Mark's Pages

May 23, 2003:

The "artist", self-described, Walter Keene, upset that one of his bug-eyed children has been removed from the office wall. It was a gift to the owners' daughter, who promptly and rightfully wrapped it in brown paper and stored it in an attic. In its place the desk staff have substituted a pencil drawing by the night clerk, who has talent. It's a surfer paddling into swells, and it conveys a sense of mystery and loneliness which somehow seems appropriate.

Fortunately there've been guests who are more interesting. Douglas Hofstadter wrote Godel, Escher, Bach in room 521, a musty but comfortable one-bedroom apartment set back off the main street. DA Pennebaker, the documentary film director, stays for two weeks every summer.

Long-haired guest, middle-aged, expensive-looking yet hip linen jacket, pleated trousers, thin gold earring, lovely girlfriend on one arm. Stops to chat with the lanky desk clerk, whose own earring and leather jacket make similar claims to musicianship.

"What do you think about Supertramp?" says the guest, somewhat hopefully it seems.

Rightly guessing that that's his band, the clerk replies with uncharacteristic tact. "Well," he says, after some hesitation. "I'm maybe a little more into The Clash."

Politely smiling, the guest leads his girlfriend out into the sun. Although the attempt at tact had been sincere, he's clearly crestfallen. Lanky clerk thinks about that all evening.

Your very favorite of all time is the third-string character actor Earl Holloman, typically cast as a tough-guy cop, who arrives one afternoon with a very attractive young man in tow, repeating his name clearly and articulately to all within earshot. You're pretty sure he's wearing eyeliner.