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TIME: Almanac 1995
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TIME Almanac 1995.iso
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1994-03-25
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<text id=90TT2157>
<title>
Aug. 13, 1990: In The Heat Of The Night
</title>
<history>
TIME--The Weekly Newsmagazine--1990
Aug. 13, 1990 Iraq On The March
</history>
<article>
<source>Time Magazine</source>
<hdr>
BOOKS, Page 71
In the Heat of the Night
</hdr>
<body>
<p>By Margaret Carlson
</p>
<qt>
<l>HOLY TERROR: ANDY WARHOL CLOSE UP</l>
<l>by Bob Colacello</l>
<l>Harper Collins; 514 pages; $22.95</l>
</qt>
<p> Andy would be having a fit, just beside himself. Who does
Bob Colacello think he is, writing about Bianca and Liz and
Truman and Yoko, as if they would have given him the time of
day if he weren't working at the Factory? Sure, Jackie O. was
polite that time Andy took Colacello along as his date to a
Christmas party, even shared her glass of Perrier. But she
didn't mean it, calling Andy the next day to complain about his
bringing a gossip columnist to real people's parties. Really.
At least this time he didn't throw up in the sink, the way he
did when Andy was with him at Halston's.
</p>
<p> That's how Warhol remembers Colacello in The Andy Warhol
Diaries (807 pages), published in 1989, which is not exactly
how Colacello remembers Colacello in this 514-page nag. Dueling
diaries may be the perfect '80s moment, in which two shallow
people recount in mind-numbing detail the comings and goings
(a lot of time is spent in cabs) of long-forgotten and always
boring celebrities like Viva, Baby Jane Holzer and Jerry Hall.
Warholian scholars, if there is such a category, might want to
read this book to decide once and for all whether Truman Capote
liked Bob better than Andy. Others should be warned: the only
thing worse than reading about the Velvet Underground's
evenings at clubs is to have been there. Drugs and drink were
in large supply; wit and conversation were not.
</p>
<p> Holy Terror is something of a get-even book. Colacello
spends an obligatory few words professing initial affection for
his benefactor, but he is soon disillusioned by Warhol's "bad
skin, bad teeth, bad hair" and all the work Colacello has to
do, ghostwriting Warhol's books, selling ads, even doing
Warhol's social climbing for him when he is too tired to go out
at night. Editing is too kind a word for Colacello's job at
Interview, which included cozying up to advertisers and selling
expensive Warhol celebrity portraits, for which Colacello would
earn a fee (about $100,000 a year). The advertising agency for
Lillet demanded and got mentions in articles (subjects sipping
the aperitif as they answered questions) and an endorsement
from Warhol himself, according to Colacello.
</p>
<p> Celebrity is not new. Leo Braudy in The Frenzy of Renown
traced its origins to Alexander the Great and other leaders who
used fame to consolidate their power. But as a lucrative career
in itself, celebrity is a recent creation. A herd of columnists
like Colacello moos after the newly famous, chronicling
tectonic shifts in the species and its habitats imperceptible
to anyone but the most tireless observers. The columnists then
become famous for their mooing.
</p>
<p> It is not easy work. Hours must be spent reading the
gossips, days whiled away worrying about seating plans. The
phone is a tactical weapon. A night at home alone induces
existential dread, and success for someone like Colacello is
measured not simply in invitations secured but also in
invitations to events from which Warhol is excluded. Friendship
seems to be beside the point; in a moment of accidental
insight, Colacello remarks of the clot of people around Warhol
that they wanted to go out with Andy, not home with him.
</p>
<p> Colacello can be funny when he notes that the drawback to
linking up with high-visibility people like Imelda Marcos is
"their tendency to attract assassins." But mostly, he is petty
and meanspirited. He fittingly closes with a bit of celebrity
mugging that serves as a pathetic epitaph for his putative
patron. In a group invited to Warhol's house after his death,
Colacello takes the opportunity to steal into Warhol's private
bathroom so that he can catalog the anti-aging cosmetics and
acne ointments for inclusion on the last page of this book.
These two creatures of hype and commerce masquerading as art
may have deserved each other. But this book does not deserve
even a Warholian 15 minutes.
</p>
</body>
</article>
</text>