I heard from lots of readers after my confession of not knowing who Mr. White (born Gillis) was, but suffice it to say, now I am informed!  While I can't say I care for The White Stripes (his first band with his ex-wife), I still admire his firm response to the monster child.  Philosopher Robert Allen, a longtime reader and, like Mr. White, a Detroit native, kindly shared this amusing story:

In the late 1980s, I would sit on my aunt's front porch in SW Detroit reading Wittgenstein and listening to an unseen Marc Bolan wannabe practicing in a house across the street- with only a drummer.  One night I heard a song on the radio about a decrepit hotel in that area, the Yorba.  Puzzled, I phoned my mother, who fancied herself the neighborhood's Thucydides: 'Mom, I just heard a song about the Hotel Yorba on the radio; do you know anyone who would write such a thing?'  Without missing a beat: 'Oh, that must be my friend Theresa Gillis' son, John.  She says that he's now a professional musician.  You know the Gillises, they live kitty-corner from your aunt.  In fact, John and his girlfriend come over and play cards with her.'  'Oh I get it, the Marc Bolan wannabe is the composer of Hotel Yorba!  (The Morning Star is the Evening Star.)  Thanks mom.'  

After my aunt died, Mr. White came over to extend his condolences to my parents.  My dad:  'John, take whatever you like; my sister sure loved playing cards with you and Megan.'  And, thus, did rock star Jack White come into possession of the set of cast-iron cookware on which I'd had my heart set.