From: Yaakov Sullivan <yaksul2000@yahoo.com>
Subject: Re: Invite to Be Soap Box Orator/Poet at St. Pat’s 5th Annual All City Gathering at Timbuktu
To: “cmtyroof@execpc.com” <Godsil@milwaukeerenaissance.com>
Though Montesi had a wonderfully curious mind that he
always tried to instill in his students, his sense of
decor was deplorable. His three storied Empire style
house was architecturally impressive. Benton Place,
where it was located, was either the or one of the
oldest streets in St. Louis. He told us the cave at
the end of the street, which was a cul de sac,
belonged to a family that had gone down on the
Titanic. Montesi was instrumental in bringing life
back to that street and those surrounding Lafayette
Sq. But inside…..well, I can only describe it as he
described it himself: “dimestore gothic”. When it came
to domestic appointments or elements of fashion, he
clung tenaciously to the “thrifty” habits of his
Italian immigrant parents assailed by the ravishes of
the Depression, and unlike his willingness to help out
his students who found themselves in financial
straits, his expenditures on himself or his
surroundings seldom totaled more than double digits.
I met Al before he had purchased the house on Benton
Place, while he was living on Enright Pl. I think it
was called. He drove a red convertible Mustang and I
remember riding with him in it on our way to the clubs
on Gaslight Sq. for the wonderful Dixieland music. A
year later Gaslight Sq. was a wasteland. I remember
the discussions on writers or playwrights students
would have with him at O’Connell’s pub. And during
SLU’s Great Lecture Series, I think it was Montesi who
introduced W.H. Auden, who was one of many great
figures from various disciplines who came to speak at
the university-Saul Alinsky,the social critic and
organizer stands out in my mind. I remember he said,
and this was in the mid sixties, the most radical
group in the US at that time were the nuns. Montesi
loved that comment because he always loved the nuns in
his classes. As Auden began to recite, the audio
equipment broke down or something, Auden was seven
sheets to the wind standing there in flannel bedroom
slippers. But he read his poetry.
I don’t think there was a time when Montesi was
without his cats, the first one I remember was
Mystique. He took them in and one was never sure when
visiting #22 whether those in residence were permanent
or just in need of a home temporarily. He just adored
them. Later, he would come to write a series of
detective stories based on his feline slueth, Peter
Benchley, I think was his moniker.
Sometimes in the classroom, during his lecture, which
would often spin off in wildly different directions,
he would suddenly become silent, looking out over that
sea of young, pastel faces. He would get that sneer on
his face, grit his teeth and in his southern drawl
would growl at us: “Gawd, you’re so dead you’re
pounding the nails into your own coffins!” That would
perk us up!
For years he would come up to Milwaukee, to visit me
and Godsil. He loved the Lake and Lake Park and the
cooler summer temperatures which brought him some
relief from the stinking humidity of St. Louis in
July. For years I would go down to St. Louis to visit
him and Jim Barry who had purchased a grand house
across the street from Montesi. In later years after I
moved to New York, we spoke often and tried to get
together-either St. Louis, or in Lutz, Fl where he had
a condo that he later sold, or Gatlingburg where his
nephew had a summer home. I would get cards around our
birthday and I always sent him one from Paris. But
wherever he was or wherever I was, I always thought of
him either in that red Mustang, or cradling one of his
cats, or jingling his keys to open the old wooden door
of his office on a late midweek afternoon. But his
most vital presence, that elan that still lives on in
his students, will always reside in the classroom,
when, like the great actor he was, he gave his finest
performances.