My friend George was an artist with a pre-war apartment on the upper westside of New York City during the 60's. It was three rooms with 12 foot ceilings, only $200 a month, including electricity and hot water. Pets allow and George had a cat. But he really wanted an attractive young lady as a roommate and to share the rent.
I suggested he place an ad in the VILLAGE VOICE as follows: ROOMMATE WANTED. Prefer young lady in her 20's without hangups, no pets and one suitcase. $100 a month to share the rent. I work days and only come home to sleep with my cat. No drugs or booze allowed. Call this number after 7 pm.
George received several dozen calls and spent a weekend holding interviews. He narrowed the potential roommates to 4 who fit his scheme for an attractive roommate and finally chose Emily. She was vivacious, a dancer from Ohio studying ballet in New York and was financed by her parents. Perfect. She moved in the next day. Emily had been living in the Barbizon Hotel for Women and it was overcrowded with unhappy females.
Emily like to cook and her schedule permitted her to prepare their dinners together. They became like a brother and sister. Within three months she was ready to move out. Emily fell in love with another dancer and they were both gay.
George was devestated and wanted another roommate. But he didn't want to go through a similar advertising and audition campaign. Did I have another method in mind? Yes I did. He should pretend to be a reporter seeking a story from an attractive young lady sitting on one of the many benches in Central Park.
He was good at this charade. Notepad in hand, George strolled around the park and located a few girls sitting alone. It took only three interviews and he found another roommate. This one was a charming blonde studying cello at the Juilliard School of Music. Marsha promised to practice only when George was away and could easily handle the rent.
She had her own bedroom and they occasionally collided at the bathroom door. Marsha had many rehearsals and lessons, so her day ended around 10 pm at night. No chance for dinners together. But she was sexy, they were attracted to one another and there were many weekends in bed together having sex.
Marsha soon found another lover at school. He was a trumpet major and had a fantastic triple tongue technique when going down on her. She moved in with Hector after six months. George was sad to see her go. But that's live. Back to the drawing board. More ads, more auditions and interviews in Central Park.
George had a day job with a research company and they offered him a transfer to their London office. That was the last I heard from him. He literally dropped out of my life. I have had several dozen friends like this. For example, the last time I saw Robert Downey, Sr. was in 1981 when I was performing in my one-man show off-Broadway, "Jester At Large." He attended with his young son, Robert Downey, Jr.
Fast forward to 2011. Robert, Sr. called from New York City where he was living with his third wife, Rosemary. His offer to have lunch was fulfilled and we picked up the conversation from 30 years ago like it was yesterday. Bob did a lot of bragging about trials and tribulations of Bobby, Jr. that finally led to his being the highest paid actor in Hollywood. And of course Bob picked up the check.
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