Good morning, all! My Aunt Lois used to make a great lemon harangue pie.
Before this apartment became overloaded withthe ephemera of my existence, I used to have Thanksgiving dinners for friends who drove in from Ohio and friends from the City who had no place to go on the holiday. The dinner would usually last from around 2 pm to 7 or 8 pm and people would come and go during the day. Ethan Mordden played piano and a lot of my vocal scores were sung through, Ken Mandelbaum sometimes showed up after leavng his mother's in Brooklyn, there was a smattering of Drama Book Shop employees, and other friends, usually between 15-25 people during the course of the day. At that time in my apartment living, I had a loverly set of neighbors who went to visit family on the holiday and lent me their keys and kitchen while they were gone, Anyone who's seen my apartment today would be amazed that my apartment could hold so many folk.
The last year I gave this bash was around 1985: one of my Ohio friends brought some community theatre actor I did not know, who spent the entire weekend stone cold drunk, and when he wasn't here, he was getting polluted in The Works, a special interest boite on Columbus Avenue. I prayed he'd get mugged and never seen again. The kindly neighbors had moved out and with only one kitchen, the entire weekend was pretty much an ordeal. That was the end. Also the end of my harangue.
