R.I.P. Barton Biggs. I worked for his protégé, Ann Thivierge, and sometimes for Mr. Biggs himself when I was trying to make it as a writer in New York. He and Ann (and the entire team of managers, two of whom are like family) were always so supportive of my writing and Hemingway dreams.

That said, he and I always had issues with him wanting me to call him “Barton” and my refusing to address my elder that way  He’d growl and I would not budge.

Rest in Peace, Barton.