Louisiana Cultural Vistas - Spring 2008 - (Page 8) a brush with the intimate MY ASSOCIATION WITH NEW ORLEANS began when my father was transferred here after World War II. He was a manager for Robert Hall Clothing and business was expanding; every returning G.I. wanted to get back into civvies. He brought the family from New York in 1946. I was entering my senior year of high school and was unwilling to give up my perks and friends, so I remained in Flatbush. My high school years were a golden time. The subway cost only a nickel. Lunch at an Automat was forty to fifty cents. The Museum of Modern Art was two bits for a student and you got a film admission as well. The Brooklyn Museum was my local stomping ground. It had a superlative print collection which was available by appointment. Each plate was brought to you by a keeper and you could take your time viewing Rembrandts, Goyas, Degas, Lautrecs, and Picassos. The Brooklyn Museum, The Metropolitan Museum and the intimate Whitney charged no admission fees. I was part of a group of high-minded fellow students. We ganged around not only at the museums but Sunday afternoon concerts a Carnegie Hall where the New York Philharmonic held forth. One member of our group who was crazy for jazz had an uncle who was D.A. in the Bronx. This connection made it possible for us to hear live jazz at Eddie Condon’s Manhattan club. No drinking for us, only Cokes. And so it went and we fed and drank of the city’s marvelous resources. 8 LOUISIANA ENDOWMENT FOR THE HUMANITIES\Spring 2008 After high school graduation I came to New Orleans to visit my family before I went to university. It was that summer that I met Judy Brett who was to become my first wife and mother of my children. I did not much care for Syracuse University which had given me a tuition scholarship. The winters were brutally cold, particularly in the drafty dorm buildings, which were recycled from the army, and the classroom populations were large, swollen by the influx of G.I. Bill students. After my first year, I left Syracuse. I wanted to go on to Black Mountain College, but after fierce debate with my father, I opted to return to New York City. I got an interesting job, always a cinch in Manhattan, and enrolled for some courses at Cooper Union and the Art Students League. Not finishing Syracuse, I think, turned out a blessing. Art students with degrees were being sucked into the universities at that time as teachers, and my later experience made me question the value of studio studies at colleges and universities. In 1951, Judy and I moved to New Orleans, a very inexpensive place to live. Our third floor large flat on Chartres Street was a horrendous $45 a month. And a plethora of old warehouses made cheap studio space available. Good, interesting employment was less available than in New York, but eventually through family support and contacts I was able to bring my natural mechanical and
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