THE NIGHT I PRESENTED JACQUELINE ONASSIS TO KURT VONNEGUT

     In the mid-80’s, my employer, The Limited Stores, Inc. bought the Henri Bendel store, on 57th Street in Manhattan.  A plan was developed to build a new glitzy store around the corner on 5th Avenue.  Ultimately, we were to open these high end Bendel stores in all the appropriate markets. 

     My Limited Stores colleague, Jamie Bersani and I were in New York  after the purchase and decided to see the store, before the relocation.  As a leader of our real estate department, I was always ready to demonstrate my extensive knowledge of Manhattan real estate.   

     Jamie and I walked out onto the street, entered a parked cab and asked to be driven to the Henri Bendel store.  This was one of those old time stoic, gruff New York taxi drivers.  He turned in his seat, with a cigar clamped in his teeth and asked, “Henri Bendel on 57th Street?”   

     “Yes.”  

     He grunted a laugh and pointed with his thumb across the street.   “It’s right there.”  Oh…yeah…well, OK.  I knew that.  I thanked him, Jamie was chortling as we got out of the cab and jaywalked across the street to the store.

  The new Henri Bendel store enjoyed a gala opening in 1991 with a number of New York luminaries in attendance.  My friend and partner in our real estate department, John DeWolf and I arrived to find the store crawling with the Manhattan social elite.   

     A highlight was Jackie Onassis’ presence, at the head of a receiving line between our CEO, Les Wexner and his fiancee, Abigail Koppel.   John and I were looking for the bar and saw at the moment, no one was being greeted in the line.  I always enjoyed Abigail, a charming individual.  I saw Les almost everyday, so that was routine, but my Lord, JACKIE ONASSIS!  We stepped into the line, shook everyone’s hand, said hello to Mrs. Onassis, I proffed my cheek in the event she wanted to give me a little kiss, but it did not appear to be something she was contemplating.  We smiled and bid them all adieu.

     John drifted away, I see the bar a few feet away and ordered a drink as the reception line filled back up.  A man was watching me as I awaited my drink and he is the spitting image of Kurt Vonnegut.  I look at his name tag…yep, Kurt Vonnegut.  He said he had seen me talking with Jackie, looked past me to where she is standing and says, “She is really something isn’t she?  Simply royalty.”

     I shake his hand, introduce myself and say, “So Kurt, have you had the opportunity to say hello to Mrs. Onassis?”  Uh, no…the line is long and she appears occupied.  “Come with me Kurt, my outfit is throwing this party!”    

     I take Kurt by the arm, step into the line, as Les and Abigail are occupied with someone and stand in front of Jackie.  “Kurt, I would like to present Jacqueline Onassis, undoubtably you two know of one another!”

     Of course, how good to see you…blah, blah, blah.   

      They are chatting, I am nodding and attempting to figure out how to suggest we all blow off this party and go bar hopping.  Find John,  take in a show or see if one of them can get their hands on a jet to take us to Europe for a couple of days.

     The principals are all called to a presentation… Jackie, Les and Abigail are whisked away, leaving Kurt and me as a forgotten memory.  He looks at me, and says,  “Thanks PAUL,” does a 180, recognizes the Prince of Norway or someone and goes to chat with him.   

     I can’t believe it!  It is INCONCEIVABLE!  One moment Kurt Vonnegut and I are new pals, I am doing him  a favor, I am offering Jacqueline Onassis the opportunity to kiss me on the cheek and see the night ahead of me making memories, while wining and dining.  It all turns into dust in the wind!  So, Jackie, Kurt and I did not hang out that evening, no honkey tonk bars, no shots or dancing in some cowboy saloon.  I was left alone, once again, a member of the faceless, nameless rabble of the bourgeois.       

     I found John DeWolf, we admired the store as I regale him and other associates of my new friends Jackie and Kurt (I left out the part where Kurt forgot my name).  John fell into his trademark convulsive laughter, where his body shakes, as he holds his sides and makes no noise.  We then adjourned to “yon tavern” to swap life stories of misspent youth and squashed dreams.  All in all, a memorable night, nevertheless.

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