Name: Frank Delaney
Age: Ageless
Neighborhood: Flatiron
Occupation: Author and broadcaster. He’ll be reading from and signing his new novel, Venetia Kelly’s Traveling Show, next Monday the 15th at 7 p.m. at Borders on Park Avenue.
Who’s your favorite New Yorker, living or dead, real or fictional?
Nathan Detroit in Guys and Dolls — now there’s a man who understood the important things.
What’s the best meal you’ve eaten in New York?
Including ambience, Café des Artistes — now closed, sadness and woe; rescue it, somebody, please — preferably Danny Meyer.
In one sentence, what do you actually do all day in your job?
I write — and then I write some more.
Would you live here on a $35,000 salary?
Yes — in a specially built polystyrene igloo, under a tree in Central Park, listening to the birds, and spending all my money on books and the theater.
What’s the last thing you saw on Broadway?
A View From the Bridge, given an elegant, water-clear, and compassionate production by Gregory Mosher.
Do you give money to panhandlers?
No — advice only, and sympathy, and anxiety.
What’s your drink?
Nonalcoholic beer.
How often do you prepare your own meals?
As rarely as necessary — but I can if I have to.
What’s your favorite medication?
Nonalcoholic beer.
What’s hanging above your sofa?
Bookshelves.
How much is too much to spend on a haircut?
Fifty dollars.
When’s bedtime?
I go to bed with Jon Stewart.
Which do you prefer, the old Times Square or the new Times Square?
New. It heightens the — close to unique — thrill of coming out onto the streets of New York after dinner or the theater.
What do you think of Donald Trump?
He’s kind of a laboratory specimen who should be viewed only under glass.
What do you hate most about living in New York?
That I don’t own large chunks of it to turn into parks.
Who is your mortal enemy?
Anybody who steals my writing time.
When’s the last time you drove a car?
Yesterday — it wasn’t a great experience, but it wasn’t bad.
How has the Wall Street crash affected you?
Heightened my writerly interest in the phenomenon we call “greed,” and my astonishment at how the rip-off artists get away with it in the U.S.
Times, Post, or Daily News?
All, but not every day, and not all always inhaled.
Where do you go to be alone?
Into my head, where there are wonderful apartments, safe houses, wide roads to travel on, and islands of great calm and color.
What makes someone a New Yorker?
Smarts, whip-fast humor, and great kindness.
