I don't think the obituary writer, Penelope Green, has failed to leave out a single complimentary word found in the English language. The man had no faults.
Ms. Green's lede tells us all we need to know, but leaves us wanting to know more about an "indispensable story wrangler and all-around fixer for Vanity Fair magazine where he served as a contributing editor for more than three decades. That's a long time to be at a magazine and not piss off the wrong people. There should be a sub-category to the Nobel Peace Prize.
Mr. Herrera was born into South American nobility (he was a Marquis, not to be confused with the Marriott hotel or the lighted signage in front of a theater.) Ms. Green tells us, "after attending Harvard and Georgetown Universities and working as a presenter for a morning show in Venezuela, he joined Europe's emerging jet set, mingling with Rothchilds and Agnellis, Italian nobles and British royals."
He married his younger sister's best friend, Maria Carolina Josefina Pacanins, who became known as Carolina Herrera, a famous fashion designer. In fact, Carolina Herrera's name became so well known that one could be forgiven if they thought that he took her name when they married.Ms. Green piles the encomiums on in a pair of paragraphs that ooze charm in themselves.
•he was old school and old world
•he wore bespoke suits with immaculate pocket squares
•his jeans were crisply pressed
•his manners were impeccable
•he spoke classical French without an accent
•his voice was described by Graydon Carter, a former editor of Vanity Fair, as a combination of Charles Boyer, the suave French actor, and the Count von Count, the numbers-obsessed Muppet. (When you come out ahead as being described as a Muppet, what wrong can you do?)
And here's where I'm sent to the OED.
"By the late 1970s, the Herreras were part of a frothy mix that defined Manhattan society at the time—socialites, financiers, walkers and rock stars, along with a smattering of politicians, authors and artists, who dined on and off Park Avenue and danced at Studio 54."
Walkers? Surely not dog walkers? No, stupid. The 10th definition of a walker as found in the OED tells us it can mean: "A man who accompanies women as an escort at fashionable social occasions. US slang. L20. ("Do you think Reinaldo is available?")
In the early 1980s, Tina Brown was editor of Vanity Fair, and after being introduced to Reinaldo Herrera, who so entertained her with story after story, that she hired him on the spot. "Ms. Brown knew the news value of a man like Mr. Herrera."
She wrote of him that he was like a "golden retriever in a dinner jacket," who brought her back dispatches each morning from the evening's parties.
When being compared to a Muppet and a dog is high praise, I have to say I regret not ever hearing of Reinaldo sooner.
"Mr. Herrera was very good with royals. He was friends with Queen Elizabeth's II sister Margaret. "He used his title—a marquis—only in countries that had functioning monarchies." (A marquis is historically defined as a nobleman ranking below a duke but above a count.)
The Reverend Boniface Ramsey recounted at Mr. Herrera's funeral Mass at the Church of St. Vincent Ferrer on Lexington Avenue, that Reinaldo was good at protocol in all sorts of areas. Father Ramsey recounted the time Mr. Herrera, an ardent Catholic, pointed out that the yellow and white Vatican flag outside the parish was hanging upside down. (An upside down flag means peril, so maybe there was a reason it was flying upside down. Just saying.)
Mr. Herrera earned his chops at parties. He apparently believed a successful evening was achieved if it included a controversial figure. Claus von Bülow was a friend he often called in from the bullpen to add intrigue, spice and a sense of malevolence to his parties. Claus famously was acquitted of the attempted murder of his heiress wife Sonny. Mr. Herrera told the NYT in 1987 that "Claus is a great catalyst."
I once read that someone would try and have a few leggy blondes in attendance at a party who might carelessly cross their legs as being indispensable.
There are those amongst us who have dream teams, a hypothetical collection of all-stars all on the same side. Mr. Herrera once thought a great gathering of invitees would include Jean Harris, who in a blackout rage gunned down her lover Dr. Tarnower, famous for creating the Scarsdale Diet, and Ivan Boesky, the corporate rider charged with insider trading at the same soiree.
The duo never made it to one of Mr. Herrera's parties since when he thought of it, they were both in prison at the time. The wardens sent the RSVPs back as could not attend. (I made that up.)
I don't know who it was, but they imagined a chance meeting of Greta Garbo, Jack Nicholson, and maybe Marlene Dietrich, each carrying Bloomingdale shopping bag, getting stuck on the same Manhattan street corner waiting for the light to change. All it takes is imagination.
Tina Brown wrote, "Over the years, I came to see Reinaldo's impeccable comportment as a moral quality. He felt it was on him to elevate the room and leave people feeling better about themselves."
I wish I met the guy.
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