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Lunch with George Whitman
Paris, France
November, 2006
(George Whitman is the fameous owner of Shakespeare and Company, Paris)
Today George took me to lunch at his favorite Chinese place on Rue St Jacques, just short walk from the bookstore. It was sunny and warm for late October and George was well dressed in a blue suit and yellow tie. His medium length grey hair was messy from a little breeze from the north. The last time I had seen him his hair was really long and he said that Sylvia forced him to cut it. "Don't like it at all." he complained.
When we arrived at the restaurant he stopped and took a hard look at the menu posted out front. He grabbed my shoulder and pointed, "You see 8 euros. I remember when it was 5 Francs!"
When we enter the staff know him by name and say "Ah, Monsieur George," and we are quickly seated. Before the hostess leaves he grabs her hand, put his mouth up to her ear, motions to me and says something in Chinese. The hostess smiles a little and says, "Non," and something back in Chinese.
When she goes over to get the menus, George looks at me totally straight faced and says, "I just called you foreign devil. That's what all the kids used to call me when I went to school in Shanghai."
I didn't know whether to laugh or say I'm sorry, but I couldn't help from smiling and said something stupid like, "Geese, yeah, wow."
When the hostess returned he pushed the menus away and ordered us both the special that includes a Tsingsaw beer, spring rolls and spicy beef noodle. I know George well enough now not to ever look at the menu because no matter where we go he has something exact on his mind and I am never disappointed. I really hated oysters until I met George.
As soon as the hostess left he took out exactly 17 euros and put it on the table next to us. I looked down at the money and he said, "I left her a euro, that good enough isn't it?"
Before we even got out first course the hostess came by and took the money. This is what I call extreme efficiency.
Our beers arrived and George said, "I never drink anymore, my daughter forbids me. You can have it."
He started to hand it over and I protested, "Common George, just a few sips, Sylvia won't mind."
"Ok,just a sip." he said lifting the glass slowly to his lips.
He looked towards the kitchen, around at everyone in the room, then back at me and said, "This Restaurant has been here since I arrived over 60 years ago. Back then it was owned by the Chinese Ambassador to Russia. He used to spend all of his time upstairs reading westerns that he bought for me." Then he giggled, and repeated, "Westerns!"
I say, "So he could read and speak English well?"
"Of course, he was an educated man."
"But that doesn't mean you have to speak English."
George scoffs, looks straight at me and quickly retorts, "Here in Paris you must speak 4 languages to be considered educated."
It's bit shocking to realize you will never be considered educated, but I accepted my fate without reply.
He Continued, "Sylvia has to keep working on her Russian. You know that I sent her to Harvard."
George's Bostonian accent only comes out when he says places like, "Harvard" and it always makes me smile
Then he goes over the list out loud, "English, French, some Spanish, you know she went to Cuba, and Russian, yes, she definitely must work on her Russian."
I gave him a look like, "Whatever," and lamented on the fact that after 4 years I still couldn't understand the average Parisian.
He could tell I was a little annoyed but luckily the spring rolls and spicy beef noodle came before I had to lambaste my education.
The noodles were excellent and our portions were big enough to scoop at least a couple servings into the air tight plastic container he always carries with him to restaurants. He finished half his beer, handed it over to me and I agreeably guzzled it down before we left.
On the way home George leaned on me as we walked and gently said, "Yep, I really am turning into an old man."
"Common George, look at you, strong as ever." I replied. "You have to get out more, keep fit. Only 15 more years until the 100 year anniversary!"
He looked over to me, shook his head and mumbled, "Old Man."
When we got back to the store, comme habitude, George took a seat out front to watch the world go by. He is so proud of his store. I decided to go for a nice afternoon bike ride so I bid farewell to George and went over to the fence to unlock my bike. He looked at me with envy, he used to ride around paris until his moped was stolen in front of the store. At the time he was 82 so he decided not to buy something new.
When I pulled my bike from the fence I happened to catch George flirting with a pretty teenage customer. As I rode away I heard him say, "I will just sit here and be paralyzed by your beauty."
Lovely, wonderful, classic George.
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