Wish You Were Here

There are two people I am missing tonight:

A) My dad would be one of the most proud men on earth just about now because of Barack Obama. He loved Bill Clinton but would be highly saddened by Senator Clinton's campaign because he believed in them more than not.

and

B) One my life heroes, a Loving of Loving v. Virginia, Mildred, died today. It was in 1967 that she sued the State of Virginia, in order to "legally" be able to wed the love of her life, Richard. She was black, he was white. They would have celebrated the 40th anniversary of the landmark case last year (he died in 1975) and recently, she advocated for homosexual marriage.

40 years ago, I was 3 years old. This happened in my lifetime. Do you understand? I don't hang on to it, but I feel it. And I wasn't even cognizant at the time.

Thank you, Richard and Mildred, for one of the greatest love stories ever told.

All I want to do is cry. And heck, I even went to see Iron Man tonight, and it was great. But really, the death of Mrs. Loving made me think of my dad and then that made me think of so many things.

BTW the way, Robert Downey, Jr. is hot. Wish you were here, too. But in a... different... sorta way. So, make that three people I'm missing tonight.

I was just saying on New Year's Eve...

... that I would like to one day eat at Sardi's... when word came along today that Vincent Sardi, Jr., son of the founder of that famous Times Square establishment, passed away. Another New York ending, another New York era.

From the New York Times:

Mr. Sardi ran one of the world’s most famous restaurants, a Broadway institution as central to the life of the theater as actors, agents and critics. It was, the press agent Richard Maney once wrote, “the club, mess hall, lounge, post office, saloon and marketplace of the people of the theater.”

Mr. Sardi understood theater people, loved them and was loved in return. He carried out-of-work actors, letting them run up a tab until their ship came in. (At one point, Sardi’s maintained 600 such accounts.)

He attended every show and made sure his headwaiters did the same, so that they could recognize even bit players and make a fuss over them. At times, he exercised what he called “a fine Italian hand,” seating a hungry actor near a producer with a suitable part to cast.

He commiserated with his patrons when a show failed, and rejoiced with them when the critics were kind. He distributed favors, theater tickets and food, rode on horseback with the local police, and acted as a spokesman, official and unofficial, for the theater district.

Mr. Sardi was born on July 23, 1915, in Manhattan and spent his early childhood in a railroad flat on West 56th Street, where his parents took in show-business boarders. In 1921, his father took over a basement restaurant in a brownstone at 246 West 44th Street.

The Great White Way bows its head to you in thanks and farewell.