Tom Soter

When I first moved to New York City, Tommy, my cousin, was my guide to the city. He had a movie-maker's flare for location, and chose all the places that you need to see, even if, or especially because, they are cliches of New York. We went to the Empire State Building, my first (and maybe only?) time. (Way before Turner Classics, he loved classic black and white movies, especially Hitchcock, and I'm sure he had seen the original version of "An Affair to Remember" many times.) He introduced me to street hotdogs, something my mother never would have allowed me to have, but which I thought tasted great. We wandered through Riverside Park after midnight one night for blocks and blocks while returning to 404 Riverside Drive. I still remember feeling sort of scared in the park -- in those days it was dangerous -- but we had so much fun, too. Tom always spoke in a kind of wry patter, with a glint in his eye, like the improv impresario he later became. When he was young, he wore a trench coat, a bit worse for wear. I thought at the time that it was some kind of private-school affectation. But looking back now, I realize it was more likely an homage to his spy-show heroes, probably Roger Moore, maybe even The Man From Uncle or the Pink Panther. He had style, a sensibility I think he got in part from his advertising creative director father, George. That's how I remember Tommy -- attentive, playful and stylish.