It was 1984 (no relation to the book). I had just moved to Manhattan from a small town (population 800) in Vermont to make a new start after a nasty divorce. I landed a job as a salesclerk at a high-end clothing store on Madison Avenue and, more importantly, a 5th floor walk-up railroad apartment on the upper east side.

Andy was a regular customer, buying almost exclusively gifts for other people. I often waited on him and had the chance to chat, albeit a bit nervously on my part.

When a new issue of his magazine “INTERVIEW” came out, he would stroll down Madison with a pile of magazines under his arm and leave a few copies on the check-out counter at each store. I still have the one he gave me of the now-coveted-by-collectors “Olympic Special” issue. (Pictured here).

Our store’s grand opening party was scheduled for Halloween night at the Pierre Hotel across the street. I knew Andy was on the guest list, so I asked him if he was going. “But it’s on Halloween.” he said softly, implying that he had better things to do on All Hallows Eve than go to a fashion show for ski jackets.

The owner of the store was counting on Andy and his entourage to glam up the party, so I asked if he could PLEASE make it his first stop of the evening, considering that the show started at 7:30. When he walked into the Pierre ballroom just before the lights went down for the fashion show, I knew I could always say that I got Andy Warhol to come to a Halloween party.

So, 40 years later, here I am, still telling the story.