Awful Rosie O' Donnell Invades a Hudson River Village

Nyack-on-Hudson is quite civilized. It allows William Hurt, Jonathan Demme and Harvey Keitel's daughter to live here. There are about 6000 people in this village, happily watching land values skyrocket and pitying the poor sods who call Manhattan home. Soon, U2 drummer Larry Mullen will move his lady friend and their children to a converted hay barn about 10 houses from me, bringing unwelcome Irish vegetarianism another mile up along the Hudson foreshore. Helen Hayes, who lived here for many, many years, is remembered wherever there is space to hang a shingle with her name on it.

Now the quiet happiness of this riverside village, 25 miles from New York, is about to be marred by the return of Long Island's Most Unwanted, Rosie O'Donnell.

O'Donnell is a fat television host. She considers Tom Cruise a desirable male and Madonna an intelligent and attractive female. I was once stuck in an elevator in London with Cruise, and was so amused by his shortness that I had to restrain myself from patting him on the head and giving him a lollipop. I've seen Madonna at a distance of about four inches and, well, she looked exactly like all other badly aging, gap-toothed Italian women. She grunted at me, which I assume is what O'Donnell interprets as articulate brainpower.

There is grief galore with O'Donnell's move to Nyack. She has lived here before, made herself deeply unpopular and is not wanted back. She bought Helen Hayes' home on Broadway (also known as Helen Hayes Dr.), ruined the streetside view of that beautiful pile and simply annoyed the crap out of everyone I know. Her armed goons in tow, she would annex a corner of the Runcible Spoon Bakery (the worst tea, coffee and sandwiches in Nyack) and affect a sincere-looking sourness to all and sundry. Where Helen Hayes would potter around her garden, chat to pedestrians and rub the tummies of wandering dogs, O'Donnell planted three rows of 15-foot-tall pine trees and installed enough security gadgets to impress James Bond. The house has long been known as Pretty Penny. Ms. O'Donnell departed Nyack for Connecticut a couple of years ago, and seems intent on turning up in the form of another penny.

The court of all testimony against O'Donnell is O'Donoghue's Pub. It is also the local headquarters for all things softball and Irish, which leaves an Aussie like me and my Boddington's-drinking English art dealer friend a little lost, but it is the best bar in this part of the Hudson Valley. Opinions are at their most eloquent just after happy hour. To wit, "The problem with that bitch [i.e., Rosie O'Donnell] is that she thinks she can piss standing up." Also, "Couldn't make friends here, thrown out of Hickville, Connecticut. Should go back to Long Island."

It has been noted in the Nyacks that O'Donnell, a rabid antigun activist, employs a plethora of heavily armed bodyguards around her and her children at all times. There are many Marine and Army veterans at O'Donoghue's, and this hypocrisy does not sit well with them. Her avowed lesbianism draws no comment.

The imminent arrival of Larry Mullen draws no similar ire. Mullen is rebuilding an awful brown house about 300 yards from chez Hunter, and is expected to spend a couple of months there banging drums, small children and suchlike each year. There is no wall or fence to frighten the natives, and the building contractor at O'Donoghue's says there was not going to be one. A year-round resident housekeeper, yes, but that's about it. One would think that a member of one of the world's biggest rock bands would have permanent security headaches. The verdict at O'Donoghue's is that Mullen has learned to be a filthy-rich rocker and a normal human being at the same time. One worries, however, that Mullen's vegetarianism might translate into teetotalism, which is as welcome in Nyack as Ms. O'Donnell.

The new O'Donnell compound overlooks Hook Mountain, a piddling hill at the end of my street. Already the pine trees and security people are positioning obstreperous erections. The driveway is long and, for the moment, the house is barely visible. Soon it will be completely obscured, which is most convenient, as that's the way Nyackers I know like to see Rosie O'Donnell.