TOM WOLFE spelled it tawk (rhymes with Noo Yawk). Talk is one of our exports, like oil or terror. From Damon Runyon to Delmore Schwartz to Al Sharpton to Howard Stern, New York is the city of yakkers and jivers. But can we talk in any structured way, or to any purpose? Can we hold salons?
The salon, or the discussion club, or the dining club, flourished in Boston before it appeared here. Charles Francis Adams belonged to one, as did the late George Apley. I imagine New York caught up with the custom when it surpassed Boston and Philadelphia as the intellectual, as well as commercial, capital of the nation. Running a salon should be the easiest thing in the world: the great ideas, the news of the day, a pinch of malice, twelve tongues, and you’re off. But, having passed through a number of such groups over the years, a few of which fell silent, I can testify that good talk is harder than it looks.





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