Lou Reed

by Anthony DeCurtis

  In 2009, Reed and Anderson bought their house on Old Stone Highway in East Hampton, near Amagansett. It was not a gaudy showplace—just under two thousand square feet with a pool and a small guesthouse. It was in a swank area, but it also represented something like a return to Reed’s roots. For all the vitriol he had spewed over the years about Long Island, he was now returning to it as a retreat from his life in New York, much as his house in New Jersey had been when he was married to Sylvia. Reed and Anderson frequently entertained guests in East Hampton, and Reed would occasionally go there on his own when Anderson was traveling. Suzanne Vega had a home nearby, and she frequently socialized with the couple. When she first learned that Anderson and Reed had a home there, she contacted them. “Laurie was super engaging,” Vega said. “She was like, ‘Oh, come on by! We’ll go for bike rides!’ I was like, really? It just seemed like such a healthy, all-American thing to do with, like, Laurie Anderson and Lou Reed. So I was like, I’m in! I called them, and I started to see this other side to Lou. We’d have chats at his lunch table about all kinds of things. Lou was complaining that Laurie was going away and he had nobody to eat with, so my brother Matt, the hermit of all hermits, invited him over to our house for dinner.” Reed came with Jenni Muldaur, and, according to Vega, they ate “so much and so fast that it was like having locusts in the house.” After Reed left, Matt surrounded the place where he was sitting with copies of Reed’s work and memorialized it with a photograph. “This is where he ate,” Matt said. Reed stayed in touch with Vega by text and invited her to his house. He liked to travel in a group, and if he was invited to someone’s home, he would sometimes invite Vega along. “He would complain about other people’s diva behavior,” Vega said. “He’d been invited to Donna Karan’s house and he felt that he hadn’t been treated well. I guess Donna was having some kind of private tête-à-tête with Barbra Streisand or something. He was kept waiting, and Lou was not happy about it.”

  Among the many honors that began to come to Reed as he got older was the George Arents Pioneer Medal for excellence, the highest alumni honor offered by Reed’s alma mater, Syracuse University; other recipients have included Joyce Carol Oates, Ted Koppel, William Safire, Dick Clark, and Joe Biden. The presentation of the award took place at the W Hotel in Manhattan. Anderson accompanied Reed, and Bono, David Bowie, novelist Oscar Hijuelos, and writer Mary Karr also attended. “We have an alchemist in our company tonight,” Bono said to those gathered to honor Reed. “Lou has turned the cosmic litter of this city into gold.” The university took the occasion to announce the creation of the Lou Reed/Delmore Schwartz scholarship in creative writing. Karr presented Reed with an autographed first edition of Schwartz’s classic collection of short stories and poems, In Dreams Begin Responsibilities, and on violin, Anderson offered interpretations of two of Schwartz’s poems, “The Heavy Bear Who Goes with Me” and “All of Us Turning Away for Solace.” Reed would write a lovely, poetic introduction for a new edition of In Dreams Begin Responsibilities in 2012.

  Given Reed’s checkered history at the university, he began his acceptance speech by glancing at his sister, Merrill, and asking, “Who would’ve believed this one?” But he devoted most of his remarks to his regard for Schwartz, and how much getting to know the writer at Syracuse meant to him. “I will always love the university for giving me the opportunity to study with him,” Reed said. “Delmore inspired me to write, and to this day, I draw inspiration from his stories, poems, and essays. His titles alone were a writer’s dream.” In conclusion, Reed said, “I hope, Delmore, if you’re listening, you are finally proud as well. My name is finally linked to yours in that part of heaven reserved for Brooklyn poets.”

  AS REED WAS LIVING this life of public events and private moments, few people beyond his tightest inner circle were aware of how ill he was becoming. The hepatitis C he had contracted as a young man was damaging his liver, and the interferon treatments he was undergoing to rid himself of the virus were taking their toll as well. In addition, he was suffering from diabetes. News items were popping up here and there about Reed nodding off at public events or performances. It was a source of mirth: Lou Reed, the eternal enfant terrible, evidently so old or out of it that he could barely stay awake. Or maybe he was nodding out on drugs? His fatigue, however, was the result of his illness.

  “I look back on Lulu pretty favorably, except Lou was ill and I couldn’t really tell the Metallica guys that,” Willner said. “I called them all afterwards to explain. I was just trying to help him through it. He’d get very tired and he’d fall asleep at times. It was like knowing when he needed to push and when not.… That was my job on that project—watching him, being protective of him.” Reed canceled live performances, including at Coachella and Lollapalooza, but still kept word of his health problems quiet. “I didn’t understand why he canceled the Coachella tour, and he canceled a tour before that,” Sarth Calhoun said. “I knew he had health problems, but he always seemed so indestructible. Even though, given that he was Lou Reed, you could say, ‘This dude must have one foot in the grave,’ when you hung out with him, that’s not what it felt like. He felt indomitable.”

  Nonetheless, Reed’s condition continued to deteriorate. The situation proved especially difficult for Anderson. “She took care of him, and she canceled everything,” Willner said, speaking of Anderson’s many ongoing projects. Her love for Reed was unquestionable, but such selflessness did not come naturally to her. Her ability to travel and disappear into her work was not simply important to her as an artist; it was an essential strategy to her survival in a relationship with someone as thorny as Reed. Anderson hated to stay still, and Reed hated being alone—a potentially combustible combination of traits under the best of circumstances. As his health began to deteriorate, he became more dependent on Anderson and more frightened about what was happening to him. It put a strain on their marriage, and as Reed grew angrier, Anderson sometimes felt that she had no choice but to leave at times. Various caretakers stepped in to help—Sharyn Felder; Jenni Muldaur; Reed’s sister, Merrill—and friends like Willner were always available. But it was a difficult, frightening time.

  It was finally determined that intermediate measures would not work and that Reed required a liver transplant, which took place at the Cleveland Clinic in May of 2013. The clinic has one of the largest transplant programs in the United States; in 2013 alone it performed 143 liver transplants. Strangely, Anderson announced that the operation had taken place in an interview with the Times of London that ran on June 1, 2013. Of the operation, Anderson said, “It’s as serious as it gets. He was dying. You don’t get it for fun.” Once the news was announced, the reaction was widespread. Fans were relieved, first of all, that Reed had survived. While not downplaying how perilous Reed’s condition had been, Anderson described him as steadily recovering—doing tai chi and hoping to be back at work in a few months. While Reed was hospitalized, Paul Simon sent him R & B albums from the fifties, along with works by the composers Harry Partch and Lou Harrison. “I figured that covered the spectrum with Lou, as it did with me,” Simon said. As often happens when a prominent person receives a new liver, there was some speculation about whether or not Reed had somehow used his influence to jump the line.

  The logistics of the operation were complicated, according to Anderson. “You send out two planes—one for the donor, one for the recipient—at the same time,” she explained. “You bring the donor in live, you take him off life support. It’s a technological feat.… I was completely awestruck. I find certain things about technology truly, deeply inspiring.” While Reed was in the process of recovering, Anderson stated that, in terms of the operation’s emotional impact, “I don’t think he’ll ever totally recover from this.”

  Reed’s surgeon, Dr. Charles Miller, described how Reed handled his illness and the surgery it required. Reed was extremely ill, Miller said, when he came to Cleveland, and as he failed to respond to therapies, he got “crabbier and crabbier” as he waited f
or a liver to materialize. Miller attributed Reed’s foul mood to the side effects of liver disease, not to his personality, though the two were likely a tough combination. Reed was desperate to leave the hospital and get back to New York, but just when he was at his worst, a suitable liver arrived. Miller described Reed as eager for the surgery, with “not a fear in his eyes.” That bravery characterized Reed’s response to the entire experience, Miller said: “This operation takes the measure of a man, and Lou measured up in every way and more.” Miller performed the operation while listening to Reed’s music, and stated that “sewing to ‘Walk on the Wild Side’ ain’t too bad. It was a beautiful operation.” The operation was successful, and afterward, Reed and Miller became friends and socialized in the Hamptons. Deeply grateful for having been provided a chance to live, Reed described Miller as a “new old friend,” and they always ended their conversations by saying “I love you.”

  After Anderson’s interview in the Times of London, Reed posted a statement on his website: “I would like to thank the Cleveland Clinic and all of you around the world who have lifted me with prayer and wishes of love. Your support has buoyed me forever and I am deeply grateful. I am also really up and strong. Thanks to your spirit.” He described himself as “a triumph of modern medicine, physics, and chemistry” and, in language that was almost childlike, said that he was “bigger and stronger than ever.” Anderson was equally optimistic. “Lou is in the best physical shape in years—strong and energetic,” she said. “He has a wonderful new life now.”

  Like many people who pass through the ordeal of something like a liver operation, Reed came out of it determined to live his life to the fullest. To say he was optimistic about his chances of survival is a vast understatement. He was determined to survive, and believed that he had snatched his life from the jaws of death. “What people often don’t get about Lou is his love of life,” Hal Willner said. “We’ve all seen plenty of people commit suicide, and because of the kind of people we’ve chosen to be around, we’ve known way too many people who have died. We’ve chosen to be around people who don’t take life on life’s terms and who flirt with the devil. But I never saw anybody fight as hard to live as he did. He didn’t want to die, not one iota. He wanted to live.”

  But it was a hard struggle for Reed. Even before the operation, at the annual Passover Seder he had arranged, Michael Dorf noticed how weak Reed had become. Reed insisted on participating. “I had to help him up on the stage,” Dorf recalled. “He paused a little, and I was actually a little nervous. But then he made a barb about not having received any preparatory notes from me, a little personal jab, so I was like, ‘Okay, he’s coming alive.’ He read Bob Marley’s ‘Exodus’ as his part, and he did it in this incredible Lou Reed manner, where he had these annotated comments throughout the reading. Once he got going, his voice went from weak to strong. He had a fire in him. And that was wonderful to see. But I did know that something had overtaken his body.”

  Even during the difficult period after his operation, Reed’s reputation remained unchanged. The Onion could not resist a satirical take on his illness. “New Liver Complains of Difficulty Working with Lou Reed” was the headline for a short piece that ran a couple of days after Anderson revealed that the transplant had taken place. “It’s really hard to get along with Lou,” the liver was quoted as saying about the “temperamental rock legend.” Their relationship, the liver said, was “strained at best,” because with Reed, “one minute he’s your best friend and the next he’s outright abusive.” The liver was frustrated and considering simply letting Reed “synthesize proteins and digestive biochemicals on his own.”

  Suzanne Vega described attending a party at a Hamptons mansion by the ocean with Reed. A steep flight of stairs led to the beach from the house. “I have trouble seeing in the dark,” Reed told her. “Would you help me down these stairs?” She used her iPhone flashlight app to guide them as Reed leaned on her to make his way down. “Thank you,” he said simply when they arrived at the beach. That “little scene moved me, and still does,” Vega recalled. Reed told her that “rock and roll is a young man’s game. And the critics, for some reason, have decided that this new project with Metallica isn’t any good. And my health isn’t what it was.” Vega “always felt privileged to be part of his group of friends, whenever I was invited.” On another occasion, Vega wore a pair of enormous white sunglasses when she went to visit Reed’s home in East Hampton. “Oh, those are interview sunglasses,” Reed said, a notion that would never have occurred to Vega; “I wore them more as a joke,” she said. Reed’s dog Little Will snatched the glasses and chewed them up. “Lou was mortified,” Vega said. “He was like, ‘I’ll go get them fixed right now. I’ll take them over to Main Street.’ Meanwhile, I was like, ‘It’s your puppy!’ I was worried that he had a mouthful of glass. But I was really touched by his being so freaked out. The idea that I had lost my shield, that his dog had come and crunched up my scary sunglasses—that was meaningful to him.”

  Reed enjoyed giving Vega business advice, and one time he discussed the concept of branding with her. “He was really enthused about it, because he’d gone to a branding convention,” she recalled. “We talked about how Burberry had switched its brand, and he talked about Warhol and that one has to keep one’s brand up to date and give it a twist from time to time. I don’t always think that way and it’s not my lifestyle, but I thought it was really brilliant that he was still thinking in that super-aggressive, modern way. He never let that go.” In August of 2013, Vega visited Anderson and Reed for lunch at their home. Reed’s body was scarred from his operation, but he was lying on a lounge chair in his backyard. At lunch, Reed asked Vega if she would prefer that he put his shirt on. “Only if it brings you comfort,” she replied. “At that point I wasn’t even really thinking of him as a person,” she said later. “He was sort of like a spirit in a body. That’s how I felt when I was there with him. His body was changing. His face was changing. He was changing. I felt that we were so beyond social niceties. There was a tableful of people, so for him to ask me if he needed to put a shirt on, I found that really touching.”

  IN SEPTEMBER OF 2013, Reed flew to London to accept the Inspiration award from the British edition of GQ magazine at its Men of the Year awards presentation. The magazine was concerned that Reed might not be able to attend. When the editors learned about his liver transplant, and when he was hospitalized again, for “dehydration,” they checked with Reed’s handlers. Both times they were assured that Reed very much wanted to go and would certainly be there. The magazine was lavish in its praise of the artist. “When we first thought about who we wanted to give our Inspiration award to, there was only one name we spoke of: Lou Reed,” writer Stuart McGurk stated. “Some people inspire movements, some inspire generations. But Lou Reed inspired almost every generation—from punk in the seventies, to glam in the eighties, to alternative rock in the nineties. Hell, his halting delivery was even sometimes credited with inventing rap.” Iggy Pop wrote a brief tribute to Reed, which credited him as “the bedrock beneath my feet and a beacon shining through the black night of crap.… I think he’s one of the few guys or gals who’s been in this biz a long time and still has a feeling for the world around him. Most of the others just end up singing to the mirror.” Ron Wood of the Rolling Stones presented Reed with the award.

  When Reed appeared at the event, at the Covent Garden Opera House, on September 3, he appeared frail. Accepting the award required climbing three or four steps to the stage, and Reed had insisted that a handrail be installed to assist him, which was hastily done at the last minute. Still, Reed’s presence inspired awe in a room that was filled with boldfaced names, Pharrell Williams, Arctic Monkeys, Noel Gallagher, Emma Watson, Michael Douglas, and Justin Timberlake among them. He was the person everyone there wanted to meet, if only to shake his hand and pay deserved respect. Reed, dressed entirely in black, ascended to the stage to the sound of “Romeo Had Juliette” and rapturous applause. He
gathered strength as he stepped up to the mic. In his brief acceptance speech, his voice started out hoarse and shaky but found its pitch and conviction quickly. “There’s only one great occupation that can change the world: that’s real rock and roll,” he said. “I believe to the bottom of my heart, the last cell, that rock and roll can change everything. And I’m a graduate of Warhol University, and I believe in the power of punk. To this day, I want to blow it up. Thank you.”

  On October 3, 2013, Reed appeared with photographer Mick Rock at a book launch event for Transformer, a high-end, limited-edition collection of Rock’s work with Reed and other artists in their circle, like David Bowie, Mick Jagger, and Andy Warhol. The event took place at the John Varvatos store on the Bowery in downtown Manhattan, the former site of CBGB. The book took its title from the album that had propelled Reed’s solo career in 1972, and that album’s iconic cover served as the cover of Rock’s book as well. Reed fully collaborated with Rock on the book, and they shared the royalties on it. The super-limited-edition version of Transformer cost close to $1,000. Reed was in the hospital following the transplant as the book was being completed, and Rock sent him some of its images and pages so he could see how the work was proceeding. After receiving them, Reed emailed Rock. “Beautiful book, Mick,” he wrote, “and beautiful price.”