Remembering Harry Simeone, My "Little Drummer Boy" Neighbor

When I lived in Manhattan in the mid-1990s, my next door neighbor for a couple of years was Harry Simeone. He is credited as a co-composer of the world-famous, fabulous Christmas carol "Little Drummer Boy" and he wrote dozens, maybe hundreds, of other songs and music for various projects. He was a lively, wiry, gentleman of a certain age (or is that a phrase reserved for women?) whom I met for the first time in the hall. He was in his slippers.

We had probably a dozen conversations in the two years that I lived in that gem of an apartment building (more about that place later). Early on, I baked chocolate chip cookies -- pretty unusual for me, as cooking has never been a great passion of mine -- and took some over to him, all but the ones I saved for me. He loved them and we were pals from then on. He lightheartedly pestered me frequently to make him some more.

I've thought of Harry many times since I moved out of that building at the end of 1996 (BIG mistake to move!). I've wondered if he was still alive but every time I thought of looking him up on the Web to see, I was in the grocery store or in the car or otherwise away from the Web. Well, yesterday when I heard "Little Drummer Boy" for the 100th time this Christmas season (and I never get tired of it, that and Jose Feliciano's "Feliz Navidad"), I finally looked and, unfortunately, Harry died in 2005 at the age of 94.

When we were neighbors, from my bed if I pressed my ear to my bedroom wall, I could hear him playing his piano fairly clearly. I didn't hear his melodious sounds often because I worked long hours but once in awhile.... One day when I saw him out in the hall, he asked me if his piano playing bothered me. "Yes," I said. "You don't play often enough or long enough." I think I was his favorite neighbor after that.

He was so dedicated -- he played every day. Every day. E-v-e-r-y day. Incredible. I looked at my own level of commitment to the important things in my life as compared to that and... well, no wonder he was a phenomenal success. Even in his 80s, which he was then, he was composing music for various projects and people -- for pay. He didn't have to. He wanted to. And, he said, he was doing it to ensure the futures of his grandchildren.

Harry lived alone. But one day, right before I moved, I knocked on his door to tell him I was moving and a woman about his age was sitting on the couch with him. He introduced me to...his wife! I tried to hide my shock and tried to be polite and cordial. Clearly there was a story there, but I never got to hear it. I hope they lived happily ever after.

What a wonderful Manhattan experience to live in that building -- supposedly (according to the longtime staff members there) the former home of Gene Rayburn, Marlo Thomas, Imogene Coca and Grace Kelly, among others. Manhattan House, built in 1950, was the first highrise apartment buiding in Manhattan, award-winning, designed by Gordon Bunshaft of Skidmore, Owings & Merrill. It is still a primo building. It takes up a whole city block, between 2nd and 3rd Avenues and 65th and 66th Streets. Moving out of it is my one great regret in life. I took a job in Washington, D.C., and my lease was up -- I had a person who wanted to sublet it from me, which was allowed, but I thought my move to D.C. would be permanent so I let it go. Eighteen months later when I ended up coming back to Manhattan, prices had skyrocketed and I couldn't afford it. I loved my spacious, generously appointed one-bedroom apartment, for which I paid $1,262.21 a month. Sigh.

My neighbor Harry Simeone was really the only neighbor I knew well ("well" being a relative term), so always and forever, when I think of the rich experience of living in Manhattan House, I will think of the richer experience of having Harry Simeone as my next-door neighbor, and friend.