Kitty Miller Remembered “Hang out the ham,” she used to say, “and they’ll all come running.” BY DAVID PATRICK COLUMBIA
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he had blue hair in her old age. And a personality that was rarely softer than a dull roar. Tact was not one of her attributes. She would say anything that came to mind. And she was a snob, so she would also say anything about anybody who came to mind. One man, who liked her very much, said she could be one of the rudest people he’d ever known. Neither was beauty an attribute. She was lantern jawed, had a mole on her nose, and one eye that went wandering off in its own direction. However, there were no complaints from her. She was not dowdy or ashamed of her looks but approached the situation practically. For she also had a highly developed aesthetic, always wore diamond earrings, and almost as frequently, diamond bracelets or brooches or necklaces. Thus producing the dazzling sparkle that, along with her bravado, disarmed everybody and offset everything else. She had great taste, according to even her detractors (and there were many). As she wasn’t good-looking, she knew she had to be beautifully dressed. “She was not a pacesetter,” recalled Eleanor Lambert, the doyenne of American fashion publicists. “She had an aristocratic style, was well brought up, and knew how to dress with discretion, but was noticeably fashionable.” She was also a well known and lavish hostess. From the 1930s through the mid’70s, the world came to her table in New
York, London, Palm Beach, Majorca, or any other place she set down. A staff of 30, in total, looked after her and her constant flow of guests. “Hang out the ham,” she used to say, “and they’ll all come running.” People got the message. She was born Kathryn Bache, four years before the turn of the century, the second daughter of international investment banker Jules Bache and Florence Scheftel, a member of a prominent Manhattan family. The Baches were part of the now-legendary “Our Crowd” Jews. Jules, known as Julie to his friends and associates, looked the part, almost like the caricature banker from the Monopoly board game. White-haired and moustached, portly, a natty dresser, always with a cigar, he was a very outgoing, jolly fellow. He accumulated—much through the auspices of Joseph Duveen—a fantastic art collection which now rests in the Metropolitan Museum. He was also famous among the social set for having an excellent butler named Gilmore. Gilmore became legend (and rich) from listening in on Bache’s conversations for stock tips, as well as robbing his boss blind through kickbacks received from the grocers and vendors who supplied the Bache household. It was said that Mr. Bache was aware of the situation and once even offered Gilmore a raise, inquiring as to how much it would take to stop the skimming that was going on. “Mr. Bache, you couldn’t afford it,”