Richard E. Cytowic, neurology professor at George Washington University, has written a memoir, “The Magician’s Accomplice: My Father and I in the Age of Anxiety,” about his complicated relationship with his father, Edmund R. Cytowic. “Big Ed,” also a doctor, was a larger-than-life figure who molded his family into a perfect image while hiding his drinking and drug use. In an interview edited for clarity, Dr. Cytowic spoke about magic as metaphor, memories, and gay life in D.C.

BLADE: What was your inspiration for writing this memoir? 

RICHARD CYTOWIC: It was something I felt I had to do. If I didn’t write it, I would go crazy. And it’s taken me about 10 years. It’s gone through many iterations. The first version started with my first day at Duke and had a dual narrative with myself as a young man, stumbling about making mistakes, and the older, wiser neurologist looking back on his younger self and commenting on it. That didn’t work out, but I realized the story was really about my father and me and our dynamic, how he shaped me to be just like him. At the time, I didn’t realize, because, when you’re too close to the material, you can’t see it for what it is. My sister’s observation in the memoir’s opening line, “Come hell or high water, you were going to be a doctor like him,” captures all my memories of him. And I am, I was.

BLADE: The interpretations you give some of your memories are striking. For instance, your family dancing onstage at a Liberace concert. From the outside it feels charming, yet there’s pain there.

CYTOWIC: It is an amusing anecdote. But it’s also sad because it shows we were all performers. We got up on stage effortlessly, we all knew our lines. We knew what to do, how to pose in front of 4,000 people, because we were Big Ed’s puppets for many years. And we just thought it was quite natural to perform because we had been doing this all our lives. 

BLADE: It’s striking how in that moment you saw yourself becoming a monster like your father, trying to be the center of attention. You told Liberace, “I have a piece ready to play if you want.”

CYTOWIC: And he said, “This is my show, Richard.” He saw that even at 10 years old, I was trying to take over the center stage. But that’s what we were taught. We were supposed to shine and perform and just be charming, in a way that made us totally false. My impetus for this memoir was to try to understand Big Ed. For stories like this where you have an alcoholic father out of control, it’s so easy for everybody to say, “Oh, my God, I hate him, I can’t stand him.” What I call “You son of a bitch, look what you did to me” stories, those are the easiest stories in the world to tell. But it doesn’t tell anything about the monster, so you have to ask: Was the monster hurt or lonely? Why did he act that way? What made him the way he was? Was there some original wound that he was acting out on himself? So, in the end, instead of a “You son of a bitch” story, it’s really a love story to Big Ed, trying to show some compassion to him and understanding what sort of creature he was.

BLADE: At one point you describe him as high camp. I wonder if you if you ever thought that he might have been gay or bisexual, if deeply closeted? 

CYTOWIC: I wonder that too. I don’t have any proof one way or the other, but he certainly was sexually very outspoken. He had all those nude orgy parties and took pictures all the time. I’m sure that goes on all the time now in D.C., but back then, it must have been very unusual. The fact that he could convince people to take part in all that, have them dress up in costumes and pose for pictures, you just have to laugh and think, wow, what a force of nature he was. And mentioning camp, he was camp in the sense of Susan Sontag’s definition, which is a singular incandescent figure who is one thing, an exaggeration, and that was him. He instilled in me a taste for the offbeat and the unusual. If something was normal, I wasn’t interested, but if it was a little off, that was attractive. 

BLADE: You mention being drawn to camp figures like Auntie Mame and Liberace. 

CYTOWIC: When I saw “Auntie Mame” at Radio City Music Hall, I was in the first grade, so I was five years old. I loved that movie so much because all that craziness was so familiar. Patrick making drinks in the morning, I did that. And my classmates and peers didn’t do anything like that, though it took a while to realize what an unusual life we were living, my mother, sister, and I with Big Ed. 

BLADE: The theme of magic and magic tricks runs through the book, which connects so much of life with your father and even your life outside. 

CYTOWIC: Magic is a real through line, because two things were prominent with Big Ed. One was the cameras. He had tons of cameras, and the other was the magic, which he did constantly. So would I. When we went to the lake in the summer, I would entertain neighbors and guests by putting on a big magic show. I even made up my own trick. As I say, magic is about telling people you’re going to fool them and then fooling them. Having them know what they’re seeing isn’t possible, and yet they believe it.

BLADE: It feels like such a perfect metaphor for your family. 

CYTOWIC: It’s the spectator’s ability to hold two different, contradictory perspectives at the same time. That’s what we did. On the outside, we were a lovely family, everybody would compliment us when we went out to dinner. Back then, with children in restaurants, everybody said, “Oh my god, they’re going to start screaming and running around,” and we were the opposite. My sister and I were dressed up, I had a little coat and clip-on tie. We cleaned our plates, which my father really liked. And then people would come over and compliment my parents on what lovely children they had. Even the proprietor would say, “Doc, your kids are welcome here anytime.” We went against expectations. Here’s this picture perfect little family, so sweet and lovable, and yet behind the scenes, it was absolute chaos. That was the magic, the illusion that we were this lovely family on the surface, while behind the scenes, all hell was breaking loose. 

My sister to this day still hates my father. Every time we talk about him, she says, “I hated him. I couldn’t get out of the house fast enough.” She’s frozen in her perspective, and I went instead and looked, to find out who he was, what made him kick? Why was he this way? How did he make me the way I am? And how did I emerge with my own personality? Also, in turning away from the “You son of a bitch” kind of approach and moving to one of trying to understand him, that’s the magic trick that that brings him back, like the dove that’s hidden, and then you produce some silk scarves and, abracadabra, the dove reappears again, all whole. 

BLADE: Your descriptions of gay life in D.C. during the ‘80s are fascinating. What’s been the biggest change in that world nowadays? 

CYTOWIC: When I came to D.C., you really couldn’t be out in a broad sort of way. So you cultivated a circle of friends, you learned to entertain and throw parties, you did fabulous things. There was a lot more cohesiveness in this world because we all protected one another. I was out but I didn’t make a big deal of it. And it was only when I interviewed for the position of chief resident of Neurology at GW, that it became well-known. I kept meeting people through the process, including David, a psychiatrist who was training to get his neurology certification. I went to his place and talked some more and felt so comfortable talking to him. He mentioned he and the woman he was seeing were going out that night and asked, “You want me to get a date for you?” I said, “Well, David, that’s very nice. Thank you, but I’m gay.” I didn’t realize that he would tell everybody so that when I finally accepted the job and showed up, everybody knew already that I was gay. It helped that there was a physician, an assistant Dean, in the department who was also gay. So we were naturally sympathetic to one another and he was very helpful. It really helped, too, that GW was, and still is, the gayest medical school in the country. If a student at another medical school had problems because he was gay, being bullied, he would transfer to GW. It became a magnet for medical students all over the country. Also, I remember thinking, I’m six blocks from the White House. It doesn’t get any better. At that time, D.C. was a very gay city, so it was easy to make friends and pick up tricks or whatever I wanted to do. 

The cell phone has ruined so much because you can’t get people to commit to anything. Instead of saying, “Let’s have dinner next Tuesday at 7:30,” they say, “Well, I don’t know what I might be doing. Something better might come along.” I don’t how people socialize anymore because it’s all so last minute. It drives me crazy. I used to throw sex parties in the ‘90s. I called them “office parties” because they were in my office. I took over from a group that socialized first, starting with drinks and hors d’oeuvres, and then they announced, “time to take off your clothes.” And I said, “No, you cannot mix a social setting with a sexual setting. It doesn’t work like that.” I took over, and set strict rules, one being, everybody arrives at the same time. You’ve got to be here between 8 and 8:15, or else the door is locked, and you’re not getting in. Because so many other parties had people showing up two hours after it started, when things got hot. If you make things hot from the get go, then everybody has a really good time. Now, I don’t know what people do. I’m out of the loop. My orgy days are over. 

BLADE: What do you hope readers will take away from “The Magician’s Accomplice?” 

CYTOWIC: How to be yourself. I learned how to be myself and not be at the mercy of other people’s expectations. I developed the attitude of, I don’t care what other people think, because their opinion doesn’t affect me one way or the other. So when I write something, I’m not trying to prove a point or convince people. I say, “Here’s what I know. Here’s what I’ve been through. Take a look if you find it useful.” Maybe my experiences will help you.  

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