Haresh Shah
The Spookiness Of The Creative Mind
It’s It the Easter Monday in Italy. I am on an over crowded train going back to Milan from Pontremoli. Everybody is returning from the long holiday weekend and as squeezed together as we are, I have managed to find a “comfortable” corner of my own where I get to stand for all three hours of the train ride without being crushed.
This is the first time I am alone face to face with myself since the fateful late Monday night of the week before. I am reading Andy Warhol’s autobiographical excerpts, while the conflicting thoughts rush through my mind, they collide with each other to the rhythm of the oscillating motion of the train piercing through the still night of the Italian country side.
I have just spent a very pleasant and a relaxing weekend with Rainer (Wörtmann) and his wife Renate in their newly acquired old mill in Italian country side. It’s a beauty, standing proudly in a little village called Mulazzo near Pontremoli. It stands forlorn in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by a stream and rocks and a cluster of trees. The place is to serve as a retreat from their hectic lives in Munich. It also turns out to be a great and timely escape for me in the aftermath of the week before.
Lee (Hall) is smooth as silk when he tells me how great a job I had been doing, so much so that like any good manager, I had succeeded in eliminating my own position. It’s the night of Monday, March 24, 1975. Lee is doing his regular European stint. Bob (Gutwillig) has left the company and Lee is traveling with Richard Kopf, the new divisional VP. His note at the reception leads me to his suite 375 at Principe de Savoia, which is where we are staying.
‘How about some Scotch now?’ The offer I had declined earlier. Seems he have had a few already. I guessed he probably needed them before he could execute a swift coup d’état. Shocked? Yes. Devastated? No. All of a sudden, I see the word FREEDOM begin to flash in front of my eyes like on a digital billboard. This meant I could now write the book I have been wanting to for so long and go to California – the vacation I had planned to take the very week I took over the job at Playboy . Okay, I do end up spending a sleepless night. But am thinking about the ways this will change my life as I toss and turn.
Two days later, I return back to Munich with Lee and Richard. They are travelling in the first, of course. While standing in line at Milan’s Linate Airport, I run into Rainer, who is returning to Munich from his Italian country home. I don’t yet tell him about me having been fired, because Lee needs to inform the top Bauer management first. That evening. Rainer and I end up having dinner at Le Cave.
The night after, I am deep in sleep when the door bell rings. Its around two in the morning. I hear Rainer’s slurred voice on the intercom.
‘I was out late and as I was driving home, it suddenly dawned on me that poor Haresh is jobless. What would he do now?’ I am touched. I assure him that I was doing fine and that how this break opens up so many exciting avenues for me. But Rainer seems to need to talk and so do I. We sit around until four in the morning, drinking Sambuca and listening to music.
I am not even sure if Rainer went home that night or just caught a wink at my place before we headed for the airport to catch the Milan bound morning flight and from there on drive to Pontremoli.
●●●
The place is not finished yet, but its very livable with open fireplace and little nooks and crannies that make for ideal dining, cooking and sleeping spaces. The only snag that weekend is: it’s wet and it’s cold. We place the only available electric heater in the middle of us as we try to keep warm through the nights. I slide into my sleeping bag with all my clothes on. Including sweater and socks.
During the day, we meet up with Udo Wüst, an editor at the German edition, and his wife, they too own a similar property in the area. The weekend is spent living the idyllic Italian country life. Leisurely and languid. Strolling and stopping for coffee and cake at cozy little cafés and I remember eating one of the most delicious Italian meals at a local family restaurant. I fall in love with their signature dish Testaroli, a version of home made flat pasta which I had never tasted up until then and have not since then. It tasted and looked so much like Khata Dhokla, as whipped up by Mama Shah back home in Bombay. As cold and wet as it is, most of the weekend we just sit around and play Backgammon and drink Calvados – the golden glow of which rushing through our veins help us keep warm. Entspannend, I wrote in my journal. Couldn’t have thought of a more relaxing way to spend my first weekend of freedom.
●●●
As I lean against the outer wall of the train, making myself comfortable, Andy Warhol now snuggly tucked back into my shoulder bag, I think of the thirty wonderful months of being a part of Playboy, and how I had landed in Munich in the middle of the overt hostile environment and how along with Freddy (Baumgärtel), Rainer was the first one to warm up and work with me. We also began to socialize. Realizing my predicament with the vintage apartment I had taken over from Gerrit, him recruiting his wife Renate to help me find a place more to my liking. In general, Rainer becoming my guardian angel. Us two, along with Heinz (Nellissen) in Essen, becoming a team.
●●●
We are sitting in Rainer’s office, drinking champagne at eleven in the morning. I watch the bubbles rise in the flute, Rainer asks: ‘So what did you think of my idea?’
‘Which idea?’
Because Rainer is an idea machine, hailed by Quick and Playboy Germany’s editorial director, Heinz van Nouhuys as the wunderkind, because at the age 27, he has become the youngest art director of an international publication. . And also because Rainer says with all the modesty, maybe (because I was) talented? By then he already has under his belt, the experience of having done graphically progressive magazine Jasmin. He has also put in his time at DM and Zeitung in Stuttgart. And admirably, he doesn’t jump at the once in a life time opportunity when offered the position at Playboy. Instead he stipulates: I’ll fly to Chicago at my own expenses and meet with the art director of the “whole shop “and see if at all I can make it with my own graphic ideas. A meeting is arranged with Art Paul, the man who designed Playboy’s ubiquitous Rabbit Head and defined the magazine then and forever for its graphic excellence. And then Rainer calls back from Chicago, Well okay. I’ll start with you.
I no longer remember the exact illustration and the article about which we began to talk, but here is a scenario I just made up as an example. It would be pretty much true of the way Rainer “dreamt up” visual aspects of Playboy’s German edition.
‘You know the one about the illustration for the Maxim’s de Paris.’
‘The one (Franz) Spelman is writing?’
‘Yeah.’
‘What about it?’
‘You know, the werkdruck, the special stock four page cutout?’
‘Sorry, I don’t. Refresh my memory.’
‘You know the one where the first page would be the die-cut pop up of the façade of the Maxim’s, and when you turn the page, the spread shows the interior of the main floor of the restaurant with the page four crossing over the opener, showing the chefs working in the kitchen?’
‘Sounds like a great idea. With an illustration like that, why would anyone want to read the article?’
‘Genau. You know? Plus does it make a difference? I mean, who cares what Franz has to say?’
I don’t say anything to that. We just look at each other with knowing smiles on our faces. Probably envious of the fact that Franz got such a plum assignment, staying at George V in Paris and eating at Maxim’s a few times during his stay there. If we knew Franz, he probably had one or two of the local lovelies accompanying him to the meals – all at Playboy’s expenses. Franz certainly knows how to live! A born bon vivant!!
‘I’m sorry my friend, but I don’t remember you ever telling me of your idea before.’
‘How can you forget? It was last night, when we were having drinks at Le Cave.’
‘Can’t be. Because I just flew back from Düsseldorf.’
‘You did?’ And he momentarily seems lost in his thoughts. ‘Must have been that I dreamt about it. But I swear, I remember even having drawn you a rough sketch on the Le Cave napkin.’
‘Must have been on another night. Do you have the sketch?’
He fumbles into his jeans pockets and then breaks out in a broad smile. ‘Verdamt noch mal, things I dream about! Anyways, let me draw it for both of us now.’ And he pulls out the blue lined calibrated spiegel – the format sheet – and begins to draw the façade of Maxim’s.
●●●
Working with Rainer is fun. He is easy going, but can at times also be insistent and blunt when called for. I am amazed at his perception and being able to see through things.
A year after I arrive in Germany, I am planning a trip to India and am in need of several rolls of films. Instead of just going out and buying them, I am being cheap! It occurs to me that perhaps I can get a freebie pack from the photo department which is under Rainer. I pick up the phone and call him.
‘I was wondering if I could get a dozen rolls of Ektachromes from your stock.’ Not to sound too obvious, I add: ‘Maybe I can get them at the same bulk rate?’
‘Oder umsonst? – or gratis!’ He doesn’t miss a beat. In the laughter that follows I detect slight sarcasm in his voice. Touché! He has seen right through me.
I save the day by laughing it off with: ‘Das wäre eigentilich besser/‘ – that would obviously be better!
Laughing back he says: ‘Of course you can have them.’ But boy his oder umsonst? stung. So much so that I still remember it forty years later:).
●●●
While I am still living in Munich and pounding away relentlessly at my bright orange Triumph portable electric typewriter, writing my book tentatively titled The Lost Identity – Personal Reflections, Rainer blows me away with a very pleasant surprise. He offers for me to become Playboy Germany’s photo editor. Susi (Pletz) and Helga Colle-Tiez the two who ran the photo department up until then have given their notices to leave.
Rainer’s offer puts me in the whirlwind of conflicting emotions. I am flattered and I am emotionally overwhelmed. My mind begins to whirr with all sorts of special pictorial ideas, and the Playmates I would find and produce. Still living in Munich and working with Rainer and Freddy and Heinz, opening up a whole new horizon for my future. The offer puts me between a rock and a hard place. It hasn’t taken me too long to get over my job loss. In the meanwhile I am more than halfway through writing my book. And am dreaming of starting a magazine of my own with a real possibility of Celeste (Huenergard) – the young American woman working as editorial assistant to Donald Stewart, our Italian in-house editorial executive – partnering with me. She has been a big moral support following my termination, keep the chin up. We have shared many a meals together and have lingered in the evenings with Grappas. Boy she is beautiful. Rainer kept saying when we had stopped at the offices of the Italian edition on our way to his country home
So what do I choose? A bird in the hand or two in the bush? Rainer’s offer is so tempting that I really don’t know. For three sleepless nights I agonize over should I and or shouldn’t I? I am conflicted between the future I was beginning to envision and the future that’s offered to me on the silver platter. I am torn and tortured. I am tempted to accept Rainer’s offer and think later. Perhaps I take it for a year or two, defer my dreams for a while – I tell myself, Rainer doesn’t have to know. Things can always change, can’t hey? And I remember the wisdom imparted by Mr. Moore, while both of us laid next to each other at St. Charles Hospital in London; that in business, you should never let your left hand know what your right hand is doing. But that would be totally against my grain, and I want to be honest. I share with Rainer what I am thinking. Rainer wants me on indefinite basis, he has big plans for me.
At the end of those three nights of tossing and turning and having done some serious soul searching, I decline the offer.
© Haresh Shah 2013
Illustration: Celia Rose Marks
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Next Friday, August 30th, 2013
MY INTIMATE ENCOUNTER WITH EROTIC OYSTERS
How I Came to Like, No, Love Oysters?
Oysters have been credited for their aphrodisiac qualities, but are also considered visually erotic because of their succulent, raw, moist, tender and glistening look. And yet, I couldn’t for the life of me, see them in that context, let alone really put them in my mouth and savor. The story of my not so keen encounter with this most delicious of the fruit from the sea.
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