Television has changed that. Now, with longer broadcasting hours and the

abundance of new channels, vintage movies are enjoying a second life,

often with a bigger audience than the first time. Maybe that's why the

name Maureen O'Sullivan is practically a household word even today.

Between 1930 and 1965 she made dozens of films, ranging from Marx

Brothers comedy (_A Day At The Races_) to classics of English literature

(_David Copperfield_, _Pride and Prejudice_) to Tarzan films, in which

she played Jane.

But unlike so many of her contemporaries, Maureen is neither dead nor

retired. She maintains a busy schedule of acting, writing, traveling, and

enjoying her status as a mother of five and a grandmother of many.

Maureen shows me around her large, beautiful apartment facing Central

Park, right across the hallway from Basil Rathbone's last home. "I keep

this part for the children," she says, indicating a section of several rooms.

There are photos of her children everywhere, including a good number of

her actress daughters Mia and Tisa Farrow. Mia lives in England and Tisa

is in California, but they still get together frequently.

"I'm doing an autobiography now. It's about halfway done. My agent has

the manuscript. But I'm not writing any more until I see if there's any

interest in it. ... I started it two years ago, then put it away. I wasn't even

interested in it myself. Then a friend of mine, John Springer, had me to

lunch. He said, 'You ought to do an autobiography.' I said I had already

started one. ... So I went back and worked on it some more, and

condensed it into 10 pages. I had to do it myself -- every word, syllable,

comma."

She recently spent five weeks in upstate New York playing one of the

leads in _The Glass Menagerie_ by Tennessee Williams. The critics had

nothing but praise for her portrayal of the ambitious mother, and one

described Maureen's acting as "genius."

The stage is not the only place where Maureen employs her dramatic

talents. Shortly after completing the Williams play, she went to Albany,

New York to do a reading from _The Wayward Bus_ for the state

legislature. "They're trying to get a new bill through Congress to get

money for a program for more halfway houses for women alcoholics," she

explains. "I believe in that kind of thing."

One of the last plays she did in New York City was _No Sex Please --

We're British_. It was a hit in London, and the preview performances

were doing well enough in New York to call for an official Broadway

opening. "Then [drama critic] Clive Barnes came to the producer and

said, 'If you have an opening you'll have a disaster, because the critics

won't like it.' And he was right. As soon as the reviews came out, the

theatre emptied. In the previews, the audiences loved it. The critics made

a big thing out of opening night. In London, I don't think the public pays

that much attention to the critics. The average person there doesn't read

the reviews."

Perhaps it's the singing lessons she has never stopped taking that account

for her pure lyrical speaking voice, which is still as sweet as it was when

she made her first film, _Song of My Heart_, nearly 50 years ago.

Though Maureen's soft British accent gives no hint of it, she was brought

up in Dublin, Ireland. While working as a young actress in England she

was discovered by an American producer and brought to the U.S. to do

her first movie with famed tenor John McCormack. After that her career

blossomed.

Any comment on the Tarzan films for which she became famous? "I made

five. They have been remembered. I'm glad to be remembered for

something. Let's leave it at that."

These days, while Maureen is waiting to hear about her autobiography,

she is working on some short stories. Two have appeared in the _Ladies'

Home Journal_. "I have no special goals," she says. "One thing leads to

another. Supposing my theatrical career came to an end, I'd like to open

an antique shop in Vermont, and write, and paint -- I always have -- and

sew. If you can do one art, you can do them all. It's different ways of

saying the same thing.

"I'm a special type of grandmother. At the theatre, I like to take the

children backstage. And in New York, I take them in a horse and buggy

around the park, or for tea at the Plaza. In that way, I can bring color into

their lives."

Maureen has been a Westsider for the past 15 years. "I'm very fond of

Mal the Tailor, on 72nd near Columbus. And Mr. Walsh the florist.

O'Neal's Balloon. The Pioneer Market. They're all on 72nd Street. That's

my beat."

She walks toward the window. "I love this view. The park is different

every time of the year. Now it's all covered with snow. Pretty soon the

buds will be all over the trees." She smiles contentedly. "I really think

that if I had to leave the West Side I'd leave New York. Because to me,

this is New York."

_Hannah and Her Sisters_.

********

WESTSIDER BETSY PALMER

Star of _Same Time, Next Year_

4-1-78

"Oh, do you take shorthand?" said Betsy Palmer as we sat down in her

dressing room to chat between shows. "I could always read and write

shorthand. I worked for the B & O Railroad as a stenographer before I

went away to school and learned acting. I guess if I had to, I could brush

up and go back to it."

It's most unlikely that she'll ever have to. Even if her Tony Award

winning play, _Same Time, Next Year_, should happen to close, Betsy

would find herself swamped with offers for choice acting roles. But her

hit show about the lighter side of adultery won't be closing for a long time

yet. It is currently being made into a film starring Ellen Burstyn and Alan

Alda.

"A lot of people think of me as a personality rather than an actress, and

when they come to see me they expect to see that personality," says

Palmer, who has one of the more recognizable names and faces on

Broadway. "Mostly people know me from panel shows. It's been a

double-edged sword for me. When they see me doing something that's

really dramatic, they say, 'My God, she can act!'"

She has made countless appearances on _What's My Line?_, _Girl Talk_

and _The Today Show_, but to most television viewers she is best

remembered as the bright, beautiful, All-American girl who for 11 years

was a panelist on _I've Got a Secret_.

During her years of TV stardom Betsy was doing plenty of serious acting

-- everything from Shakespeare to Peter Pan to Ibsen. She has made five

Hollywood films and performed the lead in numerous Broadway shows,

including _South Pacific_, _Cactus Flower_ and Tennessee Williams'

_Eccentricities of a Nightingale_. Few of her roles, however, have been

as demanding as Doris in _Same Time, Next Year_.

To begin with, she and her co-star, Monte Markham, are the only

characters in the play. Second, the play's action takes place over a period

of 25 years, in which Doris goes through momentous changes. In doing

this transformation smoothly, Betsy creates a character so believable and

lovable that the audience forgives her for cheating on her husband, which

she does one weekend a year in order to meet her lover George.

"Doing the play takes all my energy.I'm a single woman now, and have

been for three years. But if I were involved with somebody now, it would

take up a lot of my energies. So it doesn't bother me; when the time

comes for me to be involved, I will be. Right now, I'm really quite

satisfied to come here six days a week and have a fantasy life. It has all

the good things in it and none of the bad things. ... It gives you such a

rainbow of colors to express yourself within, that I find it terribly

rewarding and gratifying. I am never bored with the show."

George, like Doris, is married and has three children, and he too goes

through drastic changes of attitude during the time period from 1951 to

1976. But while George wins the audience's respect and sympathy, Doris

steals their hearts.

"I get out there and I feel such love. All of a sudden they begin to adore

her. They're watching her spread her wings and finally fly. ... The

adultery is done with such taste. You see two people who really love their

respective mates, and their children."

In her cozy backstage room at the Brooks Atkinson Theatre, which is

decorated with Christmas lights, Betsy demonstrates an overbubbling

friendliness and an extremely fluent style of speech. An interview with her

is both a pleasure and a challenge, for she talks about each subject with

an enthusiasm that makes it hard for anyone to interrupt and go on to the

next question.

Her memories of those panel shows? "You know, we used to do _Secret_

right in this theatre. We must have done it here five, six, seven years

easily. There are a lot of guys here now, on the backstage crew, who

were here with _Secret_. It's nice to be working with them again. ... But

I'm not interested in the past. The past is an illusion, as is the future."

Betsy has been an off-and-on Westside resident ever since she first came

to New York in 1951. When doing _Same Time, Next Year_ she is

subletting a friend's apartment on Riverside Drive. Her 16-year-old

daughter frequently comes down from Connecticut to spend time with her

on the West Side.

"I've lived on the East Side but my preference is the West Side. Let's face

it, Broadway's on the West Side. Where Broadway is is where my heart

is." Flowers by Edith (69th and B'way) is one of Betsy's best-loved

Westside establishments. "I've become very good friends with her. I've

gone to her house to parties."

In response to an obvious question, Betsy scolds gently: "Never ask an

actress what she's going to do next. Opera stars say, 'You know, I've got

this opera lined up, then this one, then this,' but an actress doesn't usually

know. ... I just hope that the next play I'm able to do will have a lot of

humanity in it, like this one. It's not enough to get a bunch of laughs.

You've got to be touched inside."

********

WESTSIDER JAN PEERCE

The man with the golden voice

3-22-80

In December 1979, in a benefit concert at the Alvin Theatre, about a

dozen Broadway stars of the past and present strode to the microphone to

sing some of the songs they made famous. John Raitt, Alan Jones, Jack

Gilford, Michael Moriarty, Delores Wilson and others received waves of

enthusiastic applause from the packed house. But when a short, stocky,

barrel-chested man with thick eyeglasses and a nose like Jimmy Durante's

shuffled to center stage, the audience didn't merely cheer: it erupted. And

when 75-year-old Jan Peerce finished his two arias, he was prevailed upon

to give the only encore of the evening. Appropriately enough, his choice

was "If I Were a Rich Man" from _Fiddler on the Roof_, the show in

which he made his Broadway debut at the age of 67.

Although Peerce has been one of America's most beloved singers for

almost half a century, it was not for sentimental reasons alone that he was

treated with such acclaim that evening. He still has one of the clearest,

strongest, sweetest tenor voices in the business, and his repertoire is

enormous. Besides arias and showtunes, he performs ballads, German

lieder, French contemporary songs, cantorial and oratory music

with equal facility. In order to keep his voice in top form, he now limits

his concerts to about 50 a year, but last summer, on a tour of Australia,

he did 17 concerts in 21 days.

"I vocalize every day of my life, I keep observing the laws of decent

living, and I face every booking as it was my first," he says in a recent

telephone interview, contacted at his Westside apartment. "I believe in the

adage that the show must go on, but you must not go out at the expense

of your health, or impair the quality of your voice by singing against

nature."

This fall will find him doing a one-man show at Carnegie Hall. In addition

to his regular schedule of cross-country concerts, he makes cruises of the

Caribbean several times each year aboard the SS Rotterdam.

His parents were Orthodox Jews who had immigrated from Russia, and

they were able to afford violin lessons for him by taking in lodgers at the

Lower East Side apartment where he grew up. Born under the name Jacob

Pincus Perelmuth, he began his career working primarily as a violinist and

bandleader in the Catskills. In 1929 he married his childhood sweetheart,

Alice Kalmanowitz, and three years later was discovered by the great

showman Samuel "Roxy" Rothafel, who hired him as a featured singer at

the new Radio City Music Hall.

"People on Broadway said I belonged in opera," recalls Peerce, "and

opera people said I belonged on Broadway. But when Roxy gave me my

break, things began to happen. And then came Toscanini. He hired me to

sing with his NBC Symphony of the Air. And when he accepted me, that

sort of clinched things. People said, "If he's good enough for Toscanini,

this guy must be good.'"

For 15 years, Arturo Toscanini preferred Peerce to all other tenors in the

world. Meanwhile, in 1941, Peerce had joined the Metropolitan Opera.

There he sang the major tenor roles up until 1968, when, after losing the

sight in one eye, he retired from the Met and began to concentrate on

recitals. In 1976 he published his memoirs, _The Bluebird of Happiness_,

named after his recording that has sold 1.5 million copies. Peerce has

made dozens of other recordings, including many complete operas.

A deeply religious man, long noted for his humanitarian efforts, Peerce

is particularly supportive of Bonds for Israel. "My wife Alice is the only

woman on the board of governors. She's the chairperson," he says

proudly. "It's to help Israel build and keep building, and develop to the

point where she belongs. She's growing beautifully, and she will grow

even more."

The Peerces, who have two daughters and a son, maintain a house in New

Rochelle as well as the Westside apartment that they have had for the past

15 years. Although Jan Peerce stopped playing the violin long ago, he is

still a dues-paying member of the local violinists' union. "One day I asked

them if they could give me an honorary membership," he chuckles,

revealing his famous offbeat humor. "They said they were very sorry,

they couldn't do it. I said why not, and they said, 'All our honorary

members are dead.'"

Another time, when he was the guest of honor at a dinner party, the

hostess, seated next to him, chatted with such energy that Peerce had

trouble getting in a single word. He got his chance when the waiter

brought around a tray of assorted salad dressings. The gabby woman

asked, "Mr. Peerce, how do you usually eat your salad?"

"In complete silence, madame," he replied.

Of the dozens of conductors he has worked with, Peerce is quick to name

Toscanini his favorite. "First of all, he was a great man, and second of

all, he was a genius musically. He had no tricks, except that he had a

certain vision about the music. He made everybody sing or play as the

composer meant it to be. And that was the secret of his success. He was

an inspiration to anybody who worked with him or under him."

********

EASTSIDER GEORGE PLIMPTON

Author, editor and adventurer

2-2-79

It was an unusual statement to come from a man who has made a career

out of fearing nothing. "I'm scared to death every time I sit down at a

typewriter," confessed George Plimpton, who, in his 20 years as

America's foremost "participatory journalist," has played football with the

Detroit Lions, fought the light heavyweight champion of the world,

pitched to major league baseball players, raced cars internationally, and

performed with the New York Philharmonic as a percussionist.

"Sometimes you can do it, and sometimes it's not there," continued

Plimpton, leaning back in the desk chair at his Eastside apartment. "It's

very hard to work alone. There's the television set, and all these books,

and your son and daughter in the next room. Sometimes I have to get

away. So I go to bars and I sit in a corner and write. You're trapped in

there. There's nothing else to do but write."

As we sat talking, the telephone rang frequently, and Plimpton,

apologizing for the interruption, spoke to the callers with widely varying

degrees of enthusiasm, but was consistently polite, urbane and witty. I

noticed a hint of an English accent in his voice -- the result of his early

education at St. Bernard's School on the Upper East Side, followed much

later by four years of study in England. It is easy to imagine him stepping

into a boxing ring like an English gentleman, calmly lacing on his gloves

for a friendly bout.

Which is precisely what he did in 1959 when, for the purpose of one of

his countless stories for _Sports Illustrated_, he took on Archie Moore,

then king of the light heavyweight division, for a three-round exhibition

match in New York. Since that time, Plimpton has never lost his interest

in boxing. A close friend of Muhammad Ali's who has followed the

champion around the world, he made Ali the chief character of his book

_Shadow Box_, which came out in paperback this month from Berkley.

As with most of Plimpton's works, the story is told with an abundance of

humor.

Currently at work on three new books, Plimpton emphasized that he

writes on many subjects outside of sports. A lifelong friend of the

Kennedy family, he has co-authored an oral history volume titled

_American Journey: The Times of Robert F. Kennedy_. He is an

associate editor of _Harper's_ magazine and a regular contributor to the

_International Food & Wine Review_. His first love, in fact, seems to be

not sports at all, but the _Paris Review_, a magazine for up-and-coming

serious writers that he has edited since its creation in 1953. One of the

most important literary magazines in the English-speaking world, the

_Paris Review_ is published four times a year as a 175-page journal

devoted almost exclusively to fiction and poetry.

His hair is mostly silver now, and there are creases starting to appear on

his ruggedly handsome face, but Plimpton, at 52, is still the same larger

than-life, charismatic figure he has been since he came to national

attention in 1961 with the publication of _Out of My League_, a book

about his foray into major league baseball. _Paper Lion_ (1966), which

told of his brief career as a quarterback with the Detroit Lions, cemented

his reputation as the nation's most realistic sportswriter. His other books

include _The Bogey Man_, _One More July_, and _Mad Ducks and

Bears_. As a lecturer, he is in demand all over the country. He and his

wife Freddy have been married for 11 years.

Born in New York City, he grew up around 98th Street and 5th Avenue,

attended Harvard University (where he edited the _Harvard Lampoon_),

and spent three years in the Army before heading for England to study at

King's College, Cambridge. During an Easter vacation there, he joined

some friends in Paris to discuss the launching of the literary magazine he

has guided ever since.

In 1979, said Plimpton with a grin, "I'm supposed to manage the New

York Yankees for a day, and go through the whole procedure of being

fired by George Steinbrenner. I hope it's followed by a beer commercial

with Billy Martin."

Asked about his attachment to the East Side, Plimpton stressed his

fondness for the city as a whole. "In the last couple of years, there's been

an enormous rebirth of excitement about living in the city. ... I think

Mayor [Ed] Koch has a lot to do with pulling it up. He seems to fit

everywhere. If I saw him twirling up a pancake dough in a pizza shop on

Broadway, or driving a 5th Avenue bus, or carrying a briefcase into 20

Exchange Place, I wouldn't be surprised. He's a quintessential New

Yorker."

When my visit with Plimpton was about to end, I couldn't resist testing

him with my favorite sports question: "Who was the only man to play for

the Boston Red Sox, the Boston Patriots and the Boston Bruins?" He

couldn't guess. The answer, I told him, was a guy named John Kiley, who

played the national anthem on the organ.

But Plimpton got the last word in.

"Who was the only man to play for the Boston Bruins and the Boston

Celtics?" he asked. I said I didn't know. He smiled and replied: "George

Plimpton."

********

EASTSIDER OTTO PREMINGER

Rebel filmmaker returns with _The Human Factor_

1-26-80

On the cover of his 1977 autobiography _Preminger_, he is described as

"Hollywood's most tempestuous director" and "the screen's stormiest

rebel." But today, at 73, the years appear to have caught up with Otto

Preminger, the Austrian-born director and actor who came to the U.S. in

1935 and met success after success, both in movies and on Broadway.

He became the first producer/director to make major motion pictures

independently of the giant studios, and with such films as _Forever

Amber_, _The Moon is Blue_ and _The Man with the Golden Arm_, won

precedent-settling battles with censorship boards that established new

artistic freedom for filmmakers.

Between 1959 and 1963 he produced and directed, in succession, _Porgy

and Bess_, _Anatomy of a Murder_, _Exodus_, _Advice and Consent_,

and _The Cardinal_. After that his career took a dip, and since 1971 he

has released but a single movie, _Rosebud_ (1975), which marked the

screenwriting debut of his son _Erik Lee Preminger_ and the acting debut

of a New Yorker named John Lindsay, the city's former mayor.

In February, Preminger's 33rd film, _The Human Factor_, is scheduled

to open in New York and across the country. Based on a best-selling

novel by Graham Greene, _The Human Factor_ is the suspenseful story

of a black South African woman (played by fashion model Iman) who

marries a white secret agent (Nicol Williamson). Filmed mainly in the

English countryside, the movie deals with the agent's allegiance to the

man who helps his wife to escape from South Africa. Persuaded to

become a double agent, he ends up in Moscow, separated from the one

person he loves. The novel's title underlines the fact that bureaucracy can

never be all-powerful: there is always the human factor.

Preminger, seated at his huge palette-shaped desk of white marble in the

lavishly furnished projection room on the uppermost floor of his Eastside

town house, admits that he sank over $2 million of his own money into

the picture when his signed backers failed to come through. "Everybody

in Europe lies about money," says Preminger in his deep, German

accented voice. "I originally wanted to sue them, but suing doesn't make

sense unless you are sure they have money. So I inquired from my Swiss

lawyer, and they didn't have money in Switzerland. You see, in

Switzerland, the advantage of the Swiss law is that is you sue somebody,

all his assets are frozen immediately. ... Luckily enough, I had two houses

that I wanted to sell in the south of France. ... At least I own the whole

film. The question is now only: Will the picture be a big success as I

hope, or not? That is always the main thing."

The nattily dressed Preminger, a tall, large man whose distinguished

features and totally bald head give the opposite impression of his slow

movement and somewhat frail appearance, revealed that the film's African

scenes had to be shot in Kenya rather than South Africa "because they

said they must see what I am shooting, and if they don't like it, they will

confiscate it. They said, 'People in bed you can't shoot.' Then I went to

Kenya, where there is a black government, and they didn't even ask for

the script. They said I could have anything I want."

Asked whether any memorable events took place during the filming,

Preminger snaps, "Even if there were, I don't remember. After I have

made a picture and I have seen it maybe two, three times with an

audience, I deliberately detach myself, because I don't want it to influence

my next picture. As a matter of fact, a few months ago, my wife was

dressing to go out, and I turned on the television and saw one of my old

pictures. I recognized it, but we had to leave before it was finished. I still

don't know how it ends."

As for Preminger's love life, he writes in his autobiography: "I have a

reputation with women which is not entirely deserved, though it is true

that I had my share of them, some of them stars."

In 1944 he had a three-week love affair with Gypsy Rose Lee that resulted

in the birth of his son Erik Lee Preminger. The boy didn't find out the

identity of his real father until the age of 18. They were reunited four

years later, and liked each other immediately. Preminger legally adopted

Erik, who is currently in Los Angeles writing a biography of his late

mother.

Preminger and his third wife, a former costume designer named Hope

Bryce, to whom he has been married since 1959, are the parents of 19

year-old twins, Victoria and Mark. An Upper Eastsider for two decades,

Preminger includes among his favorite restaurants Caravelle, Le Cirque

and 21, where agent Irving "Swifty" Lazar once broke a glass over his

head that took 51 stitches to close.

An unabashed admirer of luxury, Preminger remains unruffled when

questioned about how his fancy Eastside pad is in line with the philosophy

stated in his autobiography that "my real reward is my work itself.

Success matters only because without it, one cannot continue to work."

"I could live without it," he says with a shrug. "I like to give my family

luxuries, but I could easily live in one furnished room and be also happy."

********

WESTSIDER CHARLES RANGEL

Congressman of the 19th District

8-26-78

The dividing line of New York's 19th Congressional District twists and

loops through upper Manhattan like a traveler who has lost his way. From

the corner of 62nd Street and Central Park West, the boundary turns

sharply at Amsterdam Avenue and extends northward to 164th Street, then

follows the East River shoreline south to Roosevelt Island, taking in all of

Harlem and a large chunk of the East Side.

This is the area that U.S. Congressman Charles Rangel has represented

ever since he was sent to Washington in 1971, after defeating the colorful

and controversial Adam Clayton Powell Jr. in the Democratic primary.

Today, as firmly in control of the seat as Powell was during his height of

popularity, Congressman Rangel stands virtually unopposed in his quest

for a fifth term.

"I have received the Democratic endorsement, the Republican

endorsement, and the Liberal endorsement," says Rangel one Friday

afternoon at the towering State Office Building on 125th Street. "I am

assuming that the Socialist Workers Party and the Communist Party will

be filing. They normally do. In the last election I got 96.4 percent of the

vote."

Whereas the late Powell had wide appeal only among the city's blacks,

Rangel gained the support of many Harlem residents plus a large majority

of liberal whites on the upper West Side. It was they who provided him

with a 150-vote margin of victory over Powell in 1970. In the present

95th Congress, Rangel has had the most liberal voting record of any

congressman from New York state. And while he has continued to give

a great deal of attention to Harlem's problems of health care,

unemployment and drugs, Rangel has recently had more demands placed

on his time as a member of the powerful House Ways and Means

Committee. The first black ever to serve on the committee, he is currently

11th in seniority and will be seventh in the next Congress.

In his New York office, where he generally spends two days per week,

Rangel appears surprisingly fresh and relaxed at the end of a working day.

As we settle into the interview, the elegantly dressed congressman with

the graying moustache and the rasping voice proves himself very much the

politician. He uses each question as a springboard to launch into his

favorite topics -- for example, his access to President Carter.

Because of his various committee assignments and his strong support of

most of Carter's policies, says Rangel, "I am forced to meet with the

president more than probably many other members of Congress. I often

stop by the White House on my way to the office." Rangel also likes to

talk about Chip Carter, the president's son, who is involved in a project

called City in Schools, designed to upgrade the neighborhoods outside

certain schools. Chip has taken a special interest in Harlem, and one

school in particular near Morningside Park. "I am confident that with

Chip Carter's help, and with my help, Morningside Park will soon show

some improvements. I hope that Columbia University will assist us too."

When asked about the unusual shape of the 19th Congressional District,

Rangel says, "The reason for it is that as we find populations expanding,

we don't find the size or the numbers of the members of Congress

expanding. We used to have half a dozen members of Congress

representing different parts of Manhattan. Now we're down to three --

me, Green, and Weiss. If you break it down, you can see that Adam

Clayton Powell's district used to be just Harlem."

As a member of the House Select Committee on Narcotics and Drugs,

says Rangel, "I have gone to Moscow, to try to encourage them to do

more in the area of controlling opium. I have been to Thailand for the

same reason. ... That's one area in which I have great disappointment in

this administration. I find efforts of Nixon's to be greater than Carter's.

The Office of Drug Abuse was disbanded by Carter."

Another field in which he finds Carter at fault is health care. "I support

Kennedy's proposal," said the congressman. "There's no question that, for

anti-inflation reasons, the president has put his national health program on

the back burner. But to think that any program could be directly controlled

by economic needs rather than by the medical needs of the people is

something I cannot accept."

The ultraliberal Rangel, one of the most vociferous supporters of U.S.

Ambassador Andrew Young, still lives in the same building where he was

born 48 years ago, whenever he's not in Washington. He dropped out of

high school to enlist in the Army and spent four years compiling a

distinguished service record, including a presidential citation and three

battle stars. Once he returned to New York, Rangel completed high

school, went to college, and entered law school on a full scholarship. He

was admitted to the bar in 1960; in 1966 he was elected to the first of two

terms in the New York State Assembly.

Married and with two children, Congressman Rangel believes that his

future lies primarily in the Ways and Means Committee, which handles

such giant concerns as taxes, trade, health insurance, social security and

welfare. In order to maintain his popularity throughout the 19th

Congressional District, he must continue to support those programs that

benefit his constituents in both Harlem and the Upper West Side. How can

this be done? "If we're going to use the tax system to make incentives for

the business community to help the economy," he replies, "we need to

bring the disadvantaged into the mainstream."

********

WESTSIDER JOE RAPOSO

Golden boy of American composers

2-23-80

Sing, sing a song

Sing out loud, sing out strong

Sing of good things, not bad

Sing of happy, not sad

Sing, sing a song

Make it simple

To last your whole life long

Don't worry that it's not good enough

For anyone else to hear

Just sing, sing a song.

Joe Raposo wrote those words, along with their music, on a January

morning in New York City, about 10 years ago. "It was," he recalls, "as

succinctly and as economically and precisely as I could embody a

philosophy of life in a song. 'Sing' is my philosophy of life, period. ...

I remember leaving the studio and walking up Sixth Avenue saying, 'If

that isn't a hit song, I know absolutely nothing about it.'"

The boyish, roly-poly, 40-year-old songwriter, whose incredibly crowded

career has included the writing of five movie scores and more than 350

songs recorded by the likes of Frank Sinatra, Barbra Streisand, Tony

Bennett and Tom Jones, was right about "Sing." When Karen Carpenter's

single went platinum in 1974, that was only the beginning.

"It's one of the most recorded songs in the world," says Joe. "I think

there are something like 180 versions of it, in just about every major

language. ... Lawrence Welk recently did this hit parade of songs of the

decade, and the number one song of the decade was 'Sing.'"

We're riding in a limousine along Fifth Avenue. Joe has requested to be

interviewed while he attends to some gift shopping. Because of a

temporary leg injury, he has hired a limousine for the afternoon. As we

go from store to store, Joe greets the merchants by name, then answers

questions into a tape recorder while waiting for his merchandise.

Long noted for his musical versatility, Raposo grew up in Fall River,

Massachusetts, the only child of a classical musician father and a piano

playing mother. "I learned counterpoint at the age of 6 or so by wandering

around the concert hall as my father rehearsed Mozart." His parents

taught him piano, violin and bass viol. At Harvard University he began

to write and direct his own musicals. Soon after moving to New York

City in 1966, he had all the work he could handle as musical director,

composer and lyricist for both television and the stage. He is the recipient

of three Emmy Awards and an Oscar nomination. As a record producer,

he has won four Grammy Awards.

"It's Not Easy Bein' Green," one of many songs he wrote for the _Sesame

Street_ TV show, has become the international anthem for the Girl Scouts

of America. Another Raposo hit, "You Will Be My Music," brought

Sinatra out of retirement several years ago. His _Sesame Street Fever_

disco album has sold more than a million copies.

An album of all-Raposo music recorded by the Boston Pops in 1976 led

to a commission from the Boston Symphony Orchestra for an orchestral

and choral work. The result is a 12-to-14-minute oratorio titled _From the

Diary of Johann Sutter_, about the man whose quiet farm became the

epicenter of the California Gold Rush.

"It's the darndest story ever. Because it tells how a man who's a

tremendous idealist came to this country from Switzerland to found a new

utopian agrarian state, with cattle and fields of grain, and vineyards. ...

When the Gold Rush started, Sutter's whole society was ruined. And it is

an incredible parallel for our time, in that our pursuit of material goods

tends to make us forget all the natural, beautiful things that surround us.

"Sheldon Harnick has done a wonderfully literate libretto. It premieres

this spring in Boston. Sheldon and I have been talking about the possibility

of expansion, but we have a musical to write first based on _It's A

Wonderful Life_, the Frank Capra movie."

At the same time, Raposo is collaborating with Hal David on another

musical and writing songs for a sequel to _The Muppet Movie_. But with

all his success, Joe admits to having "a trunk of songs that are

unrecorded, and many of them I feel are right up on a par with anything

I've ever done. But they sit there and nobody grabs them. You have to

wait. ... A lot of people think, 'Oh, if I only had the talent to write a hit

song.' But writing a great song isn't enough: you have to get the right

recording at the right time."

Apart from being a creative artist and a practical businessman, Joe has an

active family life. Married for the past four years to beautiful Pat Collins

of ABC-TV's _Good Morning America_, he has custody of two sons from

a previous marriage. The eldest, 16-year-old Joseph, is already making

waves as a bass player, both electric and orchestral. Joe and Pat also have

a 3-year-old daughter of their own.

An admirer of President Carter since 1975, Joe wrote the music for

Carter's campaign song the following year, and has done so again for

1980.

In his infrequent spare time Joe loves "tinkering -- banging nails into

things, and building stuff. I'm a pretty handy carpenter, a fair electrician."

With a mischievous smile he adds: "As a matter of fact, sometimes I think

I should go into that full-time, because the music business is chancy."

********

WESTSIDER MASON REESE

Not just another kid

6-4-77

"Mason, I've got two very very important pieces of advice to give you,"

Milton Berle told the youngster when they first met. "Don't believe in

Hollywood party promises; and practice, practice and rehearse."

Uncle Miltie's words have been a useful lesson for Mason Reese, the boy

wonder of television. In 1973, at the age of 7, Mason skyrocketed to fame

by winning a Clio Award for best male in a TV commercial. In the same

year he co-hosted the _Mike Douglas Show_ for a week and became a

children's reporter for WNBC-TV. His picture appeared in _Time_,

_Newsweek_, and on the cover of _TV Guide_. Mason's unique face and

voice became known to millions.

Since that time, however, there have been a few disappointments mixed

in with the triumphs. At 11, Mason is wiser and more philosophical about

show business. Along with his parents, he has learned not to place faith

in verbal agreements, as Berle cautioned.

The Reeses welcome me into their West End Avenue home. As I take a

seat beside the "borgasmord kid" and look around me at the Chagall

prints, Bill and Sonia, Mason's parents, pull up armchairs to listen in and

help out.

But during the interview, Mason needs no more help with his answers

than he did with his first audition at age 5, when he beat out 600 other

children to become the spokesman for Ivory Snow. After that he endorsed

such products as Ralston Purina, Thick and Frosty, and Underwood Meat

Spread, winning a total of seven Clios to date. He's been co-host with

Mike Douglas for three weeks and has appeared as a television guest with

countless other celebrities.

One of my first questions is about children's rights. "I think children have

enough rights as it is," he says. "They're with their families, they go to

school, they have the pleasure of learning. ... and they realize that when

they grow up they'll be able to have more and more fun, as long as they

don't go on a mad rampage when they're kids."

Which type of people are most likely to grab him or pick him up? "It's

always the middle-aged Italian ladies and the Jewish grandmothers," he

says authoritatively. "Some people don't want to treat a kid like a human

being. They want them like a puppy dog; instead of petting, it's

pinching."

When it comes time to talk about Mason's not-so-successful ventures, Bill

-- a producer of audiovisual shows and an expert in 3-D design work --

takes over. He tells about the Broadway show that was written and ready

to go, with Mason as one of the leads, that folded up and disappeared

without warning or explanation. He tells about the ABC pilot titled

_Mason_, which cost $250,000 to make and was never televised; about

the movie offers that were never followed through; about the _Howard

Cosell Show_ -- with Mason as co-host -- that was canceled shortly after

it began.

In spite of these setbacks, Mason recently did some Munchkins

commercials for Dunkin' Donuts and will go to California this summer to

do some ads for Birdseye frozen french fries.

While the Reeses remain optimistic about the future, they try not to build

up their hopes on a new project unless it is something solid. For show

business is, after all, a business.

Mason has lived on the West Side for all of his 11 years. "I don't seem

to understand why everyone thinks the East Side is classier," he says. "I

think they're friendlier people on the West Side, because people on the

East Side get snobby. Most of my friends are on the West Side."

His favorite eating places? "I love the Greek restaurants -- the Four

Brothers (87th & Broadway) and the Argo (72nd & Columbus). Greeks

are okay, aren't they mom? I like restaurants that are a little bit dumpy,

without much decor."

When I run out of questions, I ask Mason if there are any other comments

he wants to make. "I think you've asked what everyone else has asked,"

he replies honestly. And then with a smile: "Except that I've given you

different answers.

"Wait, there's one thing," he goes on. "I'd like my allowance raised to

five dollars." Then, leaning back on the, sofa looking as content as a man

celebrating his 100th birthday, he adds: "I've really had no gripes in life.

Except that I'd like people to stop calling me a midget, and to stop

pinching me."

Some people who have never met Mason Reese in person unfairly assume

that he is a spoiled brat with pushy, exploitive parents. In fact, Bill and

Sonia are warm, creative people who are fully aware of the great

responsibility they have in bringing up their extraordinary son. Mason is

not only brilliant, but a gentleman. He should be making movies, and with

a bit of luck, he will be, soon. Having met him, I can only repeat -- not

improve on -- the words of Tony Randall: "I tell you this with neither

hesitation nor embarrassment. ... I'm a fan of his for life."

********

WESTSIDER MARTY REISMAN

America's best-loved ping-pong player

6-10-78

Marty Reisman was ready for _The Tonight Show_. But was _The

Tonight Show_ ready for Marty Reisman?

In a recent TV appearance, his name was announced and he started across

the stage toward the desk of guest host John Davidson. Then suddenly he

seemed to get lost in the floodlights. For a few seconds the television

audience didn't know what was happening. An anonymous cameraman

raced out of the wings to guide Marty to his destination.

"My gosh, that's never happened before," laughed Davidson. But Marty's

humorous stumbling may well have been part of his act because, as

America's best-loved table tennis player, he very often does things that

haven't been done before. On _The Tonight Show_ he returned shots with

his foot and behind his back, broke a cigarette with his slam shot (that has

been clocked at 105 miles per hour), and soon had Davidson sprawled

across the table trying to reach shots that came back of their own.

At 48, Reisman (rhymes with "policeman") is still the nation's highest

paid Ping-Pong player in exhibitions. The stunts that he has developed

over the past 30 years make his games pure entertainment. But Marty is

more than a player; he is a personality, a man with a thousand stories to

tell, and an instant friend to the people who visit his table tennis center on

96th Street just west of Broadway.

"I feel I'm moving with the times," he remarks, late one evening at the

center. "When from an athletic professional point of view some people

would think about retirement, my career is on the point of fresh

blossoming." He is referring to the fact that his autobiography, _The

Money Player_, published in 1974, is now being converted into a movie

script. And other things are happening. Several months ago his table

tennis parlor was the scene of a unique recording session -- a piece of

music titled _Tournament Overture for Flute, Cello, Synthesizer, and Two

Ping-Pong Players_, composed especially for Reisman. The event was

followed by a regular tournament. And this fall Marty has a long-range

exhibition tour lined up.

"I started playing on the Lower East Side, about 1942," he says. "A year

later, at the age of 13, I was the New York City Junior Champion. ... At

17, I represented the United States in the World Championship which was

held in London, at Wembley Stadium. There were 10,000 people

watching. I lost in the quarterfinals. ... The next year I made it to the

semifinals and received a rating of number three in the world."

That year, 1949, was probably the peak of Marty's career from a purely

athletic standpoint, although he was good enough to win the U.S.

Championship in 1958 and 1960. What distinguishes him from other

players, however, is the variety and richness of his experiences in the

world of Ping-Pong. For three years he toured with the Harlem

Globetrotters as their star attraction at halftime. He spent several years in

the Far East as well, and was in Hanoi when the French were defeated at

Dien Bien Phu. Altogether he has played in 65 countries, and has picked

up such titles as South American Champion, Canadian Champion, and

British Champion.

He once taught the game to a chimpanzee; the chimp managed to return

the ball up to four times in a row. "But the most astounding thing about

him," recalls Marty, "was his short span of attention. When the ball was

about an inch from his racket, he'd turn his head away and get smacked

in the face."

As the title of his autobiography indicates, Marty has also been known to

place a wager on occasion. "I've hustled when I've had to," he confesses.

"But it hasn't been my way of life. I don't misrepresent myself. I play

against the best players in the world, all over the world. Wherever I am,

I create the drama, the action, the excitement, because of the large sums

of money I bet." In one of his biggest hustles he flew to Omaha,

Nebraska, under the guise of a baby crib salesman, to help a man who had

been hustled himself. Reisman played for $1,000 a game and emerged

from the contest 14 games ahead.

West 96th Street has long been a hotbed of table tennis activity. A Ping

Pong parlor opened there in 1934, and Marty took it over in 1958. Today,

many of the world's great players stop by for a game when they visit New

York. Dustin Hoffman, Walter Matthau, Bobby Fischer and Art Carney

have played there also. Marty's regular customers range from 8-year-old

boys to a man of 83 who plays twice a week. The center opens in the

afternoon and doesn't close until 3:30 in the morning, seven days a week.

"I live on the West Side and so do most of my friends," says Marty.

A man has been standing nearby during the interview; Marty introduces

him as Bill, his former manager.

"Manager?" snorts the man with a gruff smile. "He can't be managed.

Human beings can be managed, but Reisman is something different. If he

says 'I'll be there at 3 o'clock' he might show up at 4 -- the next day.

But," he concedes, "if Marty didn't have those idiosyncracies, he wouldn't

have those rare talents."

********

WESTSIDER RUGGIERO RICCI

World's most-recorded violinist

3-3-79

It was Sunday, October 20, 1929. Four days later, on Black Thursday,

Wall Street would be rocked by the biggest losses in its history and the

nation would be plunged into its greatest crisis since the Civil War. But

October 20 still belonged to the Roaring Twenties, and on that date the

most highly publicized event to take place in Manhattan was a violin

concert by a 9-year-old wunderkind named Ruggiero Ricci, who delivered

a flawless performance of the Mendelssohn Violin Concerto and was

lauded as a genius by the city's leading music critics. That concert made

Ricci's career; in the 10 years that followed, the boy virtuoso earned an

annual salary higher than that of the president of the United States.

The story might have ended there, but unlike most prodigies, who burn

themselves out early, Ruggiero Ricci has continued to grow in stature as

an artist. Since the 1940s he has been considered one of the greatest living

violinists, and, with more than 500 recordings to his credit, he is the

most-recorded soloist, instrumental or vocal, in the world today.

Especially in demand abroad, he has made five trips to Australia and three

to the Soviet Union, where he was obliged to play nine encores at his

debut appearance. Twenty of his concerts in West Germany were sold out

a year in advance, and more than a dozen of his South American tours

have been sellouts as well.

"I travel most of the year, except maybe a month off in the summer," says

Ricci, a short, good-humored man of 60 with large, sparkling eyes, jet

black brows, and a soft, slightly accented voice that sounds as if he were

born in Europe. He sits curled up in a corner of the couch in his

magnificent Westside apartment. "I dislike to travel. In the old days, there

were a lot of airplane breakdowns, and we were always hung up in

airports waiting for them to fix the plane. Today they have all these

hijacking searches. You have to go through the machines; they have these

enormous lines. And when you get to the hotel, there's a line a mile

long."

He believes that Russian audiences are "the best public in the world. They

don't applaud between the movements, like they do in New York. ... It's

always interesting to visit a place for the first time. I don't want to go to

Russia so much anymore. We found out it's boring. There's nothing to

do. And it's not much fun. There's no tipping, so the hotel service is very

bad. It takes an hour to get breakfast; you can sit there and be completely

ignored by the waiter. To make a telephone call: it's easier to go to the

moon."

Ricci's repertoire, which includes more than 60 concertos from the 17th

to the 20th centuries, is the largest of any violinist's now before the

public. This calls for a lot of practice. "When you're a kid," says Ricci,

"you hate to practice. And when you're a grownup, practice is a pleasure.

It lets you escape all the other junk. ... I don't have any trouble practicing

in this building, because the old buildings have heavy walls. But if you

want to practice in a hotel, that's hard. Sometimes you can use a mute. Or

you turn on the television. Then they don't complain. If they hear a

fiddle, they complain."

Ricci has two major concerts in New York this year. The first will take

place at Carnegie Hall on Saturday, March 3, when Ricci will join such

celebrities as Andres Segovia, Yehudi Menuhin, Jose Ferrer, Jean-Pierre

Rampal, and Peter Ustinov for a historic musical program to

commemorate the 15th anniversary of Symphonicum Europae, a

foundation whose aim is to promote international understanding and

cooperation by sponsoring performances in every country.

Ricci's other New York concert will mark another anniversary. It will be

on October 20th -- 50 years to the day since he took the city by storm.

"The early concerts I remember very well," says the maestro, who was

born in San Francisco to a family of Italian immigrants. "For most

prodigies, the problem is the parents. My father just wasn't every smart

about how to handle me. Nowadays they don't have prodigies anymore

because there isn't any profit in it. In the old days, a kid could get $2,500

to $3000 dollars a night. Everybody had their kid study."

None of his five children has turned out to be a prodigy, but three of them

are already professionals in the performing arts. Ricci's slender, attractive

wife, Julia, is an active participant in his career. Westsiders for many

years, the Riccis enjoy such local restaurants as La Tablita, Alfredo's and

the Cafe des Artistes.

Asked what he likes best about his career, Ricci says it is making

recordings. "It's more leisurely. You don't have all the headaches. ... The

newest development is direct-to-disc records. The music goes straight

from the mike into the cutting head master, and there's no way to erase.

If it's a 20-minute recording and you make a mistake on the 19th minute,

you have to start over. I just finished recording the _Paganini Caprices_

on direct-to-disc. It's coming out this month. The caprices are very rarely

performed in public, because they're so difficult."

********

WESTSIDER BUDDY RICH

Monarch of the drums

1-5-80

"Mediocrity has no place in my life," says fast-talking, hard-driving

Buddy Rich, wrapped in a bathrobe at his luxurious Westside apartment.

"Anybody who is expert at what they do, I admire, whether it's

drumming, tennis, or whatever. If they do it at the top of their form,

constantly, I become a fan."

Dragging deeply on his cigarette, the man whom critics and fellow jazz

artists have frequently called the greatest drummer in the world -- perhaps

of all time -- dismisses such labels with something approaching

annoyance.

"I don't think anybody is the best of anything in the world. Babe Ruth's

record was broken, Joe Louis was knocked out. ... I'd rather not be the

world's greatest anything. I'd rather be what I am, which is a good

drummer."

It is an unexpected statement to come from a bandleader and drummer

known more for arrogance than modesty, but in an hour-long interview,

Buddy's complex personality unfolds itself in all its richness, and he

proves to be far more than a flamboyant, free-thinking musician who pulls

no punches.

In Buddy's hands, a snare drum comes to life: it whispers, shouts, purrs,

snarls, chuckles, gasps or roars, as the mood of the music strikes him. He

began playing in 1921 at the age of 4, when his parents -- vaudeville

actors from Brooklyn -- included him in their act and then made him the

star. By the age of 7 he had toured the world as "Traps, the Drum

Wonder." At 15, he was second only to Jackie Coogan as the highest-paid

child performer in America. He began recording in 1937, joined bands

headed by Artie Shaw and Tommy Dorsey, and finally formed his own

band in 1946. Over the next 20 years, as both a drummer/bandleader and

as the highest-paid sideman in the business, he made hundreds of

recordings with some of the biggest names in the history of jazz -- Charlie

Parker, Dizzy Gillespie, Oscar Peterson, Lionel Hampton, Count Basie,

Harry James, Thelonius Monk.

Then in 1966 he formed his current band, the 15-man Buddy Rich

Orchestra. In December he brought the band to the chic, newly remodeled

Grand Finale on West 70th Street. Seated at his drums in the center of the

orchestra, he effortlessly mixes snare, tom-tom, bass drum and cymbals

in a whirling, benumbing mass of sound.

Back in his huge living room, which is decorated much like a summer

house in Newport, Rhode Island, Buddy says that his nightclub gigs are

rare. "We do about nine months on the road, which includes Europe and

the Orient. All the cities of this country. Most of the tours I'm on are 90

percent concert halls and schools. ... The main reason is educational. It's

good for the young people to discover all of a sudden that music isn't just

a guitar and a drum and a bad out-of-tune singer. ... I think as young

people become more sophisticated in their tastes, they begin to realize that

jazz is just as high an art form as classical music."

One of his chief gripes about jazz in America, he explains in a voice as

rough as sandpaper, is that "during the season you might see 15 or 20

award shows on television dedicated to country and western slop, but

you'll never see a jazz presentation in its true form. When there's an

extended piece of music, they usually cloud it up with dancing girls and

trick lighting and anything that distracts from the music, instead of

presenting the music as the attraction, the way they do in Europe."

Another sore spot is the 55-mile-per-hour speed limit. "I'm heavily into

sports cars; I used to race long ago. I find that the restrictions placed on

us today are insane, contradictory, and hypocritical. ... I don't know

anyone on the highway who actually does 55 miles an hour, and it's just

another way of making money for the state or the local community, and

I think it's no better than a *ing stickup!"

He doesn't keep any drums in the apartment, and never practices. "I want

my days to be as a man, and I want my nights to be as a working man.

In the day, I exercise, I do karate -- I have a black belt -- and totally

disengage myself from the person I am at night." His apartment is shared

by Buddy's wife Marie and their 25-year-old daughter Cathy, a singer.

"My wife is just as beautiful today as she was the day I married her,"

Buddy says proudly. "She used to be in pictures, but she gave it up when

we married. Now she's a wife and a female and a woman, and she's not

into ERA and she's not into 'I got my thing man and you got your thing.'

She's a woman, and wears dresses so that I know she's a woman. That's

what I like."

He often performs free at prisons and hospitals, but refuses to give details.

"I do these things for the good that it does for me," he asserts. "To have

someone write about it takes the goodness away from it. I'd rather not

have anybody know what I do as long as I know."

Buddy suffered a heart attack in 1959 and has had others since, but apart

from giving up liquor, he has made few adjustments in his whirlwind

lifestyle. "I really don't think of past illnesses," he declares. "I think I'm

healthier and stronger today than I've ever been in my life. I smoke more

now, and I run around more, and I do more exercise. I don't put too

much reality into warnings about 'don't do this and don't do that.' Do

what you have to do, and do it. If you cut out -- it was time."

********

WESTSIDER GERALDO RIVERA

Broadcaster, author and humanitarian

6-2-79

>From hundreds of local television stations across the nation, many

personalities have risen up through the ranks to become national figures

on network, but few have risen to far or so fast as Geraldo Rivera.

In 1969, the year he graduated from Brooklyn Law School, Rivera

decided to become a poor people's lawyer, and over the next 12 months

he took part in 50 trials, most of them in criminal courts. Then his career

took an abrupt turn: in June 1970 he was offered a job at WABC-TV's

_Eyewitness News_, and Rivera quickly accepted. His aggressive, probing

style, matchless reportorial skills, and charismatic presence gained him the

Associated Press' first-place citation as top newsman of 1971 -- an award

he received three more times in the next four years.

In 1975 he became the traveling co-host of _Good Morning America_ on

ABC network; in the 20 months that followed, his assignments took him

to more than two dozen countries. Continuing his upward climb, he was

next transferred to the _ABC Evening News_ with Barbara Walters and

Harry Reasoner. Finally in 1978, he was named to his present position --

as special correspondent for _20/20_, ABC's weekly hour-long news

magazine show.

Over the past nine years, Rivera's special reports have earned him

virtually all the major awards in broadcast journalism, including several

Emmys. It was one of his earliest documentaries, however, that brought

him the most recognition. Titled _Willowbrook: The Last Great

Disgrace_, the 1972 expose focused on the conditions at Staten Island's

Willowbrook institution for the mentally retarded. The broadcast resulted

in an unprecedented response from viewers. So many offers of assistance

poured in that Rivera was able to set up a national organization known as

One to One, whose goal is to give ongoing, individualized attention to

retarded persons. Since 1973, One to One has raised more than $2

million, and helped to build almost 60 group homes throughout the New

York metropolitan area, each housing approximately 12 retarded persons

of the same general age range.

On June 6 from 8 to 10:30 p.m., One to One will present a TV special

that will combine top entertainment with personal accounts of retarded

people, their parents, and the role of the media in helping to shape public

awareness. The entertainers include Paul McCartney and Wings, Neil

Sedaka, Debby Boone, Ed Asner, Angela Lansbury and the Captain &

Tennille. Geraldo Rivera shares the emceeing chores with his ABC

colleague John Johnson.

"The show will be both taped and live," says Rivera in an interview at his

West 60th Street office. "We've designed the program so that it's not a

classic telethon where every two seconds they say, 'Please send us your

money.'"

Among the more dramatic moments is a tape of the Seventh Annual Wall

Street Charity Fund Boxing Match, which raised thousands of dollars for

One to One. "For the first year, I'm not the main event," comments

Rivera, who scored a technical knockout over his opponent in 1978. "My

nose was broken last year, and they took out all the scar tissue. They

decided that my nose had given enough for the cause."

He learned most of his boxing "just street fighting growing up." Born 35

years ago on the Lower East Side to a Puerto Rican father and a Jewish

mother, he was christened Gerald Rivers and hispanicized his name while

in college. There are no scars on his ruggedly handsome face. With his

neatly styled hair, easy smile, and air of casual masculinity -- one of his

favorite outfits is a denim jacket over a T-shirt -- Rivera could easily pass

for a professional athlete turned matinee idol. Yet it is primarily his

literary ability, combined with a sentimentality backed up by facts, that

has made him a type of media folk hero. His documentaries have earned

him 78 humanitarian awards.

In addition to his more than 3,000 news stories, Rivera has written four

books, including one on Willowbrook. "I've been back there many times,

and it still stinks -- literally and figuratively," says Rivera in his

customary vibrant tone. "But it's now a much smaller place. Willowbrook

started with 6,500 people, and now it's well under a thousand. It has

become, in fact, one of the better institutions. But institutions are not the

answer. There's no such thing as a good big institution."

With his commitments as chairman of One to One, his heavy travel

schedule for _20/20_, and his new daily commentary on ABC Radio,

Rivera likes to spend free evenings at home with his wife Sheri at their

apartment near Lincoln Center. A Westsider since 1975, he names the

Ginger Man and the Cafe des Artistes as his favorite dining spots.

Asked about the biggest difference between his present career and his

earlier career as a lawyer, Rivera says: "Now I have the power to cause

positive change in a dramatic way. When you have an audience of tens of

millions of people, it's a multiple in terms of influence and impact, and

the effective delivery of information. As a broadcaster, I've found that one

person can make a difference."

********

WESTSIDER NED ROREM

Author and Pulitzer Prize-winning composer

6-17-78

The world has always been fascinated by artists who excel in more than

one field. There was Richard Wagner, for example, who wrote the words

and the music to all his operas. Cole Porter and Bob Dylan are two others

who have proven their mastery of both language and composition.

But while these three men combined their talents to produce great songs,

Ned Rorem has employed his musical and literary gifts in a different way.

By keeping the two separate, he has gained a huge reputation as a

composer of serious music and also as a prose writer of formidable style.

In 1976 he won the Pulitzer Prize for music. And last month Simon and

Schuster published his eighth book, _An Absolute Gift_.

At 54, Rorem has become somewhat of a fixture on the New York artistic

scene, who no longer sparks the controversy that he once did. But in

Paris, where he spent nine years during his early career in the 1950s,

Rorem was as well-known for his socializing as for his music. With his

handsome, youthful good looks and boyish charm, his biting wit, and his

wide knowledge of the arts, he became a close companion of many of the

leading literary and musical figures of France.

His recollections of those years were carefully recorded in his first book,

_The Paris Diary_, published in 1966 amid fanfare on both sides of the

Atlantic. It was quickly followed by _The New York Diary_, which was

more popular still. Since then, Rorem's books have appeared at fairly

regular intervals, all of them either diaries or essays, or a combination of

both.

In print, Rorem comes across as being somewhat disillusioned with life

and art. In person, however, he is a warm, sincere host. With a tendency

toward shyness that does not come through in his books. Rorem makes all

of his remarks so matter-of-factly that nothing he says seems vicious or

outrageous.

Leaning back on the sofa of his large Westside apartment, with one hand

resting against his chin and the other stroking his pet cat Wallace, Rorem

answers one of the first questions saying that yes, he is upset by the

negative review that _An Absolute Gift_ received in the _New York

Times_.

"A bad review in the Times can kill a book," he explains. "It killed my

last book. And I don't think it's fair that they gave my new book to the

same reviewer. He made some of the same statements that he did last

time, with almost the same wording. But just today I got a very good

review from the _Washington Post_. And I hope there will be something

in the _New York Review of Books_. That's even more important than

the _Times_."

Rorem is considerably more versatile as a composer than as a writer. His

output includes five operas, three symphonies, and "literally hundreds of

vocal pieces for solo voice and ensembles of various sizes. And

instrumental music of every description." He is considered by many to be

the world's greatest living composer of art songs. Generally he sets other

people's words to music. Asked for the definition of an art song, Rorem

says, "I hate the term. I composed dozens of arts songs before ever

hearing the word. It's a song sung by a trained singer in concert halls."

The piece that won him the Pulitzer, surprisingly, was not a song at all,

but an orchestral work titled _Air Music_, which was commissioned for

the U.S. Bicentennial by the late Thomas Schippers and the Cincinnati

Symphony. This summer the Philadelphia Orchestra under Eugene

Ormandy will premiere a new, major composition of Rorem's, _Sunday

Morning_.

"I feel very, very, very lucky that I'm able to support myself as a

composer of serious music," he says. "My income is not so much from

royalties as from commissions, prizes, fellowships, and official handouts,

such as the National Endowment of the Arts, and the Guggenheim

Fellowship, which I now am living on."

Born in Indiana and raised in Chicago, Rorem began composing music at

the age of 10. He was never attracted to pop music, and today he likes it

less than ever. "Inasmuch as pop music goes hand in hand with high

volume, I bitterly resent it," he says. "When the Met Opera gives a

concert in Central Park the same night that the Schaefer Beer Festival

gives one of their concerts, they're crushed like the runt beneath the belly

of a great fat sow."

When a desire for more space and lower rent drove Rorem from

Greenwich Village to the West Side 10 years ago, he feared that he was

moving to "a big, nonartistic, bourgeois ghetto." He soon changed his

mind. In _An Absolute Gift_ he makes the statement: "From 116th Street

to 56th Street, the West Side contains more first-rate artists, both

performers and creators, than any concentrated neighborhood since Paris

in the 1920s."

One of Rorem's favorite Westside businesses is Patelson's Half Price

Music Shop at 160 W. 56th Street, right across from the stage door of

Carnegie Hall. "It's the best music shop in America," he testifies. "They

have everything or they can get it for you."

All of Rorem's books carry a fair amount of philosophy. But the only

principle that the artist claims to have stuck by during the entire course of

his life is: "I've never sold out. I've never done what I didn't want to do.

... I've never been guided by other than my heart. And certainly not by

money."

********

WESTSIDER JULIUS RUDEL

Director of the New York City Opera

4-22-78

In 1943, Mayor Fiorello La Guardia made an announcement that the old

Mecca Temple on West 55th Street would be converted into the City

Center of Music and Drama. As a result, a new major company was born

-- the New York City Opera.

A young Jewish immigrant, Julius Rudel, who had fled Austria with his

family not long before, immediately went to City Center in search of a

job. He was hired as a rehearsal pianist, and in the years to come his

talents blossomed forth in many areas. Working quietly behind the scenes,

he became the Opera's indispensable Mr. Everything, who not only knew

every phase of show production, but could be called on to conduct the

orchestra and even take the place of a missing cast member on stage.

Rudel's versatile musicianship and his personal charm did much to knit the

company together.

In 1956 the New York City Opera suffered a financially disastrous season

that led to the resignation of the distinguished Erich Leinsdorf as director

and chief conductor. That was perhaps the lowest point in the company's

history. The board of directors pored over dozens of nominations for

Leinsdorf's replacement before they decided on the one person who had

the confidence of everybody -- Julius Rudel.

Twenty-two seasons later, he is still firmly in command, and the once

struggling City Opera has risen to world prominence. Although its $8

million annual budget is much smaller than that of the Metropolitan Opera

and the major houses of Europe, Rudel has been able to get many singers

who are unequaled anywhere, and has staged far more new works by

living composers than has Lincoln Center's "other" opera house.

Apart from its musical significance, the City Opera has become a sort of

living symbol for the arts in America, flourishing in the face of financial

hardships, and somehow emerging more creative, more artistically

exciting because of those hardships. Why else would people like Beverly

Sills and Sherrill Milnes perform at City for a top fee of $1,000, or even

for free, when they can get $10,000 for a night's work elsewhere?

"We build loyalties," explains Rudel in his delicate Germanic-British

accent, the morning after conducting a benefit performance of _The Merry

Widow_. "A lot of our singers go on to other companies, but they come

back. They don't forget us. The New York City Opera has produced more

great singers than probably any other company in the world."

It is early, even for this man who begins his work as soon as he get up

and keeps going till late at night with his multiple roles as music director,

chief conductor, administrator, impresario and goodwill ambassador. Clad

in his colorful dressing gown, his thick silver hair shining, he seems an

entirely different person from the magnetic orchestral leader whose

presence on the podium generally guarantees a full house. At his

expansive Central Park West apartment, he is low-key and to the point,

and fiercely proud of the City Opera's achievements.

"We try to look at every opera we do with fresh eyes, as if it had never

been done before. We try to reexamine everything about the opera.

Sometimes the tradition attached to a work differs from what the composer

and librettist intended. ... Tradition was defined by a famous conductor

long ago as 'the last bad performance.' For example, in _Turandot_

there's a character who had been traditionally [portrayed] as blind. But it

makes no sense in the story for him to be blind, so we don't play him that

way. We're restoring the classics, not changing them."

He jumps up to answer the telephone just as his wife Rita enters the room.

A slender, dark-haired woman, she is a doctor of neuropsychology at

Columbia Presbyterian Hospital and a devoted opera fan. "I'm Mrs. Rudel

in the morning," she explains, smiling. She met Julius when they were

both at music school. Today, while keeping a close friendship with many

of the City Opera's singers, she maintains her own identity to the extent

that her medical colleagues sometimes tell her, "I saw you at the opera

last night," without realizing that her husband was the conductor.

The Rudels have lived on the West Side ever since they were married 36

years ago. "My wife sometimes says we live within mugging distance of

Lincoln Center," says Rudel, his eyes twinkling with impish amusement.

"But really, we're confirmed Westsiders. I don't think I ever use any form

of transportation from here to the theatre, and I don't eat out much,

because my wife is a marvelous cook. Time being so of the essence, we

prefer to stay at home."

The City Opera's spring season continues until April 30. Rudel

recommends three shows in particular: _The Saint of Bleecker Street_,

_The Turn of the Screw_, and _The Marriage of Figaro_, which he is

conducting. "I envy all the Westsiders who have the opportunity to come

to us," he concludes. "Our seats in the upper reaches of the State Theatre

are the best theatrical bargains in the world."

********

EASTSIDER DR. LEE SALK

America's foremost child psychologist

5-5-79

At one time, the name Salk was synonymous with one thing only -- the

revolutionary polio vaccine discovered by Dr. Jonas Salk in 1953. In the

1970s, however, another national figure of the same name has emerged

-- Dr. Lee Salk, Jonas' younger brother, who is probably the most highly

respected and best-known child psychologist in America today.

The most successful of his five books, _What Every Child Would Like

His Parents to Know_ (1972), has been translated into 16 languages, while

his most recent work, titled simply _Dear Dr. Salk_, was published in

March by Harper & Row.

A soft-spoken, highly energetic man who bears a close physical

resemblance to comedian Phil Silvers, Dr. Salk recently invited me to

share his thoughts in an interview at his Upper East Side apartment.

"What I try to do as a psychologist," he said, sitting in a large, circular

chair in his spacious library, "is to use all the media to present what I

consider useful psychological information that has been distilled for the

consumer -- to take the jargon out of it, and the ambiguity, so people can

use it to deal effectively with their problems. While most people see me

as a child psychologist, I'm really an adult psychologist who has focused

on some of the most difficult issues that affect all people. ... In my initial

years of practice, it became clear to me that most of the problems

originated in childhood, and I felt that perhaps the front line of mental

health is really in those early, critical years."

Since 1972, he has been writing a column titled "You and Your Family"

for _McCall's_ magazine, which has a readership of 16 million.

"I frequently deal with family concerns, including problems that have to

do with older people," he explained. "I choose a different topic each

month. Frequently the topic revolves around a number of letters that come

in. The June issue, for example, has an unusually large column because

we're dealing with sexuality. We get hundreds and hundreds of letters, so

I can't answer them personally, but I do read them all. When I'm giving

a speech across the country, I like to use airplane time to catch up on my

mail."

As a television personality, he appears at least twice a week on NBC's

_News Center 4_. His off-the-cuff manner is no deception: Salk does each

of his broadcasts live, without a script, speaking spontaneously on a

current issue.

His latest book, _Dear Dr. Salk_, answers questions ranging from the

spacing of children to problems specific to teenagers. When asked how his

approach compares to that of Ann Landers or Dear Abby, Salk replies: "I

must say that they fall far short of what I'm trying to do. These people are

not professional psychologists. They tend to sensationalize -- to appeal to

the voyeuristic tendencies people have. I'm not saying they don't help

people, but they don't always provide people with knowledge.

"A good deal of what I say is not direct advice. In answering a question,

I try to provide knowledge about the problem, which the person can use,

to answer his or her own question. I really feel I shouldn't give people a

series of do's and don'ts"

His knowledge is based on a 25-year career as a professional clinical

psychologist. Following his graduation from the doctoral program at the

University of Michigan, Salk spent three years teaching at McGill

University in Montreal, then returned to Manhattan, where he grew up.

He still maintains a private practice, and is on the staff at Cornell

University Medical School, the Payne Whitney Psychiatric Clinic and the

Lenox Hill Hospital.

Dr. Salk won the custody of his two children, Pia and Eric, in 1975 after

a precedent-setting divorce trial in which it was ruled that he was "the

parent that can best nurture their complex needs and social development."

A problem of many parents, he said, is not that they spend too little time

with their children, but that "it's basically useless time, because they're

not actively involved with the child." Salk himself makes a point of having

breakfast and dinner with Pia and Eric virtually every day, and includes

them in his social life whenever possible. "Their friends are frequently my

dinner guests." Each summer he spends three months with them at an

island retreat in Maine, while commuting to New York for his

professional commitments. Dr. Salk enjoys cooking, and also likes to go

to restaurants.

Dr. Salk's newest project is a 13-part series for public television, to be

aired starting September 29. He will appear each week with three children

to discuss such topics as love and attachment, divorce, and "making a

family work." The programs, he said, "are geared to family viewing time,

so children and their parents can watch together."

********

EASTSIDER FRANCESCO SCAVULLO

Photographer of the world's most beautiful women

6-16-79

As Richard Stolley, the managing editor of _People_ magazine, is fond of

saying, every publication on the newsstand is actually two publications.

One is the inner contents, and the other -- far more important in terms of

sales -- is the front cover. A stunning cover can make the difference of

tens of thousands of dollars in revenue for a national magazine, and that's

why _Cosmopolitan_ has engaged the talents of photographer Francesco

Scavullo for virtually every one of its covers for the last 11 years.

He has done album covers and posters for Paul McCartney, Barbra

Streisand, Donna Summer, Judy Collins and many others. Among the

publications that rely on his most often for covers are _Vogue_,

_Playboy_, _Glamour_, _Harper's Bazaar_, _Redbook_, _Ladies Home

Journal_, _People_ and the magazine that started it all -- _Seventeen_ --

which ran its first Scavullo cover in 1948, when he was still a teenager

himself.

He never had any formal training in photography, but got plenty of

practice during his Manhattan boyhood when he began taking pictures of

his sisters and their girlfriends. Francesco delighted in applying makeup

to their faces, running his hands through their hair, and dressing them in

sexy gowns. He quickly made two discoveries -- first, that there's no such

thing as an ugly woman, and second, that the photographer and his subject

must be personally compatible. Although he charges approximately $3,000

for unsolicited private portraits, Scavullo won't photograph anyone with

whom he has bad rapport -- and that includes all people who don't take

care of themselves physically or abuse themselves with drugs.

A small, lithe man of 50 who walks with the gracefulness of a dancer and

looks considerably younger than his years, Scavullo recently agreed to an

interview at the town house on East 63rd Street that serves as both his

studio and his home. Dressed in blue jeans, an open-neck white shirt, and

Western boots, the chatty, unpretentious photographer sat back on the

couch with his arms behind his head and a mischievous smile planted on

his face. Asked about the large pills he popped into his mouth from time

to time, Scavullo explained that they were vitamins and organic

supplements.

"I'm very health-conscious," he said in a gravelly voice with a broad New

York accent. "I don't eat meat, and I very seldom have even chicken or

fish. I don't drink tea, or coffee, or alcohol -- except for a little wine. ...

A lot of people stop smoking when they start working for me, because I

hate it -- all this pollution in the air of New York already. I think smoking

is great if you live out in the West, and you sit on top of a mountain like

in the Marlboro commercials."

As we were talking in his spacious living room, decorated with Scavullo's

own paintings, a member of his staff came from the studio below and

said, in reference to a woman who was being made up for a shooting

session, "She's still not ready, Francesco." Scavullo sighed.

"A seating with a man takes 20 minutes," he remarked, "and with a

woman it takes the whole afternoon. Makeup," he added, "is used more

intensely in photography than it is in the street. I think women look best

without any type of makeup in the daytime. Sunlight has a very bad effect

on it. Some of the ladies going by on the street look like they're holding

a mask a fraction of an inch away from their face."

He has never developed the habit of stopping beautiful women on the

sidewalk, but, said a grinning Scavullo, "if I see someone wildly attractive

walking by, I get excited. I might turn around and whistle or something."

Number one on his list of the world's most beautiful women is 14-year

old Brooke Shields, who also lives on the Upper East Side. She is one of

the 59 models, actresses, and other celebrities featured in his first book,

_Scavullo On Beauty_ (1976), which came out in paperback last month

from Vintage Press. The volume is filled with life-size shots of women's

faces, many of them showing the difference before and after the Scavullo

treatment. It is accompanied by frank interviews dealing with clothing,

diet, exercise, makeup, and related subjects. _Scavullo On Men_, his

second book, was published in 1977. And he has two more in the works

-- a picture book on baseball, with text by Christopher Lehmann-Haupt of

the _New York Times_, and a retrospective volume covering his

photographs from 1949 to 1980. Both will be out next year.

A resident of the Upper East Side since 1950, he likes to dance until dawn

at Studio 54 "whenever I don't have to get up too early the next day."

Asked about his favorite local restaurants, he said he rarely goes to any,

but that his entire staff orders lunch almost every day from Greener

Pastures, a natural foods restaurant on East 60th Street.

Beauty, he believes, "is an advantage to everything -- man, woman, child,

flower, state. I mean, everything. Beauty is the most fabulous thing in the

world. I hate ugliness." His advice to amateur photographers: "Get a

Polaroid. It is a very flattering camera to use, because it washes

everything out." He couldn't resist adding: "If you can't be photographed

by Scavullo, have your picture taken with a Polaroid."

********

WESTSIDER ROGER SESSIONS

Composer of the future

2-10-79

The story of Western music, from the baroque era to the present day, has

been written largely by men whose contributions to their art were

underappreciated during their own lifetimes. Serious music has a tendency

to be ahead of its time, and must wait for the public taste to catch up

before it can be accepted.

Such is the case with Roger Sessions. For at least 50 years he has been

considered by the American academic establishment to be one of the most

gifted and original composers of his generation. But his work has started

to gain wide recognition with the general public only since the early

1960s. Today, at 82, he is comfortable in his role as the elder statesman

of American concert music. Although relatively few of his works have

been recorded -- they place extraordinary demands on both performer and

listener -- Sessions continues to write music with practically unabated

energy. His most significant official honor came in 1974, when the

Pulitzer Prize Committee issued a special citation naming him "one of the

most musical composers of the century."

Since his early 20s, Session has led a dual career as a composer and a

teacher of music theory. A former professor at both the University of

California, Berkeley, and Princeton University, he has published several

books on his musical ideas, and now teaches two days a week at the

Juilliard School at Lincoln Center. When I heard that his piano sonatas

were going to be performed soon on West 57th Street, I called him to

request an interview, and he promptly concurred. We met for lunch at La

Crepe on Broadway, and over the meal Sessions revealed himself to be a

man of wit, humility, and charm.