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- [00:00]
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- [01:10]
Kathryn Burns
Welcome to the Moth Podcast. I'm Kathryn burns. I'm the Moth's artistic director and have worked here for 16 years. But before I joined the staff, I was a big fan of the Moth and would come to all the shows. So back in November 2001, I was one of several hundred audience members who who packed into the American Museum of Natural History here in New York one chilly night to listen to stories in the hall of Ocean Life. A slim, older woman took the stage and mesmerized the crowd. Her name was Bokhara Legendre, and she went on to tell half a dozen stories of the Moth over the years. She had a sparkling and exuberant personality, someone who brightened up any room she entered. We recently got word of Okara's passing and we're all heartbroken. This episode is a tribute to Beau, who we already miss so much. Here's that 2001 museum recording. The theme that night was Past Tense Future stories about generations. Here's Bo.
- [02:09]
Bokhara Legendre
My mother was a big white hunter at the time when a lot of people thought that the world was full of animals who basically hung out until somebody white in a topee shot them. And my mother was one of those people in Atopi. And right upstairs in this museum in the African Wing, there's a collection of nyala that she collected with my father in 1928. Now, in 1928, mummy was 26, and she was not only Getting ready to have a career as a big game hunter. She also was getting ready to get married. So she organized a trip to Abyssinia, which is what Ethiopia was called then, for the Natural History Museum. And she invited this very attractive pair of brothers who she'd met the summer before, Sidney and Maurice Legendre. And they all set out for Abyssinia. And it wasn't exactly. It wouldn't be my way of seducing a man to invite him to shoot. But, you know, times have changed. And they arrived in Africa. It took a month on the boat to get to Africa, and then they spent another couple of months trying to get ready to go on the trip. And they had to get their tents together and their Sherpas and their this and their that to get organized. But months went by and they still weren't allowed to go shooting. Well, when you arrive in a country like that, you have to list everything that's with you. Every tent, every gun, everything. And they'd listed all their shotguns. And each shotgun has a serial number, and it can be as many as 10 numbers. And they discovered that actually the Abyssinians thought that the numbers were the number of guns and that Mummy had come to start a revolution. But when they cleared that up, they let them go. And they spent the next couple of months under canvas, as they say. And somewhere between the tent and the Sultan's palace, Mummy chose Daddy. Now, there was some question about whether it was going to be Morris or Sidney, but Sidney was kind of tall, dark and handsome, and he was a very good listener. Which Mummy liked was. Well, at the end of the Abyssinian trip, Mummy and Daddy got married and they went back to America. And 35 years later, mummy and I decided to go around the world. Now, Mummy was a real let's get cracking, let's get the show on the road and have a really great time kind of girl. I mean, she liked to have costume parties. She invited everybody to go shooting with her. And she just wanted to taste everything and try everything and have a ton of fun. Now, for example, during the war, she was in the OSS in Paris, and she had a desk job, and things got kind of tame. And so she was with a bunch of cronies one day at the Ritz Bar, and she said, why don't we just go out and see the war? So they rented a car and they drove to the front lines to look at the shooting. I mean, the German front. Well, they all got captured and spent the next six months in prison camp. Well, Mummy, when we went around the world could kind of remembered the world the way it had been. And she thought that everybody would entertain her. You see, the way it used to be in the 20s was that if it took a month to get somewhere, by the time you got there. I mean, the people at the embassies and in the government were so thrilled to see someone that they really got excited about it. And when Mummy traveled, why, the embassies gave balls for her and the local governments entertained her. And I mean, they had tribal dances, had sacrifices of animals and candlelight dinners, and it was really exciting. And so when Mommy and I went around the world, we packed our ball gowns and our matching satin slippers, and every single country we went to, we sent our cards in to the ambassador and the local government on little silver trays that were proffered by the butlers. And then we'd go back to the hotel and wait for the call. But we never got called because nowadays people just don't get excited when you travel. So I knew that Mummy wasn't really. I mean, the world wasn't measuring up the way Mummy wanted it to, and I wasn't measuring up the way Mummy wanted me to, in fact. And I'd gone on the trip because I wanted to see the world and Mummy wanted to check it out again. And I thought that somehow I would change my relationship with my mother and suddenly we would become really close and it would just be this wonderful trip which sort of mother, daughter. We'd become really close and everything would be wonderful. But instead of being like that, the whole thing gave me a terrible pain in my tummy. And I was sick the whole. In every country we got to, I was sick. And this made Mummy even more disappointed. So, 35 years later, mummy dies and I inherit her plantation in South Carolina. And the plantation has this great big lodge where all the trophies of Mummy's whole life are hung on the walls.
- [08:19]
Kathryn Burns
And.
- [08:20]
Bokhara Legendre
And I've decided that the way to deal with this is I'm going to change the karma of the plantation. I'm going to bring in my spiritual friends and my New Age friends, and we're going to have. We're going to stop war and stop shooting and have peace, and it's really going to be marvelous. But Mummy started fighting me right from the beginning. I mean, I painted the house and I redecorated. And right away, the first night I moved into her newly painted bedroom, there was a huge fire in the fireplace and it erupted in masses of black smoke. And I had to get people to come in and put out the fire. And one of them told me that they saw a mummy in the smoke. Then this Christmas tree fell over three times in the night and these wall sconces of lamps were falling off the walls. I mean, finally my manager, who is a very un. Sort of crazy person, said, Mrs. Lachande, that's enough. So anyway, despite all this, I had my first gathering and I got up to welcome all of the people and I talked about how we're all one and from stardust we come, and to stardust we'll go, and the rest of the world, we're all gonna get together and it's just gonna be. And I noticed that everybody's faces were absolutely stony and that they were sort of looking around me. And I looked up and there was a big hippo over my head. And all around me were the heads of lions and tigers and buffalo. And the floors were covered with animal skins with tigers and leopards and zebras. And the wood for the fire were in elephant feet and people that hung their hats on elephant tusks and even the sofas were covered with animal skins. And I thought, I've just got to get rid of this stuff. So I called Anne Aristoff, now she's a very big deal person at the Natural History Museum. And I reminded her that over the years Mummy had killed all these animals and had been so helpful to the museum. And I said, gee, I wonder, Mrs. Aristof, if you'd like to have 150 heads? And she said, I'm sorry, we only take the whole animal. So then I called Ralph Lauren and I said, how would you like to have the collection of some authentic wasp polo playing family? And they said, well, we'd like it, but there seems to be that there's a law that you can't send endangered species, even the heads, over state lines. So then I found a collector and the collector said he would take the moose, the elephant, the tiger, but he wouldn't take the water buffalo. And I said, look, I want a full animal deal. So then I thought, I give up. I'm not going to be able to do it. I can't really step into mummy's shoes because these animals represent her power. And in a way, if you think about it, the Africans, when they go shooting, not shooting, but bows and arrows, the young men have to kill a lion in order to prove their manhood. And in some funny way, these animals are mummies power. And I'm sort of stuck with them and I can't really take over the plantation as long as they're there and I can't get rid of them. And I thought, I give up. I mean, I've been beaten. I can't do it. And then I thought, I'm having a mano au mano fight with the spirits here. What am I going to do? And I decided to have a Beltane festival and that I would build a huge bonfire and I would put all the animals heads in the bonfire. And I would invite all my shaman friends and my Native American friends and my California friends. And we'd all drum and sing and dance around the bonfire. And the spirits of the animals would go up with the smoke. And we. Well, we'd be absolved of the whole problem. I just thought it was the most perfect solution. And I thought, afterwards, I'll have an oyster roast and I'll hire a band. However, the manager of the plantation nixed that scheme because he said that there's formaldehyde in the animals heads and that we would all be poisoned. But I know that the real reason is that's not good South Carolina plantation behavior. And he hated it. And, you know, the whole plantation hated that I was trying to do this. The gall of me. Trying to throw away the fruits of Mummy's life, the trophies of her entire career. So anyway, just as I thought, I have to really give up. I've had it. My nephew called up and he said he wanted the heads. And I said, how great. So I put them in two trucks and I sent two trucks of heads to my nephew. But I couldn't think what he wanted them for because he put them in storage. But at least they were off my hands. And I thought, it's kind of amazing because here I am tonight in the Natural History Museum. And this was, in a way, the center of my mother's public power. Because she didn't only collect for this museum, she collected for lots of museums. And so here I am telling my story at the Moth. And this museum used to represent mainly stuffed animals and old bones. And now upstairs, there's an exhibition of Hindu spirituality. And at Medway, the plantation where we used to have meetings before the hunt, now I've got scientists and Sufis and politicians talking about how we're going to end war. And on the walls where there used to be those stuffed animal heads, now I have my paintings of animals to call in the stick spirits so that the animal spirits will help me. And I realized I'm free.
- [15:49]
Kathryn Burns
That was Bokhara Lajalna. According to her New York Times obit. Beau died peacefully on December 3rd at home in Mill Valley, California after a brief illness. We'll remember her always for her sense of humor, her curiosity and love of adventure, her courage, and most of all for her generosity to both her friends as well as the causes she believed in. I love this gem from the New York Times obit. Apparently as a child Bo spent her weekends at Medway while going to the Charleston Day School. And she told her schoolmates that she was actually a Russian princess who had been adopted by the Legendre's. Of course they all believed her. I'm sorry we never got her to tell that story at the Moth. Beau was an accomplished artist whose paintings of wolves and fanciful dream images were exhibited in galleries in New York and California. And she recently published a memoir called not what I Expected. We're going to play you one more Bo story. This was the last Moth story she told. It's from a 2012 show in Martha's Vineyard. The theme that night was Big night. Once more, here's Vocara le Genre live at the mall.
- [16:57]
Bokhara Legendre
Well, a few years ago I decided to that I'd crashed the coronation of Nepal the king. And of course I didn't mean to. I really was invited. The way I was invited was I was at a cocktail party in San Francisco and it was given by the honorary consul general from to Nepal. And he said to three of us, wouldn't you like to come with my wife and me to the coronation? And we all said yes. Well, I mean, my marriage was falling apart, my dog had died, my life was a mess. I thought a nice Himalayan clear mountain air and a jamboree will fix my life. It'll be perfect. So I bought a plane ticket and an evening dress and I flew off to Kathmandu waving goodbye to my husband. And when I arrived, the Kathmandu airport had become all it was, was an earth road. But along it were lots of private jets from all the dignitaries who'd visited. And I took a taxi into town and I noticed that the toes of the cows and the elephants had all been painted red just like mine. And I got to the house of the people that I was going to stay with, which had been arranged by a friend of mine in America. And I discovered that the other house guest was the Queen of Bhutan. And the next morning I said, would you give me a ride to the coronation? Because I thought, well, my invitation will be at the gate. But instead of doing that, he dropped me off at a big white fence which went around a cow pasture which was masquerading as a palace garden. I could see way out in the middle the tents of the coronation. I was dressed in a long tie, dyed silk evening dress with a big skirt and gold high heeled sandals. And around my neck I had crisscrossed like a hunter's game. Bags, binoculars, a camera, a tape recorder. I was prepared to join the press if I couldn't get in with the princesses. And so I threw my leg over the fence and my gold sandal went into a cow patty and I slogged across that field like a soldier in enemy territory. But nothing happened. And when I got to the tents, I was in the royal enclosure, so nobody did anything. But I was terribly shy and terribly worried. So I rushed into the first tent I saw and I sat down in a chair without looking. And then I looked up and I saw that the entire tent was full of Nepalese in white dotis, black Nehru jackets and white turbans, all men. And I looked at the person next to me and he looked at me with a horrified expression. And I bolted out of there like a flying rainbow. And I went into the next tent and that one was full of people in evening dresses and the maharajas were in gold brocade coats and everybody had on lots of jewelry. And I sat down next to a woman in a long green satin evening dress and she had a camera and three strands of pearls around her neck. And she turned to me and she said, did you know the Queen's wig was eaten by a yak this morning? And I said, I'm just glad I was accepted by the right people. And then we noticed that the photographers had all been let out of their sort of pen and that they were rushing across the field with camera in hand and trumpets were blowing, and it must be the moment of the coronation. So I said to the lady next to me, while this was going on, did you know that the King had all the stray dogs and the hippies taken away in a truck to India to clear the streets as we peered to see if we could see the Queen and her wig and if we could see the coronation? But we couldn't. Our vision was completely blocked. The little red tent was miles away. You couldn't see a thing. And I realized I'd flown all the way to Kathmandu and I'd bought my evening dress and I wasn't going to see a coronation. Oh, said the lady next to me, don't worry, it's a fake coronation. And the real one happened this morning in the palace and none of us were invited. Well, I thought for all these dignitaries and everything, they're having a fake coronation. But anyway, afterwards, I ran into my friends who had originally invited me, and they said, come with us. We're going to have lunch in the Palace Hotel garden. So I found myself next to a maharaja in a gold coat. And he said, tonight there's going to be a party in the Yak and Yeti bar. It's going to be given by a jet setter. And, you know, Imelda Marcos is flying in in her jet with a band and a lot of other jet setters. And I said, well, I would love to go to that. So this night, the Yak and Yeti had become a chic hotel. The tables were covered with silk saris, there were bowls of flowers and tons of champagne, and Imelda's band was playing, and we all danced till 3am I even danced with the King of Sikkim. And at the end of the party, my friends had gone home, and I was looking for a way to get back to Kathmandu, which was quite far. And I saw an ambassador getting into his car. And I said, I don't know what to do. How am I going to get back to Kathmandu at this hour? And he said, oh, grab a cab. And there were no cabs. I mean, this was a Himalayan hamlet. And so I started walking down that road, and there were no street lights. There was nothing. It was just my gold high heels echoing on this pavement, and who knows what would come out of the dark? And as I did it, I was having a bit of a think, and my. My veneer of stiff upper lip kind of slumped. And I thought, just what am I doing here? Do I think I'm a jet setter? Do I think I can run away from my marriage by coming to a party in Kathmandu? And I thought, I don't really know who I am or what I'm doing. And the next morning, I called up Jane, and her name had been given to me by a friend in New York. And Jane asked me over to lunch. She was staying at a wonderful little hotel called the Tashi Delay, which means good luck in Tibetan. It was a little yellow hotel. And we sat for lunch on piles of carpets and we ate lentil soup. And I just felt so cozy and relaxed. It was like being on a river that I could just float on without thrashing. So I rented a room in this little hotel, and it cost $7 a night, and we hung our laundry on the roof. And Jane said, wouldn't you like to come with me on a little hike up the Himalayas to see my llama. Well, nobody else had asked me to do anything, so I said sure. And I bought a pair of $5 sneakers and a yak wool jacket, and we got into this little tiny plane and careened through the Himalayas. It was flown by a bush pilot, and we landed in a little air. It wasn't even an airport. It was just sort of a dirt road on the side of a mountain. And we were greeted by Sir Edmund Hillary. And Hillary took us to his camp. He gave us a little blue tent, and he invited us to have dinner with him. So we sat in this tent with a Coleman lantern on the table, eating lentil soup. And he talked about how much he owed the Nepalese and how much they had done for him and how he wanted to do something for them. And he was building them a hospital on this mountain ledge for the villages nearby. And actually, we'd been in the plane flying up hospital supplies. And I thought to myself, last night, I was at a party with Imelda Marcos, and just one flight from the Philippines could have built 12 hospitals. And here I am with this tall, angular pillar of charm, Edmund Hillary, who is building one. And I thought, this is the other way. I'm really part of that life of luxury and pleasure and imagining that one can escape sadness and the hopelessness of life by going to a party. And here is this other way. So the next morning, we did hike up the Himalayas. Unfortunately, it took two days, and we got to this mountain fastness, and we entered the monastery. It was guarded by dogs with huge spiked collars. And the wind was blowing and the prayer flags were whipping. And this lama greeted us at the gate, and he led us up a tall, tall ladder. And at the top was this little room, and it had piles of rugs around the edge and a little brazier in the middle which smoked a sort of delicious smoke. And we lay on top of the rugs, but also under the rugs. And something about that place brought a delightful dream my way. Perhaps it was the scent from the brazier, or perhaps it was the fact that there were all those minds in that monastery pushing themselves towards another level of consciousness. But in this dream, I danced out of a little flower shop where three people said goodbye to me. And I danced to this great symphony, which at the same time was a charming melody. And I danced down a cobblestone street, and I was in tune with my life. It was, though I was a note in the universe, part of the great music of the universe. And the next morning, I woke up and I said to Jane, I think I had a dream about reincarnation. That's where I came from. She said, I don't think so. I think it's because you're in a Tibetan monastery. Well, I met her lama, and then I left her there to do her practice. And I went down the mountain the way I'd come. And the next morning, I spent the morning on top of a temple in Kathmandu. And I was thinking about my life, and I was thinking about where I was on the temple. And at the end of it, I went to see a lama called Dujim Rinpoche, who lived in a little tiny house on the edge of Kathmandu. And when I went in, he was just sitting on a pillow, and there was another pillow for me, and we drank tea. And he told me the entire story of where I'd been that morning and what I'd thought about. And as I listened to him, I felt myself drift into a great sense of peace. I felt more welcomed and more comfortable and more at ease with my life than I'd ever been. And I thought, this is like a confirmation of my dream up in the monastery. And I realized that you can escape to a party and make a gay time to try and escape from the inevitable pain of life, or you can decide to go and sit quietly with a wise man and feel that your life is really in tune. There's always the choice.
- [30:48]
Kathryn Burns
That was Bo Kara La genre. In the years before she died, Bo and I were working on a new moth story that she never got to tell. It was about Bo getting an in person appearance with a Dalai Lama. She planned on asking the Dalai Lama about her life's purpose. She wasn't sure what she'd been put on Earth to do. On the long journey, she ran into two friends. And being Bo, she of course invited them to come with her. But when they got in front of the Dalai Lama, he began speaking to her friends, not her. Her one chance to talk to the Dalai Lama. But her life's purpose was fading away as she watched them all chatting away happily. And then it hit her. This was the answer to her question. She had been put on Earth to introduce people and be a connector. So she got her answer, just not in the form she was expecting. Thanks for listening to this tribute to Bokara, who was a dear friend and mentor. Bo, we love and miss.