Today is a cold winter’s Sunday which happens also to be Valentine’s Day. On occasions such as this, men and women declare their love for each other and, if things work out, the course may be set for their eventual marriage. Of course, this could be men and men or women and women. In my own case, I believe that St. Valentine’s Day is a pleasant occasion which marks the march toward springtime. As soon as we can put our winter of discontent, as Shakespeare said, into the history books will not be soon enough for me.
The title of this essay is taken from a song written perhaps 200 years ago. It has had many interpretations and many lyrics. But I believe the proper one is as follows:
“The pleasure of love is for the moment,
But the sentiment of love is forever.”
Basically, on this cold winter’s day, my thought processes or the reasonable facsimile thereof, leads me to think about that song. Plaisir d’Amour is indelibly linked in my mind with perhaps the finest entertainer I have ever known. That of course would be George Feyer. Feyer departed this earth in 2001 when he was in his 93rd year.
Feyer was not only an accomplished entertainer, but he was a gentleman as well. How I got to know George Feyer may be of some interest.
There was an occasion in the 1960s when there was an arbitration case that had to be tried in New York City. My recollection is that the hearing was held uptown around the East 60s. My memory is that it was a contentious hearing that left me in need of a drink when evening came. And so it was that I found myself in the bar at the Carlyle Hotel. I was sitting alone and after a while a gentleman came up and asked how I was feeling. We had a very wonderful conversation and I was astounded to find that the other person in this conversation was none other than George Feyer. Feyer simply saw that I was alone and without being intrusive, he introduced himself and a very pleasant conversation followed.
After a time, the high-class yuppies moved into the Carlyle Bar and insisted that the management should hire an entertainer known as Bobby Short. When Feyer took his vacation that year, the management engaged Bobby Short to fill in for him. On conclusion of that vacation, Feyer was told by the management of the Carlyle that his services were no longer required. Feyer has remarked on many occasions with irony that this was the most expensive vacation he ever took.
I had no love for the Carlyle because I thought it was overpriced. On top of that, the society women loved to flock into the bar there and were generally a pain in the neck. But now George Feyer was out of a job. His unemployment lasted for a very short time. Upon learning of Feyer’s freedom, the Stanhope Hotel moved in to engage him for an extended period. My belief is that engagement lasted for nearly ten years. When the Stanhope Hotel was sold, the Waldorf Astoria created a “hideaway” on the second floor and hired George Feyer. And so it was that for a period of nearly 20 years I went to hear George Feyer in all three locations. He always greeted me warmly.
Upon our first meeting, I asked George Feyer if he could play “Plaisir d’Amour.” I believe he said, “With pleasure.” As it turned out, “Plaisir d’Amour” was one of George’s favorite songs. I suppose that over our period of relationship, I asked George to play that song maybe 50 times. He always accommodated me and seemed to take great pleasure himself in playing that song.
George spoke Hungarian, French, English, and a few other European languages. He was born in 1908 but before his life was finished he had endured the occupation of the Germans first, followed by the Soviets in his native Budapest. He and his wife escaped to Switzerland and then on to the United States. As a youngster in Hungary, Feyer had studied at the most prestigious music schools. He knew quite a bit about opera as well as Broadway shows.
George always carried a small blue notebook in his right-hand pocket and when he visited a new show on Broadway in the matinee hours, one way or another he could copy down the lyrics of the new songs being sung. Feyer was a genius at this. He was often able to play the hit songs from the new musical the day after it opened on Broadway.
Whenever I had people to entertain, I almost invariably took them to hear George Feyer. He always welcomed me and told the doorman, Gunnar, to find me a good seat where I could hear the music. At the top of my list of entertainers in this world, I suppose that I would rate George Feyer to lead the pack.
Later in life, George’s wife came down with cancer and was hospitalized at the Memorial Sloan-Kettering Institute. No one knew this until long after her death, but every week, Feyer went to the hospital where there was a piano and gave a performance for his wife and her fellow patients. So it is clear that in addition to his other attributes, George Feyer was a generous man. When Feyer died in 2001, I wrote an essay extolling his life. It was part of a series on New Yorkers whom I had come to know over the years. Feyer remained an entertainer until a few years before his own passing after his 93rd birthday.
And so on this cold St. Valentine’s afternoon, my thoughts had turned to “Plaisir d’Amour” and inevitably those words lead directly to George Feyer. George has been gone nine years now and we may not ever see his likes again. But he remains a gentleman to be celebrated at every turn. It was probably 40 years ago that Feyer explained to me the lyrics of “Plaisir d’Amour.” I don’t need to look them up in a book because even with my addled brain I can remember them.
“The pleasure of love is for the moment,
But the sentiment of love is forever.”
At this late date in 2010, do you believe that there is a songwriter out there or an entertainer who can top those lyrics? I will put my money on the great Hungarian, George Feyer, who with his piano and raspy voice gave those lyrics a special meaning.
So when it comes to the love department on a cold winter’s afternoon, I rest my case on “Plaisir d’Amour” and George Feyer.
E. E. CARR
February 14, 2010
Essay 438
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Kevin’s commentary: Feyer’s Echoes of Paris is gorgeous. I had no idea that Pop was friends with such an accomplished pianist. I will try to track down the other essay mentioned in this piece and publish it soon.