I received an email from Christina Maile, an artist who lives at Westbeth who I had met while working on a story on the artist housing complex. She had been contacted by Zeke Finkelstein, a writer and professor at City College (who also works at Left Bank Books, an old-school West Village hold-out that has managed to stay put despite the neighborhood's soaring commercial rents). Zeke's girlfriend was leaving town after decades in New York, and moving to rural Maine. And he was desperate:
"Someone should 'cover' this," Zeke wrote in a pleading email. "Not so much Leslie's move itself, which should rather perhaps be noted in Jeremiah's Vanishing New York, or some other melancholy column of New York losses, but rather her decades of great, honest, beautiful maker's work and art in this studio and workshop where Leslie made not only her baroque bassoons, dulcians, bocals and related parts and instruments but also, of course, her outrageous, brilliant musical, mechanical, electrical inventions, pieces and contraptions, and where she designed her many sound installations."
I agreed. And voila! The day the story was published happened to be Leslie's last as an official New Yorker.