"the" Mrs. Astor

Tuesday, June 20, 2006



These were "my girls" in New York. Laurie Ketcham and Carmina Marcial. Camina was a monster-in-training here, but Laurie and I were full-fledged Doctors of Monstrous Behavior. (I, in fact, had a special permit to stomp on Tokyo because of a Japanese boyfriend.) Carmina’s still very much around, but Laurie passed away two days ago.

Laurie was one of the first REAL New Yorkers I met upon moving there. Her paternal grandfather, William Tredwell Ketcham was a direct descendent of Cornelius Vanderbilt, she had a spiffy condo on Murray Hill, and impeccable social contacts. But I met her at the second incarnation of Studio 54 through my old friend and neighbor, Bob, who met her through our other neighbor and Studio party-giver, Milan. It was the Go-Go Eighties and anything went.

Laurie loved gay men and, in particular, Bob; but as Bob’s schooling took him further away, I became the partner in crime. We addressed each other as “Partner” accordingly, and I would always get a call from her saying, “Hi, tiger; do you want to have a little fun tonight, or a lot?” The question was rhetorical and our activities ridiculous.

I would often pass out at her place and go directly to work a few blocks away at The Empire State Building. One day the office manager politely said, “Alexis, it’s one thing coming in here smelling of vodka and another with glitter in your hair, but the shoe print on the back of your shirt has got to go.”

Trips out to her parents sprawling 20’s mansion in Old Lawrence were cherished. I used to marvel at the way the house was slowly crumbling as the family money dried up while the parties got wetter. Laurie’s mother taught me the phrase, “functional alcoholic”, one brutally hung over morning at The Lawrence Beach Club. Lawrence was crumbling, too, as the old families were being pushed out; one massive home down her street had been sold to a Hasidic group. Talk about “There goes the neighborhood” for the Ketchams!

With the turn into the nineties, Lauries direction went to new career moves and loves and mine toward chronicling the club kids and drag queens who now ruled the nights of New York. We kept in contact and never could forget what we did together. Some time back, Bob (who is STILL my neighbor, but only on weekends in winter) told me Laurie had come down with Lou Gehrig’s Disease and had moved to her parent’s new home on Jamestown Island in Rhode Island. They began to see each frequently and I got to learn about how terrible that condition is. He told me of how, confined to a wheel chair and having lost one leg, he held a martini glass to her lips as they partied all night. One day she called me here and I heard that voice say, “Hi, tiger!” and even though I wanted to cry, we laughed. We always did; why stop now?

9 Comments:

At 3:07 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

I'm so sorry for the loss of your friend, especially to a disease that is so cruel. She was lucky to have someone like you to continue tell her story and keep her alive always.

 
At 4:00 PM, Blogger Countess Bedelia said...

You know I love your stories but this one was especially poignant. I'll raise a glass to Laurie.

 
At 8:08 AM, Blogger The INFOSEC Consultant said...

The cycles of life are very strange and so often extremely unfair. Losing old friends is too much like slicing off bits of yourself. However, as you point out, when it all turns from sadness to sweet memories, well then you've truly beaten Mr. Death.

 
At 4:58 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

I grew up with Laurie, in fact she used to babysit me in the days I lived in Lawrence as a young child - a fact she forbade me to ever mention in public when I was old enough (barely) to also go to Studio 54. Mr and Mrs Ketcham, her parents, both died within days of each other only a few months ago. Those three were especially close, it is not ironic that the timing of their deaths was so close. Mrs Ketcham held my head when I got sick from alcohol the first time - she told me - "there are those who drink and those who don't - pick which you are and live with the consequences." Well, I chose the former and more recently the latter - I lost the "functioning" part of the phrase "functioning alcoholic" somewhere along the way.

I will miss all three Ketchams very much.

 
At 5:54 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

We moved to Lawrence when I was fourteen or so and my parents and the Ketchams (Ira and Jim) became fast friends. I got to know the entire family and Laurie quite well. She was very bright, loved to laugh and have a good time, as did her mother. She loved people. We spent many, many nights at the Ketcham's house where the cocktail hour always seemed to extend well into dinner. Laurie and her mother loved to laugh; I can still hear Laurie's whisky tenor. She had a great voice. I was stunned to hear a year ago that she had been diagnosed with ALS; typically, she concealed it (over the phone when we called to see how Ira was doing) and just discussed how Ira and Jim were doing. I visited my mother in Florida last month (May) and we called Laurie and spoke to her briefly. We laughed and cried a little. Ira died a week later, and then Laurie. May she rest in Peace. She was a great lady.

 
At 3:41 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

i only recently heard about Laurie's illness and recent death from a friend who directed me to your site. Laurie was a one-in-a-million. She was wild, warm, fabulously fun-- and that husky, infectious laugh-- I can hear her now-- laughing at all of us.
I had lost touch with Laurie over the past 10 years or so but thought of her often. How distressing to know that her light had been dimmed (if that's at ALL possible) by this debilitating disease. So unfair. But those of us who knew her were indeed blessed. My condolences to us alll.

 
At 12:33 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

I got to know Laurie on Thursdays at 2pm. We laughed, we cried, it was an honor to get to know her. God Bless...from another Crab!

 
At 9:24 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

I picked up my alumni newspaper (Hartwick College) today and saw that my old college friend Laurie had died, so did a search and found your website. Even in her early twenties, Laurie was a wild and fun one and I was sad to hear what a cruel and untimely death she met.

 
At 1:32 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Laurie and I went to high school together and she was my first serious girlfriend.

Although we had lost touch over the years, I will never forget her easy smile, her warm laugh and what a wonderful and special person she was.

I was so upset to hear of her illness and death which I learned about from your site which I found a couple of years ago while I was trying to find her to catch up and say hello. Timing is everything and I wish I had tried to find her sooner. She will always be a part of me and I will always remember her warm smiling face fondly.

 

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