was. So we did. He was amazed and marveling. Soon he was discussing with a staff person what to get for his circumstances and needs. The staff person was very helpful in steering him to the right product for him and his needs. I can see one of these days we’ll have email conversations. When Peter was a New Yorker, and working at Sardi’s and later downtown, he only wore Italian bespoke suits from Dimitri. Far from a dandy, but he was a thoroughly well turned out young New Yorker. In the decades he’s lived in the Rockies, it’s been the obvious switch – jeans and open neck shirts, sneakers. Back in New York it’s the same. I wouldn’t be surprised if he doesn’t own a jacket, or one that’s not 35 years old. When we were young men in New York, I, the country boy, had a certain awe for my contemporaries who grew up in Manhattan. They seemed more self-assured about the ways of the world, and getting around. And indeed they were. Yesterday I saw the converse. My former New Yorker friend, now a man from the mountains, was the country boy, and I was the city boy. Or city slicker as they used to say. It was through Peter Gina during that decade, when I was briefly pursuing an acting career in New York, that I got a part time job at Sardi’s. I worked the door as assistant to Jimmy, the maitre d’ -- 4:30 to 7:30 for the dinner hour, five nights a week, and the two matinee days, Wednesday and Saturday from 11:30 to 2.
I didn't bring my camera along today so I'll have to run this photo I took of Peter when he was in New York last year. On his last day he always goes and buys something practical and necessary (like a bathrobe) at Bloomingdales and then carries it in a recyclable sack. As you can see by his facial expression, he is full of good cheer; an optimistic outlook comes naturally to him.
Peter’s uncle Vincent owned the place and ran it. Vincent had a world class personality, a celebrated charm and the restaurant that was legendary in Broadway lore. The world came to dine and lunch. All. The. Time. Streisand was still on Broadway, Hello Dolly was at the St. James. Fiddler at the Majestic, Cabaret, Albee, Neil Simon. A Funny Thing Happened, Sondheim, Rodgers, Jerry Robbins. David Merrick had three or four shows running at a time. And they all came to Sardi’s. Every lunch hour and every dinner. Hollywood came too. And Wall Street and Park Avenue. Anyone who was going to the theatre that night. It was the beginning of my education as a New Yorker with all its bright lights. Sardi’s was a little epicenter of enormous talent and celebrity to awe the kid, and awe it did, as you may have noticed at times, dear reader. But that’s for another Diary.
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