I know; too easy, right? For no perceptible reason, Tom got the gossipy reputation of being a hatchet-man. I admit, sometimes it had to be done. And sometimes he did it. But not to excess.
I often wonder why I have so few pictures of Tom. He was just down the hall from me when we worked at 575 Madison. Perhaps it was the imperceptible threat of his slipping the business card of his legal team, Burial, Sturm & Drang in my shirt pocket whenever I asked.
For this pic, I did ask. Tom thwarted me (and the NY Southern District Attorney General) by covering his face once again.
This image is interesting because of the background details. This office, with the Wall o’ Cork, is the “new” digs down on 27th Street (387 Park), probably way back in 1983—so young, so slim.
First off, note the clean desk. As cluttered as his plots were, this spiffy, food-free desk is a clear sign of deep troubles. Note the pencil assortment, with some blue grease pencils (to set writers straight) all ready to go… that meandering blue line was the bedevilment of freelancers the world over. His dictionary, as neat and untouched as the day it was made but ready for action. A simple one-line phone—an indicator of his humble Editorial beginnings (of course, in only a few short years, he had a clutch of phones all with several phone lines and a fleet of secretaries to deflect phone and Dunning calls).
Then the generous candy jar. An indication, that if you were “good” you might get one. Let’s just say, these are the same number of pieces as was there on Day One. Finally, the gentleman’s constant companion, the Girly Ashtray.
The axe? Well, I made it for my old comrade. I’m into crafts, quick with a blade and foam core. The blood? Well, it happens dear readers, it happens.
Just ask Tom!