This 1993 New Yorker article profiles Abe Green, a man who spent over four decades as a fixture at the Beverly Hills Hotel pool. Green, a self-made millionaire, established a daily ritual of holding court poolside, becoming a peculiar part of the hotel's landscape. The piece explores Green's evolving relationship with the hotel, from his early days as a welcomed guest to his later years marked by increasing eccentricity and strained relations with management. It paints a portrait of a man seeking community and purpose in a glamorous yet ultimately transient environment, capturing a specific era of Hollywood history and the changing dynamics of the legendary hotel.
Within the hallowed, sun-drenched confines of the Beverly Hills Hotel, nestled amidst the opulence and glamour of Los Angeles, resided a figure of quiet, almost mythical, constancy: Mr. Abe Green. For an astonishing span of forty-two years, from 1951 to 1993, Mr. Green, a man of modest means and unassuming demeanor, made the hotel's shimmering turquoise pool, aptly nicknamed the "Banana Leaf Pool" due to its distinctive banana-leaf-shaped design, his personal sanctuary. This meticulously crafted narrative, penned by the astute observer Roger Angell for The New Yorker in 1993, paints a richly detailed portrait of not only Mr. Green's singular dedication to this aquatic haven but also the changing landscape of the hotel and the broader cultural currents swirling around it.
Angell meticulously reconstructs Green’s daily ritual, a carefully orchestrated symphony of poolside existence. From his punctual arrival, always precisely at noon, to his meticulous selection of a poolside chaise longue, preferably number 4, Green's presence was a fixed point in the ever-shifting tableau of hotel life. He would meticulously arrange his belongings – newspapers, magazines, a radio tuned to ball games – creating a small, personal fiefdom within the larger kingdom of leisure. He would bask in the California sun, occasionally dipping into the refreshing waters, and engage in polite, often whimsical, conversations with fellow poolside denizens, a collection of characters as diverse and colorful as the bougainvillea cascading over the cabana walls.
The article also delves into the subtle transformations the Beverly Hills Hotel underwent during Green’s extended tenure. From the era of old Hollywood glamour, with its parade of movie stars and moguls, to the arrival of the jet set and the subsequent waves of international tourists, the hotel remained a stage upon which the dramas and comedies of human interaction played out. Green, a steadfast observer of these evolving scenes, became a living embodiment of the hotel's enduring allure, a testament to its capacity to provide solace and a sense of belonging.
Furthermore, Angell explores the intriguing question of what drew Green to this particular oasis with such unwavering devotion. Was it the escapism offered by the shimmering water and the warm sun? Was it the comforting routine and the familiar faces? Or was it something more profound, a search for connection and community in the heart of a city often associated with fleeting fame and superficiality? The article doesn't offer definitive answers, but instead invites the reader to ponder the mysteries of human motivation and the enduring search for a place to call one's own, even within the ephemeral world of a luxury hotel. In the end, Mr. Green's story becomes a poignant meditation on the nature of time, place, and the unexpected comforts found in the most unlikely of locations.
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https://news.ycombinator.com/item?id=43186050
Hacker News users discuss the intriguing life of Abe Green, the subject of the New Yorker article. Several commenters express fascination with Green's dedication to a singular, seemingly mundane routine, spending decades poolside. Some question his motivations and mental state, pondering whether it represents a life well-lived or a form of obsessive escapism. Others romanticize his existence, viewing it as a unique pursuit of personal happiness, unburdened by societal expectations. A few commenters note the piece's portrayal of a bygone era of Hollywood glamour and the changing face of Los Angeles. There's also a short thread discussing the hotel itself and its history.
The Hacker News post linking to the 1993 New Yorker article, "The Man Who Spent Forty-Two Years at the Beverly Hills Hotel Pool," has generated a modest number of comments, primarily focusing on the eccentric character of Swifty Lazar, the Hollywood agent who is the subject of the piece.
Several commenters express fascination with Lazar's unusual life and relentless networking, even by the standards of Hollywood. They highlight his dedication to being at the pool, painting a picture of a man wholly consumed by his work and the pursuit of deals. One commenter notes Lazar's seemingly paradoxical nature, appearing both incredibly successful and deeply unhappy or unfulfilled.
Some discussion revolves around the bygone era of Hollywood dealmaking that Lazar embodied, contrasting it with the present day. Commenters remark on the more "genteel" (or at least less overtly crass) nature of business dealings in that time, though acknowledging the ever-present undercurrent of ambition and manipulation.
A few commenters mention the piece's portrayal of the Beverly Hills Hotel itself, reminiscing about its iconic status and the aura of glamour surrounding it. One commenter shares a personal anecdote about encountering Lazar at the hotel, corroborating the image of him as a constantly working, highly connected individual.
There's a brief thread discussing Lazar's apparent lack of genuine friendships, with speculation about whether his relentless focus on business left room for meaningful personal connections.
Overall, the comments paint a picture of intrigued readers, drawn in by the story of an unusual character in a fascinating setting. They reflect on the changing nature of Hollywood, the allure of the Beverly Hills Hotel, and the potential pitfalls of a life entirely dedicated to professional pursuits. While not a large number of comments, they offer a thoughtful and engaging response to the article.