A woman around this town knows how to get into an event to which she is ticketless. If the options of (1) going as the date of a ticket-holder and (2) getting a press pass are off the table, then you have to employ lifeline number three: volunteering to work the event. And that is just what I did recently in order to attend the annual Spelling Bee fundraiser put on by the Council of Literary Magazines and Presses (CLMP), a non-profit that provides services and resources to independent publishers and writers to help them with organizational strength and good business practices. The event was held at The Standard Hotel in the edgy-chic Meatpacking District.
Most of us haven’t been to a spelling bee since middle school, and after a night of watching a group of full-fledged adults (successful ones at that) battle it out on the spelling stage, it’s hard to remember why this isn’t ever-present in our lives. The key ingredients in the adult version, as it turns out, are tequila, personalities, and a few extra-long words.
The event was a who’s who of the New York literary world. The spellers themselves were novelists, writers for The New Yorker, a publisher from HarperCollins, an editor at Vanity Fair, and the book editor at O Magazine, just to describe a few. And the audience was the same pedigree. I worked the front door and therefore had the privilege of meeting most of the guests and spellers, who were all very nice, though some a bit… confident. I was mainly charmed just to be at an event with them, as a writer myself, and the charming didn’t stop when one fine gentleman took to referring to me as “Clipboard Lady.”
It began with a reception during which two different specialty tequila drinks and various hors d’oeuvres, including very memorable lobster rolls, were served. There was a silent auction so people milled about, mingling and throwing their names in the ring for auction items like an iPad, a leather standing kangaroo whose pouch is used as a remote control holder (you’re welcome: KangarooLink), hotel stays, theater tickets, and more.
Eventually, the party moved to the main event in a room looking out towards the Hudson River. Ira Silverberg, Literature Director at the National Endowment of the Arts, emceed the Bee. He set the stage for humor from the get-go, pressing Jesse Sheidlower, the spelling judge and Editor-at-Large for the Oxford English Dictionary for some inside scoop on the latest edition of the dictionary. Sheidlower eventually caved, sharing that “sexting” is now in the dictionary and was forced to blush his way through a definition of the new term.
Finally the spelling began. Contestants stepped up to the microphone wearing over-sized nametags – a tribute to the elementary roots of a spelling bee. The first spelling error came from the lips of James Frey, author of A Million Little Pieces, who flubbed the word “commissariat.” Other losing words were “uncrystallized” from author Meg Wolitzer, “wantonness” from the O Magazine editor Sara Nelson, and, humorously (at least in this setting), “ignoramus” from novelist and English professor Lynne Tillman.
The real entertainment came from the chatter between Ira and the spellers between words. One speller complained of her name being misspelled on her nametag, to which Ira replied as if he were Woody Allen, with a shrug of his shoulders and a raise of his eyebrows, “We’re small press people – it happens.” Ben Greenman, an editor at The New Yorker and the eventual Spelling Bee champion, was given the word “kibbutznik.” He asked for a definition and the crowd howled. Satisfied, he admitted that he was simply stalling.
Reigning champion and former television critic for The New Yorker, Nancy Franklin gave running commentary related to the fact that she just left her job at The New Yorker. At one point she paused after getting a word and then a moment later turned to Ira to say, “I just got distracted because I suddenly remembered I left my job. Can you repeat the question?”
Aside from Ira Silverberg’s Borscht Belt style comedy throughout, novelist Julia Glass nailed the best joke of the night as soon as she hit the microphone on her first word. Turning to Jesse Sheidlower she said, “You know what we used to call the [Oxford English Dictionary] at Cosmopolitan when I was a copy editor? The Big Dick.” Edgy for a spelling bee, but the crowd roared.
The night was a success. I don’t have the numbers since I didn’t volunteer to count the cash, but the house was packed, the crowd was happy, the spellers entertained, and the kangaroo went to the highest bidder.
