I was walking up Madison Avenue when I spotted two comely young women having tea at a sidewalk café. It was a couple of days after the scandal, so I stopped and introduced myself as Harvey Weinstein and asked them if they wanted a drink back at my place. Both roared with laughter. This is the good news; it shows there are at least two members of the fairer sex in the Big Bagel that retain their sense of humor.
And as I wrote in the Spectator, it seems the only woman who has not accused Weinstein of sexual harassment or rape is Mata Hari, and that is so because she was executed for espionage by the French one hundred years ago this month. (Poor Mata, she was no spy; she hooked a bit on the side with German diplomats, c’est tout.)
Mind you, the problem is age old. The strong have always bullied the weak, and men since time immemorial have used their position to intimidate women sexually. When I say men, I certainly don’t mean gentlemen. The one gent I’m most familiar with is yours truly. I have pursued the weaker sex maniacally all my life, but I don’t think I have ever intimidated a lady—or a nonlady, for that matter—and never will. It all has to do with education. I was taught early on that women are to be respected, that they are not targets but mothers, sisters, lovers, and wives. Ironically, many of the great seducers I have known—Porfirio Rubirosa, Gianni Agnelli, Alfonso de Portago, Aly Khan—never but never had any of the Weinstein sort of troubles with ladies. And I can think of nothing that would turn a woman off more than to watch while a man got undressed and did a Harvey in front of her. I wonder what went through his mind all those years while he kept getting refused. Surely, it must have crossed his mind to change a losing strategy. But Harvey’s Harvey—a slob, a bully, a lefty, and a Hillary disciple, and a man I became friendly with despite all the above.
It began about ten years ago. I had been writing nasty things about him for a long time when he approached me at a downtown New York restaurant where I was giving a Christmas party. He excused himself for crashing and asked why we couldn’t be friends. “After all,” he said, “I’ve never done anything against you.” He was, of course, right, so I immediately surrendered. The next year he came to my Christmas bash and hit on every pretty girl that was in attendance. But in a sweet way. It was an I’ll make you a star type of thing; please take my card and call me. He then arrived in Gstaad, where I winter, and rang daily for lunch or dinner. Basically, he didn’t know his way around and preferred my company to the few Hollywood types that looked out of place on the slopes.
Fast-forward to today, and Harvey is the world’s most hated man by more than 150 million American women. The media have done a real job on him, undisturbed by the fact that in this country a man is innocent until proved guilty. Never mind: Harvey is quite guilty of sexual harassment, although he strenuously denies any rape charges. Demanding physical gratification from any prospective female employee is predatory, but it’s also shaming. Who wants to go to a place where he’s not wanted? Apparently, Harvey did.
What bothers me is that Teddy Kennedy left a girl to drown and didn’t report it, sexually brutalized countless D.C. interns, and along with other Kennedys did more Harveys than Harvey ever did. Juanita Broad drick, Paula Jones, and Kathleen Willey, of Bill Clinton sexual attacks, also come to mind. As I’ve written elsewhere, at least Bill Cosby had the decency to anesthetize his alleged victims. Basically, what is worse, far worse, than Weinstein’s behavior is the hypocrisy of the press. A feminist called Lindy West took the opportunity to write in the New York Times that Weinstein and Trump are one and the same, and Woody Allen, too, while she was at it. Sexual predation, according to this harridan, is everywhere and practiced by every male. (I am glad she left out our Lord Jesus.)
Yes, it’s a witch hunt all right, and we have Mr. Harvey to thank for it. The French are taking back his medal because, even in France, the sisterhood is on the warpath. Fines will follow catcalls from now in the land of cheese, and winking at a girl will soon be compared to a Heil Hitler. Verboten!
Do you remember that wonderful 1950’s photograph of a beautiful American girl walking in Rome and being whistled at by four or five Roman Lotharios? The smile on her face tells the true story: that men can still whistle at a girl’s beauty as long as it’s done in a pleasant and friendly way. Not in France, by the way. The Frogs are always in a bad mood, and do look down on women because at times they, the men, act like women on the battlefield (ha ha).
Men of the world, unite. And never do a Harvey.