Alex Hitz remembers his friend Nan Kemper.

Sometime during the early fall of 1998, when I was new in town and still living in the Carlyle Hotel, my telephone rang. An unfamiliar but booming voice came through the receiver:

- “Hello Darling. It’s Nan Kempner.”

- “Well, uh, hello, Nan,” I replied meekly through my shock.

“How are you?”  Certainly, I knew who she was, although we had never met.

- “Very well, darling. Listen, I’ve got some people coming in for lunch on Friday, about 1 or 1:15. Will you join us?"  I was thrilled and surprised be the invitation, and accepted readily. 

-“Great!” she said, “I’m at 895 Par...