The night we chased Miss Universe with Donald Trump

March 1, 2018 - miss universe

It was a late 60’s, and we detected a Lion’s Head on Christopher Street since it was subsequent doorway to a Village Voice, where we was contributing freelance articles. Located a few stairs next travel level, a Head was slight and dim and wood-paneled — in short, all we would suppose a Greenwich Village bar to be. It was famous as a writer’s bar, a place where we came if we were a author with a celebration problem, or a drinker with a essay problem. It was infrequently tough to heed between a two, even among a sincerely obvious writers who were frequently in residence. There was Pete Hamill, a journal columnist; Ted Hoagland, a inlet writer; Joel Oppenheimer, a poet; David Markson, a writer whose publishing for “Wittgenstein’s Mistress” was deserted by publishers 54 times; Fred Exley, a author “A Fan’s Notes;” Joe Flaherty, a former stevedore incited Village Voice columnist who managed Norman Mailer’s debate for mayor of New York City in 1969; Lanford Wilson, a playwright who wrote “Hot l Baltimore;” a literary censor Wilfrid Sheed; and songwriters from Liam Clancy to Jerry Jeff Walker to Dave Van Ronk to Bob Dylan.

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