The next summer, I made plans to go to California for a couple of weeks. I was dying to see John, plus I hadn’t seen my parents in three years and Danny for over a year. Since the trip to Utah, I had worries about him. The previous winter, a transvestite was attacked by a gang of assailants just over in Brooklyn. He later died of his injuries. I had horrible thoughts of Danny, Ricky or any of their friends falling victim to a similar attack. “Hanni,” he said after about the third time I told him this, “trust me, we are all very careful. We know to tread carefully and to watch how we behave in public. Everything is OK.” I calmed down after that, but I didn’t stop worrying completely.
I was frustrated because John had a read-through for his new part and couldn’t meet me at the airport and it was Danny who met me. He took me out to John’s the next afternoon on his way to Ricky’s gallery.
The first thing I noticed about John was the moustache he’d grown for the part. I laughed out loud. “It makes you look like such a rake!”
“How perceptive of you, Sweetheart,” he laughed as he stood in front of a mirror exaggeratingly preening and admiring it. “My character is a rake; a philandering husband who is done in by either his jealous wife or his lover’s jealous husband. Which one, I don’t know. They won’t give us that part of the script yet – don’t want any of us giving it away, I guess.”
I stayed with John through the weekend until Sunday, when my parents wanted us to have dinner with them. Danny was there, too, though without Ricky. I felt a little sad that he felt he couldn’t bring him, but Danny was still adamant that Mother, Dad and John not know of their relationship, so neither of us let on.
John was in rehearsals most of the next few days, so I spent time with Laurie. She was depressed because her relationship with Cory failed and they broke up. I wanted to cheer her up so I called some of our friends from school and invited them to a pool party at my parents’. We all brought food or beer and our favorite records. My plan worked because soon we were all laughing and playing around like we were teenagers again. I kept an eye on Laurie and was relieved to see her coming a bit out of her blue funk. I made her promise to visit me in New York for Christmas.
The last two days of my time in California I spent with John. When he took me to the airport to catch my flight home, we clung to each other until the last possible moment. I wondered then if the next time, I’d be able to tear myself away from him.
The 1976-1977 season was another busy one for the Philharmonic. We made two more recordings. We also began a weekly TV series, Live from Lincoln Center. My schedule was grueling. I did manage to find time to move out of my efficiency apartment to a small one bedroom. I earned enough by this time to afford it and I wanted to have space for Laurie when she visited.
One day in October, I returned home after a recording session to find a letter from John in my mailbox. It was just the lift I needed.
October 11, 1976
Dearest Hannah,
Finally I have a break from filming and, sitting in this stifling hot trailer, I’m thinking of how much I miss you. I’m not sure when we’ll be done here. Already there have been delays and I worry that I may not be able to make it back East for the holidays. If I do, I will stay with Greg and Cindy because I know you are having Laurie. Don’t worry, we will find a way to be together somehow. I just heard that they’ll be ready to resume shooting in ten minutes, so I’ll have to close for now. Remember this – I love you and think of you every day. Write me back as soon as you can. Your letters and calls are the bright spots of my days.
Love,
John
Laurie did visit that Christmas. I took her around to all the sights; the Empire State Building, the Statue of Liberty, anything else she wanted to see. She attended a performance of ‘Live from Lincoln Center’ and on New Year’s Eve, I took her to Greg and Cindy’s New Year’s Eve party, where she and I dressed up as Elton John and Kiki Dee and sang Don’t go Breakin’ my Heart. I played some other songs by Elton John and others and we all sang.
Laurie had wanted to go to Times Square to watch the ball drop, but I talked her out of it. I reminded her of how cold it would be, standing for hours outside at night, of pickpockets who would be out in force, and that God forbid, if you had to pee, you’d be trapped by the mob. We watched it on TV at the party.
Midway through January, John came East for a brief visit with his family. As he had feared, shooting for the movie met with more delays and didn’t wrap until it was too late for him to get a flight. He stopped in New York and stayed a weekend. He attended a performance by the Philharmonic, finally getting to see me perform with them.
When I went with John to the airport to see him off, we both cried and I almost didn’t let him get on the plane. That night, a blizzard covered the city with a blanket of snow. As I watched out the window at the snow falling, I could still feel him close to me, still smell his cologne, still taste our long goodbye kiss. I wasn’t fully aware of it then, but our little “arrangement” was about to begin falling apart.
9
One night in early March, I’d been invited to a party by my former neighbor, Debbie Halpern. I had rehearsal and told her that I probably wouldn’t make it. However, we finished early and I decided to drop in at Debbie’s after all. When I arrived, there were a number of people milling about, none of whom I knew. When she saw me, Debbie approached me with a drink in each hand. Handing one to me, she called to someone across the room, “Tony! Come here and meet my friend Hannah.” Debbie was wearing one of her brightly printed caftans. Her black hair was carelessly piled on top of her head and fastened with a pair of chopsticks. I guessed her to be about forty years old, but she was so coy about her age, I was never really sure.
Tony excused himself from the couple he was talking to and came over to Debbie and me. He was about thirty years old, five foot nine or so, with blond wavy hair, brown eyes and a muscular build. It was hard not to notice his loudly colored shirt, which was open halfway down. He had a large gold medallion around his neck, half hidden in his chest hair. When he lifted his glass to take a drink, I noticed a large pinky ring on his left hand. He held out his right one. “I’m Anthony Townsend, but just call me Tony. Everyone does.”
His flashy clothes, loud demeanor, and heavy hand with his after shave ensured that everyone noticed him. His British accent made him stand out even more. In fact, everything about him seemed to be designed to draw attention.
Debbie said to me as she poured herself another drink, “Tony here is my upstairs neighbor. He’s a talent agent. How many artists are you representing now, Tony?”
“Only two at present, but I’ve only been working here since last summer.”
“Maybe you can sign Hannah on. She’s a pianist. You don’t already have an agent, do you, Sweetie?”
“No,” I said, already sensing pressure. “I’ve haven’t needed an agent. I’ve not been looking to land a record deal or concert tour.”
When Debbie went to greet other guests, leaving Tony and me alone, he asked me to have dinner with him the following weekend. As politely as I could, I told him I was terribly busy with rehearsals and performances with the Philharmonic and besides that, I already had a boyfriend. “But, it was nice meeting you, Tony,” I said as I slipped away from him. After a quick goodbye to Debbie, I slipped on out the door.
On Easter Sunday, Debbie hosted a barbeque on the rooftop of her building. Of course, Tony was there. During the remainder of the spring and into summer, anytime I visited Debbie, Tony either was there or showed up while I was there. He persisted in his efforts to get me to date him, but I did not trust him. I sensed an ulterior motive in there somewhere.
Around the end of May, I was unpleasantly surprised to get a phone call from Tony. “Debbie gave me your number. She said you wouldn’t mind.” I resolved never to forgive Debbie for this, but I agreed to have dinner with Tony. It would be strictly a business meeting. I may need an agent someday, I told myself.
About a month later, I agreed to go out again with Tony, this time to a movie. It was Star Wars, I remember. Afterward, as he walked me home, I asked him how he got to be an agent. “Well, I tried my hand at acting, in the West End, but I never made it into anything. At one audition, I did my bit and thought I was pretty good; but when the director yelled, ‘Next!’ I finally realized there was no acting career in my future. So, I decided to become an agent instead, though I mostly work with musicians now rather than actors.”
We laughed, but I was determined to make it clear to Tony that I already had a boyfriend and couldn’t go out with him anymore.
“You keep talking about this boyfriend.” He raised his arms and made an exaggerated show of looking to his left, then right. “So, where is he?”
“In California, working.”
“Working, eh? What kind of work?”
“He’s an actor. He’s already made four movies in two and a half years.”
“Two and a half years? You’re telling me you have a boyfriend you haven’t seen in two and a half years?” He was incredulous.
“No,” I said, exasperated. “We phone and write and we visit back and forth.”
“And in between, he’s probably hitting the sheets with every cute little bird that crosses his path. Believe me, I’ve been around enough actors to know how randy they are.” He laughed derisively.
I was so repulsed by Tony’s crudeness that I said nothing. I just walked away from him. Finally, I turned around, pointed at him and said, “You don’t know anything about John and me. I’d appreciate it if you would just leave me alone. I don’t want to see you anymore.” I continued up the street before he could say anything else. I wondered why he and Debbie didn’t get together. They were more each other’s type; both flashy and loud. Then it occurred to me that two big egos like theirs would clash, not to mention that she was about a decade older than he. No, I guessed. It probably wouldn’t work after all, at least not for long.
***
In August, I again had a few weeks break from the orchestra, so I decided to participate in the Young Songwriters’ Workshop being held that month in Los Angeles. I’d have a chance to work with veteran songwriters in composing new material.
Tony hadn’t tried anymore to contact me, but I had a hard time scrubbing from my mind images of John “hitting the sheets” with other women. It was only after I arrived in Los Angeles and noticed no difference in John’s behavior toward me that these images finally dissipated. He looked at me, touched me, and kissed me the same as always. Our lovemaking was as sweet as ever. I no longer doubted him; in fact I loved him all the more.
The first writer I met at the workshop was a young singer named Suzy Wright. She had never written any of her own material before and like me, was looking to collaborate with an experienced songwriter. We just happened to hit it off because I guess, we both had grown up in the entertainment industry; her father having been a director and later, a producer.
Suzy had lyrics, but couldn’t come up with just the right music. I asked her if I could have a look at them. When I read them, I thought they were so beautiful, I asked her if I could give it a try. It took me only two days. Once I started, the music seemed to come to me as quickly as I could play and write the notes. Suzy was pleased when I played it for her. We made a demo tape that same day.
Dee-Dee Cummings, the second songwriter I met, had already made two moderately successful albums. She wanted to work with a new writer on her next one. We came up with three rather catchy songs. These ended up on her next album, though ultimately, it didn’t do all that well on the charts.
The workshop lasted five days, though Dee-Dee and I worked together afterwards to complete the songs so she could record them for her album. I was glad to still have time to spend with everyone. I got to see Danny’s first one man exhibit. He and Ricky hosted a big party that night to celebrate and I attended, of course.
John was filming, but we worked around his schedule. On a day when he was going to be on the set all day, I got together with Laurie for lunch and then had her over to my parents’ house for a swim. It was while we were lying in the sun drying off that we heard on the radio that Elvis Presley had died. At first we thought it was a hoax, but when it became clear that it wasn’t, we were stunned. We laughed ourselves silly remembering how the nuns at school were so scandalized by his swiveling hips. Once, at a school dance, when the kids were playing some of his records, Sister Mary Clement, the school principal, actually grabbed a record right off the phonograph as it was playing, threw it on the floor and broke it. My mother, too, would turn the TV off whenever he came on. The reaction was pretty much the same when the Beatles became popular, with their long hair and funny looking clothes. I can’t help but wonder what they all would do if they saw and heard some of what’s being played today.
When John had a few days break from filming, I went to stay with him at his place. He had gotten permission from his landlord to paint the kitchen and dining room of his place and talked me into helping him with the project. It wasn’t exactly what I would have chosen to do with the limited time we had together. Once we got started, though, I found that I loved just being with him, doing something so ordinary and mundane. As we worked, I paused now and then to watch John. I imagined we were living together again and working on our own house. It wasn’t right anymore for us to be separated, I decided, seeing each other only once or twice a year for a few days each time. For the short term, such an arrangement might work, but it had been three years for us and I couldn’t stand it any longer.
When John had to report back to the set, I stopped at my parents’ for a visit. Dad was on his set too, shooting. Only Mother was at home. She was out in the back, painting. Not wanting to disturb her, I walked quietly to a garden bench and sat down to watch. After a few minutes, she sensed my presence and turned around. “Is there something on your mind, dear?”
“Oh no, nothing special. What are you painting?” I tried to deflect from what was really on my mind.
Mother gave me a skeptical look, put down her brush and came over to the bench. By instinct, I flinched a little. Old habits do die hard. For just the briefest second, a sad look crossed her face. She sat down next to me and stroked my hair like she did when I was a little girl. “You’ve always had such pretty blonde hair. Remember how we used to braid it and fix it up so nicely?” I nodded. Mostly I remembered what a challenge it was for me to sit still long enough for Mother to french braid my hair. I turned and touched her hair. It was thick, wavy and a rich auburn. It now had a few strands of grey in it, but it was still beautiful. I envied it.
“I know you’ve always preferred to confide in your father,” she said. “But I want to help if I can. I think I know what’s troubling you. This little arrangement you have with John isn’t working anymore, is it?” I shook my head. “Then it’s time to end it.” She put her arm around me and I put my head on her shoulder. We sat silently for a few minutes before she said, “You know, I was the age you are now when your father and I married and he was the same age as John. If you two love each other so much, then you should live as God intended; as man and wife, making a home, raising a family. What you’ve been doing, living apart, crisscrossing the country to see other – it isn’t natural.”
“I’ve tried to drop hints to John, but he seems to be satisfied with things the way they are.”
“Then, you need to stop dropping hints and be more direct. If he really loves you, he’ll respond. Give him a chance.”
“What if he doesn’t respond?”
“I would bet that he will, but if I’m wrong and he doesn’t, better to know sooner rather than later.”
***
In early October, I was contacted by a production company. My name had come up as a possible co-composer of the score for a movie about to go into production. They were interested in me partly because the movie was going to shoot in New York and they wanted a New Yorker for the job. I was excited to accept thei
r offer and take on a new challenge. I didn’t realize at the time that the biggest challenge would be keeping up with my obligations to the Philharmonic while doing this. I was twice late to rehearsal and once almost missed a performance. Luckily, the score was supplemented by pieces by various disco and pop artists, so Mike, my co-composer, and I didn’t have full responsibility for the music. Still, it was a lot of work because I in addition to playing on the soundtrack recording, we had to record slightly different versions of a couple of the disco pieces for the soundtrack, recordings I also played on. I felt the project was a success, though the film was merely a cultic horror film, not exactly Academy Award material.
Apparently, Maestro Boulez and the Philharmonic weren’t pleased, because in early December, I was informed my contract would not be renewed for the 1978-1979 season. I had mixed feelings about this development. On the one hand, I was disappointed and felt a little bad, thinking probably I had let them down somehow. On the other hand, I was free now and could move back to California, join John and be back with him at last. My mother was right. It was time to settle down and get married, if we were ever going to.
10
I phoned John and told him about my contract not being renewed and that I planned to move back to California the following summer as soon as the season ended. Instead of being thrilled and excited as I expected, he was strangely blasé about the whole idea. “I can’t take anymore being away from you all the time,” I told him. It’s time for us to together again – for good.” I hoped he’d gotten the hint.
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