Sydney Garfield was my first dentist in Los Angeles.
You know how when you move to a new city, you ask
acquaintances who their dentist is, who their accountant is, where you can get
the best matzo ball soup – the third one being optional? Well, the only guy I knew here at the time was
Lorne Michaels, and when I inquired about a dentist, he immediately said “Sydney.”
Sydney Garfield, I was told, was Jack Nicholson’s
dentist. I am not sure what kind of a
recommendation that is, as I see nothing spectacular about Jack Nicholson’s
teeth. But the reasoning apparently goes
that when a wealthy movie star who can ostensibly have any dentist they want specifically
chooses Sydney – that is perceived to be a lofty endorsement. (Parenthetically – Duh, I am in parentheses –
once, at a piano rental store, I was informed that the “upright” I was looking
at had appeared prominently on a Mitzi Gaynor special. I passed on the piano, having seen that special
and not been particularly impressed.)
Sidney Garfield may not have been an elite dentist, but he
was definitely unique. Which you became
aware of the moment you stepped into his office.
Sidney’s “Waiting Room” was inundated with art – sculptures,
ceramics, colorful murals festooning his walls and his ceiling. I would later learn that down-on-their- luck
artists would barter their creations for Dr. Garfield’s dental services.
It was my first psychedelic “Waiting Room.”
Sydney’s office included neither receptionist nor dental
hygienist. He was a one-man
operation. He did it all himself. With the assistance of nitrous oxide. Not that he used the stuff himself – at least
not during office hours – but he administered it liberally to his patients. I cannot truly attest to Sydney’s “touch” as
a dentist. Under the fumes, no matter what
he did to me, I was always hysterical.
“That hurt! Hee-hee-hee!”
During the course of my twice-a-year visits, I learned much
about Sydney’s personal background.
Assuming Sydney was revealing
his background and not just making stuff up.
He seemed capable of doing either.
Although my guess is, had he had a receptionist, when I took care of the
bill, she’d have said under her breath,
“He’s crazy, you know.”
Sydney Garfield – according to Sydney Garfield – had started
out as an aeronautical engineer, claiming, among other accomplishments, to have
worked on Howard Hughes’s wooden wonder of the sky, The Spruce Goose.
Then, at the age of fifty, Sydney tired of the aeronautical
engineering racket, trading his slide-rule in for a career in dentistry.
This next
transition is the scariest.
Now bored with dentistry, Sydney Garfield’s latest aspiration was to become a
screenwriter.
The script he was currently working on was called Le Juicy Giraffe, a surreal and scientifically detailed recounting
of the exciting miracle of plastic surgery.
Sydney himself was a prime example of that miracle. Going by his personal biography, he looked twenty
years younger than he would actually had to have been.
Sydney Garfield was intensely passionate about being a
screenwriter. When I arrived for my
check-up, rather than walking me straight to the “Treatment Area”, Sydney
insisted that I sit down in the “Waiting Room”, where he would regale me with
his newest scenes from Le Juicy Giraffe.
One time, he called my house
to read me his most recent efforts. And
when my stepdaughter Rachel informed him I was not home, he insisted on reading
them to her. (Sidney later bought time on a local cable
station, where he read Le Juicy Giraffe
to everybody.)
I tried to be encouraging – without lying. Other patients were unsparingly direct.
When Sidney flew up to Montana to work on Jack Nicholson’s teeth during
the filming of The Missouri Breaks,
actor Nicholson signaturely intoned,
“Syd-ney, you’re a
great den-tist. Whaddaya want to be a wri-ter for?”
But a writer he was.
Not ultimately a screenwriter, as far as I know, but he did publish a
memoir after which today’s post is entitled.
It was called,
Teeth Teeth
Teeth.
I recall Sydney proudly explaining the onomatopoeic cadence
of the short poem he wrote that served as the cornerstone to his memoir. It went:
“Teeth, teeth, teeth,
teeth, teeth, teeth, teeth.
The bottom of the sea
Is covered with
teeth.”
“Do you see how I repeated that? ‘Teeth, teeth, teeth, teeth, teeth, teeth,
teeth’? I said it seven times. Which is precisely the right number.
“‘Teeth, teeth, teeth,
teeth, teeth, teeth, teeth.
The bottom of the sea
Is covered with
teeth.’
“It must be seven times.
No more. And no less.”
And then he recited it again.
“Teeth, teeth, teeth,
teeth, teeth, teeth, teeth.
The bottom of the sea
Is covered with
teeth.”
Sydney Garfield died tragically while crossing the street,
apparently oblivious to the oncoming traffic.
He was probably thinking of his next screenplay.
Memories of Sydney rush to mind because I was recently informed
that I need a wisdom tooth removed.
Once, when I told him I was scared about coming in, Sydney Garfield
picked me up at my apartment and personally drove
me to his office. When he had finished
working on me, instead of saying, “Don’t eat on it for an hour”, Sydney then treated
me to a very expensive lunch.
I could use some of his Garfieldian TLC at the moment.
Or, at the very least, his nitrous oxide.
You still have at least 1 wisdom tooth left? Is that as unusual as I'm guessing it is?
ReplyDeleteI too am a large, maybe extra-large proponent of nitrous oxide.
Dr. Garfield was, perhaps, a renaissance man?
How was it working with Chuck Connors?
Sidney was not an aerospace engineer. He was and whet to school to become a dentist. He was also my Uncle. He came in and out of our lives. He never had kids he was married twice. Only for short times. He said he was a dentist to the stars. He was a world traveler. He says he helped in sex change operations. He sometimes dressed I woman's clothing. I think he spent his life looking for himself. I'm the end he was estranged from the family after telling my Father he would kill him if he did not increase his allowance. Sidney was a man that did things only fir himself. He said he did art restoration for the country museum. He did travel the world and bought a tin of unusual things. When he died hit by a car I was outraged! I first edited my Dad to sue. I think I needed closer. It was really hard on my Dad. He had a brother that he loved. Who was older that graduated dental school and was the successful family member. My Dad started out as a sheetmetal worker. We had little when I was young. My Dad worked since he was 11 to help support his Mom. Sidney never helped. He Grandfather died when my Dad was 11. Sidney said support Mom while I go to dental school. He never helped. In later years when I wax little my Dad would have Sidney over for dinner. Sidney would yell us about his world travels. He would come over whenever something good happened. I was young when he brought over the Book Teeth Teeth Teeth and told us he had written a book. He asked me the name he should use. I said the Wonderful World of Dentists. I had just watched Disney on TV. He never knew where I got the name. He did put it on the book. When he died my Father asked me and my Brother-in-law to clean out the house it was full of art. The small house had a bird cage in the livingroom. It was the first time I had been inside. He never allowed any of us to visit. The parrots were bald. The cage looked is small. As I walked over to see the birds I realized I was walking on 3 feet of trash. The whole house smelled. The bird cage was big. It was just buried. As I walked though the house I saw the hell my Uncle lived in and felt great sorrow for him and the life he lived in his later years. I tried to reach out many times. He was not interested. He was a man who lived a big life. He was passionate. He was on Jonny Carson a few times. He traveled the world. And, in the end died living walking to a writers club meeting to discuss his sci-fi new book. His by a car and dead before he landed was the end to an amazing man and life. He never stopped writing, sculpting or painting. He was narcotic, passionate, and tried all life could offer. Still I so saddened to see how he lived in filth all by himself when he died. By the way Teeth Teeth Teeth was self published. It was printed by a vanity publisher. He said dental schools wanted it, but he would not take out the part about his sex life. The dental illustrations were amazing. He drew them himself.
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