photo by Steve Napolillio
As we were preparing for MannyFest 2, many of you told me your stories about Manny, and I thought it might be fun to see them collected on this site. If you have a story, or a special memory of Manny, which you would like to post here, send it to me at mannyfest@hvi.net, and I'll add it to this page.
I was just reading these (web) pages on the upcoming Mannyfest... I started at New Paltz in the Fall of 1963 and bought almost all my art supplies from (then) "Crazy Manny" in a small building near the corner where the bank is now located (M & T Bank, North Manheim and Main)... or at least was located... just at the turn to go the, then, high school (now Middle School) and on toward the campus (SUNY New Paltz)... it was a little two room hideaway that he started in... he out grew of it quickly 'cause all the "artsies" hung around so much just to glean wisdom and inspiration... he moved to the basement of the old stone theater, across from Cullen's Pharmacy (now Toscani's), until it went up in flames... with what was unsoaked (after putting out the fire), he moved to the location down on the corner of Academy and Rt. 32 (North Chestnut Street, now Barnaby's), and stayed until the Academy Theater opened... he didn't want to bear any responsibility for a potential fire after having occupired the previous location under a movie theater... not really, he only joked about that ... right about then the Cue Tip Lounge pool hall on Main Street was vacated and he moved to the present location...I had the good fortune to help him move into the pool hall... painted some of his signs and became his janitor cum loudly for a couple of years thereafter... that was during his "worm period" of paintings, inspired (as he said, no proof was seen), by large African worms he kept in his cellar and watched crawl around late into the night... when I was janitoring for him he allowed me, on occasion each week, to go to Kingston and be his lawn keeper...
The thing truly wonderful thing about Manny was his ability to make everyone who came near him feel like you were one of his own... I'm pretty sure each of us lucky enough to have known him felt that he had taken them right into his heart...
"Quoth the raven, never more..."
(This note came from Chris on Tuesday, June 15. I'm adding it here. JM)
I regret that I won't be attending "Mannyfest"... I've had a business appointment for that day, have tried to work around it but, unfortunately, can't duck it... one project I'm presently working on is for a client in California... they are in the state and had scheduled to meet with my agent and myself... since agents are seldom "talent", my presence it required...
I wish everyone a great day celebrating Manny and what he meant to all of us... he's always been larger than life in my mind, and I know yours too...
I hope to make it sometime in the future and to get the opportunity to see many of the folks there in New Paltz... until then, please keep me posted on how things are proceeding with the "stoop" and scholarship... I will keep an eye on the Mannyfest site and will send a contribution to the effort... I'm so glad to hear from you and to have you think of me... to get so many email addresses and to find out what so many old friends are up to...
As the "Great One" often said... "Quoth the raven... never more,"
Your friend in Manny...
CHRIS
From Mikhail Horowitz
It was a dreary November day, and I was adding items to my five-finger discount
in the bowels of the Lounge. When I got to the door I noticed that Manny was
standing there, gazing through the glass at the icy rain on Main. He seemed
unusually pensive, so I sidled up next to him and we both stood there for several
beats, in silent contemplation of the scene.
After a while he took a breath,
and then began to wax philosophic, but very softly and without a trace of his
usual shtik. I can't recall his monologue verbatim, but it had a definite tinge
of melancholy; it wasn't the ebullient, ever-shpritzing, maestro-of-chin-music
Manny Lipton that I was used to. It was something like, "You know, on days like
this, when the rain runs in little rivulets down the window, and the whole world
seems to ruminate on its mortality, its evanescence," etc., but it gradually
began to build into "... on such days, I realize that there is only one thing
I want to do in this world, only one thing I want to do in this life" -- and
here he began to slowly turn and lurch toward the counter, where a threesome
of lovely young students was waiting to pay for some books, his voice assuming
a Dracula accent as it suddenly rose in volume -- "I VANT TO FOCK! I VANT TO
FAHHHHK! I VANT TO FAAAAAAHHHHHHK!"
The three students practically trampled
me as they ran out the door, and as I thrashed hysterically on the floor it
was all I could do not to sully my jeans or expose the boosted paperbacks under
my jacket.
From Margie Myers Simon
Manny opened Manny's Mini-Mall in 1977, where the Outfitters and Rhino
Records are now. At the time, Ron and I were looking for a location for our
new venture, The Dance Shop. The Mini-Mall was a great fit and
we eagerly moved in. We shared the building with a number of terrific business
neighbors including the Lewis's Childrens' General Store, John
Milici's Clip Joint, Miriam's Body Scents, Paula
Weinsteins great fabric store, to name a few.
Then, as could have been predicted, one less reputable tenant presented problems
for us all, and so I complained to the landlord, Manny. Manny had that way of
listening with the occasional "yeah", as if he understood totally. Then, having
set me up for one of his zinger profundus, he said, "Margie, what can I tell
you? You have twelve children, one of them's bound to shit in bed." He got me.
I regrouped and called him again. When he heard my voice, he said, "Margie,
hang up!"
I adored him always. One day I brought my mother to see our new store. Manny
had hired Moe to manage things. The intro went as follows:
"Mom, meet Moses,
Manny's Mini-Mall manager.
Moe, meet my mom, Mrs. Myers."
(Mom met Manny Monday.)
Manny and Frieda outlived many of our friends. The early years in New Paltz were passionate and exciting. We all lived and loved and laughed and cried together. Now, Manny and Frieda head a table of artists and intellectuals-all beautiful souls. There is much to remember and much to miss.
I was a mere child of 17 when I came to New Paltz in 1965. It was the time
of passion and peace, music and drugs, exhilerating conversations that lasted
all night long mixed with that glorious fug of cigarette smoke and stale beer--to
stagger out onto the street in the early dawn and to try and find a cuppa coffee
to clear the rasp from your throat.
Remember the days? ART was all--every move and every fiber of your being
was for ART. When I should be in class listening to the dreary monotone
of some professor in some crummy room in the TAB (Temporary Arts Building, SUNY
New Paltz), I could usually be found sitting on a box near the counter of Manny's
store--the one found under the movie house--sifting through Manny's collection
of porn magazines that he kept under the counter. (Yeh, he had those there.)
Sitting there breathing in the fumes of linseed oil, acetone, oil paints, dust
and turpentine and more dust, I listened to Manny discuss and expound on the
world and all that existed in it---the world according to Manny, such as it
were.
And not just Manny--no, every afternoon was a salon with artists and art
professors and more artists and peripheral artsy fartsy people and really and
truly, just ANYONE at all who just happened to drift in the door.
Manny
loved an audience and we were only too happy to provide one for him. Hey, he
wasn't perfect--but he was a LEGEND, and there aren't many of those left
anymore.
Those were the days.
I first met Manny when he opened a branch of Gill's (ceramic tile, art supplies, etc.) in the building which was torn down later to build the M&T Bank at Main Street and North Manheim Blvd. I was teaching in the art building at NP Central School, across the street.Manny had some of his paintings in the store. Judging by them and his behavior, I thought he was crazy but harmless. Naturally, I kept going back to see him and we became friends.
Later, when I was in and out of NYC a lot, I usually took the bus. One day I told Manny I was headed for the city. He offered to drive me in and we took off in his car. Somewhere in Westchester County, he said, "I just remembered I have to see somebody. I'll let you out here." I couldn't believe he was serious. I had no idea where I was, or how to get the rest of the way to NYC. I was pissed off and a little scared when he pulled over and let me out on a very busy stretch of the Thruway. I crossed a few lanes and jumped a few guardrails and wound up hitching on an entrance ramp. In a very short while, an attractive young woman picked me up, we chatted about nothing much and she drove me within walking distance of my destination in Manhattan and let me out.
A couple of days later, when I ran into Manny in New Paltz he asked me if I
had any trouble getting a ride. I was still pissed at him so when I told him
about the woman who picked me up, I made up a story about how she drove me to
a deserted road where we had truly remarkable sex, there in her car. Then afterward,
how she drove me into the city and reluctantly let me off in the west village,
where I wanted to go. I could see that Manny was impressed with my good fortune
but even better, he was jealous.
I let him keep believing that story to his
grave. (At least he felt less guilty about dumping me out in the middle of nowhere.)
It was the 1960's. I was in my senior year at New Paltz and had run out of
money to pay for my last semester. It seemed a shame after all those years of
schooling, not be able to graduate on time.
Suddenly when things looked their
darkest, a knight in shining armor rode out of a white cloud...Sir Manny Lipton!
Manny, bless his sweet heart, extended a loan to me so that I could finish school.
I had no credit and no collateral but Manny trusted me. I worked two jobs to
pay him back while going to school full time.
Manny's support and belief in
me, meant a lot. I will never forget his generosity and friendship.
It was fall 1969, I was moving off campus into Doctor Mason's House (across
the street form the police station). I wasn't an art major, I knew Manny from
the poker games in New Paltz. The games were usually played at Ira Fish's apartment
at 9 Main Street or Bob Barnes Apartment up the street from P&G's. The usual
players were Ira, Bob, Manny, Eric Horsbol, Roger Knapp, Dave Foster, Dave Morton,
Lynne Madeliner and a few other guys I can't remember. We played a pretty high
stake game of seven card stud pot limit.
It was the beginning of the semester and I had
a check from my father for the rent for my new apartment. I ran into Eric he
told me about a big game out at Lynne's apartment, on River Road in Tillson.
It was a BIG game, some big players from Kingstonwere going to be there.
We decide to pool our money and go partners. So, Eric's playing for us, and
I'm behind him, everything is going great until we pull a flush on the first
five cards dealt. We bet half of what we have, everyone folds except for Manny
(he's showing 2 deuces on board).
After the next card is dealt, and Manny doesn't
improve on board, Eric bets everything we have, all our money. Manny calls.
He called $600 with 2 deuces and 2 threes. After the next card, with no more
money and playing table stakes, we show Manny the flush, he turns over a full
house ( 3 deuces and 2 threes).
We lost everything! All my rent money! Feeling
sick and in a panic, I went back to town, where I ran into Dave Foster. I told
him what had happened, and he lent me $300 ( we were best friends). I rushed
back to the game, and I sat right next to Manny. He sees the state I'm in, and
he tells me "don't worry Paul, everything is going to be fine." I
went on to win back my share of the money we had lost.
When the game broke up, Manny drove me back into
town, telling me not to go partners anymore. Years later, Manny would discuss
that hand while we drove around Ulster County looking at real estate. I was
buying and wanted him to finance. He was a very decent man with a big heart.
One of my memories of Manny is what a great showman he was, not unlike
P.T. Barnum or W.C. Fields. It was probably in 1968, and the Student Art
Guild's Beaux Arts Ball was being held in a circus tent, which was pitched
behind Bouton Hall.
It was a costume ball, and the theme was "Harem"
that year. Showing continuously on the roof of the tent were the silent movies,
Rudolph Valentino in "The Sheik" and Doug Fairbanks in "The
Thief of Bagdhad." Music was provided by a band called Burgundy Green,
a bunch of teenagers from Newburgh who had to be accompanied by parents, as
they were under age. The played all the new music. The Cream, Hendrix, Traffic,
Moby Grape, Doors, Quicksilver, Jefferson Airplane, the Dead, and they rocked
the tent all night.
The refreshments consisted of punch (spiked and not), dates,
grapes, and a fifty pound can of halavah. But the main event of the evening
was the costume parade and contest, and the center of attraction was the emcee,
Manny.
He delivered a running commentary as the parade
passed by, and passed by a second time, because he couldn't pick a winner, or
wasn't finished with his spiel after the first go round. I can't really remember
anything he said, but it was very much like a "roast" that comedians have, and
it was very funny. As the parade passed in front of his reviewing stand, set
to resemble the throne of a desert prince, Manny, dressed (as I remember) in
a loud pastel shirt, slacks bordering on what golfers wear, a gold colored sports
coat, and a turban, would comment on the costumes of the marchers.
He knew and
recognized almost all the participants, so he would personalize his patter for
everyone who strutted by. He would be Bert Parks one moment, Don Rickles next,
then Rodney Dangerfield or Rex Reed. No one escaped his keen eye or wit.
When
all was said and done, I think he picked Susan April for first place. He had
her come forward and receive her prize, a hand made, metal, African tea set.
She was dressed as a belly dancer, but I doubt that that had any influence on
Manny's decision. He also picked a second and third place winner. They also
were costumed as belly dancers. But I doubt that that had anything to do with
his decision, either. It was a great night, and Manny's professional touch made
it that much better.
The inscription in St. Paul's Cathedral to English
architect Christopher Wren reads "Si monumentum requiris, circumspice"
- "If you seek my monument, look around you."
The friends gathered today
at Joe's are Manny's living monument - the kind of cryonics of memory and tableaux
that would have given Manny the kick of a third P+G's lunchtime Manhattan -
(or was it martinis?) Sorry I couldn't make the fest,
Mike Dockery
I am sorry to learn of the passing of Manny Lipton. He was a great friend of
artists and the arts.
I remember hanging out in his art supply store discussing
history and politics; he was very knowledgeable about both. I used to accompany
him to book warehouses in New York City to pick out the very best in literature
for his store.
He was, in short, very generous. We all shall
miss him dearly.
Unfortunately, I will not be able to attend the gathering on
June 19. My sympathy and best regards to his family and a big hello to the New
Patzonians who will be attending.
Very truly yours,
Paul Ghinger
From Laurey Lebenson
Manny and Me…
I, like many other art students at New Paltz in the 60s, worked
at Manny's store in lieu of payment for costly and much needed art supplies.
We took what we needed, always keeping track of costs, and worked until we paid
off what we owed him. Then it would start all over again.
I'm sure I graduated
owing Manny money, and I'm sure others did, too. Somehow I don't think that
ever mattered to Manny. He loved the art students who were as zany and free-spirited
as he was.
He also sold books in his shop and gave me a beautiful book on Marino
Marini when I graduated. I can't look at the book or see Marini's work without
thinking of Manny. He was a dear, sweet man and a good soul. It's obvious that
a good many New Paltz people felt as I do. He will be sorely missed.
Most sincerely,
Laurey Lebenson
New Paltz Class of 1966
From Bob Crimi
I wish that I had been able to be there but I was at a reception for an opening of a show of my paintings in Peekskill. I've attached a photo of Trudy Roberts and me at the opening.
photo by Steve Napolillio
We're standing in front of paintings that I
did, recently, on primed canvas that I had bought from Manny years ago... he
made me such a special deal, I still have yards of linen. We were at Joe's in
spirit.
Best,
Bob
As in an intricately conceived tapestry, Manny's generosity of spirit, great humor, bright mind, passion for people, life and shtick,were all interwoven through every creative aspect of the New Paltz artist community. There were "Manny threads" spun at Manny's Lounge that still weave in and out of my memories of friends and relationships, the TAB, the Coops, "new" Smiley Art Building, and art faculty, next door into P & G's, down Main Street past Chez Joey's, The Homestead, and well beyond to the Gunks, taking the hairpin turn back into town, and then out again to Spinelli's.
These and many other landmarks of our experiences
were where we met and helped each other find our way. The art of life and the
life of art flourished in the wild and crazy 60's and 70's, and Manny's bigger-than-life
personality was there for all of us. What a gift!
Thanks for all the years,
Ricki Arno