I don’t care much for radical chic. It’s one thing if Ethel Kennedy wants to toss a picnic on her front lawn for the striking grape workers, but when it filters its way into rock and roll, it becomes distinctly distasteful. Ten years ago photographer Jerry Schatzberg gave a big party in his Park Avenue South studio. for the then-scruffy Rolling Stones and everyone was there. My only recollection of the evening was a sunglassed Bob ' Dylan leaning against the wall and looking pained as people he didn’t know came up to him to pay their respects. Lots of people were slumming that night; those were the days of discotheques with names like Ondine, 11 Mio, Le Club, and of course Arthur, where after awhile it wasn’t slumming anymore. Pop society. (Actually, the best slumming occurred when Steve Paul was publicist for the Peppermint Lounge in its heyday and got Judy Garland, The Duchess of Windsor, Greta Garbo and more, to come and Twist with Killer Joe Piro. But that’s another story.)

Anyway Baby Jane Holzer — who so enthusiastically embraced th6 Stones way back in 1964 — was on hand once again as Sly Stone got married in front of 20,000 people at Madison Square Garden. Oh, she probably yvasn’t at the actual concert — but she, and alot of others with names like Nan Kampner, Mrs. John Barry Ryan III, Halston, Andy Warhol, Clovis Ruffin,’Penelope Tree, Giorgio di Sant’ Angelo, Marion Javits and more sure were at the party afterwards at that little old lady hotel — The Waldorf Astoria. And here we thought the sixties were over.

Every girl dreams of a big wedding, so they say, but this was ridiculous. Sly sure knew how to make a mockery of marriage . . . The evening started out with much backstage ado as smuggerthan-ever Geraldo Rivera (the Puerto Rican/Jewish newscaster who made his reputation exploiting retarded kids) arrived with limos full of Halston models; -tall black women who wore long black gowns and carried huge gold fans. Soul Train’s Don Cornelius stood to one side wearing a black tuxedo and a cynical smile. Eddie Kendricks, who had been the opening act, was busy being interviewed by TV newsmen. There have never been so many photographers in one place at one time. Someone must have convinced them that Sly still is a star, isn’t that a scream?

The Family arrived, along with The Minister. The Minister sat down on an amplifier case and took a load off his feet. He posed for pictures. Sly and The Bride came in, (although who’s kidding who, Sly was the bride) followed by many more photographers including Time’s Ken Regan who walked around all night followed by a coolie carrying a white umbrella over his head. I have no idea if that strobe umbrella thing is a photographic necessity, but it sure gets you through a crowd and it looks cute.

The Family as well as the Rest of The Wedding Party were all dressed in 59 cent a yard gold sequin shmatahs. Halston actually was supposed to have designed them all, but I heard whispers that Stephen Burrows really did and wisely didn’t take the credit. Anyway, Earl Blackwell or Fredrick’s of Hollywood would be more like it. Capes and wigs and jumpsuits >all very Eleganza.

A leering and extremely pleasedwith-himself Geraldo led.the models out onstage in what looked like a Junior high school parody of “The Cult of the Cobra.” Peter Boyle, observing the lineup onstage, remarked that it looked like something straight out of Rock Dreams. The Minister asked for quiet, and then he invoked the (are you ready?) Lord’s Prayer. No one hummed along, which proved either that it wasn’t a top forty crowd or they had no sense of humor.' Several very Gone With The Wind little black children stood around onstage dressed as flower girls and looked mighty bewildered. Lance Loud noticed that the models got tired of holding the fans and would have to switch arms, I saw that some of them were chewing gum. Sly’s Mom wore the wig of the evening: black curls topped on high by blond curls. Sly & Kathy knelt and became man and wife as Blair Sabol whispered, “I know the exact store on 35th Street in the Millinery district where they got those gold sequins.” And Loraine Alterman pointed to Stephen Burrows sitting in front of lis and said, “I don’t care if he is a Coty award winner,'you should tell him how those velvet pajama^of his you bought fell apart.!’ Best Man Stephen Paley stood solemnly onstage wearing what appeared to be a Nehru jacket. (Say it isn’t so, Stephen.)

TURN TO PAGE 77.

In With The " In Crowd”

It’s 1974 And Can You Believe This Continued: Following Roxy Music’s performance at New York’s Academy of Music, a few friends were invited down the block to artist Larry Rivers’ studio for a party that was to have been intimate. The usual onslaught got by the Pinkerton guard, and many sixties faces could be seen amidst the art. (Remember art?) Among them were former Warhol superstar Jane Forth (who now sells shoes in Bendels), and former superstar model Donna Jordan (looking mighty mousy and limping with a cane due to an injured ankle). David Bowie was there, with an entourage of blacks who looked like they just stepped off the set of “Cabin in the Sky.” Artist Richard Bernstein chatted about his Max’s backroom posters, John Phillips held court in one corner of the room, and Shaun Cassidy (David’s Brother) played pool.. In totale, it looked like an issue of Inter/View come to life. Promotor Howard Stein summed it up: “Listen,” he said, “I can’t wait ail night for the Yardbirds to smash their guitars, I’m leaving.” Followed by, “Which one is Veruschka?”

CONTINUED FROM PAGE 59.

Well anyway, they didn’t consummate the marriage onstage (ho hum) and after a fifteen minute wait — (why should this night be any different than any other Sly concert?) Sly returned to the stage, performed the usual six numbers to 20,000 cheering suckers, and he left.

' But that wasn’t all of it, OH NO. The wedding reception afterwards at the Waldorf (THE WALDORF?) was for the very select crowd of what seemed

like 2000 people. Incense and strobes hit you the moment you walked in the door — the ambience was very “Hair” and it certainly set the tone of the party. “You’ve never been on this side of a Cecil B. Demille film before, have you?” asked Dave Marsh as he elbowed his way through fifty 40 year old women doing the Hollywood Swing on the dancefloor. Those not busy gobbling up the Japanese food (served by ladies in traditional Japanese drag), were boogieing on down to the Hues Corporation, the Stylistics and a live jazzinfluenced band. “Socialite” Nan Kempner, the kind of lady who gets her photo in Women’s Wear alot, breathed ecstatically to a passerby, “This is the best happening since the Dolls Halloween party!!” Happening?

My favorite couple at the party was a middle aged man wearing a shortslfceved white shirt and his wife who was in floral "print plus pinned-on corsage. They danced up a storm and had a marvelous time. They seemed to be hotel guests who just sort of wandered in, although Donald Lyons thought it, was the elevator operator on his night off. When Blair Sabol asked them why they were there the man replied, “Lisssen ... I’m in show business. I got connections.” So do we all honey, so do we all. Hr