I learned that, as in the game of Telephone, the 'party' I was supposed to be hosting had morphed out of all proportion. Instead of the casual blanket picnic for six that I proposed, the affair was thought to be a red-carpet affair for about a hundred people. Dress was to be black tie. There was to be a catered meal served inside an air-conditioned tent and the concert would be piped in for the
That certainly would never happen when I was making 125 USD a week.
Unfortunately, the original casual picnic didn't come off either.
And people were actually inviting themselves to what they thought was a red carpet, catered affair?!
Believe it or not, they did exactly that.
NYC in the 1970s was an odd time and place. The city was falling apart but it also had a vibrant art and music scene. I was on the edge of these scenes but knew that many of my acquaintances knew others who wanted to be the next Andy Warhol or the next Bruce Springsteen and were determined to sell themselves. It was sometimes interesting to meet them but that was as far as I wanted to go.
In that environment, the grapevine could turn a gnat into Mothra in a little over a week. That's what happened with my non-existent 'party'. Please note, at the time, people had to use personal contact and the telephone.
I later found out that there were people in that niche who believed I was very wealthy. The rumor spread that I was looking for talent to fund and mentor. That's when I started getting the calls from friends of friends of friends.
The whole situation was surreal but NYC in the 1970s was often surreal.