Business
3/26/2012 @ 12:38AM |2,400 views
12 Life Lessons From America's Greatest Raconteur, Bert Sugar
When a friend texted me yesterday afternoon with the news that Bert Sugar had died at 74, I can’t say I was shocked: the first time we had lunch, nearly 20 years ago at the bar of Manhattan’s old Cedar Tavern, he pounded five Cutty Sarks on the rocks in between maybe three bites of a hamburger. Then he lit up a cigar, and continued talking as lucidly as if they had been Diet Cokes. It was barely noon.
I was quite saddened, though. More than an iconic American sportswriter, complete with his trademark fedora and stogie, the author of 80-plus books and a member of the Boxing Hall of Fame, Bert was a world-class raconteur and a loyal friend. Fast with a name-dropping story or a groan-worthy pun – usually in some combination – you never forgot a night out with Bert, which is saying something given the imbibing it usually entailed.
Our friendship evolved into a most whimsical quid pro quo. Bert was as old school as it got, and made it his mission to let a 25-year-old writer with a passion for boxing touch history. Finding me at a bar in Las Vegas before or after some title fight, he would introduce me to the likes of Leon Spinks or Angelo Dundee or Gerry Cooney. In Atlantic City 15 years ago, when boxing cards could still sell out every hotel room in town, Bert arranged for a room at the Irish Pub, a former speakeasy that stays open around the clock and rents rooms above the bar to friends (Joe DiMaggio was a regular back in the day). My favorite memory of him: the night I hosted a book party in his honor (his prolific output, all banged out on typewriter, made this a frequent occurrence), when he dragged in his co-author, Captain Lou Albano, and a passel of other pro wrestlers, for a night of rowdiness and grappling stories.
In turn, I considered it my duty to introduce my generation to this link to the Toots Shor era (his story about a drinking contest he witnessed between Shor and Jackie Gleason was one of his classics). I added him to the list of every magazine party I was affiliated with, and he came to them all, even if he was twice the age of everyone else, charming the room until the wee hours. I recruited him to emcee a series of Wall Street boxing galas, and suddenly he couldn’t walk through the New York’s financial district without hearing “Bert, Bert, Bert!” And, fatefully, in the late 1990s, I asked him to pen an advice column for P.O.V., a men’s magazine for twentysomethings. “Ask Bert” was basically a curmudgeonly version of the Dos Equis “Most Interesting Man in the World” concept.
Bert would pound out his columns on his typewriter – even until his death, he never used a word processor – and then mail them to me. (More recently, his typed letters, on stationery bearing his cameo, complete with fedora and cigar, arrived by fax –- email, Bert Sugar-style.) Last night, I leafed through them (they’re nowhere found on the Internet). They’re so true to him: witty, corny, wise. Here are a dozen of my favorites Bert-isms from his column.
On choosing a bar: “Never go to a bar that has a ‘happy hour.’ Nobody there ever is. Never go to a bar where the bartender has more problems than you. And never go to a bar where there is more than once bouncer – unless you’re expecting the trouble they are.”
On fashion at work: “As someone who dresses like Goodwill box just threw up on him, it’s difficult for me to tell anyone else how to dress. But if you choose a tie, add some color – think splashy, a la Nicole Miller. Not only will it give you that “casual” look, but if you eat like me, where your tie winds up as a diary of your meal, it will provide you with a way to camouflage any and all food stains.”
On fashion at play: “Here’s a tip: regulars do not go home and dress up; rather, they come as they are. That way, you’re only sullying one outfit a day.”
On pickup lines: “Straightforward and simple. Otherwise, the only thing you’ll go to bed with is a complimentary mint.”
On playing darts at a bar: “ Its only purpose is to serve as an accuracy test for sobriety.”
On marrying for money: “If you marry a woman who is a credit to her cards rather than one who likes to have sex only on days that have d’s in them, you may be disappointed. I know some who married for a cash prize only to beg for a refund.”
On defending your date from advances: “Be advised, as an old Portuguese proverb holds: Girls and vineyards are hard to guard. So hold to your glass and your lass before you lose something else that rhymes.”
On cohabitating: “Anyone claims that living together is a 50-50 proposition doesn’t know the first thing about women. Or percentages.”
On etiquette at work: “Remember: a thank-you note can be thought of as a down payment on the next favor.”
On etiquette on dates: “Just as gentlemen prefer blondes, blondes prefer gentlemen.”
On greasing Maitre Ds: “I recommend something with a picture of Andrew Jackson on it. Then, after he says, “Thank you,” and you respond, “Don’t mention it,” you can be assured he won’t.”
On when to cut yourself off: “Drink only enough to make others interesting.”
Bert once told me that he’d rather be a good liver than have one. Now that we’ve lost him too young, I’m not sure I agree with that. But there are few that wouldn’t be well-served imbuing him a bit. RIP, Bert. I’ll be having a Cutty’s tonight, thinking of you, and trying to make whoever I’m with interesting.
On etiquette at work: “Remember: a thank-you note can be thought of as a down payment on the next favor.”
On etiquette on dates: “Just as gentlemen prefer blondes, blondes prefer gentlemen.”
On greasing Maitre Ds: “I recommend something with a picture of Andrew Jackson on it. Then, after he says, “Thank you,” and you respond, “Don’t mention it,” you can be assured he won’t.”
On when to cut yourself off: “Drink only enough to make others interesting.”
Bert once told me that he’d rather be a good liver than have one. Now that we’ve lost him too young, I’m not sure I agree with that. But there are few that wouldn’t be well-served imbuing him a bit. RIP, Bert. I’ll be having a Cutty’s tonight, thinking of you, and trying to make whoever I’m with interesting.
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