Cradling a cosmopolitan in his plump right hand, Don Kirshner is reminiscing about his former life as a pop-music mogul and getting a little wistful. All the hits, all the bands, all the favors he did for up-and-comers. But here he sits, at the best table in this swanky restaurant, pretty much forgotten. Slighted is a better word for it, or that’s the way he feels, anyway. Yes, the maitre d’ and the waiters here know who he is. And the other retirees in the nearby plush gated community where he lives will pat him on the back and say things like, “This guy is spectacular. Spectacular!” But the rest of the world? “I’m a military secret,” he rasps in a blustery Bronx accent.
By David Segal, Washington Post (2004)
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