Ella Fitzgerald replaced the Green Hornet while we sat around in the cabin before dinner. Lying around on the shelves were copies of The Chairman, -with Gregory Peck on the cover, an Oscar Wilde anthology, a Thoreau anthology, and The Age of Rock Jerry discussed Peter Fonda, Edward Albee, and the Metropolitan Opera strike.

At dinner, in the mirrored dining room, Roy inquired with genuine scientific curiosity when I had last had my hair cut. This led to another question about where I went to school.

He smirked upon learning, and wanted to know if I had taken any courses from "famous professors." I mumbled something about Wald and Beer. "Wald? He's ABM, isn't he? I hate those God damned crusaders."

Fortunately, the conversation shifted to entertainment. Roy contended that "Mame" was the greatest musical ever produced. He also liked "Goodbye Columbus," especially the girl (beautiful) but not so much the "ugly Jewish boy." Gary told Roy that though he might know a lot about the law (Dan told me that Roy was a "walking legal encyclopedia") he just didn't know anything about aesthetics. We all laughed and Roy playfully twisted Gary's arm.

There was a subtle undercurrent throughout the meal. Brian was stoned and sulking, but le Roy soleil ran the rest of the court. He emphatically dismissed the wine as abominable. We all poured our glasses into a bucket which the first mate passed around.

Jerry had the gift of instantly, almostly psychically, realizing whatever Roy needed at the table. Roy dropped his napkin, and without a word, Jerry handed his own to Roy. When Roy consumed the portion on his plate, the tray of sliced meats was automatically before him.

Over coffee Gary mentioned that a friend of ours had recently committed suicide. Roy figured "it must have been tough on his parents."

We returned to Pier 81 and moored. Leaving the dock, we passed an off-duty cabbie in a parking lot who was washing his windshield. Cohn felt that it was "nice" and deduced that the man must own the car personally if he took the trouble to care for it.

Roy had slept after dinner and was reinvigorated: he struck out ahead to search for a cab. As he stomped authoritatively ahead I realized that he was still a tough little kid from the Bronx who, like so many others, felt the unsurpassable need to always be in the lead.