Famed in fact, fiction and fable, Fire Island in the 50’s and 60’s was one continual, raucous party (at least in the Ocean Ridge section where HG and Beautiful Sharon had a dune house). There were the hearty partying topless ladies playing volleyball (this got the rapt attention of five-year-old son Jeremy). There was the “sixish”….a very heterosexual boy-meets-girl impromptu cocktail bash that took place on a stretch of sand near the ferry. There were the spur of the moment parties that took place on the rear decks (built high off the ground) of dune houses. These sometimes became so crowded that the deck collapsed. That was serious. There were injuries. But the rear deck parties went on. (A long out of print book, “Saloon Society” by an HG friend, Bill Manville, captures the spirit of that Fire Island/Greenwich Village era). Alcohol and weed fueled those parties, not food. However, there were some good catch of the sea events. Juan Junyer, the Catalonian sculptor and friend of Picasso, would join with his medical writer wife, Dolores Canals, and do a backyard fish barbecue. Juan would buy striped bass, sea bass and some other varieties..whatever was running..from local fishermen. The fish would be gutted. Dolores gave them a big hit of garlic infused olive oil. Juan put them in a hinged grill of his own design.
Barbecue for a few moments. Lemons. Tabasco. Beer. Magic. Then there was the moules meuniere feast by a woman who had spent some years in France. Mussels by the bushel, garlic, white wine and crusty bread (from an Italian bakery in Patchogue). Possibly best of all was the fried fish bash hosted by Hobby Miller, unofficial Mayor of Ocean Ridge and the neighboring community of Davis Park. Hobby had some huge cast iron pans and these were filled with bubbling Crisco. Filets were dipped in a spicy batter. Into the pan for a brief bath. Perfect. The most eccentric parties were those thrown by Willa A., a colorful, acid-tongued lady. She was the queen of misguided excess. Once, she served a shrimp curry that was so blazingly hot it seared the inside of HG’s mouth and caused HG’s lips to puff into a ludicrous pout. There was nothing to drink. No beer. No wine. No water. HG commented, with some difficulty, on the degree of heat and lack of liquids. Willa retorted, in a shout: “It’s supposed to be hot!! Here’s some yogurt. It will cool you.” It didn’t work. It took ten days before HG’s mouth was back to normal.
Fire Island Parties Of Yesteryear
January 13th, 2011 § 1 comment
The other day my dad and I were wondering about this. I’m going to pass this post along, facebooking it now. Thank you for the excellent post and the happy coincidence.