Christmas at the White House
Wednesday, January 26th, 2005MORNING
I arrived at 9am to the White House Hotel. I was groggy from a night of little or no sleep. New York was like a dream, the streets empty of cars and people, everyone off to family houses with backyards somewhere outside the city limits. My father dropped me off, driving an Audi, and I felt horrible in the warmth of the leather seats. My father wanted to see the lobby of the White House but when I saw that it was full… Sam, Thompson “T”, Jerome and a toothless old man I hadn’t met yet, I told him that he should probably not come in.
The spirits were high. And some of the men, too. We talked about the cold cold weather outside. Lee Wells showed up and said he’d rather be in Florida, with the moviestars, said there’s nothing special about snow and christmas. “Christmas can be just as special around palm trees,” he said.
The morning was really slow. Todd was at the desk, asked me why I was at the White House and not with family. I told him I was working, that I wanted to be there… but that was only part of it… what I didn’t tell him was that for months prior I felt that Christmas day was going to be important for the film. And it was.
I talked to the toothless old fellow who didn’t live at the White House. He seemed to know all the guys in the lobby. He mumbled and was difficult to understand. He kept telling me about Vietnam, about how all the black fellows were in the front lines dying for the rich fellows. He said he hated the war in Iraq that people always win when they are defending their homes. He was in his seventies, and gave a hearty laugh after every sentence he spoke. “If they attack us, in our country, I’ll be the first one to pull out my gun and whoop some ass.” I believed him.
The reason he was at the White House is that he had gotten a Christmas goodie basket from the Bowery Mission and was selling the contents in the lobby. Preston, the old skinny black custodian of the White House, bought some socks. The toothless old man sold them, $1 per sock. Naturally, Preston bought both socks in the pair but was annoyed that he had to pay per sock.
Tom came down before long. He was a bit awkward with the group of four black men. His interjections always seemed off rhythym, seemed to halt the flow of conversation. Tom’s daughter called to wish him a Merry Christmas. She told him that she had just turned in her mercedes for a bmw because the mercedes was breaking down. Tom was so thrilled to talk to his daughter. He said he hoped to see her soon and said that he loved her before they hung up.
At one point, Tom went out to smoke a cigarette, and Preston happened to be outside, too, sweeping the street. It was so empty and so quiet. The first time I’d ever seen the Bowery in such a state. “It doesn’t feel like Christmas,” Preston said as he swept a straw into a dustpan. Tom nodded in agreement.
AFTERNOON
After a few cups of coffee and lunch at the only diner open in the area, I got back to the lobby. Maria, the vibrant pulse of December at the White House burst glowing into the lobby– as usual. She had spent the night in love with Shadow, squeezed into a small cubicle with a large man. After greeting everyone, she had a quick forbidden (by Shadow) smoke with Tom, then when Eric came out, she left for Chinatown.
After she left, there was a lull– as usual. I talked to a girl named Leisha who had recently gotten a room at the White House. She was nice but clearly lacked confidence. Later I would be told she was removed from the hotel for heroin possession.
Joel was now working the desk. He played Bob Dylan music, and read Bob Dylan’s book “Chronicle.” Both he and I had gotten that same book for Christmas. Joel knows a lot more about Bob Dylan than I do. We talked for an hour, a lot of the discussion about this film.
EVENING
As the skies got dark, Maria returned. The lobby was once again happening. She got her paints out and her paper. Shadow came down, too. Maria began painting. Eric, as always, loomed creepily in the background watching her. The painting was of a mother helping her young son pee. Maria focused, biting her lip and making strange gutteral sounds as the brush scrubbed the paper with color. Shadow, meanwhile was busy dismantling the lobby. He removed the paintings that were on the wall and replaced them with his own. Shadow, being close to 6 ft. 7 in. was rather clumsy. At one point, he smashed a painting of his that was drawn on a glass pane. It was really funny but no one in the lobby even considered laughing. Maria’s painting wasn’t her best. The penis of the little boy was grotesquely large and the green and red colors clashed in a rather unappealing way.
Maria and Shadow left to get some dinner. I went upstairs and found Tom who was alone in his room. Tom was watching TV. The monitor was flickering, the image moving from the bottom of the screen to the top, pausing, then moving up again. After a few minutes, The White House Christmas special came on. President Bush told his dog to take care of another White House pet, I think it was a cat. We saw the dog pull the cat on a little red wagon through the White House. On the trip through the White House there was a huge christmas tree with ornaments, nice wood floors, lots of huge bright colored gifts with tasteful ribbons. They even staged a news conference commending the dog on a job well done. It didn’t make much sense but Tom enjoyed it, though. He sat there, smoking a cigarette and laughing. I couldn’t help but think how different Christmas was at the two White Houses.