Monday, April 30, 2012

His car was a Buick

"When I was a student at Temple University, I had the privilege of meeting Henry through a mutual friend. I was a starving student at the time and lived in a tiny apartment around the corner on Locust St. Henry befriended me and I became one of his dog walkers; a job that he paid me extravagantly for. I also got to attend a few of his private parties and met the likes of Douglas Cooper, Billie, Bill Blass and other celebrities of the day. I knew Henry was extremely rich but he never acted snobbish or condescending to me or any other individuals, grand or humble, who made it through the doors of Little Monticello. One little thing about Henry that I always loved was that, despite his great wealth, his car (at least when I was living in Philadelphia) was a Buick. I happened to be Googling Rittenhouse Square the other day (a trip down memory lane) and saw pictures of the house; shutters gone and looking derelict. What a sad condition for a home that knew so much love and laughter. Henry would scream if he saw the condition those front steps are in!"


Occasionally, and gratifyingly, I receive comments on posts written a while ago - such was the case a few days ago when I found this personal reminiscence of Henry McIlhenny on a post from November 2010. Coincidentally, more or less, in one of those rare moments when focus didn't cause peripheral blindness, I had found pictures of Mr McIlhenny's Glenveagh Castle in County Donegal when I was in the library looking for something else.




It is these personal reminiscences that round out an image I've formed about the men I've written about over the last two years - circles of friends, acquaintances, allies and agents - kin, after a fashion, in a world accepting of them as decorators but not accepting of their private lives. Reminiscences, tributes even, that so far, except in the case of one man, have been positive and affectionate - such as this one from Anonymous and another a while ago about Geoffrey Bennison donning a .... but that's a story for another day.



A short essay, I'm afraid and one that should, had circumstances not caused a loss of focus, been posted last week. 


Photographs by Brian Morris from A House in the Country: The Second Home from Cottages to Castles by Mary Gilliatt, Hutchinson & Co Ltd, 1973


7 comments:

  1. Blue, I was glad to see these new images and revisit the others. Isn't it a shame, too often now days, when the rich lack taste and generosity? Perhaps there will be a new artistic patron or two that will rise above this current batch of Russian and Chinese billionaires. Well, we can hope.

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    1. The Devoted Classicist, thank you. You're right, we can hope, but the auguries are not good. I think, also, there are few decorators left who know how to create an interior that is suitable for the client and not just for the camera.

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  2. Buick was a customary deflection of ostentation. Bill Roth (Matson Lines, Filoli estate in Woodside) comes to mind. If people who live with comfort have not adapted to it naturally, they are always so painful to observe. But theirs is a pervasive lameness and I can't figure out why. They can never be anyone's true friend, and must pack together. Your energies in this direction are a very welcome tonic among pages celebrating rooms; and it's heartening to know that they must have been passed to many through teaching.

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    1. Laurent, thank you. Some day it might be good to discuss class in America with you over a glass of wine!

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    2. A small enough subject for a single glass. :)

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  3. Well now, after chuckling at The Devoted Classicist's comment, I have completely lost focus myself on what I was going to write....but it was something along the lines of...a truly stylish person is partly so because they choose to own that which they admire, not which they think they should admire. So Buick or BMW, it matters not.

    How are you enjoying your new life, by the way?

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    1. Glamour Drops, thank you. I agree, Buick or BMW, it matters not. It's difficult, I think, for many people to see beyond the brand, especially in an age when marketing suggests that one is an individual despite wearing a uniform. It's the same in interior design - the names, the brands make quality and personal style irrelevant. More's the pity!

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