One night at the tennis courts at my club in north Dallas, I noticed a very pretty and shapely lady playing a game with what appeared might be her young daughter. After she was finished, I talked a while with her. She also lived in the apartments there at the club and was the head high-fashion buyer for Neiman-Marcus. Her name was Diane Lohr.
Diane invited me to stop by her apartment some time for a drink, which I did at a later time. We hit it off immediately. We talked about cities in Europe, the food, and so on, since we had both spent a lot of time there. Stanley Marcus would send her to Europe to scout for fabrics that the likes of Bill Blass and Oscar de la Renta would eventually make into gowns and dresses for Neimans. And she would attend fashion shows there. To make a long story short, we quickly became inseparable. And I got along great with her two daughters. At that time I was the manger of a nation-wide burglar alarm venture, which was part of a well-known publicly-held company - and not very well paid. Financially, I was out of my element.
Oscar de la Renta was giving a fashion show at Neimans and Diane wanted me to attend with her. Reluctantly, I agreed. She took me to J.C. Penney to get a white-on-white shirt and to Neimans to get a decent tie. I also bought my first bottles of Aramis men's cologne and after-shave lotion. I still have one partial bottle of each! My suit was probably from a clothing warehouse for men in North Dallas. I was not your typical fashion statement. I would try to mingle with the crowd at the fashion show based on my charm, hoping nobody would snicker at my attire.
Before the show started, Oscar came up to me and said that Diane had told him what a nice fellow I was, and he just wanted to say hello. How nice. Seemed like a very nice man. The models paraded some of Oscar's new gowns and people sipped wine, Champagne, and 12-year-old Scotch. The gowns were selling for several thousand dollars each. I remember thinking that there were apparently a lot of people in that room with either too much money or more money than sense. One woman insisted that one of the gowns be sold to her as soon as the model took it off. She had to have it for some function she was attending. As I recall, it cost $3000. Oh, my.
During a break, Richard Marcus introduced himself and asked if Diane and I would join he and his wife for a late dinner after the showing. Among other things, he wanted to talk to me about an invention he had in mind. Diane had been telling Richard that I was a sort of technical guru. I was flattered and excited. As soon as he moved away, I rushed over to Diane and told her that Richard had invited us to dinner. She shrugged and said that she saw enough of the Marcus family during the week and did not want to go to dinner with them that night.
In a few minutes, Diane was back. She had talked to Richard and he understood that she would be tired after the show and made reservations for us at the private Lancer's Club atop the LTV Tower in downtown Dallas. So, when the showing was over, Diane introduced me to the vice president of Oscar's firm and said that he would be joining us for dinner.
We had a great dinner and the fellow from the fashion world turned out to be a real regular guy. I do remember having to help the waiter open the wine. He was using one of those folding cork screws that waiters in Europe use - and he was not very adept with it. So, with a flourish, I opened the wine, quietly thanking the CIA for sending me to Europe where I learned this important skill.
Eventually, the bill came. I looked at Diane. "What should I do?" "Sign it," she said. "In Richard's name. He made the reservation." Well, I had no trouble signing the Richard part, as that is my name, but I was a little shaky finishing off "Richard Marcus." It there had been a copy machine handy, I would have made a copy of that one for the archives. In my CIA days, I had impersonated a lot of people I was not, but this was the best scam I had ever been involved in. We laughed about it many times afterward.
I went to the Lancer's Club for business lunches a couple of times after my initial dinner with Diane and friend.
In a strange bit of irony, years later I was representing several high-security locks companies. I ended up surveying every office and suite in the LTV Tower for high-security locks, including the Lancer's Club. One of my fondest memories, among the bank, diamond dealer, and so on, came from a very large suite of law offices. I always asked each tenant whether they wanted to be included on a master-key setup for their firm, or have any doors keyed for an individual key. I was shown one door in the law office and told that I was to prescribe an "original key with only two copies," since these were special keys that could not be duplicated by the average locksmith. The lady executive in the firm said, "That is the liquor closet." Roger that. Ordinary folks like me were interested to see the huge stocks of beer, wine, and liquor kept on hand in law offices, in banks, and on and on - for their "better clients." A distributor of mine installed the new high-security locks on every door on every floor.
I digress. But, my life in Dallas was so complex and intertwined that I should have written a book about it. I knew an enormous number of rich and powerful people through various business and social connections, although by their standards, I was a charity case. My claim to fame? I had a fascinating past in the government and could monopolize a conversation with tall tales. I had written one novel, wrote articles and op-ed pieces from time to time for the Dallas newspapers, and during the book tour was on every "Good Morning" show on Texas TV and did book signings at the Galleria in Houston and similar events in Dallas and elsewhere. I was a guest on every important radio talk show in Texas and many around the country via remote. In my archives is a letter from the lady in a TV station near Austin who said I (under my pen name) was the best guest she ever had. And in Austin, during about a two-hour conversation and call-in on the number one talk show, one caller said that it was the best show my host had ever had.
The beautiful female host of "Good Morning Houston," (Jan, as I recall - and I mean beautiful) asked me to give a breakfast speech at the River Oaks Country Club, which of course was where the "elite meet to eat breakfast." I guess because I had been dealing in such high drama in the CIA and met so many influential people, none of this BS affected me. I was like a cat dropped from a plane. I would land on my feet giving a speech. And then head to Burger King.
As soon as I could afford it, I bought a Lincoln Town Car. I happened to be playing doubles tennis with the Lincoln factory rep in the area and mentioned that I had special-ordered one. She got the specifics from me and said it would get V.I.P. treatment. When the Town Car arrived at the dealer, it was plastered with inspection stickers. It seems that one part of the deal is that a Ford executive drives the car home for the weekend and notes any problems - or so my memory serves me. Never had any problem with the car.
I will never forget the beautiful lady I dated (whose ex-husband was very rich). One year I decided to sell the Town Car and buy a Toyota Corona, so I would have more money for casual pursuits. My fair lady friend went to dinner and the tennis tournament in my little Toyota. I had a change of heart and through a friend at a dealership bought a "poor man's Lincoln Mark V." It had no designer foo-foo, no chrome wheels, no leather seats, etc., but still it was a Mark V. When I picked my idly-rich friend up for a date, she said that she was glad to see that "I was again driving a decent car." Such is the ethos of North Dallas - and one of the reasons I now live in the country. Malibu and the Hamptons have no corner on the market for rich flakes who value money and status above all else. By the way, when I decided to move to Hawaii, I put an ad on the bulletin board at a Dallas ham-radio store. I offered for sale a ham VHF mobile radio, worth about $150. As as afterthought, I added "Comes with low-mileage Mark V in mint condition." A ham-radio operator bought the radio (and car) and loaned me an old VW to drive until I moved to Hawaii. Anyway, that Mark V was too big to drive in Dallas traffic - if you remember the monstrous long hood. I was better off with the Toyota.
I had season tickets to The World Championship Tennis tournament each year in Dallas. Diane and I both loved the matches. But, she informed me that she had to be in New York on Sunday, the day of the finals -to be ready for work on Monday with visits to several designers.
My ex-wife and I were on good terms. I called her and asked if she wanted to attend the WCT finals and she accepted. Several weeks later, Diane casually brought up the WCT finals. "Who was that woman you took to the finals?" Huh? Was she just guessing? What was going on? I told her that it was my ex-wife and it was a purely platonic date. She seemed satisfied with the answer. But, I asked, "How did you know?" She smiled her most wicked smile. "Well, I got to New York on Sunday at the time the WCT finals were on, so I turned on the TV in my room to watch. During one of the court changes, they panned the audience. And there you were with this very tall brunette."
A word of caution. Never go to a nationally televised event with someone other than who you should be with. You too might fall victim to that One-in-a-Million TV shot that I did.
Incidentally, I never met Stanley Marcus while Diane and I were dating. Much later, when I had published my novel, I was at a book event. Stanley was the guest speaker, talking about his collection of tiny little books. Someone said that Mrs. Marcus wanted to meet me. She wants to meet me? Apparently, she had read my novel. And that was how I met Stanley and his second wife. If you want to meet a lot of interesting people, write a book.
One day, Diane came home and announced, "I fired a Marcus today!" It seems that one of the young Marcus offspring had been placed under her wing to develop into a buyer. He had little aptitude for the job and Diane finally fired the kid. There were no repercussions. Such was the esteem the Marcus family had for her. Stanley Marcus used to send her to Europe to pick out fabrics that she liked. She would then approach folks like Bill Blass and Oscar de la Renta and tell them what fabrics she wanted them to use for the Neiman collection.
Diane had two daughters whom I babysat with while she was in New York or in Europe. One Sunday she called to check in. I thought I heard the tinkling of ice cubes as she talked. I asked what she was doing. She said she was drinking a Scotch and looking out over Central Park in New York City. When I asked who she was with, she said she would explain when she got home. Her friend was a gay executive in the fashion biz in NYC. They went to dinner, dancing, and she hung out at his fashionable apartment overlooking Central Park. She said he was intelligent, a good cook, etc., and she never had to worry about him making a move on her. Although a new phenomenon to me, it sounded logical. Eventually, her gay friend visited Dallas and he prepared us a fabulous meal at home. He and I went grocery shopping together. We had a good laugh about him "dating" my girlfriend. And yes, he wore a fur coat, so the visit must have been in winter in Dallas.
Diane and I often went to Scotties restaurant in Dallas to hear the husband and wife piano and singing duo. Diane thought they were as good as any she listened to in the clubs in New York on her buying trips. Diane later left Dallas to move to New York and marry the son of a fashion designer. The piano-singing duo got divorced. I ended up dating the singer. Who needs fiction? Life is strange enough.
Not long ago, I took a look at my Bill Blass gray blazer hanging in the closet. I had not been able to fit into it in years. This time, I noticed that the moths had been feasting on the wool. Biting my lip, and shedding a tear or two while thinking of how I came into possession of the blazer, I tossed it in the trash. There were still a lot of strong memories, even from that long ago.
Richard Rhodes
Rev 1/30/2007