Pickles, Squash, and a Long Walk

August 10, 2025

Last week’s LA trip was non-stop activity so I thought I’d write about it today while I have some time. Thursday evening, Anaïs St. John and I had an engagement at The Gardenia. Great crowd, with a few New Orleans friends  who surprised us just before showtime. Anaïs worked her magic and dazzled the crowd. My friend Rebecca Leigh made a guest appearance as well. Anaïs's family (Marco, daughter Elle, brother, and sister-in-law) were also there.  Also Rebecca's mother Mary, a veteran of the business.

After the show Rebecca and I, along with friends, walked  to Formosa Café for drinks.  Formosa is a block and a half down Santa Monica Blvd. from the Gardenia. Our routine is we do a sound check, then head over to Formosa (great staff, drinks, and food). Then back to Gardenia for the performance. I asked the bartender the photography policy, and told him that I had a marionette with me and thought it would be fun to take some pictures. “You mean a high on the hill was a lonely goatherd marionette?”, he asked. Next thing I knew, Jarred, the manager, came over and took us to the dining area (it was late and the section was not in use). He turned up the lights and allowed us to have a photo session. Rebecca took some great pics of Tennessee Williams.

Friday Mink Stole came to pick me up in Mar Vista. She wanted me to see her home. Her husband Tom was a furniture maker for many years. Really beautiful wooden tables and furniture. He’s also an accomplished potter. Mink, for the past few years, has been studying piano. She has a nice music room where she practices. Then we went out for lunch. She has a tour of the British Isles in early 2026. Next up is Camp John Waters in Kent, Connecticut. Fans spend a weekend in the company of other fans, and also John Waters, Mink, and other  folks who have been involved in his films. Before she drove me back to where I was staying, she gave me some fresh home grown squash to give to Rebecca. 

https://www.invitednyc.com/events/2025/9/5/club-getaway-camp-john-waters-2025

Later that day, I had my first visit to Venice Beach, near where Rebecca lives. Again, I had Tennessee Williams with me, and took some photos of him flying over the sand. 

Saturday I Lyfted over to the Hollywood Heritage Museum, which is housed in the old Demille Barn, which was used for the filming of “The Squaw Man” in 1913. Originally on the Paramount  lot, it’s been moved several times and is now very near the Hollywood Bowl. The current exhibit is women’s costumes from classic films. One of the docents, Roy, knew Hedy Lamarr  (whose costumes are part of the exhibit) very well. I asked if he had seem Heather Massie’s one woman show about Hedy’s technical inventions. He had met her in LA. Her show returns soon to the National WWII Museum. Hedy's accomplishments were extraordinary. 

https://www.nationalww2museum.org/programs/hedy-life-inventions-hedy-lamarr   

Interestingly, two of the original Paramount stars had ties to New Orleans. Later star Dorothy Lamour was a native, and I learned something interesting during a conversation with her a while back (she was appearing in a production of “The Boyfriend” in San Antonio, where I had gone to visit my friend Ricky Graham, who was also in the show). Ricky introduced me to Ms Lamour in her dressing room after the show. He mentioned that I knew Freddie Palmisano, the late pianist and composer, who had played in the piano bar at the Beverly Dinner Theatre, and who had also played a small role in a recent comedy there with Ms Lamour. She responded, "Oh I love Freddie”. I told her that we were roommates and shared a house in the French Quarter. 

"Which street?”

“Dauphine St.”

“What number?”

“911”.

“I grew up next door”.

And she really sounded like she was from New Orleans!

(One of the fun things about knowing Freddie was having the occasional opportunity to meet some of the visiting film stars when they were appearing at the Beverly, or perhaps in town to see old friends in their own shows. One night, on returning home from work, Freddie knocked on my door and said "Harry, why don't you come down and meet my friends". The friends turned out to be former child actor and later public relations director for Actors Equity Dickie Moore, actor and photographer Roddy McDowell, and actor Henry Brandon, who appeared in the film "Auntie Mame" as the director of the progressive school.)

Silent film star Leatrice Joy (family name Zeidler), the daughter of a dentist, I believe, grew up on the 1000 block of Esplanade Ave. Another earlier silent star, Marguerite Clark, lived for several years at what is now the Latter Branch of the New Orleans Public Library on St. Charles Ave. Her husband was Harry Williams, co-owner of the Wedell-Williams Air Service Corporation. Coincidentally, my father Harry Sr. was very good friends with Walt Wedell, the son of the other co-owner of the aviation business. He and Walt worked together in the commercial art business in New Orleans.

But back to the Museum. The docents/volunteers are all quite knowledgeable and helpful. After viewing the exhibits (which include Cecil B. Demille’s office, as it was, along with the original artifacts), I asked to take a photo of the staff. I gave one of them Tennessee Williams to hold (and, of course, told them all about our next “Gumbo Cabaret” show in October). One of the volunteers told me that she was also a performer, and had been at one time with LA’s Groundlings. Turns out she’s very good friends with Rebecca’s mom, Mary, who was also there at the beginning.

From there I decided to walk, rather than ride. A few blocks South down Highland Ave took me to the Hollywood Museum, which is in the original Max Factor building. The makeup rooms are preserved as they were during the “golden age” of motion pictures. On each door is a small sign: "For blondes only". "For brunettes only". "For redheads only".

The second and third floors, along with the basement floor, are filled with memorabilia from films and television. There’s a great Marx Brothers exhibit. Costumes worn  by Dale Evans and Roy Rogers. Laverne and Shirley, Sonny and Cher, Eartha Kitt, Clara Bow, Ramon Navarro, and Rudolph Valentino, among many, many others.

From there I headed West on Hollywood Blvd. I had hoped to get a photo of Tennessee Williams looking at handprints of someone connected with a film of one of his plays. The place is very touristy and very crowded, and my phone battery was running low so I wasn’t able to look anything up. I did, though, find Edgar Bergen and Charlie McCarthy’s foot and handprints, and so was able to capture TW sitting on the concrete by their square.

Eventually got to Formosa Ave and headed South to the Formosa Café on Santa Monica Blvd, where I had some Shrimp & Pork Shu Mai and charged  my phone. Continued South Formosa and then headed West  and walked through neighborhoods filled with the most gorgeous plants and flowers and trees. My destination was Canter’s Deli’s Kibitz Room on Fairfax, where Esmerelda the Puppet was hosting a performance with several different puppeteers and live music.

Before the performance I had time to have half a pastrami sandwich, cole slaw, and three PICKLES. At the conclusion of the performance, Esmerelda announced “And now, we’re going to have a PICKLE party!” One of the performers entered the bar with a big plate of PICKLES, and everyone in the room was given one. Had a chance to say hello to Esmerelda and Dave (her “person”) and head back to the deli for some coffee and coffee cake. During which time someone stopped by my table and dropped off a plate with three more PICKLES. Rebecca (who had been to a comedy show with a friend in another part of town) arrived and we visited for a while they had a late dinner. This particular conversation turned to Rebecca's friend's profession, which has to do with software and computers and all things technical. I did enjoy sharing the story of how my mother had recently shown me some of her early DOS drawings from when she was working in MS-DOS, a widely used operating system for IBM PC compatibles during the 1980s and early 90s. After Canter's we headed back to the house. 

The next morning while waiting for the flight back to New Orleans, I calculated that on Saturday I had walked approximately five miles. A much better way to learn a city than using a GPS. 

Our next Gardenia show (“Gumbo Cabaret” with Rebecca Leigh and Kelley Dixson) is October 11 and 12. Stay tuned.

Part 1

Once upon a time I played piano in an outrageously beautiful Art Deco restaurant known as Restaurant Jonathan. When I wasn’t playing, there was piped in music that always reminded me a bit of the music in “The Shining”. On the third floor, just outside of the private dining room, was a vintage 1930s bar which, when opened, was all lights and mirrors. On one occasion I was hired  to accompany a special command performance of "You Gotta Get a Gimmick" (from "Gypsy"), performed by three local favorites--Judy Latour as Tessie Tura,  Linda Fried as Electra (complete with electric lights on her costume, and Becky Allen as Mazeppa, trumpet in hand. I was at an electric keyboard that had been brought in for the after-dinner entertainment. In the small converted attic dining room, the three ladies looked like Mardi Gras floats as they entered with their headpieces and props. The second floor had two dining rooms—the Icarte and the Erté. Erté himself made at least one appearance at the restaurant. The etched glass mural, created for the restaurant by Dennis Abbe, behind the second floor bar extended all the way up from the first floor bar in the Night and Day Lounge, where I played the oxblood baby grand, which faced the bar and also had a view of the aquarium that was set into the wall that divided the bar from the front entrance of the restaurant. 

I’ll never forget my first night playing at Jonathan’s. My photograph (taken by Barry Muniz) was in a window frame outside, just next to the main entrance. I was scheduled to play from nine til midnight. Shortly before I was to finish for the evening, impeccably dressed manager Klein Stuart came over and discreetly informed me that a Mr. Irwin wanted to hire me to play another hour for an extra hundred dollars. So of course I said ‘’yes’’ and continued playing.  Mr. Irwin requested ''I Get a Kick Out of You'' and bought a round of drinks for everyone in the bar.  Around this time my friend Ricky Graham stopped in and sang a song ("Wall Street" from the off-Broadway show "Dames at Sea") with me and tap danced on top of the piano. The bar crowd, all dressed to the nines, sang along. (On a side note--a few months later I was playing another song from "Dames at Sea". Tom, one of the waiters came up to me later that evening and very excitedly told me that he was good friends with Tamara Long, who had originated the role of Mona Kent in the show. In his wallet were several photos of the two of them together.)  Later, as I was finishing for the night, I saw Mr. Irwin, by now quite passed out, being carried through the Night and Day Lounge, and out of the restaurant, by two of the restaurant staff members. 

And so it began. Every Friday and Saturday evening, formally attired, I would arrive, have a drink at the bar, then play three sets, followed by dinner. I became familiar with the regular New Orleans diners, mainly from discreetly observing  them from a distance as I played the music of Cole Porter, The Gershwins, and Rogers and Hart, among many others. One recurring scenario I remember involved a particular New Orleans type. My outspoken marionette character Miss Viola would describe them like this: ‘’Uptown New Orleans, where the women pretend they’re queens...and their husbands pretend THEY’RE not.’’ 

     Every so often I’d hear the managers at the front desk say ‘’the so-and-so’s are coming’’, and the entire staff would suddenly be on edge because the so-and-so’s were coming and everything had to be perfect or, as I recall one particular evening, one of the wives had warned a manager, ‘’If this isn’t taken care of immediately, you will experience the WRATH of RUTH.’’ Some evenings, after dinner, Mr. so-and-so would slip into the Night and Day Lounge with a much younger attractive gentleman, and they would sit quietly at a corner table for some private time. There would inevitably be a minor scene outside the bar at the front desk, where the sobbing, distraught wife would order the manager, ‘’Call me a cab!’’ And then the next week the infamous couple would come back in for dinner as if nothing had happened. 

There were also opening parties for the national touring shows that played the Saenger Theatre down N. Rampart St. Opening night of the touring "Oklahoma", leading lady Christine Andreas sang with me--"With a Song in My Heart". And celebrities. I recently heard, for the first time, an account of the time Andy Warhol was in town and had dinner at Restaurant Jonathan. It seems there was, on this particular night, a rowdy group from Alabama at the restaurant. About the time Warhol and his entourage had arrived, the Alabamans were ready to leave. The Warhol party entered, checked in, and stood patiently waiting for the elevator. When the elevator arrived, the doors opened to reveal the drunken group from Alabama. Among the revelers was one unfortunate soul who had died during the journey to the first floor. 

Part 2.

Everyone, customers as well as staff, took great pride in being part of Restaurant Jonathan. The bartender, Charles Grant, always had a welcoming smile and made everyone feel special. In the men's room were rose scented candles. Whenever I went in to use the facility, if there were drops of water on the counter, I would wipe them dry with a clean paper towel. Everyone did their best to maintain the elegance that had been created by the original owners, architect Jack Cosner and his partner Jay Schwab, who by this time had sadly both passed away. Margarita "Darling" Bergen, still a vibrant presence in New Orleans, would come into the Night and Day Lounge and say "Hello Henry--can you play for me 'As Times Go By'?" Other times she would request "Sophisticated Lady". 

     Many of the regulars had favorite songs, which I would play as they entered the room. Visiting celebrities included Leslie Caron, Yvonne DeCarlo ("Oh my, look at all of these lovely things. Art deco--that's what this is--art deco."), Paul Lynde (wearing casual clothes and a sailor hat, pulled down), Richard Burton (the most striking, bigger than life person I have ever seen), Henry Mancini (never saw him but I knew he could hear me!), and many others. 

After the restaurant finally closed, the property remained unoccupied for a number of years. Eventually it reopened as Funky Butt's, a music club and bar. I couldn't quite bring myself to return to 714 N. Rampart St. I don't generally have a problem with change, but this was different. Restaurant Jonathan held such special memories for me, and I preferred to keep them intact. Until I was asked to come along for an evening at Funky Butt's. So, along with my cabaret companions Cynthia Owen and Chris Wecklein (both of whom had to convince me), I returned to what once was the Night and Day Lounge. 

     We didn't enter through the main entrance. The lounge doors were fully open and we walked right inside. The etched glass behind the bar was still there, but otherwise the room was barely recognizable. We sat at a table right in the same spot where the baby grand piano had been. We ordered a round of drinks, and then another. And then another. I had, for the moment, forgotten about the past and was having a good time at this new club. 

     Then it was time to use the men's room. I made my way through the bar and crossed the hallway and entered. And then I remembered. There were no rose scented candles--only the heavy smell of urine and other unpleasant things. There was grafitti on the walls, and there was water all over the counter. I instinctively reached for a paper towel. I decided that I needed some privacy, and so I locked the men's room door. And I began to wipe the water off of the  counter. I must have had  a lot to drink, because all of a sudden my eyes filled with tears, and I broke out into heavy, violent sobs. I thought of the first time I ever saw the restaurant.  I was given a personal tour of Restaurant Jonathan, before it opened. I had been a guest for dinner with Jack and Jay, the owners, and a few staff members. Dinner was outside on the second floor terrace. And I pictured, in my mind, the waiters, those wonderful, crazy guys, and Chef Tom, and the managers, and all the others who had left this world. I cleaned the men's room, one last time. It was a sort of rite of passage into the present. And it was okay.

 © 2019 Harry Mayronne

After my first time traveling by air, I decided that the experience needed to be replicated and shared. So one weekend when my cousins came to visit, we played airplane, under my direction. My cousins Craig and Brian were close in age (I was ten). Their sisters Sharon and Carrie were closer to my sister Maryanne, who is about five years younger than I. So there we had our crew and our passengers. Preparation for the flight had begun much earlier in the day. I decided that my bedroom would be the best location. I began by hiding all my personal things, including toys, papers and unnecessary chachkas. Then I borrowed some chairs from the dining room. They were placed, two by two, along the wall by the windows. The first two were for the pilot and co-pilot (Craig and Brian). 

     The next two were passenger seats (for Maryanne and me).Each passenger seat had a pillow to sit on as well as a pillow to lean back on. Two belts hooked together made an excellent seatbelt, and a fresh clean white napkin was placed over the top of each chair. Across the hall in the bathroom was a stack of small airline soaps. Two perfectly folded hand towels were placed on the towel rack. In the kitchen, two TV dinners were placed in the oven, which was turned on at just the right time for the dinners to be ready when it was mealtime during the flight. The vacuum was plugged in and placed by one of the dressers.

     Then we were ready. Craig and Brian took their places in the "cockpit". Maryanne and I entered the "cabin", where we were greeted by the two flight attendants (Sharon and Carrie), who took our tickets (real tickets from a family trip), and showed us to our seats. Before I took my seat I went over to the dresser, turned on the vacuum cleaner, and stuffed some socks into the hose. The noise it made sounded very much like the sound in the cabin when a jet is airborne. So Maryanne and I buckled ourselves into our seats, read magazines, looked out of the window and then, when the TV dinners were ready, were served dinner by the two flight attendants. The meals were placed on two TV trays that had been folded and discreetly placed in front of our seats.I don't remember much else.

      After all, when the flight was over, it was late, we were still in my bedroom and our four cousins had not yet had dinner. As for my sister and me, we were jetlagged and probably turned in for the night.

©️ 2019 Harry Mayronne

During the Spring of 2008, I was asked to play piano at a reception for Stephen Sondheim. The party was hosted by a couple of mutual New York friends with ties to New Orleans, which is where the event took place. The piano I played was a Cottage Grand with what I believe was the original bench, with a rotating seat.

     About an hour into the party, Mr. Sondheim broke away from the crowd and came over to the piano.  I stopped what I was playing, said hello, and he asked, “So how’s the piano?” 

     And so began our conversation. He seemed concerned about my personal comfort sitting on the small piano bench. I assured him that I was okay. He was intrigued by my having worked with Dr. Joann Gordon (author of "Art isn't Easy--the Theater of Stephen Sondheim") as accompanist for her “Art Isn’t Easy” student workshop at Loyola University.  And with my having met Craig Zadan, author of "Sondheim and Company". (This was prior to Craig's producing the film musical "Chicago" with his Storyline Productions partner Neal Meron, and then later the Academy Awards. When we met he was directing a film called "If Looks Could Kill" with Richard Grieco. Craig invited me to the Warner Brothers lot to watch and hear the orchestra record the musical soundtrack under the direction of composer David Foster. This was the first time I learned of computer generated sheet music. Every so often the orchestra would stop playing for a change, and an assistant would run off the soundstage and then quickly return and hand out freshly printed revisions to the musicians.)

As often happens in New Orleans, the subject of food and restaurants came up. I learned that his first dining experience in New Orleans was at a small neighborhood place called Liuzza’s, where he was introduced to (and enjoyed) fried dill pickles. After a bit more conversation he headed back to the crowd.

     Earlier this year, I was invited to play another party for the same hosts. This time the occasion was friends simply being able to get together again, as the lockdown restrictions had finally subsided. I was looking forward to seeing who would be there, and to playing for them. I arrived early, and chatted with the hosts before the guests arrived. When it was time, I headed over to the piano in the next room.  Intellectually I knew, but it wasn’t until I saw the Cottage Grand, and the small bench with the rotating seat, that it hit me. Stephen Sondheim had really left us. But also left us an incredible legacy. I treasure the few minutes I was fortunate to spend with him.

©️ 2023 Harry Mayronne

It was a Saturday. Along with some friends, I had been to the Europa Center in Berlin. First we watched the skaters at the ice rink. Later we visited the Bote und Bock music store. I made a purchase using Travelers Checks in German currency. It wasn't until I had returned to my hotel, the Eremitage, that I realized that the shop clerk had given me too much change--as if I had given her Travelers Checks in American dollars. 

Later that  evening at the hotel, I sat and had a glass of cognac and a conversation with a German girl named Bruni. I told her the story. She  told me that if I would give her the money, she would return it to the store on Monday (I was leaving the next day, Sunday). When I told my friends that I had given the money to Bruni, they all laughed and told me that Bruni would just keep the money and tell people about the stupid American.

A week later, though, after I had returned to Munich, where I was spending the summer studying, I received a package. It was from the shop girl in Berlin.  Bruni had returned the money. In the package was a thank you note and a record album of a jazz group called "Allotria".

All these years later it's good to remember that there are some honest people in the world.

© 2015 Harry Mayronne

Rowena Rollins came to New Orleans to appear in "An Evening with Spike Jones and his City Slickers", a recreation of the original, including the original trap-door upright bass and cowbells. (See story below.)

From 2015, on the closing of The Pearl Oyster Bar and Restaurant:

'Yesterday evening I read online that The Pearl restaurant, which had opened  on St. Charles Avenue nearly one hundred years ago, was going to close today. I decided to go there one last time.  I sat at the bar and had a nice conversation with the owner’s daughter.  On the way out I noticed one table in particular, where I used to sit for lunch during the month of rehearsals for the "Spike Jones Show" several years ago. 

The guest star was a show biz veteran named Rowena Rollins, who had appeared on Broadway and done a film or two.  She had been given a rather lengthy monologue to learn and was having a difficult time learning the lines.  To no avail she had told the producer/director that she preferred to just do her old “schtick” and not have to learn so much new material. Day after day she struggled.

One afternoon during a lunch break, Rowena, Chris Wecklein (his first show in New Orleans), and I were seated at the table for poboys and drinks. Rowena looked particularly troubled. She finally said, “I’m SO upset but I can’t tell anyone.” I asked her what was wrong but she kept on saying, “I can’t tell anyone—he’ll kill me if I tell anyone.” After some persuasion, she reluctantly shared her dilemma. It seemed that the producer/director/designer (who, in his bio, attributed "his ethics to L. Ron Hubbard"), had decided that he was now going to also appear as an actor in the show. Her role as “the lady from the society for the prevention of cruelty to music” was actually going to be performed by the director himself, and he intended to “surprise” the performers on opening night with his unexpected appearance.  For those of you outside of the business, this is, to say the least, highly unethical. The plan was for Rowena to to learn and rehearse the monologue, knowing that she would never have a chance to perform it.

After giving the situation some thought, I came up with what I thought was a rather  ingenious solution.  “Here’s what you can do”, I explained. “Go ahead and learn the monologue.  On opening night, go stand in the wings, in costume, as if you’re going to go onstage for the scene.  Then when our director friend appears in an identical costume, in the wings, ready to go on, you feign a heart attack—YOU’RE AN ACTRESS. Clutch your heart and fall to the floor.  He will panic. Then when he runs out to the lobby, in full drag, to call an ambulance, you simply walk out onstage and do the monologue. There is nothing he can possibly do to you.“

Rowena just sighed and said, “Oh, I couldn’t do that.”

“Well” I replied,  “then I really don’t know what to tell you.”

Opening night, the director made his intended “surprise” entrance. Of course, the cast and musicians had all been told what was going to happen and were prepared not to react.  And the result, which for one time was actually warranted, was---CRICKETS...

From outside, I looked through the window and watched the diners enjoying their lunch, and the Pearl began to fade into history. All the best to Miss Marie, and thanks for the memories...'

©️ 2015 Harry Mayronne