A Sonny Story: I met the legend himself because I used to smoke and it was during one of those BEA dinners, years ago now. I had stepped outside in the freezing cold and there he was. He offered me a Native Spirit which he then lit (silently) and gave me one of those looks. I thought I had died and gone to heaven.
I remember one time in the old building on E 50th Street, Sonny was standing in the doorway of his office. GF needed money for a cab or something, so Sonny reached into his pocket, pulled out a roll of bills, and handed him a 20. To be funny, I guess, I got in line behind GF, and when he moved aside, I stepped up to Sonny and held out my hand. "Fuck off," he said in that ultra-dry way he had. It’s a fond memory, one of many from those years.
A Sonny Story: I met the legend himself because I used to smoke and it was during one of those BEA dinners, years ago now. I had stepped outside in the freezing cold and there he was. He offered me a Native Spirit which he then lit (silently) and gave me one of those looks. I thought I had died and gone to heaven.
I think everyone in publishing had a cigarette moment with Sonny at one point or another. What a lovely memory!
I remember one time in the old building on E 50th Street, Sonny was standing in the doorway of his office. GF needed money for a cab or something, so Sonny reached into his pocket, pulled out a roll of bills, and handed him a 20. To be funny, I guess, I got in line behind GF, and when he moved aside, I stepped up to Sonny and held out my hand. "Fuck off," he said in that ultra-dry way he had. It’s a fond memory, one of many from those years.