PART TWO: Visiting the Great Lady's Home
By Russell Adams
After the smoke had cleared, literally, I got my first view
of the living room. One doesn’t get to use the word elegant often, but it came at once to my mind. Every furnishing was
antique and appeared to be carefully selected and positioned. Very prominent in the room were two
beautiful watercolor portraits of Lillian Gish and her sister, Dorothy. In the
center of the room, before the fireplace, was the sitting area where Ms. Gish
often entertained (there and the full dining room). I was told that every
afternoon for years, her best friend Helen Hayes (also a neighbor) would stop
there for tea.
As Jim gave me the grand tour, I was aware of just how large the
whole place was. Apartments that size in NYC, when they’re available, go for
zillions of dollars. Off the main hallway was a small, crowded room that Jim
told me Ms. Gish called her ‘junk room.’ Among the many treasures collected
from her world tours found there, I spotted her Oscar! At one door, Jim peered
in and quietly closed it back, holding one finger to his lips saying, “She’s
napping.” Damn.
As luck would have it, I had already scheduled a trip to NYC
to visit friends and see some shows. In light of my recent mail from Lillian
Gish, I decided to move my trip up! I had to have a meeting with the great lady
herself. First I needed to find her phone number. While I had the address, even
I ruled out stalking as a possibility. (Remember this was the days before
Google searches.) I put out the word to my friends, many of whom work in the
entertainment biz in New York.
On my last day in the Big Apple, I scored. With
all the nervousness of a teen asking for a date to prom, I called. A man
answered, and I went breathlessly into my spiel – about the letter and the
picture, blah, blah, blah. The man, who turned out to be Ms. Gish’s manager, Jim
Frasher, listened patiently (like he’s never heard all this before) and
suggested that we meet that afternoon.
I went to the midtown address Mr. Frasher gave me. The place
turned out to be a classy establishment that was heavy on atmosphere, with a
bartender in a tux, and very woody. It was the perfect choice for an Irishman
to enjoy some afternoon refreshment. As I waited, it occurred to me that
meeting like this might be a subtle ruse to pre-clear those wishing access to
Ms. Gish. Jim finally arrived and greeted me warmly. We chatted amiably from the
start. It was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.
Jim Frasher had come
from a long theatrical background. He had been hired by Lillian Gish
temporarily for five months to manage a speaking tour she was starting. That
was twenty-five years ago, and Jim had been working for her since. After much
laughter (and a few scotches), Jim finally said the magic words to me, “Let’s
go see Lillian.”
A short cab ride later, we arrived at a Sutton Place
address. It was one of those early twentieth-century apartment buildings common to
the Eastside. Getting off the elevator at Ms. Gish’s floor, we were greeted
with a fair amount of smoke pouring from her open apartment door.
As I looked
nervously around for the nearest fire exit, Jim entered the unit and began
fanning the smoke around. I soon learned that this had become something of a ritual,
as the cook, a sweet young Scandinavian woman, was prone to kitchen errors, and
Ms. Gish was too kind-hearted to let her go!
After the smoke had cleared, literally, I got my first view
of the living room. One doesn’t get to use the word elegant often, but it came at once to my mind. Every furnishing was
antique and appeared to be carefully selected and positioned. Very prominent in the room were two
beautiful watercolor portraits of Lillian Gish and her sister, Dorothy. In the
center of the room, before the fireplace, was the sitting area where Ms. Gish
often entertained (there and the full dining room). I was told that every
afternoon for years, her best friend Helen Hayes (also a neighbor) would stop
there for tea. 
As Jim gave me the grand tour, I was aware of just how large the
whole place was. Apartments that size in NYC, when they’re available, go for
zillions of dollars. Off the main hallway was a small, crowded room that Jim
told me Ms. Gish called her ‘junk room.’ Among the many treasures collected
from her world tours found there, I spotted her Oscar! At one door, Jim peered
in and quietly closed it back, holding one finger to his lips saying, “She’s
napping.” Damn.
We returned to the living room to continue our talk. I felt
a little awkward, as the furniture all seemed so small. Little chairs for
petite, if giant, stars. All the while, my mind was on that room up the hall
and the sweet lady dreaming there. Jim explained that for a person her age (94
at the time), Ms. Gish was in amazingly good health, her only chronic
complaints being a bad back. She usually declined invitations to plays where
she might be forced to leave early and risk offending her host.
Also, she still
suffered arthritic pain stemming from that iconic scene in Way Down East that required her to work on an ice floe for days. At
last I felt that I was in danger of overstaying my welcome. Sensing my disappointment, Jim made a picture of me in the foyer holding Ms. Gish’s Oscar,
and regretfully I departed. Perhaps there would be another time.
PART THREE NEXT WEEK
This post is written by Russell Adams, a Los Angeles-based entertainment professional, writer and film reviewer. He had the good fortune to correspond with Lillian Gish and her longtime manager, Jim Frasher, over the course of many years.
