This is how Lewis and I remember our friend.
For many New Yorkers, he's an image on a menu/website. For us, Jean-Claude Baker is evocative of the hospitable warmth of a French restauranteur that developed into a camaraderie and friendship.
The New York Times reported that it was probable suicide. On Thursday Janurary 15, our dear friend was found in his car at his East Hampton home. I spoke to him that Sunday, and he concluded our call with his signature phrase, "I just wanted to hear the sound of your voice." Lewis and I jokingly sang to him on Saturday evening, when he called to chat with us. He seemed his usual charming witty self. At least our last exchange included the heart-felt friendly words, "I love you. Goodnight."
The Requiem Mass on January 31 2015:
It was almost like a Broadway show. Jessye Norman sang "Precious Lord", there were 2 choirs, a great jazz trio, KT Sullivan sang "Ave Maria", baritone Thomas Elliot sang the Lord's Prayer, Vivian Reed performed a "righteous version of "God Bless the Child", a Gospel Choir rocked "Amazing Grace" and "Total Praise" (along with the great drummer and electric organist). The Catholic priest joked that he never heard so much applause (and crying) at a Requiem. The eulogy ended precisely as the church bells tolled eleven o'clock (so lots of wings were bestowed on Jean-Claude). A packed church: former staff, fabulous fellows, actors, artists, elderly Upper East Siders, big hats, young men wearing mascara, policemen in uniform, ushers in red neckties, a drag queen, beautiful women in colorful African garb, and not a dry eye.
Lewis and I became acquainted with Jean-Claude for the first time, during our one-month anniversary dinner at his French restaurant on the famous Forty-second Street (and Ninth Ave). I met Jean-Claude briefly once before (during a rough period in my life, which I mention at the start of my blog), when a friend took me there for dinner.
Effusing a je ne sais quoi, Jean-Claude was always unmistakable attired in radiant Chinois jackets that he bought at the Shanghai Tang boutique on Madison Avenue. (After he became acquainted with Lewis, he purchased his Chelsea boots from Bally Switzerland).
He was gregarious, flamboyant, flirty, high-spirited, and gracious. We recognized his inner sparkle. A year later, he told us, "The first time I saw you, I was so happy to see your appetite for good food and for life." Aside from ours, he greeted every table and ensured that his excellent (and often cute) black-clad male staff were "correct" and efficient.
Some folks might look at him and call him an "old queen". Some might skeptically question why he maintained an "old-world" eatery in the Times Square neighborhood, when trendier places moved to more fashionable areas. Some might judge his colorfully flashy Shanghai-Tang outfits (most with Asian toggle-closures and Mandarin collars). Some might not approve of all the nude paintings and vintage pictures hung in his two-story restaurant.
The nudes were of his adopted mother, Josephine Baker--the famous erotically scandalous 1920s African American jazz singer who emigrated to Paris.
This is a photo of JC helping Josephine's later career.
JC wrote a critically acclaimed authoritative biography about her history, strongpoints, incompetence, luck, and treacheries. It is titled The Hungry Heart, and it's incredible how the facts came together for JC to help him complete his work. He was the unofficial last addition to the other 12 children from all over the world, whom she adopted and nicknamed "The Rainbow Tribe." JC eventually employed one of those 12 at his restaurant. (We saw him on New Year's Eve).
He bought the restaurant in the 1980s, when the area was rife with prostitution houses, peep shows and druggies (the location was previously and erotic massage parlor). He triumphantly kept his location, as the neighborhood gentrified, developed, surged and then waned a bit. Its facade (with Art Deco chandeliers in the big front windows) gave entrance to one of the last places of its kind in Manhattan: the bohemian NYC. Flamboyantly decorated, slightly different in each of the 4 sections (we've dined in all). In the hundred or so times that Lewis and I ate there (perhaps a slight exaggeration) in 4 years, it was usually full of lovely people.
Harry Connick, Jr. was JC's first pianist… and never forgot that JC gave him his first job. JC knew people like Diana Vreeland, Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis, Liberace, Mick Jagger, Leonard Bernstein, Orson Welles, Diana Ross, opera singers, drag queens, male ballet artistes (spanning decades), fashion designers, news anchors, museum curators, celebrity chefs, world-famous authors, TV celebrities (from the Countess of "Real Housewives" to Candy Spelling). And they all ate there. And laughed there.
On hot days, he seats guests amidst the outdoor seating area with complimentary glasses of rosé or champagne, to cool off. I've lunched with him, when the restaurant is closed, and watched him fuss over the autumnal chrysanthemums--each just the right shade to give the exterior patio a welcoming flourish of color.
Which was why it was graciously amazing that he befriended Lewis and I and liked us so much. Perhaps its because we never asked him for favors, or overly flattered him, or made demands, or acted "affected". We were just our authentic selves… and we loved his robust "good company". If we had made assumptions about him and judged him (as so many "wannabe fashionable" people do), we might never have learned his life story, his life lessons, or his advice. Or shared his love.
He treated each and every one of the many friends we brought to Chez Josephine as cherished guests. The next time we saw JC, he asked about some of them, with paternal care. I can honestly say that all our friends had amazingly lovely and entertaining times, gathered around tables and banquettes of JC's restaurant (his 3rd home… an Upper East side (E60's) apartment and home in the Village of East Hampton were the others). Everyone told me that they experienced a lovely time. Dear friends like Yvonne and Pierre made sure to dine with Lewis and I there (to see Jean-Claude) whenever they were back in NYC. Yvonne was eager to bring her Floridian boyfriend there, to introduce him to JC. A fond ex-coworker and his boyfriend dined there with Lewis and I, and the experience effectively broke his boyfriend's depression! In fact, the guy was joyously hoarse from happiness--loving the music, cuisine, energy and milieu. The man admired how impressive JC was, remarking that JC evidently cared deeply for Lewis and I.
Lewis and I took our doctor (general physician) for dinner there, and he was wide-eyed with delight. A friend from Chicago dined with us there (a man of global travels), and wrote a letter to JC describing how amazed and impressed he was with the attitude, staff, ambiance, live musical entertainment (usually a baby-grand piano and vocals, or a jazz trio) and menu. JC emailed him back (my friend showed me) cherishing the compliments. When Lewis' longtime friend, Daniel, moved to Pennsylvania, we dined there, and he sadly wished he knew about the place (and the man) sooner. Other friends met JC and used the expression, "Oh Lewis and Ken, it was a honor to meet your friend." JC possessed an effervescence that made folks happy. And we apparently did that for him--despite our age difference and upbringings.
Yvonne, Pierre, Lewis, and I celebrated a few Easters there--always bringing chocolate bunnies for our waiters, and stuffed bunnies for JC's godson. My favorite Thanksgiving dinners in NYC involved Lewis and I at JC's table--with a resplendent feast. Last year, he called us, and we departed from a Thanksgiving dinner with friends at a Gramercy restaurant. He missed our companionship and wondered if we would like to share dessert with him at Chez Josephine. Of course we did!
Lewis and I savored festive and abundant Christmastimes there, every year. As a born-bred Manhattanite, Lewis despises being near chaotic Times Square for New Year's Eve, but twice--at JC's urging--we dined at his restaurant during that holiday. It was a hearty immersion into celebrations, gaiety, and abundance. Jazz quintets and vocalists provided lively music. Everybody was given a noise-maker and a goofy hat. The menu was abundant. Giddily, we toasted the New Year with him and his restaurant staff.
JC invited us to bring guests, and we brought two per year. He never charged us for the food, yet we always gave the waitstaff a generous gratuity, as if he had. Our feasts included cocktails, gougères, foie gras, scallops, blood orange sorbet (to cleanse the palate), fillet mignon, veggies, and a bottle of Châteauneuf-du-Pape. At midnight, we progressed to champagne, profiteroles, espresso, and cognac.
For three consecutive years, Jean-Claude invited us to celebrate New Year's Day alongside him.
After operating his restaurant during the hectic New Year's Eve parties, it amazed us that he had energy to crave luncheon with us. We felt honored. New Year's Day meals were spent in elegant harmony to begin the year with pleasantness. Those luxurious lunches always including herring, because it's a good luck tradition. In 2015, we lunched at Benoit (which we always love), as seen here.
Lamine was working at the podium and sent our table a complimentary bottle of champagne. Chef Bertineau came to our table to wish JC the warmest greeting. Our meal included a perfect cassoulet, calf's liver, a bottle of Bordeaux by Saint-Émilion, and rum baba, which was prepared by the dining room captain at our table. The three of us loved munching on profiteroles, too!
He called me when watching an amazing concert on the television's PBS channel to see if I was enjoying the same music.
For four years, Lewis, and I celebrated our birthdays and our anniversaries there. The receptionist anticipated our reservations! Our friends, Derreck and Franco took Derreck's mom there for her surprise birthday: they wanted a quintessential NYC experience.
Especially sweet was one Valentine's in JC's presence. At our favorite "deuce" table, he spontaneously sat with us and ate dinner. "You two love-birds will have plenty of time for intimate chatter--and sex--after dinner," he said in his rich accent, "Now, you can cheer me up and tell me what you've been up to." JC often sat at our table, and it was fun to watch his waitstaff serve him.
We always treasured the times when he joined us; everyone else merely received hugs and handshakes from him.
We dined there so frequently, that the entire staff knows us: bus boys, chef, pianist, bar tenders, managers, waitstaff, and our favorite waiter: Denis.
JC's secretary, Andrea, knows my voice on the phone without me having to say my name. JC's hunky driver/handyman shared a meal with us during a spur-of-the-moment lunch with JC.
Jean-Claude respected that we never cancelled a reservation to dine there.
We braved all kinds of elements en route to Chez Josephine: heat waves, strong wind gales, snowstorms, lighting storms, pouring rains, holiday traffic, et cetera. But, it was always a chance to see our dear friend, inadvertently dining "with" him. He often hovered near us, while attending to staff, reservations and guests' tables. Then, he pulled up a chair to dive into our conversations and "catch up". He loved getting acquainted with the guys and gals at our table. He also winked and gossiped with us about his newly-hired "twink" busboys and waiters, mentioning how the international arrivals were "getting acclimated" with the city's gay districts. He loved to tell us about the colorful lives of the people eating around us.
Sometimes, I arrived before Lewis, and he plopped me on a barstool near his position at the front door, to sip a martini and tell him about what I was up to: my tales brightened his smile. We always said "Cheers" in French as À votre santé!
(The bar was topped with metal, which is an aesthetic in France, Belgium, and Luxembourg).
The next day, there was often a call (or an email) to thank us for being there with him and wishing us a great day ahead.
Six times, when JC's restaurant was reviewed in magazines, newspapers, and blogs, he spontaneously summoned us "as his guests" to the restaurant to look handsome and "add a touch of class", as we merrily filled a table near the columnist or reviewer. On other nights, he put our handsome group in the front windows as "good advertising" to lure passersby.
We received his invitations to Book Signings for Jessye Norma, and post-concert fetes for Wynton Marsalis.
The most-special thing was when Jean-Claude called our cellphones "just to hear the sound of our voice", as he said. He wanted to know how we were doing, how our each of our career changes were "playing out", how our vacations was, and how savored each passing season. With a loving paternal care, he invited Lewis and I to meet at his apartment and dine locally with him, walking arm-in-arm with him. Then, we returned to his home for liqueurs and to gossip or watch TV. So casual and yet so warm-hearted. We saw the side of him that, perhaps, he didn't reveal to others--even longtime familiars.
He loved our sparkle and joie de vive and curiosity and positive attitudes. He championed us to keep them going. He routinely told me how my mere presence cheered him up. He jokingly called me "demented" after I optimistically predicted an outcome. Being a man who appreciates fashionable attire (his had lots of splash), he loved anticipating Lewis and my outfits: feathered bow ties, our shoes (certainly Lewis'), my woolen poncho, lug boots, our fedoras, colorful sweaters and socks, suede vests, leather pants, Lewis' rings, et cetera. Individually, he took us window-shopping through the Upper East Side (when our days off coordinated). Either together or by myself, joined him for impromptu lunches (great great delicious food)… sometimes at his restaurant before it opened, and other times at places of his choosing (where he often knew the chefs, owner, maître d', sommeliers, hostesses and waitstaff). If passing by, Lewis and I would pop into the restaurant, just to say Hi. We played "phone tag". I sent JC little debonair notes/emails just to send my love and to let him know that we thought about him.
Whenever Lewis or I endured "rough spots" in our lives, he swooped in and scolded us for feeling sorry for ourselves or dejected. He described a full life and encouraged us to do our best. If we were at his restaurant, he sent over a round of free martinis (for me) and Banana Belt cocktails (for Lewis) to cheer us up. Later, he undoubtedly sent a round of cordials or chilled Sauternes! He knew of my mother's wrongdoings over me, and he supported and advised me. He did the same for Lewis, during each job-change (also shopping with Lewis at his boutique). When I considered working for Nespresso, he took me to one of their shops to show me how disgustingly poorly-run it was.
When we planned our trip to Paris...
...he contacted a lifelong friend named Michou, who owned one of the city's premiere drag show cabarets named Chez Michou. It is in Montmartre area of the 18th arrondissement.
We were given a preferential treatment with a front-row table for the show.
Full of hospitality, Michou graciously sat with us, and his waiters loved us. JC also gave us many tips about enjoying Parisian life... which we did!
JC often told us of the progress of his adopted godson, Devon, an autistic child belonging to his Hampton's gardener. He bought a house for them, bought a car for them (for the child's benefit) and took his godson for the best medical treatment. His Jean-Claude Baker Foundation sponsored special Broadway show matinees for autistic audiences, with receptions at his restaurant. He loved that little boy! I heard the love in his voice, as JC showed me home-movies of his godson.
Delightful were the times that he regaled us with stories of his glittering past as a homosexual in Europe: his 1960s nightclub in Communist-controlled Berlin (called Pimm's Club), his musical recordings, his nationally-watched TV show (seen here),
...the clothing he designed, his world travels, his work with Josephine, and his lovers (we met some of his ex's). Side-by-side with Josephine (who was as famous as Madonna in her day), he got to know innumerable people, including Princess Grace Kelly of Monaco. JC told me about her troubled married life, long before the Nicole Kidman film debuted. Princess Grace gave a house to Josephine, during Josephine's failures. The French president and his wife orchestrated a parade and salute to the dead Josephine (nothing for her gay husband).
I read JC's book about Josephine with eager fascination, and that impressed him. When JC had a trivia contest at his restaurant about Josephine Baker, I won first prize! I won a huge Art Deco poster of Josephine and her leopard (de rigueur for a 1920s-era Parisian divas). JC "autographed" it to Lewis and I in silver marker... and he shipped it to us. Lewis and I got it framed, and we hung it in our living room.
JC knew about Coco Chanel's devilish secrets, Churchill's, Count Basie's, and of the gay lovers belonging to many current/deceased royals and celebrities. "It's a small world"--especially back then, when folks behaved more freely without fear of global telecommunications exploiting their secrets. And we loved being regaled with his tales.
JC experienced a full life--from a provincial inexperienced 14-year-old (whom his biological mother wrongly predicted would fail) to a celebrity himself--that took him around the world, through palaces, penthouses, brothels, drawing rooms, artist studios, recording studios, trysts, and varied homes.
Up until his last year, JC was unabashedly "out there". Even during recent New Year's, he wasn't planning to be at the restaurant. But during a call with Michou in Paris, Michou scolded him and prompted JC to be at his own restaurant as "center stage" for his patrons. Which he did, with aplomb.
Thus, we were heart-broken to hear of Jean-Claude's death. On the day they found him, his secretary called me, and when I heard her trembling voice say, "Oh Ken…", I knew. We may never know why Jean-Claude decided that his life was due to close. Its not for us to speculate or judge. His reasons were his own.
It always delighted Lewis and I to be loved by him and to know that he cared. And we loved him right back! Its always heart and soul-warming to know that someone cherishes and values you. I believe that souls can connect strongly, regardless of age or nationality or creed. And if you let it happen--without the pre-judging--then you savor wonderful things together.
Below, was the last time I saw Jean-Claude, two weeks ago for lunch at Chef Alain Ducasse's Benoit. (The Benoit in Paris won a Michelin star!) It cheered him up that we lunched together at a place that we all loved, instead of him merely sitting alone at home. He was delighted to recognize an old friend working there in the kitchen. JC knew hundreds of chefs, cooks, servers, food expediters, bartenders, owners, hosts, and maître d's. Many respected him fondly for their earlier jobs with him.
As a trio, we had a fabulous Memorial Day dinner at Chef Daniel Boulud's Bar Boulud on the Upper West Side. We drank rosé and admired the passerby. We loved the veal pâté, pork belly, charred duck, and a grand dessert: chocolate hazelnut sablé, dulce crémeux, and hazelnut ice cream. It compensated me for working at my troublesome job (involving things beyond my control) through the weekend (while most Americans enjoyed a 3-day holiday).
On hot summer evenings, he invited us to dine with him at Cafe Absinthe, where Lewis and I had our first taste of absinthe, and JC introduced us to Paris-Brest pastries! (They're named for a railway between the cities of Paris and Brest).
As a Frenchman, JC instilled the importance of knowing the finest and best recipes from his homeland, along with their histories and cultural significance. Since Lewis' parents were previously restauranteurs in Manhattan, he and JC shared opinions about Customer Service, using the freshest ingredients, and cooking methods. As a fan of superb cooking, I agreed!
We lunched with him at El Biblioteca a few times, at his preferred corner table, so he could admire the wealth and celebrities who were his neighbors on the Upper East Side. He enjoyed the way the staff treated him: full of coddling.
He sent us this picture of his new kitchen floor… before he eventually moved to yet another house in East Hampton, last summer.
His wicked sense of humor, glinting smile and sprightly eyes will always be fondly remembered. R.I.P.
Jean-Claude taught Lewis and I to "grab life by the horns" and be unstoppable. To make connections, balance your life, keep moderation, know good people and keep the best people close to you. All of that adds to a wonderful life.
If his iconic NYC restaurant remains open, we'll undoubtably celebrate more gatherings of friends there. And each time we think of him, it'll bolster us to reach beyond what others think is possible.
At Christmastime, we spontaneously visited the restaurant with a customized Christmas ornament, monogrammed with "B" for Baker, which he hung on the wall-sconce above this banquette… for all to see (and to tell about).
He sent us this picture of his new kitchen floor… before he eventually moved to yet another house in East Hampton, last summer.
His wicked sense of humor, glinting smile and sprightly eyes will always be fondly remembered. R.I.P.
Jean-Claude taught Lewis and I to "grab life by the horns" and be unstoppable. To make connections, balance your life, keep moderation, know good people and keep the best people close to you. All of that adds to a wonderful life.
If his iconic NYC restaurant remains open, we'll undoubtably celebrate more gatherings of friends there. And each time we think of him, it'll bolster us to reach beyond what others think is possible.
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