When young artists, be they writÂers, painters, or musiÂcians, aim to strike it big, they invariÂably choose to move to New York. BrookÂlyn lofts, hopes of findÂing a likeÂmindÂed smart set, and the promise of good times beckÂon countÂless young men and women to develÂop their creÂative careers in a city whose hisÂtoÂry teems with outÂsized aspiÂraÂtions and even largÂer perÂsonÂalÂiÂties. New York has, after all, been a hub for artisÂtic lumiÂnarÂies since the earÂly 20th cenÂtuÂry.
In the 1961 docÂuÂmenÂtary entiÂtled New York In The TwenÂties, above, WalÂter Cronkite gives a snapÂshot of the talÂentÂed crowd that was once drawn in by the city’s culÂturÂal ripÂtide durÂing the 1920s. The short video conÂsists of interÂviews with the pubÂlishÂer Alfred Knopf; New York HerÂald TriÂbune ediÂtor StanÂley WalkÂer; and Pulitzer prize-winÂning author of The Green PasÂtures, Marc ConÂnelÂly. WalkÂer plays the part of the conÂsumÂmate New York newsÂpaÂperÂman, pinÂing for the days when decent citÂiÂzens weren’t forced to rub shoulÂders with the boors now infestÂing the WestchÂester and ConÂnectiÂcut trains. ConÂnelÂly, in more affaÂble fashÂion, describes the fabled 1920s group of creÂative minds known as the AlgoÂnquin Round Table:
AlexanÂder WoollÂcott was searÂing, acid, rude; I used to feel someÂtimes his only exerÂcise was ranÂcour. But, he was engagÂing, was comÂpelling, and amusÂing… Edna FerÂber, young, indusÂtriÂous, she used to scare us all to death by her habit of indusÂtry. George KaufÂman was cerÂtainÂly one of the witÂtiÂest of that group. George’s wit… had the sharpÂness of a silÂver point etchÂing… There was… Harold Ross, founder of the New YorkÂer. There was specÂuÂlaÂtion about Ross, his curiÂous head of hair; it was very high, very thick. SomeÂbody once said that that junÂgle picÂture Chang had been filmed in it. I think it was George KaufÂmann that once said he looked like a disÂhonÂest LinÂcoln.
A lot of peoÂple who knew nothÂing about the perÂsonÂal lives or the attiÂtudes … of the peoÂple at the round table… thought that it was a mutuÂal admiÂraÂtion sociÂety and a logrolling orgaÂniÂzaÂtion. It was anyÂthing but that because I promise you, the worst panÂnings ever received for our books or our plays came from the critÂiÂcal friends who were memÂbers of that group.
Alfred Knopf, in turn, disÂcussÂes the gloÂry days of pubÂlishÂers and writÂers, as well as the genius of H. L. MenckÂen, whom he describes as “the greatÂest ediÂtor… that I’ve ever known.”
ViewÂing the halÂcyÂon days of New York’s creÂative scene, with its jazz clubs and speakeasies, it’s no wonÂder that Knopf, WalkÂer, and Connelly’s accounts leave one with an ineluctable sense of nosÂtalÂgia. Of course, with its unceasÂing influx of artists, the city’s subÂstance remains the same today. It’s just that its Bloomberg-era sterilÂiÂty has led to a change in style.
Ilia BlinÂdÂerÂman is a MonÂtreÂal-based culÂture and sciÂence writer. FolÂlow him at @iliablinderman.
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