Boston: Atlantic Monthly / Little Brown, 1963. B/w Illustrations. First Edition. Hard Cover. 8vo - over 7¾" - 9¾" tall. Near Fine / Very Good. Item #00535299
Signed and inscribed by Man Ray with an original drawing of his trademark floating eye and face. This copy is inscribed on the half title to Frank Goodman, "one of the last of the old-time Broadway press agents, a star handler and headline hustler" (New York Times). The drawing and inscription are on the half title. The inscription, which is framed by and incorporates the drawing, reads "For Mr. Frank Goodman Man Ray April 2, 1963". The floating eye is above Ray's signature, and the nose and mouth extend beneath the inscription. CONDITION: Nice copy in the original black cloth in gilt and copper, in first issue jacket complete with $7.95 price (slight surface wear to jacket with wrinkle at top; book has been recased with new endpapers; some light staining to top and bottom edges of text). Man Ray (born Emmanuel Radnitzky 1890-1976), American painter, photographer, and conceptual artist active in France, a leading light of the Dada and Surrealist movement. Jess McKinley's obituary in the New York Times offers a brilliant look back at Goodman's career: "In an era when movies like "Sweet Smell of Success" made Broadway seem like the most glamorous and gritty terrain in entertainment, Mr. Goodman was as reliable a presence as broken hearts and dreams come true. From 1939, when he started his career, to 1961, Mr. Goodman represented more than 50 Broadway productions, including eight shows in 1960 alone. Over the years, Mr. Goodman would act as a booster and sometimes as a baby sitter for every type of show person and show personality, from the volatile genius (Jerome Robbins of "Gypsy") to the delicate ingénue (Audrey Hepburn in "Gigi" in 1951) to the predictably haunted playwrights (William Inge and Clifford Odets, among others). Summing up his career in his unpublished memoir, Mr. Goodman started with an adage about the publicity game: "You don't get paid for the work you do; you get paid for the grief you take." Mr. Goodman seemed to believe that, but only to a point. "Still and all," he wrote, "there's worse ways to make a living"."