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March 30th, 2011 § 0 comments § permalink

A cautionary tale about hot dogs and Mallomars. Many years ago HG had a real estate mogul client. He was a big guy. His weight varied between 275-300 pounds. He was on a perpetual diet. Some lettuce leaves and cottage cheese for lunch. However, HG knew his guilty secret. His baronial desk had a drawer stuffed with Mallomars (an oddly regional and seasonal Nabisco confection of a cookie base, marshmallow top, all robed in sweet chocolate). Most evenings the mogul would pick HG up at his Broadway office and drop him off at his West Side (rent controlled) apartment en route to the mogul’s Westchester estate. Lounging in the leather seats of the chauffeur-driven Rolls Royce, HG and the mogul would hatch various public relations ploys to further enrich the mogul and gild his image. Every night the Rolls would come to an abrupt stop at the Gray’s Papaya at Broadway and 72nd. The chauffeur would leap out and bring back six hot dogs and two pina coladas (the relationship between “healthy” papaya drinks and Hot Dogs that exists only in New York is a story for another day). The mogul would wolf them down while continuing his business conversation. “I can’t resist hot dogs,” he explained. HG is sure he had some more lettuce leaves and a piece of grilled (skinless) chicken breast for dinner in Westchester. He was a sweet guy. He died young. There is a park in Queens named after him. But, no memorial plaque at the Gray’s Papaya.

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