I sort of remember. (Usually, when I have forgotten some story or incident, it turns out I have written it somewhere--I guess the mechanism is if it's recorded externally I can clear space in my memory). Was this the co-operative gallery on 3rd Ave one had to be voted in to? My dim recollection was that while the committee was voting on me, I was awaiting their decision in the gallery part of the gallery, where the members' work was showing--and when they told me I was in, I told them I had decided I was too good to be with them. If that's the story, then I was a bigger snob than they were (snobs).