The Explanation
(for those who require one)

And, of course, that is what all of this is -- all of this: the one song, ever changing, ever reincarnated, that speaks somehow from and to and for that which is ineffable within us and without us, that is both prayer and deliverance, folly and wisdom, that inspires us to dance or smile or simply to go on, senselessly, incomprehensibly, beatifically, in the face of mortality and the truth that our lives are more ill-writ, ill-rhymed and fleeting than any song, except perhaps those songs -- that song, endlesly reincarnated -- born of that truth, be it the moon and June of that truth, or the wordless blue moan, or the rotgut or the elegant poetry of it. That nameless black-hulled ship of Ulysses, that long black train, that Terraplane, that mystery train, that Rocket '88', that Buick 6 -- same journey, same miracle, same end and endlessness."
-- Nick Tosches, Where Dead Voices Gather

When Legends Gather #465

Charles Chaplin and Mayor John V. Lindsay


Flickhead said...

Perhaps he was getting pointers from Charlie about his performance in Rosebud...

Tom Sutpen said...

Mayor Lindsay: So, uh, Mr. Chaplin. You know, when I'm done with the Mayor's office I'll be moving into your line of work.

Chaplin (eyebrows elevated): Oh, yeah? Which one's that?

Mayor Lindsay (brightly): You know . . . the movie business!

(Chaplin spews coffee like Danny Thomas, doubles over; Mayor Lindsay pounds on the old man's back)

Mayor Lindsay: What'sa matter; what'sa matter?

Chaplin (recovering): Nothing, I'm . . . I swallowed a sugar cube. (long pause) Ssssso, you're going to . . . direct?

Mayor Lindsay: No, no no. Act!

Chaplin (muttering under his breath): . . . oh, thank christ . . .

Mayor Lindsay (enthusiastically): Yeah. Bess Myerson says I have the makings of a matinee idol; just like Ramon Novarro back in your day.

Chaplin (way under his breath): . . . you motherfucker . . .

Mayor Lindsay: Matter'a fact, I've already got my first part lined up.

Chaplin (pause; eyes narrowing): I . . . can't wait.

Mayor Lindsay: I'm in Otto Preminger's next picture. What? What happened? What's funny?

Chaplin (barely restraining his laughter): No, nothing. I was just, uh . . . just thinking about something else. Otto Preminger, you say?

Mayor Lindsay: Yup. By the way, how's he to work with? I mean, what do you hear?

Chaplin (patting Lindsay on the shoulder): A real pussycat; and right at the top of his game, too. You're gonna love it.

Mayor Lindsay: Thanks!

(Chaplin wanders over to Herman Badillo, mutters to himself, "friggin' amateurs . . . ")

Flickhead said...


Fred said...

I'm wondering if Lindsay hit Chaplin for a few bucks to help bail out the City he almost single-handedly bankrupted. As bad an actor as Lindsay he, was a veritable thesbian compared to the rotten job he did as mayor. Abe Beame may have been a party hack, but he took all the blame for Lindsay's mismangement.