Stalker

Here’s a very L.A. question: When you run into celebrities you admire, do you approach them and say something, or do you play it cool and act as if you don’t know who they are?

As I’ve written about (incessantly) on this blog, it’s hard to go long in Los Angeles without running into celebrities of one ilk or another. Having known a fair number of famous people in my life, I am well aware that they are just regular folks with the same issues and dysfunctions (more?) as the rest of us. The last thing I’d ever want to do is to act like some fawning sycophant, and yet, when I encounter certain people, I still find myself fighting the urge to gawk and stare.

In the old days, the relationship between celebrities and fans was more clearly defined. Big movie stars had huge studio publicity machines behind them arranging for public appearances, so-called dates, all sorts of positive press, even fake marriages if they thought it would help the person’s image. There were no Smoking Gun, TMZ, or Go Fug Yourself websites exposing these people at their worst, and most scandals, arrests, ugly divorces, or any other indications that the celebrities were real human beings were quickly suppressed. Sure, there were a few sleazy tabloids such as “Broadway Brevities” and later “Confidential” and others that printed salacious gossip, but these were not considered mainstream publications and were nowhere near as ubiquitous as they are today.

For their part, most of the old-time stars understood the role of their adoring public in maintaining their fame. Joan Crawford may have been a sociopath in her personal life, but she was the epitome of the gracious Movie Star, acting like royalty but always kind and generous to her fans. She answered much of her mail by hand and never missed an opportunity to lap up the adoration or bestow gifts on the “little people” who were lucky enough to cross her path.

Even today you can see the difference between the stars who grew up in the old studio system and younger actors in the way they respond to public attention. Kendall and I have always marveled at how people like Debbie Reynolds (who we just saw last weekend at the Hollywood Bowl), the late Ann Miller (we must have seen her at more than a dozen events around town), and other actors from those bygone days cater to their fans. It’s in marked contrast to the celebrities who (understandably) don’t want to be bothered when they’re in a restaurant or a theatre and sometimes, when confronted by cloddish fans, become incensed and angry. I remember seeing MGM star Cyd Charisse at a screening a few years ago and hearing her say that whenever she and her husband Tony Martin are out and about in Los Angeles, she is aways touched and honored when people come up to them and tell them how much they have enjoyed their work. She urged everyone in the audience to approach her no matter where they happen to see her. I obviously don't expect people like Sean Penn to make such a remark.

Not that I have any desire to accost celebrities in public. Still, I have to admit that I always notice them when they're there. Reviewing celebrity encounters is practically a parlor game here in L.A. and usually it’s just a fun aside, not the focal point of your day. When I stopped at a coffee shop yesterday after dropping my daughter at school, I realized I was sitting next to William Shatner. I immediately found myself assessing how the actor has physically changed since he was at the height of his fame (thank God no one compares me on a daily basis to how I looked in my 20s!) and I briefly thought about “Star Trek” and some of my favorite Captain Kirk moments (I don’t watch his current show). Leah goes to school with a slew of actors’ children and when I meet those parents I rarely acknowledge their work. Sometimes I wonder if I’m going too far the other way. If I met a novelist I admired in that situation, wouldn’t I be likely to mention how much I enjoyed their books if that was the case?

When my brother-in-law Jeff was here last month, he was recognized on several occasions in restaurants or on the street. A few people came up and told him how much they loved his songs. It was always sweet and respectful but also a little uncomfortable and awkward. Jeff is kind to his fans and appreciates the fact that they enjoy his music, but it’s still a little weird when people recognize him during his off-stage life, especially if they approach him in places where anonymity is preferred like in a bathroom or locker room!

Why am I even writing about this meaningless and L.A.-centric topic? Last night Kendall and I were watching “Mad Men,” our favorite new show, about people working in an advertising agency in 1960. Fantastic series with a great cast including the always good John Slattery (also a regular on “Desperate Housewives” this year). I started thinking about Slattery’s role on one of my favorite TV shows of all time, a series called “Homefront” from the early 1990s that detailed the lives of a group of small-town people just after World War II. It only lasted two seasons but it covered a lot of ground in its depiction of those tumultuous post-war years. In addition to John Slattery, the excellent cast included Wendy Phillips, Kyle Chandler, Hattie Winston, Mimi Kennedy, and a young British actress named Sammi Davis. Davis’s character Caroline was my favorite and, in my opinion, the most challenging. She played an English war bride who married an American G.I. to escape Europe’s post-war devastation and, once safely ensconced in America, still suffered from the trauma she went through during the war. This made her act in ways that were anything but sympathetic. I loved Davis in this role, just as I had admired her in great films such as “Hope and Glory” and D. H. Lawrence’s “The Rainbow.” I started wondering what had happened to this wonderful actress who I hadn’t seen in almost ten years (except for a brief appearance in a “Lost” flashblack last year as Dominic Monaghan’s mother).

Imagine my surprise when I walked into my favorite La Brea Avenue coffee shop this morning and there sat actress Sammi Davis with two friends, chatting amiably in her distinctive British voice. I couldn’t believe the coincidence and I thought I should say something to her. I sat in full view of the actress, listening to her talk about current projects (including a new scary-sounding movie called “The Double Born”) but I never said a word. Sammi survived my lack of attention quite well, believe it or not, but I found myself wondering if I was throwing the baby out with the bathwater in my quest not to appear like a celebrity stalker. Maybe she would have enjoyed hearing from an admiring fan in that situation. Refusing to acknowledge her presence felt silly and ungenerous.

Why am I so self-conscious about this? Is it because of the time, nearly thirty years ago, when the attention I paid to a celebrity nearly sent her to a mental institution?

“Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman” was the surprise hit of the year. A Norman Lear parody of soap operas, this nightly foray into high camp pushed all the envelopes. (I remember seeing the names of a married couple in the show's credits, never dreaming at the time that the story editors were my future in-laws, Kendall's parents.) The star of “Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman” was Louise Lasser, who was mostly known back then as Woody Allen’s ex-wife and the neurotic spouse in a series of Nyquil commercials. Now she was the darling of the avant-garde and hanging out with the likes of Andy Warhol and Gore Vidal.

Lasser was coming to Chicago in a one-woman show that would capitalize on her new fame. I cut a few college classes to wait in line in the frigid midwest winter to purchase one of the sought-after tickets. Mission accomplished, I threw the ticket into my ever-present backpack. As the date of the show neared, however, rumors circulated that Lasser was crumbling under the weight of her newfound celebrity status. Less than a week before the engagement, the show was abruptly cancelled. “Ms. Lasser is experiencing minor health problems,” the notice read. An opportunity came up for me to visit New York the following weekend. Since my plans had changed, I decided to go.

The very night that I would have been in the Park West Theater in Chicago watching Lasser’s act, I found myself in a Broadway theater. As the lights came on at intermission, I spotted a familiar shock of red hair two rows in front of me. There, paging nervously through her program, sat Louise Lasser! I followed her to a small hallway where she went to have a cigarette. She looked wide-eyed and frightened. I was so stunned at the irony of the situation that against my better judgment I ran up to her and shouted, “Louise Lasser! Louise Lasser! I was supposed to be watching your show tonight in Chicago!” She responded as if I had caught her red-handed. As I reached into my backpack to find the ticket to her show, she lurched backwards against the wall, as if she feared I might be pulling out a gun. The more I tried to appear nonchalant and non-threatening, the more agitated she became. Still, I was so taken with the strange coincidence of our encounter that I wanted to record it. I whipped out my camera and asked her if I could snap a quick photo. Lasser backed further into the wall, her eyes darting. “Take the picture, take the picture,” she whimpered in a staccato monotone. Looking as if she wanted to die, she wrapped her purple shawl around her red hair and stared off into the distance. I took the photo.

And here it is, decades later, her Danny Miller-induced terror recorded for posterity. Later that month, I heard that Louise Lasser had checked herself into a mental hospital. “Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman” continued for a while without her and was eventually cancelled. I’m not saying that I caused the actress’s nervous breakdown, but I clearly was responsible for her panic on that particular day. Is it any wonder why I hesitate about approaching celebrities? And I haven’t even told you about the time I followed actress Ellen Burstyn for six city blocks.

Comments

[Your Wife]

That picture could be the cover of every Russian novel ever written! May I just say, my darling, that if LL had known a good thing when she saw one, she would have married him, just like I did... of course, maybe your recognizing me had more of a personal impact since you're the only one who ever has! Awfully glad you didn't leave me stranded like Sammi Davis, alone on La Brea. She could have been the third Mrs. Miller!

[Julie R.]

Danny, I understand your dilemma about how to treat a celebrity. It reminds me of an experience that John and I had at LAX many years ago. We had just arrived at our gate when we saw Dustin Hoffman. I went with my instincts and said nothing to him, even though we were close enough to say hello, or at least smile and nod. While Dustin stood outside the women's bathroom waiting for his traveling companion, a man walked by, did a double-take, and doubled back. "Mr. Hoffman," he said, "I loved you in that movie."

[Pam G]

Like you, I've been around entertainment "folk" for most of my career. I find, as I've gotten older, that I'm less and less likely to approach anyone "famous" I happen upon and I never was one for interrupting meals and discussions they were having with associates. I used to work out at the same health club as Mr. [Fred] Rogers and Dr. Cyril Wecht (coroner to the stars) and never spoke to either one of them, though I ran into them several times a week for about ten years. Once a friend of mine tried to pay a small polite compliment to a locally known stage actress using an adjoining treadmill and the woman refused to acknowledge her at all . . . except for a "looks-could-kill" glare like you wouldn't believe. We would hate to see what she would have done to those not praising her!

Covering the arts, I've also seen all sorts of fan silliness from screaming tearful girls pulling at the clothing of Broadway composer Stephen Schwartz a few weeks back (but happy I was--sort of--that youngsters were so into his work!) to an elderly woman who grabbed Jack Klugman and repeatedly tried to kiss him on the mouth during a book signing two years ago. Some people just lack common sense and if I were famous these sorts of things would certainly scare me.

Here's a funny one: About two years ago I was headed to the ladies room in a posh Pittsburgh hotel after the Mary Cleere Haran cabaret concert. I spotted Ms. Haran and nodded but kept on walking. *She* followed me into the restroom, shook my hand vigorously, and said, "I saw you sitting in the front row. How did you enjoy my show?" Likewise, Lee Lessack, music producer and singer, tapped me on the arm in the bar of the same hotel a few weeks ago and said basically the same thing after his performance with Stephen Schwartz. Gee, I guess these singers are really interested in who would sit front-and-center for their shows! We ended up having a lovely chat about the cabaret scene around the country but I was a little taken aback at first.

Yet I couldn't imagine Jack Nicholson, whom I watched filming Hoffa here many years ago, approaching me in a local pub with the greeting, "Say, I saw you standing across the street an hour ago. Did I nail that scene or what?"

Regarding Joan Crawford, when I was working at Filmland Journal in the late 1970s, many people who knew her said that they thought her slavish devotion to answering fan mail and "keeping up her image" was an extension of her mental illness. I felt sad for all the fans who took this differently when "the truth" came out.

I also loved your comment on John Slattery. I thought I was the only one who adored and remembered Homefront. Mad Men is my new favorite show, too, and his character makes me so uncomfortable at times but it looks like more nuances may be in the works for Mr. Sterling!

Gee, my response is almost as long as your entry. Maybe I should get my own public blog instead of "hijacking" yours, eh?

[Elisabeth]

I have seldom had the opportunity to run into celebrities and, frankly, have no desire to communicate with them, even with my favorite ones - ever. Perhaps it's by fear of being utterly disappointed. I am not sure.

[Kerry]

OMG!!! You are deliciously creepy! This entry made me really laugh. Best ice breaker to use with the famous or nearly-so..."Do you know who you are?" xo

[Vicki Forman]

That picture is priceless. My parents ran into Louise Lasser once too, and found her equally anxious. Maybe it had something to do with being Louis Lasser's daughter?

[churlita]

Another wonderful post. I too loved Homefront. I watched it religiously when I was living in New Mexico and pregnant with my first daughter.

I live in a big writing town and have approached several authors about how much I liked their work. It may be a little different with writers, because they aren't as easily recognized, but none of them seemed to mind the intrusion.

I waited on Robin Williams once when I lived in San Francisco, but didn't say anything to him about his acting. He was clearly there to enjoy a pleasant brunch with his family.

[OldOldLady Of The Hills]

LOVED this post Danny...!
OKAY! Let's talk about MAD MEN...! I THINK IT IS INCREDIBLY BRILLIANT! Slattery brought me to tears on Thursday...He was so awful with thoe twins and so creepy and then...when he got so frighened by his possible demise...He broke my heart.
NOW....do you know that the actress that plays 'his wife' on MAD MEN is his Real Life Wife, and further...that she is Joyce Van Patten's wonderful daughter--Talia Balsam? So Slattery is less than six degrees of separation from you, dear Danny...!
You should have spoken to Sammi Davis. She would have LOVED it....She is more from that older time and given her profile is not as high these days...These things truly do mean a lot to a people like her--I mean people who have had some celebrity and often feel forgotten....At least, that is my thought....
I understand your reticence but also, I think trying to "act cool" can sometimes be a missed opportuity, you know?
Louise Lasser was certainly on the Cocaine-Paranoid side of life at the time that you mention and paranoia would certainly be a HUGE part of what she was going through...

I have been with Betty G. so very many times---over these 45 years, hundreds, probably, when a "fan" comes over to her and she is so gracious with everybody. And every person I have seen approach her in a public place---Restaurants, etc. is so respectful and caring--I realize she engenders that and I think therefor people see her as approachable, and she is...I'm sure you've seen that too....

I also think the tabloid horrors now---TMZ, etc...are incredibly mean and insulting...I don't understand this horrificly painfyl attitude...And I saw one of those Entertainment Tonight/Access Hollywood type shows on late night CBS the other night and was shocked that THAT is all they are now too....OY OY OY!

Anyway....I urge you to follow your instincts---now that you are more mature---and you can size up a situation and tell if the person is approachable or not....I think it would be a lovely experience for both you and the particular "celebrtity/Star/Actress/Actor"....Let us know, my dear!

[Paula]

Some years back, I saw something about the Judds, either on Biography or True Hollywood Story. It consisted of a lot of scenes of Wynonna and Naomi walking about the towns where they are playing shows, and Naomi accosting people, demanding to know "Do you know who we are?", forcing people to take autographs, all the while swathed in head scarf and large classes like Jackie O. It was creepy. Cut to Wynonna lamenting the weirdness of her life on stage at the most awkward time in a girl's life, puberty, and feeling like her Barbie doll look-a-like mom was competing with her (ya think?)

Thinking of Joan Crawford and Louise Lasser, it occurs to me that the line between talent and mental illness is so thin. It gives me a bad feeling that we have some of the most fragile members of the human race entertaining their hearts out for us.

[mark]

I can't remember now how I found your blog. Looking for something else, I'm sure, and stumbled upon it. In any case, I enjoy your writing and check in from time to time. Here's the odd thing: My aunt and uncle are actors in L.A. and I finally realize who your mother-in-law is. I sat next to her at a dinner party at Barbara R.'s house several years ago that my relatives had taken me to. I really enjoyed that conversation (we talked a lot about Dallas where I live) and still regret that I didn't tell her how much I enjoyed her book "A Woman of Independent Means". Didn't want to be a fawning fan. Weird, no?

[Denise B.]

Years ago, in Paris, my husband and I found ourselves in a Lalique store with Andy Williams, who was with POST-Spider Sabitch Claudine Longet. Awkward! I mean, what does one say?! In this case, discretion was the better part.

[Sam G]

Danny,

6 degrees of information. Sammi Davis was forwarded your article and was very flattered.

Wendy Phillips has an actors studio/theatre at 130 S. La Brea, The Lost Studio. Many times when we do production there, actors from Home Front will show up.

[Rebekah]

Wow. Ya know, I used to want to be an actress. I remember telling all my friends and family that I was going to be a star someday. Then I grew up and I really started to think about it. Mostly about how my life would never be private again, and that thought scared the crap out of me. (Or in this case, the dream.)
I have a very famous third cousin who my family is always trying to get to come to one of our reunions. Every year, we are disappointed. Well...THEY are. I think they're all delusional. :) This guy has no idea who we are, hasn't known us since he was a child. I don't blame him for choosing not to come. Even though we are his family, we are still rabid fans and the reunion would most likely turn into a long, drawn-out autograph signing! Not really a typical day of QT with the fam...

[Lynn]

Hey - I've been reading your posts on and off for a couple of months. I really liked this one for a couple of reasons. First, I thought I was the ONLY person who loved and rememberd Homefront. I am 34 and was a Senior in High School or College Freshman at the time. Even though the show took place in such a different time (especially given that it aired in the early 90's), I found it captivating and relatable. Second, I find myself resisting the urge to do my own celebrity stalking. We live in Chicago and used to live 2 blocks away from Billy Corgan. He eventually moved from our neighborhood due to the high incident of fans showing up and camping out around his home. He termed it a "disservice" to his neighbors. Three plus years ago we moved to a new neighborhood and guess who lives 2 blocks away from us now? Another one of our favorite musicians of all time - your brother in law! I have not had the nerve to say anything when I see him, but am dying to say *something*....maybe some day.