On New Year's day Bill Willis called from Marrakech.  My dear friend, and the designer of Rick's had suffered a stroke in September and was suffering through the unseasonably cold winter weather.  Trying to visit him before Christmas, I'd set a date to see him on December 23.  He said to call the day before just to make sure he was feeling well.  Unfortunately when I called he complained that the day before had been so cold and the hot water had cut in this bath leaving him with a bad cold.  “It's better to wait until January, my dear,” he'd said.  So on New Year's Day  he said he was feeling better, had managed to stay up just past midnight the night before and spoke of how he was looking forward to Obama's inauguration. He reminded me that I'd agreed to visit in January and I assured him I would.  Sadly that was not to be.  A week later another call from Marrakech, Bill had suffered a cerebral hemmorhage and was in a coma.  He died the next day and a few days later I joined friends in Marrakech to mourn his passing. At the cemetery Bill's long time friend Christopher Gibbs recalled Bill's flamboyant life, eccentric persona, brilliant talent and love of the color red.  He said he liked teasing him by singing the tune “Bill” from Showboat which conjures up the antithesis of our departed friend:  “But along came Bill/Who's not the type at all,/You'd meet him on the street/And never notice him/…He isn't half as handsome/As dozens of men that I know/He isn't tall or straight or slim/And he dresses far worse than Ted or Jim/…Oh,I can't explain/It's surely not his brain/That makes me thrill-/I love him because he's – I don't know/Because he's just my Bill.”  Rick's carries on as a living monument to Bill's extraordinary talent and his creative touch is everywhere.   He told me once he regards his projects as children and because there was so much he could do, and did,  to capture in reality a film icon, I think he was pleased with his last offspring.

And then January 20, a dream come true and America's chance to start rebuilding.  That evening we had our normal menu, 2 for the price of 1 drinks as well as 3 fixed price menus.  The proceeds we gained from the fixed price menus will be donated to a special bank account established by King Mohammed VI to assist the Palestinians left devastated by the Israeli attacks in Gaza.  Because of the time difference I recorded the swearing in, Inaugural Address and Bush's helicopter departure on DVD.  As luck would have it, our winter weather caused the CNN signal to freeze up at one point and I had to switch to BBC, then switched back.  Agonizing for someone technically challenged like myself.  When I lost the CNN reception I was somewhat relieved to join BBC, as I'd been screaming at the simple-minded, extraneous comments of Wolf Blitzer, John King et al.  Unfortunately over at BBC it was worse.  The commentators invariably focussed on some non-critical aspect, and when the picture showed a major part of the program starting they let the commentator finish their piece.  Fortunately the wind died down for the main events and I was content with, and sat quietly through, CNN's coverage.  We rented a projector and big screen so that most of the tables could watch the historic event and again the response of our Moroccan clients was phenomenal.  I was delighted to introduce our coverage by telling our audience:  “Tonight we are, at last, Rick's Café Americain.”