Posted Sept. 10, 2001

By Dina Di Maio

Click here for 2001 Photo Gallery

NEW YORK — On a recent summer weekend, the Dorothy Parker Society of New York (DPSNY) held its third annual Parkerfest. The fest included three events in celebration of the life of former New Yorker writer (definer of the "New Yorker short story") and well-known wit, Dorothy Parker. The DPSNY proclaims itself as a "non-academic social organization, extremely loose-knit." Its founder, Kevin Fitzpatrick, is a 35-year-old new media president and ten-year New Yorker ne´e St. Louisian. His four guidelines for the purpose of the club are as follows:

1. To promote the work of Dorothy Parker,

2. To introduce new readers to the work of Dorothy Parker,

3. To expand the fan base of Dorothy Parker, and

4. To have as much fun as possible.

The first night of Parkerfest professes to encompass all goals; however, to the likely delight of Mrs. Parker, it seems to achieve number four best. Dottie devotees dressed in Twenties attire cavorted over cocktails at Flute on West 54th Street, the former Parker hangout Club Intime. In true Prohibition style, vintage votaries uttered the password "Camilla Ziegfeld" (the wife of Florenz Ziegfeld, Jr., the Broadway producer of the Ziegfeld Follies) to gain admittance into the club and were served champagne cocktails in coffee cups. Dottie was a topic of discussion as well as spots to find vintage clothing, the ingredients of a sidecar, and the welcome plague modern society shares with our favorite author — depression.

Stuart Y. Silverstein, the editor of a collection of lost Dottie poems, Not Much Fun: The Lost Poems of Dorothy Parker (out in July in trade paperback from Scribner), brought with him a blue binder with copies of original poems in their original publications: the New York Herald Tribune, Vanity Fair, the Saturday Evening Post, among others. Pakerphiles perused these while admiring the host and Society President Kevin Fitzpatrick's pinstripe suit and another member, Justina, in her full white boa, bobbed blonde hair, and perfect pursed lips. The evening was smashing as high-time hounds hit the bottle in Parker fashion, reciting their favorite Dottie rhymes as the night wore on.

What kind of Dorothy Parker fest would it be without a trip to the legendary Algonquin Hotel? The Algonquin opened in 1902 and became famous as the literati locus beginning in 1919 when Mrs. Parker and her crew first met to welcome New York Times drama critic Aleck Woollcott home from World War I. This year, Mrs. Parker's three grandnieces joined the Parkerphiles for brunch in the Round Table Room, or former Rose Room. The group sat at the round table itself beneath a portrait of the members of the infamous brash bunch. Small, framed sayings sat at each place setting. One held Dottie's opinion of a Katherine Hepburn performance — "She ran the whole gamut of emotions, from A to B."

To the delight of her fans, the grandnieces brought with them photocopies of various postcards and letters Dottie had written from early childhood on to old age. In one, she writes: "Dear Papa, We all are well and have good times, thereafter I shall write in ryhmes [sic]. That Rags is well is quite a treat, be sure he gets enough to eat. I'll see you before very long, and now I guess I'll end my song. In case you don't think it's from me, I'll put With love from Dorothy." An older Dottie still writes of her dog. She tells her sister that "Alan [Campbell] ran over Poupe´e, the poodle… Her damages were a badly cut hind paw and a nasty case of shock (which I may say is nothing to the one Alan sustained)."

The grandnieces say they grew up with stories of Aunt Dot. Dot was a generous person who would literally give you the shirt off her back. One of them, Joan, recalls her grandmother saying, "'Don't tell Aunt Dot you like anything. She'll take it off and give it to you.'" Joan's father was a farmer in Upstate New York, not quite accustomed to city life. Upon meeting Dorothy, he said, "The only thing she knows how to do is make a drink."

His perception of her would most likely please the audacious urbanite.

While the grandnieces enjoyed hearing of Aunt Dot, they say many people, to this day, do not know of Mrs. Parker.

"People still ask, 'Dorothy Parker, who's that?'" one says.

Fitzpatrick adds, "Even in New York, it still happens."

Silverstein aptly puts it, "It shouldn't."

Indeed, it should not. If there's anyone should be remembered, it's Dot.

Dina Di Maio is a New York-area writer.

Click here for the 2001 Parkerfest photo gallery.