Out & About
This article is from the archive of The New York Sun before the launch of its new website in 2022. The Sun has neither altered nor updated such articles but will seek to correct any errors, mis-categorizations or other problems introduced during transfer.
Driving out to the Hamptons via the Triboro Bridge, it’s hard to miss the tall letters on Randall’s Island that spell out “Icahn Stadium.” On Saturday afternoon, I looked more carefully, as at the end of my ride my destination would be none other than Carl Icahn’s own home in East Hampton.
That night, Mr. Icahn and his wife Gail were hosts of a party celebrating that iconic Manhattan institution Lincoln Center for the Performing Arts, of which Mr. Icahn has been a board member since 1994. This was not a benefit, but rather an occasion to kick back and have a good time, for both stalwart supporters (such as board members Renée Belfer, Audrey Gruss, and Thomas Lee) and new friends who freely acknowledged they were there to be courted for contributions to Lincoln Center, which is $120 million away from completing its $459 million campaign for endowment and redevelopment.
The affair was low-key at first, as guests filled up the back lawn and enjoyed the ocean view with pigs in a blanket and a cocktail (Gail’s Lemonade and Carl’s Mango Spritzers were on the menu). When night fell, though, things got serious. Seriously glamorous, that is.
All it took was an amble the length of a football field to the end of the front lawn, where a white tent surrounded by palm trees and lit up by a stork beckoned. As guests came closer, the maitre d’ of the Icahn Club came into a view. He was a dapper fellow dressed in a tuxedo, standing beside a podium emblazoned, in an Art Deco font, with the club’s logo (“IC”).
Inside the tent were more greeters: cigarette girls dressed in vintage costumes who passed out chocolate cigars sealed with a silver sticker on which was printed “Lincoln Center for the Performing Arts.”
The big band music of the Nelson Riddle Orchestra had already filled the dance floor by the time I arrived, and there I found Lincoln Center’s leading couples: president Reynold Levy and his wife, Elizabeth, and chairman Frank Bennack and his wife, Mary. Others filing in were Mayor Giuliani; Schools Chancellor Joel Klein; architect Richard Meier; a former Slovak Republic ambassador, Carl Spielvogel, and the chairman of the Museum of Modern Art, Robert Menschel.
The Icahn Club felt a lot like the Stork Club, that legendary meeting place for stars, politicians, and rainmakers. White feathers decorated the tent poles, mirrors lined the perimeter, and banquettes and round tables were draped in a zebra stripes.
The buffet dinner was unpretentious. There was lettuce and tomato salad, grilled lamb, bass, and summer corn pudding, as well as Chinese restaurant favorites: shrimp lo mein, beef with garlic, chicken with broccoli, and vegetable fried rice.
The guest list included members of the Icahn family, including Mr. Icahn’s uncle, Elliot Schnall, and his children, Michelle and Brett; and the daughter of Mr. Icahn’s wife, Shana Golden, who came with her fiancé, Hunter Gary. Other guests of the Icahns included venture capitalist David Moore, who performs stand-up comedy from time to time with Mr. Icahn; the headmaster of Choate Rosemary Hall, Edward Shanahan, and his wife, Sandy (Michelle and Brett both graduated from Choate), and the president of Gutsy Women Travel, a business founded by Mrs. Icahn, April Merenda.
