I just got to Hollywood. Does something like this happen every time someone famous dies?
The kid wouldnt say where he was from he was too streetwise for that but he would say that hed been walking on Hollywood Boulevard all day. Thats when hed run across the huge flower arrangement, burning candles and crowd of shaggy devotees surrounding Johnny Cashs star on the Walk of Fame. The news vans with their towering broadcast poles had attracted him, but the bottle of whiskey being passed around had made him stay. It was Friday afternoon and news of the musicians death had brought out a scrappy group of mourners.
I dunno who paid for the flowers, said one kid, but I brought the photograph. It was that famous picture of Cash holding his guitar and giving the finger straight at the camera. Someone had scrawled Goodbye Johnny, well miss you across it like an autographed picture at a Hollywood restaurant. Surrounding the photo were half-empty bottles of Jack Daniels and Ten High, an unopened can of Pabst, and lots of fresh cigarettes. A wild, ragged youth asked me for a smoke, and when I gave it to him he strode off, bouncing in time to Cocaine Blues, which was blasting out of a black pickup truck parked next to Cashs star. Back at his circle of friends, he joined in as they sang, Come on youve gotta listen to me, lay off that whiskey and let that cocaine be! Then they all laughed and high-fived. A Japanese tourist hung back taking a picture from a safe distance, but he didnt escape unnoticed.
Cmon over here and get a good picture, the owner of the truck yelled. Get a picture of all these flowers and shit! The foreigner dutifully advanced, snapped the picture, then hurried away. A German couple wavered, unsure whether or not to walk through the roiling crew.
What is this? the man asked me, but the answer was yelled by the ragged kid. Its Johnny Cash. The greatest motherfucking musician EVER! The man and woman nodded and turned around rather than look closer. I asked the ragged kid if he had a favorite Cash song.
I like it when he sings about jail and all that real shit fuck all these pussy musicians. You know that guy lived the life. Hell, he even killed some guy once.
I told him that I Walk the Line was my fave, and he said, Hell, yeah, and took a slug from his whiskey bottle. Some people walking by scarcely noticed the scene; others stopped to take a moment for their private dialogue with The Man in Black. The kid Id first talked to came back over.
This shit is great. All these guys loved Johnny, and theyre damn well gonna let him know. Aint that something?
I agreed with him on the righteousness of it all. Yknow, I said, when Ronald Reagan dies, I bet there wont be a party like this at his star.
Hell, no, the kid said. Ill drop my pants and take a shit on it. Then he went back to the truck nodding his head to Ring of Fire.
Big Box Ideas
The architect Steven Holl was lecturing at the Southern California Institute of Architecture last Thursday. Coincidentally, it was September 11, and Holl along with Richard Meier, Peter Eisenman and Charles Gwathmey is one of the collaborators on what was too easily dismissed as the ticktacktoe towers scheme for rebuilding ground zero. But Holl wasnt in Los Angeles to talk about his World Trade Center plan or the resonances of 9/11 in the practice of designing buildings. He was here to continue his work on the redesign of the Natural History Museum in Exposition Park and, on this evening, he said, to review my own phobias at this moment in my work.
In fact, he was about to plunge into a talk touching on some of the deepest ideas about architecture while implicitly taking on L.A.s hometown Goliath, Frank Gehry. Holl, a man with bushy, graying eyebrows and a lexicon devoid of absolutes and glib pronouncements, offered his own work and thoughts as a sotto voce riposte to Gehrys now infamous remark, in January, about the twin-towers site proposals. Gehry told The New York Times, I can understand why the kids did it, but why would people my age do it? Norman Foster or Richard Meier or any of those people? When youre only paid $40,000, youre treated as if that is your worth. The comment prompted Meier and Eisenman, Holls WTC partners and Gehrys East Coast rivals, to write the world-famous architect a salty note. Dear Frank, the letter began, You are a prick.