LOVELY rememberence up at the New Yorker about Leonard Michaels who passed away, I can’t believe it, ten years ago yesterday.
A snip below:
“He changes his mind. Every day. Twice a day. Drove me crazy. He has weird ideas of what to do. I don’t want to work for him again.” My friend paused. Then added: “Maybe you want to?” He was hopeful when he said this. As in: Please. Please take him off my hands.
Both of us were contractors in Berkeley, California. And my friend knew that I sometimes relished clients with eccentric tastes and ideas. I said, “Sure, I’ll meet him. Give him my number.”
So Leonard Michaels called me, and we met.”
The rest here.