Legacy Matters

Boffo Funeral

I like gossip columns.  From the National Enquirer to the Star which I read in the supermarket lines to Page Six in the New York Post which I read most days, I don't have to spend any money to indulge.  There, I've said it.  A totally useless weakness until today.

Here is the gossip doyenne Liz Smith on the funeral of Henry Grunwald which she calls a Funeral of Record.

But the funeral of Henry Grunwald, the one-time Time magazine honcho, at Temple Emanu-El on a snowy morning earlier this week was one that, had Variety been covering it, would have been labeled "Socko! Boffo!"

And if you feel my reaction is tasteless or offensive, then you didn't know the rare personality to whom New York's crème de la crème were saying farewell. He would have simply adored his own magnificent farewell. In fact, he left instructions on his computer, under "E" for "Exit," as to just what music he wanted.

What music that was! If you're the type who copies details about great parties or keeps books of divine recipes, etc., you might jot down the following for your own goodbye someday. If you do, you'll be in classy company. Henry requested and received — Haydn, "Opus 20" (Sun Quartets) . . . Mozart, "Voi che sapete" (Le Nozze Di Figaro) sung by Jennifer Rivera . . . Mascagni, "Intermezzo" (Cavalleria Rusticana) . . . Verdi, "Addio del passato" (La Traviata), sung by Cheryl Evans . . . Giordano, "Amor ti vieta" (Fedora) . . . Puccini, "Che gelida manina," (La Boheme) . . . Gounod, "Avant de quitter ces lieux" (Faust), sung by Kyle Pfotmiller. Then add a rousing "Battle Hymn of the Republic" as the American flag-draped casket was taken from the temple.

Henry's honorary pallbearers were Linda Fairstein, Vernon Jordan, Stefan Kanfer, Felix Rohatyn, Mike Wallace and Barbara Walters. His eulogists were a brilliant mixed bag, not one of whom repeated the other, each giving us an evocative remembrance of Henry — his son Peter Grunwald; his daughters Mandy Grunwald and Lisa Grunwald Adler; Henry Kissinger; Walter Isaacson, who had worked for Henry; Nora Ephron, who spoke delightfully of "Henry and women" on the direct orders of his widow. Mayor Bloomberg sat in the first row.

At the nearby Knickerbocker Club afterward, Henry's wife, the wonderful Louise, laid on a reception that would be listed in the local version of the "Almanach de Gotha," should such a high-toned thing still exist. I saw people I've never before seen out in the daylight. Henry's farewell drew them, one and all; nobody was invited, but everybody came. This funeral was a great tribute to a giant of a human being. "Best damned funeral I ever attended!" said one of the nation's top TV names as he left the building.