tucked in between her words. “The trouble with tripe?” Dandelions boiled in three waters is looking better and better.