Thursday, January 25, 2007

Late At Night With Joey Reynolds, the Italian Stallion


The telephone call came Thursday afternoon, shortly after I published my last post. A slightly gravely voice was on the phone. It was a lovely woman I know, Myra Chanin, who sees everything in New York and books whoever she can seduce into coming down to WOR during hours when sane people won't step foot into the street. She books "The Joey Reynolds Show," an overnight radio program heard coast to coast.

"Are ya Jewish?" she asked.
"Good. You're gonna be on The Jewish Hour tomorrow night. Be at the studio at 11:50."

Myra's logic escaped me, but midnight found me at WOR Radio, along with a large number of Jewish people. A large number of large Jewish people, I should add, including one rotund fellow who never spoke a word the entire time I was there. Nor did he go into the studio, just sat in the outer office, smiling and eating sandwiches. And Mark, Joey's sweet personal assistant (FAR more competent than mine), a photographer whose work you have seen on the front page of The New York Post, especially if it has recently exploded.

And best of all, a man I adore, The King and Queen of Cabaret, Sidney Myer. Dahlings, until you have seen this man perform "Pheromones," you cannot say that you have Lived.

Joey Reynolds, who is quite trim, is not Jewish, so I am at a loss to explain the origin of The Jewish Hour. Appropriately, a deli catered an enormous amount of lox, corned beef, bagels, and other food that Borat would never touch.

The interview went quite well. A very pretty woman named Goldie DVer explained (off the air) what it means to have a "Jewish ass." (Apparently a pronounced lack of flesh.) According to Myra, Goldie's husband Paul is too cheap to buy her an extra vowel for her name. Curious. And Joey was a complete gentleman, as well as quite amusing. He even asked me about Bucky the Wonderdog, and I told the story of taking Bucky to Marc Jacobs's party.

The wizened gentleman sitting next to me, however, fell out of my favor by immediately telling fat jokes at my expense. His name is Mickey Freeman, I believe, and he did a lot of work in television in the black and white days. As much as I admire the history of Borscht Belt humor, personally I'll take my borscht cold, with sour cream. However, I ignored the man and carried on as best I could. I related my encounter with Eli Weisel (cf. an earlier post, "Some Ghosts Have Too Much Attitude,") and discussed spring trends in fashion.

After it was over, I allowed myself a few delicate bites of lox and some chopped liver. I would not have minded taking a bite out of Joey Reynolds...he really is quite handsome in person. Just another night in my fabulous life.

Here is a link to his WOR site:

And yes, I PROMISE to get those beautiful satin robes listed, size 6X and 8X! After all, Valentine's Day will be here soon.

Elisa and Bucky the Wonderdog

No comments: