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Bud Grossmann’s
Words of the Week
for the Week of
August 28, 2005
Published as Family History
in a WIP dated August 21, 2001.
© 2001 by Bud Grossmann.
All Rights Reserved.
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—, 2003
© 2003 by Bud Grossmann
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NAME-DROPPING
I have experienced a few brushes and near-brushes with celebrity. I’ll describe the biggest brush first: my wife and I, no kidding, had dinner once with —, the President of the United States of America. We didn’t exactly have dinner with him, because he ate dinner someplace else, but while my wife and I were eating dinner in a hotel ballroom at an event honoring Governor — (who was completing his term of office and whose hand, I might mention, I have personally shaken), President — arrived and gave a great speech. President —’s wife, —, was with him and she gave a great speech of her own. I took photos, with my wife’s point-and-shoot camera, but President and Mrs. — came out rather small and blurry.
Later, in the hotel restroom, I found myself alone with Governor-elect —. As we washed our hands at side-by-side sinks, I was thinking of saying something to him, since I happen to know we both graduated from — (he was several years ahead of me), but he looked weighted down with the prospect of his upcoming four or eight years of public service, so I just nodded hello when my eyes met his in the mirror.
On another occasion, I shook hands with U. S. Senator — and told him I’d recently written to his office about an immigration matter that resulted in a prompt and positive outcome. He said, “I’m glad we were able to help.”
One more hand-shaking report: I once visited a friend in a retirement home who introduced me to a friend of hers, a woman in her nineties, who claimed she, as a little girl, had shaken the hand of —, one of my favorite authors. I shook the hand that shook the hand.
I rode a hotel elevator with several members of the — basketball team. I’m not into sports, so I didn’t actually recognize the men, but I could tell they were real tall just by looking at them. A young boy in the same elevator got their autographs.
Once, when my daughter was little, she and I were boarding an airplane and passing through the first class section. I, lugging our carry-on bags, was several steps behind her when football star —, already seated and evidently believing the child was not in the company of her parents, reached out, patted her arm, and made an overly familiar remark to her. If I were a sports fan, I’d have perhaps thought he was just being nice; instead I glared at him like, Keep your filthy hands off of my kid!
On a trip to mainland China in 1980, my wife and I (and our moms) were in the same tour group as television actor —. I had never watched his show, but my mother had. He’s dead now, as you may know.
On a vacation in Canada, the year before the China trip, my wife and I were walking along a sidewalk near some government buildings in Ottawa, late one chilly autumn afternoon. A man, unaccompanied by anyone, approached from the other direction and greeted us as he passed. “That was Prime Minister —!” my wife exclaimed. She was right.
Once, in an airport boarding area, my wife whispered in my ear, “That’s —!” “Where?” I asked. “Right there!” she whispered. “He’s sitting right beside you!” I looked over, and, sure enough, that’s who it was, right beside me. He was accompanied by a woman more sleek and glamorous than you’d ever imagine would be seen with —, the character — played for so many years on television. We exchanged smiles, — and I. The glamorous woman sweetly smiled, too. A steady stream of kids and adults filed up to shyly ask for autographs. My wife whispered to me again. “Want to know my favorite scene, of all the movies I’ve seen — in?” “Sure,” I said. She told me. “Tell him!” I said. But she said she didn’t want to intrude upon his privacy.
I photographed Vice-Presidential candidate — as he arrived at an airport. Earlier that same year, on assignment for the local chapter of the — Party, I had photographed —, wife of Vice President —, at a cocktail reception in the home of —.
At an anti-war rally in 1969, in Washington, D.C., I got some nice pictures of — and —. A few years later, when my wife was a student at —, I visited — in the Los Angeles County Jail. He seemed entirely different than the person depicted (demonized) in the press. I met his attorney, —, in the context of that case and others. — came to our house one time; she, too, seemed far more benign than what I expected. I once saw —, chatting with some law students in a student lounge at —. He was sitting on the carpeted floor. Because of the extent of his fame, and the apparent prosperity of many of his clients, I imagined him to be wealthy. But when he took off his shoes to get more comfortable, I noticed one of his socks, a thin, plain, black sock, had a large hole in the sole.
At a film festival I had a chance to be an usher at the American premier of the Australian film, —. It so happened, — was attending the same screening. He and I ended up sitting in the same row! After the movie, everyone was interested, of course, in what — thought of the film. He liked it. So did I. A few months later, the film was released in U.S. theaters, and I saw —’s review in our local paper. I read it twice, but I did not find my name. ♦
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