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 A mild winter weekend in New York; not so mild in the nation's capital
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| Loooking west across 94th Street between Fifth and Madison Avenue. 4:00 PM. Photo: JH. |
February 22, 2010. A mild winter weekend in New York, with skies staying light until about six pm. Soon we’ll catch a whiff of it in the air, promising fresh. Always a good sign.
On today’s Washington Social Diary, Carol Joynt writes about Sally Quinn, hostess/journalist/personality in our nation’s capital who is married to the now legendary former Washington Post editor Ben Bradlee. Mr. Bradlee, long retired and almost ninety still retains a mystique of press distinction and possibly always will because of Richard Nixon and Woodward and Bernstein. Mrs. Bradlee, a/k/a Ms. Quinn has her own version of a mystique, and thus people like Carol Joynt (not to mention this writer), can fill a column writing about Sally Quinn.
I don’t know her and I don’t think I’ve ever read her, or at least if I had, it was not memorable. I remember seeing her on television during the 90s, passing judgment on the Clintons in the White House. She was not kind nor did she doubt her (higher) authority on the subject (of someone else’s personal lives and thoughts). While I think that kind of commentary on political leaders (or celebrities) can be hilarious and/or outrageous, it’s very often akin to stand-up in terms of the substantive.
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| Sally Quinn on Anderson Cooper. |
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For example, because I don’t know Sally Quinn except by reputation and the subjects she takes on as a writer/commentator, I have no idea what she’s really like. EXCEPT, and here’s where Carol Joynt’s diary for NYSD comes in:
Last week there was a story going around the Georgetown neighborhood (generic term to indicate the Washington party lines. The story had something to do with the impending marriage of the Quinn/Bradlee son – named, ahem, Quinn Bradlee. This dust-up also included other Bradlee family members from earlier marriages (Mr. Bradlee had three, including Ms. Quinn). There was pre-marital pregnancy involved (shhhh….no, it’s okay). And noses out of joint probably from earlier dust-ups.
Interesting? No? That’s what I thought when Carol Joynt brought the story to my attention early last week before it had been in the media. It didn’t sound interesting to me. What do I care if someone’s getting married sooner than later because of a pregnancy. And who’s going and not going to the wedding? Those things don’t impress me even if I know the people. Besides, I could only think, leave the kid alone and let him have his life.
Well Mom, it turns out, had other ideas and she herself wrote about the whole thorny, gummy matter in her own column in the Washington Post. Airing the family laundry so to speak. Funny, actually. Not to mention ludicrous, but then what are we all nowadays but exhibitionists of one sort or another. (I know; that’s very cynical; I take it back….for now anyway.)
All this is leading up to Carol’s column which is on another page on this site today. (And, I should add a great piece.) I still don’t know Sally Quinn but this has made me think a little bit more about her and what she does (dust-ups; social power plays, judgment making). I’ve seen her in Michael’s a few times, lunching with her husband, among others. She looks pretty much like her pictures, without the requisite hair and makeup the camera demands. |
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| Ben Bradlee, Quinn Bradlee and Sally Quinn in an interview with Carol Joynt on the set of The Q&A Cafe in 2009. |
When I see her I always think of her rants about the Clintons. They reminded me of a lady who lived on my street when I was growing up. Her name was Mrs. Couch and we only saw her if, when walking by her house, we would accidentally or not walk on her lawn. Suddenly the front door would fly open and the lady, dressed in what used to be called a housecoat (worn when cleaning), would stand on her porch and yell at us with a very stern, harsh voice, not unlike the Wicked Witch of the West: “Get off the grass!!”
We called Mrs. Couch the old crab. Oh, we were afraid of her, that’s for sure. And we all were well aware of it when we passed her house. In retrospect, the house was built no more than ten or fifteen feet from the sidewalk, so there wasn’t all that much grass to walk on (or protect). Perhaps, in re-considering Mrs. Couch’s motivations, she was only trying to preserve the little piece of heaven that she possessed.
A character like Sally Quinn plays a similar role in Washington which is still very much a man’s world. And men do (just like us little boys) respond (even, at times, quake) when those women shake their index fingers in their direction. She tames their bull, so to speak. It’s almost a kind of reverse come hither. She’s a force of personality, the kind that can intimidate as effortlessly as she can charm or connect. There’s a big dose of Show Biz there, as it is with so many “media celebrities.” And Show Offs. And if you’re not personally involved, even very amusing.
Although, nowadays, maybe more than ever, it’s all about sex. Sex sells. And sells and sells and sells. People love knowing about other people’s sex lives. (They just don’t want you to know about theirs – thus the holier-than-thou role.) Others, like Tiger Woods, apologize for it (and are laughed at). Others are too old to jump in the fray, as it were. And are hopeless. And then there are the Social Watchdogs. I think Sally Quinn could be fairly classified as that. She is keeping track and that’s as legitimate as Edith Wharton. Or Grace Metalious. Depending. Social Watchdog. Never mind what’s she been up to in her life. Although I don’t know that I’d step on her lawn if I were you.
Let Carol provide the backstory; it’s riveting ... |
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