I spent a long wonderful boozy evening with the Hitchman in February 1997 at the Shadyside apartment of a mutually beloved literata-friend, when he was guest teaching for a semester at the University of Pittsburgh. The three of us consumed two bottles of Stolichnaya, assorted wines, a substance that shall remain nameless, and perhaps a half-carton of cigarettes. Thus, the details are both literally and figuratively hazy. But certain moments remain crystal clear.
Beforehand, when she invited me, the very beautiful and brainy hostess said the Contrarian-in-Chief wanted to meet me because he was a big fan of my "Louise Brooks" biography. So I brought him a copy of my new one, "Garbo," inscribed with a caricature of Garbo, dressed as Rambo, saying: "I vant to be Stallone."
