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| Max's Kansas City in 1969 | |
| Not in Kansas anymore. | |
| Warhol, the paracelsus of social mixing, said Max’s was “the exact spot where Pop Art and Pop Life came together . . . where everything got homogenized.” Since there are eyewitness reports of Jackie Curtis, transvestite superstar, supposedly offering Kennedy kin and Arnold father-in-law Sargent Shriver makeup tips in the bathroom (like, what was he doing there?), who can argue with Big Andy’s assertion? In the seventeen years Max’s went from vanguard art hangout to vanguard punk hangout to vanguard hangout hangout, impresario Mickey Ruskin, who advanced drinking credit even to the nonfamous, ran a tight ship, advising Janis Joplin to take a bath next time she came, because that’s what you did when Michelangelo Antonioni was eating at the next table. Elsewhere, the sixties might have happened in the sunlight, freak flag flying, flowers in your hair. But in New York, we had Max’s, a seriously indoor experience. DREAMING OF A WHITE CHRISTMAS: Christmas dinner at Max's Kansas City in 1975. Photo by: Bob Gruen/Star File |
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