Battle of the Bands/Soundtrack ~ The Wild Side

Once again, Battle of the Bands has collided with Soundtrack of My Life.

Let's begin with the story.

I lived in NYC from 1990-1992 and worked in the Publicity Department at St. Martin's Press. That department was full of some fun characters. It was my first experience working with gay men, and I must say that was eye opening. I'd go into a meeting just hoping to get through it and, more than once, one of the fellas would come up to me after the meeting to tell me he had an excellent idea for how I should wear my hair, fashion accessories that I really should try, or just general clothing advice. Sadly, I needed all three, so those tips were always appreciated.

Notice the fancy haircut AND the manicured nails! Not to mention... the DRESS!

We had one guy in our department (also newly graduated from college) who was not gay. His name was Len. He and I became very good friends. I think it's because I was so welcoming on his first day. Or that first meeting. Not sure which came first. But, he walked in and there was an open seat next to me. He paused and I said, "Sit down. I don't bite." I probably should've added most of the time, but it worked. He sat, and we became friends.

I'd like to say I taught him all sorts of handy things. Sadly, I think the reverse was true. Through him, I learned a whole bunch about hockey I never knew. Did you know it is the sport with the longest season? I didn't know that. He also took me to a Rangers game (which was super fun). He worked the "free stuff exchange" like nobody's business. He gave me some of the cassettes (yeah, I said cassettes) and CDs he didn't want. I also learned a wee bit about what it was to be Jewish. In short, he was one of the coolest people I'd met in my life, and I felt really privileged he wanted to be MY friend. We even exchanged mix tapes (on cassette). If you want to know where you rate on my scale, only people I think of as the "best of the best" get a mix tape. Through that experience I learned the way to end a mix tape is with The Beatles montage of Golden Slumbers/Carry That Weight/The End. In point of fact, whenever I hear those songs I always think of  Len.


In 1992, St. Martin's published the book A Low Life In High Heels: The Holly Woodlawn Story. The entire department was invited to the book party at a place called The Limelight.

The Limelight

Do you see the resemblance to a castle? Perfect for Halloween or a dress up party, no? Well, this was a dress up party. Holly Woodlawn is the Holly from A Walk On The Wild Side by Lou Reed. "Holly came from Miami FLA..." Holly brought all of his his/her friends to this book party. (Pronouns still are confusing for me when it comes to cross dressing.) Fortunately, I'd already experienced this phenomena several times already, so I was now a pro at this sort of thing. A few days ago, I sent an email to Len asking if he remembered this party. HE DID. He said the thing that stuck with him was seeing the people shooting up in the bathroom (and feeling so tame in comparison). I'm so glad I didn't see that. What I remembered from this party was a dude dressed like a lady in western wear, including the holster and toy guns. I was standing next to Len when this "cowgirl" raised her gun and shot it at Len. He grabbed my arm and said, "See that guy in the cowboy outfit. He just fired his gun at me!" Once again, I was the bridesmaid and not the bride!

Here is a picture of Len and I from one of our many nights out after all the work was done (but not the night of The Limelight party):

Other bloggers participating in the Soundtrack of My Life:

StMcC Presents BATTLE OF THE BANDS

Cherdo on the Flipside 

Holli's Hoots and Hollers 

THE DOGLADY'S DEN 

Mean Who You Are

Wrote By Rote


If you were paying attention during the story, you probably already guessed the song for this installment of Battle of the Bands. Walk On The Wild Side. Not including the Lou Reed version as it would run away with it, but I think I found two good covers.

The first is by a band called The Strokes.



The second is by Dave Stewart and Vanessa Paradis (don't watch if you are influenced by the video).


Please vote for the version of this song you prefer. If you want to get into the Ins and Outs of why you like one better than the other... I LOVE long comments!

For more Battle of the Bands fun, check out the other BOTB bloggers to vote on their battles:

• Far Away Series 
• Stephen T. McCarthy's Battle of the Bands Blog
• Tossing it Out
• DiscConnected (temporarily disconnected from BoTB)
• Mike's Ramblings
• Curious as a Cathy 
• Book Lover
• The Sound of One Hand Typing
• dcrelief ~ Battle of the Bands 
• Cherdo on the Flipside 
• Angels Bark 
• THE DOGLADY'S DEN 
• Jingle Jangle Jungle 
• Janie Junebug Righting and Editing
• NovelBrews
• J.A. Scott
• Quiet Laughter
• Holli's Hoots and Hollers 
• beReInVintaged 

G IS FOR GALLEY

I bet you didn't know I was a sailor.

That's because I'm not.  I am talking about a book galley.  It is my lead in to actually tell you about my first job.  And galleys were just ONE thing about which  I was completely clueless.

Just to give you an idea of how "out of my league" I was, when I was job hunting I fell for somebody's con job sob story, and gave them all my money so that they could catch a cab and get home.  Then I realized that I didn't have any money to buy a subway token to get home.  I had to walk twenty blocks - in heels - to where my friend was working to borrow money for the subway.  She and her officemate about laughed themselves out of their chairs.  I walked that entire twenty blocks believing I had done a good deed.  They disabused me of the notion.  I was just conned out of my last dollar.  Sadly, only the first of many stories...

Remember in my last post how I told you that I majored in English because I liked to read?  Well, the next big question comes after you graduate.  What are going to do with that???  I moved to New York City and started looking for a job at all of the publishing houses.  This was back in 1990.  I got a job as an assistant in the Publicity Department at St. Martin's Press.  I was so GREEN.  I knew nothing.  Looking back on those days I shudder a little bit.  Actually, it's more like an all over body shiver.  Blaaach.

 image found here

If you are wondering why there is a photo of The Flatiron Building pictured above, it is because the offices for St. Martin's Press comprised at that time (and possibly still do) the 15th, 16th, 17th, 18th, and 19th floors of the building.  Publicity was on 17 back in the 1990s.  The Flatiron Building is the only building in NY, and perhaps anywhere, that still has hydraulic elevators.  That means that the elevator never actually stops with certainty on any floor.  It kind of wobbles on each floor.  It is a bit disorienting until you get used to it.  You can also see that the building is a triangle, but it is perfect for the crazy intersection.  It is placed at 23rd Street where 5th and Broadway cross over each other.  It is also fairly famous because it is the building in the background of a very well known photograph of James Dean.  Moving on back onto the topic of my job and publishing...  

On the work front, publishing was a whole new world.  In Publicity, we fielded all of the Outside Calls.  if they were coming from New York or Jersey, I couldn't understand half of what they said for the first four months.  That was really scary if the call was In-House.  That person could find me and kick my @ss if I said "What?" or "Can you repeat that?" one too many times.  Patience isn't  a strong suit for the natives.  If I became really panicked, I just started saying things like, "I understand why you feel that way" even if I had no idea what they were saying.  Egads.  Can we say Scary???

And then there were all the people wanting to talk to the authors.  I think some thought that they would actually be in the building.  Others were convinced that we could bend the rules, just for them, and give out their phone numbers, because they REALLY NEEDED TO TALK TO THEM.  Yeah right.  James Herriott was one of our authors, and so many people called with dying animals, that they were sure James Herriott could cure, even though their own vet could not, so we could make an exception for them, right?  Alas no.  But I got to hear their sad story.  And so I cried nearly every day over someone else's dying pet.   I even got calls from police detectives, or so they said, wanting to talk to Thomas Harris, who wrote The Silence of the Lambs.  My answer was the same: you can send a letter to this address c/o Thomas Harris.  If he gets back to you... awesome.  I only said that last part in my head.

Speaking of The Silence of the Lambs, I got to see that movie gratis in a screening room before the movie actually came out since it was one of our titles.  OMG.... it was horrifying.  Huge screen.  Tiny little room.  The movie was almost literally on top of us.  That is not the movie that you want to have Right.On.Top.Of.You.  I was shaking so bad when I left that screening room I wanted to click my heels and be home.  I walked out and it was raining.  That was SO BAD.  My plan was to pay the ridiculous cab fare to go home.  It was late and I didn't want to ride the subway by myself.  It is IMPOSSIBLE to catch a cab in the rain.  I tried.  No luck.  I stood out in the rain valiantly trying to hail any cab.  They kept passing me by, and splashing me, until I gave up and trekked to the subway.  Longest ride ever to Queens.  Followed by a longer walk home.  Seemed to be a shadow behind every building.  Ominous.  Totally.  Never was I so glad to be home.  I closed the door and just stood there shaking.  It was safe to say that I was a bunch of screaming nerve ends.  Hate that movie to this day.  Won't read the book.  You cannot make me.

It was the early 90s, and the computer was not used then as it is now.  In other words, many things were still being done on the typewriter.  As in labels.  I typed the same label to the same place over and over again.  There were some days that I did nothing but type labels for big mailings.  Galley mailings.  Those were followed up by big book mailings.  They all needed labels typed on the typewriter.  Gah.  Thankfully, press releases were created and edited on the computer in a very basic word processing system.  I can't imagine what that was like pre-computer.  Of course, as an assistant, when I wasn't tapping out labels, I was fighting my other best friend: the copy machine.  Who made the gadzillion copies of the press releases?  Me. 

So, if you are still scratching your head over the galley, let me bring this one full circle.  The galley is the book before it is actually a Published Book.  It isn't pretty, but it is readable.  It gets sent to the reviewers so that they have time to get their review in by the time the book actually comes out in print.  The idea is that the two things coincide nicely.

I ended up leaving that job for a boyfriend.  Gah.  That was a terrible decision.  It also ended up teaching me something the Very Hard Way.  On the positive front, I did end up learning something about myself that I would later use when I was trying to sort out what job was right for me later.  Publicity and sales are not that far apart.  Turns out I picked up some skills on this job that did come in handy when I began to narrow that field of "what am I good at" and "how can I use these skill sets to actually make money?"  Life always provides a lesson.  You just have to be willing to learn.


How long did you work at your first job out of college?  Do you wish you had stayed with it or left it sooner?  Was it a perfect fit for you?  Did it teach you some valuable Life Lessons?  Did it help you decide what you really wanted to do with your career?  

SNAPSHOT WEDNESDAY: ST MARTIN'S PRESS

I was pretty jazzed. Tonight I was going to experience yet another perk of working at a publishing house. Our mass market division published Thomas Harris's book, The Silence of the Lambs, and it was about to be released at the box office. The phones were crazy. That was not a perk. Since I worked in publicity, every nut who called got sent through to our office. For two nights they were having free screenings of the movie. I was going tonight. Unfortunately, it looked like rain. That was not good news. I had my umbrella, but I was really hoping that it would not be raining at the end of the screening. If it was raining in the daytime, you had a 15% chance of catching a cab. Those were not good odds. If it was raining after dark, it was pretty much impossible. I was living in Queens, and the thought of riding the subway, by myself, was not appealing. My roommate, Jen, had just gone through a very scary nighttime subway ride when she worked late. Then there was the 20 minute walk home that alternately went through good and bad neighborhoods. Again, not a problem in daylight, and with friends. It was a scary prospect alone at night.

We had to take the subway uptown to get to the screening room. The building was just across from the subway drop. How convenient. It still hadn't rained, but I could smell it. I had a feeling of foreboding. I had never been to a screening room and had no idea what to expect. There were only eight or so of us attending. The room was a room. It was the size of a large office or bedroom. 14x14 maybe? One wall was entirely screen for the movie and there were two rows of fold up chairs. No matter where you sat, it felt like you were right on top of the screen. I had never been so close to a large screen. Ever. Had I read the book before walking into the room, I would have turned around and walked out. No one wants to be that close to the action in that movie.



I left the screening room on legs that felt like jello. My head was filled with white noise. I walked outside and it was pouring. Cabs were speeding by like they were on a Nascar speedway. None of them even slowed down. Of course, I didn't expect they would. It was raining. I debated huddling in the doorway of the building until it stopped. I decided that was as dangerous as riding the damn subway. I still did it for about five minutes. The rain didn't slow down even a little. I gave up and crossed the street, went down the steps, and stood there with the half dozen other people waiting for the train. That is why I don't like the subway at night. Six people. What if the wrong train comes first and four get on and I am left with a serial nutcase? I've just watched Silence of the Freaking Lambs. Everyone is a nutcase until they prove that they aren't. I don't even own pepper spray. Who lives in New York City and doesn't carry pepper spray at all times? There are people out there wanting to bite your face off or skin you alive. You have to be prepared.

Turns out the train came and no one bit me or skinned me. I made it all the way to Queens and my stop without anyone talking to me. I pulled out my book and pretended to read. Usually, I actually read, but I was too tightly wound to absorb anything. Reading is a fantastic way to keep people from approaching you. If you are just sitting there looking at nothing, that is an invitation for conversation. At least the wackos think so. You should always carry a book or some form of reading material. I was trying to figure out how to carry a book and pepper spray at the same time. I am not very coordinated. I would probably accidentally pepper spray myself by accident when turning the page. That would sting.

Then came the walk home. This was actually the most perilous part of the whole trip. Queens, like Manhattan, has good blocks and bad blocks. You can be on a wonderful block and walk one more block and realize that you have walked straight into hell. It's true. In Manhattan, I don't know where all of the hell blocks are, and it becomes a question of backing up and trying another way or carrying on, and hoping that in a block or two, you are back in the good blocks. It's always a tough call. Well, there is no choice about it in Queens. If I want to get home, I have to go through a couple of bad blocks to get home. Period. I always look very alert and walk fast. Most days, it is just fast walking and looking like I belong. Of course, that is all a bunch of horse hockey because I totally look like a fish out of water. But, it is in the attitude. I did use the good sense God gave me to hold my keys in my right hand so that the keys poked through my fingers. I thought if I did get one good jab, it would be to the eye, or at least to the face, and it would hurt. However, I was still lamenting my lack of pepper spray, because you could use that from a safe distance.

Never have I been so happy to reach my apartment front door. And, to this day, I have never read the book The Silence of the Lambs. The movie was as much pain as I could tolerate. The irony is that the movie screening was free, but it actually cost me a great deal. I suppose my Economics teacher in high school was right: There is no such thing as a free lunch. Or in this case, a free movie.