12/06/2023
When you get a call from a good friend's son... a good friend who wasn't in the best of health, but who seemed to be strong enough to survive forever... sometimes you just *know* the news won't be good.
Two days after Thanksgiving, John Spaulding King passed.
Strong of will, and opinion and rich with charm, he was always a favorite and frequent client at Nor'east Frameworks.
Sofrequent, that our acquaintance became a good friendship.
He would invite me to get together with him (often with many others) for a dinner gathering, an ice cream social (yes, he had one EVERY year) or a movie at his house.
He even invited us for the decorating of his elaborate and extraordinary Christmas trees.
He'd sit (rather King-like) and direct the decorating. Not at all demanding, but just unwilling to climb a ladder to place bulbs on the 15-foot tall pines. There'd be wine (and cool, unusual sodas for the kids), really good food, and a cast of characters to make the whole thing perfectly, outrageously entertaining.
He had superb taste, and collected and restored incredible antiques... he once told my wife to be careful with her glass of red wine as she sat on a silk-upholstered chair, and we still mimic his Brahmin utterance... "Please... Don't spill on the Scalamandré!".
He had amazing artwork he'd commissioned or just fell in love with. He proudly displayed a B&W portrait of himself shot by the illustrious photographer, Yousuf Karsh, and had a portrait of himself with his sons prominently hung in each of the homes he lived in.
He was good to those around him. VERY good, and generous of spirit, heart and coin.
He preferred to dine out, have others cook for him, or find a place with exquisitely prepared foods, to cooking for himself. His parties were filled with delicacies, brought in from the best places.
He preferred imported Scottish caramels and butterscotch candies to what one could get at the supermarket.
I gave him a bag of lemon candies I picked up for him in Amalfi, telling my wife, "This is JUST the kind of thing John King would love.
I once told him about a bakery in NYC where I had the most amazing hand-made doughnuts, and next thing you know, a box came to the shop FedEx overnight. He also got some for himself as well, and remarked that they were "heaven by the dozen".
He was tall, barrel-chested, spoke from the heart and the diaphragm. He had trained as a dancer, a violinist, an actor, a lawyer and an opera singer.
He was forever addicted to ni****ne, though hadn't smoked in decades. He'd come into the shop after visiting the Pharmacy next door, pop the cap, pump the inhaler bottle until it misted in the air, and take two "hits", one in each nostril.
I can almost smell that medicinal odor now, as I recall it.
He'd come in with quirky ideas, projects for me to do, even if they weren't exactly in my wheelhouse.
Book repairs.
Reverse glass painting touch-ups.
Gluing up a few broken teacups.
I'd say, "John... this isn't really what I *do*. There are people for this kind of thing."
"Charles," He always called me Charles. "You can do this. All you have to do is............"
Some I would do... some. The rest? I would find him JUST the right person to take the thing on. Maybe that was the intent all along. He'd always reimburse my time with a meal at some great, and usually pricey, place.
I always said he didn't *have* to do that.
But he'd insist. He liked experiences... and dining out.
And, he loved the company of those he found interesting.
He loved people who were good and passionate about something.
He loved art, and artists.
He loved craftsmanship.
He loved "the best!"
And he loved his sons, his family, and his friends.
AND, he'd tell you.
I last spoke with him 3 weeks ago, when he said he was at Mass General, "In for a little procedure."
Heart surgery... "little" procedure.
We ended that call with a "Well John... Good luck with your procedure. I hope it all goes smoothly. I will be back up in a few weeks... after the holidays. Let's get together then?
"That would be nice!"
"OK... it's a plan. Be well John...."
"I love you, Charles... love to Coleen... and a big hug for Chace!"
"Love you too, John!"
Love you too, John!
John King, kicking up his heels in front of the Eiffel Tower, Paris
