High life
Lords of the Night
Taki
New York Le Last Party is a history of Studio 54, the disco decade and the culture of the night. The author is none other than Anthony Haden-Guest, England's best- known export to the Big Bagel, and a man who has spent more time on his back (passed out) than even Pamela Harriman. The Beast, as Anthony was known to Lon- doners during the Sixties, is a hell of a man. He is reputed to have had 1,747 women lovers, 1,744 of whom were one-night stands. Only three ever came back for more. Single-handed, he managed to spend so much money that when the founder of New York magazine, Clay Felker, sent him out west to start New West magazine, Felk- er had to sell the company to Rupert Mur- doch. He once crawled into a lady's bedroom having vowed to me that no man would stand between him and that particu- lar one-night-stand-to-be, only to discover George Foreman, then heavyweight cham- pion of the world, grinning at him. When I asked him what happened, Anthony turned philosophical on me. `Taki, old bean, there are times when hasty migration comes in handy,' was the way he put it.
During the disco decade he describes so brilliantly in his book, Anthony and I would meet nightly at Nicola's or Elaine's, get tanked up and head for either Studio 54 or Xenon. Once a week, every Wednes- day, a mysterious blonde woman would appear in the back room where we hung out, motion to Anthony and the two would disappear to the private lavatory. After making whoopee, she would leave without saying a word. Anthony never learned her name and insists he never exchanged more than two words with her. It was quite bizarre, especially as it went on for about a year. (She was one of the three who came back for more.) About ten years ago, Haden-Guest chased a mugger, caught him and called the fuzz. The cops collared both men. Anthony was too drunk to walk home. Last year Anthony and a lady friend met a charming black man at a gallery party and asked him home for a drink. The man turned out to be a psycho who drew a knife and tried to rape number 1,712 of Antho- ny's women. Haden-Guest may look weak but he has the heart of a lion. He fought like a Spartan, took 50 cuts but got the bum down and saved the girl for a much worse fate later. The guy is doing 10 to 20 as I write. Haden-Guest moved in with me following the attack because his flat was smeared with blood. After two days I vol- unteered to live in the blood-spattered flat rather than have to listen to him snoring all night. (And my bedroom was two floors below.) He got the hint.
Last week Newsweek magazine gave Anthony a full page, one he truly deserves. The weekly called him Lord of the Night, Which he unquestionably is. It also pointed out that, despite the boozing and carous- ing, Anthony produced two books this year, True Colours, about the contemporary art scene, and The Last Party, now number one In the best-seller list in the east of the Unit- ed States. For the last 35 years, Anthony has gone out — every night. Last Wednes- day was no exception. There was a party to honour him and his book and the old crowd came out of the woodwork, from the rehab clinics, the nut houses, the open pris- ons, you name it. Nostalgia was as thick in the air as the disco fog was thick with coke back in the days when bags of it used to be emptied into the air-conditioner. Anthony and I put our arms around each other and were photographed as the survivors we are. A very pretty black woman by the name of Max told me that she and I lived together for two years. I didn't remember anything of the sort, so the next day I asked the mother of my children if there was any truth in it. 'Well, you used to hang out together all the time,' said tmomc.
Now I know what they mean by the lost generation. Ours was one of lost memory. nut I was happy for Anthony and his two books, happy that he did not include an index — thus selling at least an extra 10,000 books — but sad that those days are gone forever. Oh, for a new liver, a tight White suit and some disco music.
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