An experience that — by happenstance — just jumped into my furry old memory.
Give or take, the date’s about December 1993.
A Monday invite to then-First Lady Hillary’s White House lunch. The dish served was to be off-the-record. I never reported it. Until five minutes ago I hadn’t even remembered it.
It was pre-Christmas holiday time. Ten ladies. From Washington, where she lived, Chicago, where she’s from, and New York, which is all that really counts.
Hillary showed the newly redone Lincoln Bedroom’s four-poster double bed and said Abe and the missus “never slept together. Until the Fords arrived, no presidents and wives ever slept together.”
The 12:30 to 2:30 lunch started with a ’92 sauvignon blanc and finished on mango sherbet with baked pineapple plus honey meringue; second choice being a chocolate top hat. A Marine harpist plinked throughout. Just like at my house.
But. Because it’s now timely, the interesting part buried in my brain is:
Maybe a day or two before is when Donald married Marla Maples. I attended the wedding. The press was full of the story. And the single most important topic Hillary wanted to talk about? D. Trump.
Her press attaché and chief of staff, who were present, might recall the conversation. Hillary Clinton wanted to hear about Donald. What’s he like? Tell us about the ceremony. Who was there?
I told them. I recited the guest list. It was the meal’s main conversation.
Today, a lifetime of 23 years later . . . and, wowee, does Hillary Clinton now know what Donald Trump is like.
A list of A-list quips
Things to know: Kevin Spacey: “I didn’t sit around thinking, ‘What’s a great name to have? Oh, I know — Spacey.’ I grew up in the druggy ’70s — but I wasn’t that spacey. My last name belonged to my great-grandfather.”
Natalie Portman: “In Harvard I did my exams promptly, but I learned that really smart students don’t get the A’s. You know why? Because they realize it doesn’t matter if they hand in their papers on time.”
Hugh Grant, now with Meryl Streep in Paramount’s “Florence Foster Jenkins”: “My parents would’ve named me Lucy had I been born a girl.”
Jack Antonoff’s fashion designer sister, Rachel: everyone know her hair — which as you might guess she colors herself — is bright pink?
Keeping their Cool(idge)
Hear ye: For scrappy presidential conventions, try 1924, the Democrats in New York.
Front-runners were William Gibbs McAdoo, ex-Treasury secretary under his father-in-law Woodrow Wilson, versus NY Gov. Alfred E. Smith.
The KKK supported Southerner McAdoo. Anti-Prohibitionists supported Irish Catholic Al. McAdoo loyalists shouted, “Booze! Booze!” Smith supporters cried, “Ku Klux McAdoo.”
After 103 ballots they nominated somebody who’s nobody. Result? Firecracker Republican Calvin Coolidge was re-elected.
Airport book
Jeff Kriendler, vet of now-departed Pan Am, and Jon Proctor of now-gone TWA, reprising those sky-high days when Howard Hughes owned TWA and flew stars like Jane Russell and Lana Turner to Hollywood, Rome, NYC, Paris, London, Madrid, and Pan Am piloted FDR, Sukarno and a fleet of chiefs of state around the globe.
Carl Icahn then bought TWA. American Airlines then swallowed it up.
“Trans World Airlines: A Book of Memories.” Available through Amazon.com.
Obama’s concerned about the Middle East. He should be concerned about Midtown East, where the cab drivers are absolutely lousy.
Only in New York, kids, only in New York.