During his search for those who knew his mother, Dalton got in touch with some of her authors. One of them, with whom I had worked and knew quite well, is dying of lung cancer. I asked Dalton for his number. Instead, he called me today and asked if it was all right for him to give my number to the author. I said of course.

The author called. We talked for more than an hour. He needed, apparently to talk with someone who had been there when he was a major figure in New York life, who knew what had been going on, to whom he could vent. And so he did and my head is reeling with the chapter and verse of the political and law enforcement corruption in New York in the 60s and 70s, of which he was a whistle-blower. It seemed like I was listening to a recap of a Law and Order episode. Big names kept popping up in his narrative.

He was and is a controversial figure. Powerful people wanted to do him in. They settled for marginalizing him. He lives now in upstate New York, and is struggling with all of the difficulties of his illness. He gets chemo. He tells me he loves the chemo. He takes pills that reduce its ill effects.

I was also startled to learn how highly he thought of me. He wanted to know how much he should tell Dalton about his mother. They’d had a volatile working relationship – I got caught in the middle because he liked me. Tell him, I said, she was a wonderful editor, she loved her boys (all true). Leave the rest of it out.

I thought it best not to name him.

xx, Teal