That line comes from many second-tier celebrities who are ego-driven, ambitious and insulted when they are treated like "normal " people. They can't believe they aren't as famous as they're sure they should be.
But what about the first-tier people?
My ex-husband and I, having lived rather interesting lives (he was a political big-shot in NYC, I was an award-winning Romance writer) have run into lots of "famous" people through the years.
I thought it might be fun to tell some of those stories, as well as some stories from famiy and friends.
Let me start with a delightful anecdote about Dr. Ruth.
We had been invited to a fund-raising event at the Plaza Hotel, I think. Summer Fancy Food Show, involving celebrities partnered with chefs who cooked their favorite dish. (Complete with take-home recipes. I still have Gloria Vanderbilt's Raspberry Chicken recipe.) It was quite formal, so I was in an evening gown.
Approached Dr. Ruth Westheimer's table and sampled her cook's food. (A nice brisket of beef, as I recall.)
At that point, Dr. Ruth said, "What a beautiful gown. Very romantic."
I responded, "That's because I'm a Romance writer."
She asked for my pen name. I gave her both my names---Louisa Rawlings and Sylvia Halliday.
Her response? "Well, as long as your husband knows who he is getting into bed with each night!"
And, as a romance writer, I got to meet Barbara Cartland. (She sold millions of her books and also was the step-grandmother to Princess Diana.) She was coming to America and wanted a book-signing party here in NY, but she didn't want the "common people." The party was arranged through our Romance clubs, and only published authors were invited to the book-signing. My favorite memory of that afternoon (besides Barbara in her inevitable"Cartland Pink" dress, was drinking far too much wine with one of her sons, who was her business manager. We both got slightly looped while he told me he HATED working for his mother!)
Another story? Was in Colorado, where my daughter was the fund-raiser for the Vail Valley Foundation. Big fund-raising dinner. Stood at the door with her to help her greet the guests.
In came Jack Kemp. (Look him up---sterling guy.) I recognized him, but couldn't remember his name. So I said, "Didn't you used to be a politician?"
He grinned and said, "Now I'm a statesman!"
And then there's a story about my mother, who was a nut, as I'm sure I've mentioned many times. (Look up my old blog from 2015 or 16---JUST FOR FUN). She and my dad had come to Germany to visit with me and my husband. They then sailed back to the United States on the USS United States, which was making its maiden voyage.
Of course there were many celebrities aboard. My mother was introduced to the Duke of Bedford. She turned, held out her hand, and said (not in greeting, but as an exclamation), "Good Lord!"
And one of my favorite memories: Ex and I were at a Tony Award dinner. at a midtown hotel---can't remember the name now, but you took the escalator up to the lobby, then had to go down to the coat check. In front of us was Ray Bolger (Dorothy's scarecrow). He turned and said to me "We go up to hang up our coat?"
"No," I said, "We go DOWN to hang UP. "
He loved that. We spent the next five minute trading DOWN/UP snarky comments!
(That same evening, my ex came back from the men's room and said, "I just peed next to Walter Mstthau!")
A slightly more downbeat celebrity story.
My ex was the president of a prison-connected drug program. Stay'n Out tried to reach the druggies in prison and begin to train them to live in the outside world. (Very successful program.)
We were at a Stay'n Out fundraiser. Very crowded. Donors, but also family members of drug addicts. Ex and I separated for a time. I turned. There was Louis Jourdan, the gorgeous French actor. I had been in love with him from my young days, going to movies every week with my buddies.
He would have been in his 50's at that point. I knew that one of his children was into drugs and was probably in a drug program, which was why he was there.
The place was crowded. He looked lost.
Now I have a good memory and I'm old enough to have seen many, many movies. So when I meet a celebrity, I can usually immediately refer to what I've seen them in recently, and stroke their egos. (See next story.)
But Jourdan looked gorgeous. And I remembered that he had, for years, been open about being one of the first Hollywood stars to get a face-lift.
So I tried to think of a movie I had seen him in, in order to open the conversation. But all I could think of were movies I had seen 20 years before. That would have indicated that I knew how old he was! As I racked my brain and tried desperately to think of a reason to speak to him, I couldn't think of any movies. So I turned away, in spite of his silent, desperate plea.
Felt guilty about stiffing him for a very long time!
Better connection. Had a theater matinee with a friend. Went to Sardi's for lunch before the performance. (Fun Sardi story to follow.)
At the next table, Jeremy Irons with a young lady. He was then starring in "Brideshead Revisited", which had made him a star. But I had followed him since an obscure Masterpiece Theater performance in "Love For Lydia."
As he and the young woman were just having coffee, I approached their table and told him how much I had followed him since "Love For Lydia."
He was delighted! "I didn't think anyone watched that show!"
So since I had gotten him into a great mood, I took the occasion to ask another question.
It seems that, in the early years of scarce color TV sets, my husband and 3 sport-minded sons had always watched the baseball games in color. I was consigned to the kitchen and the small black and white TV set to watch Masterpiece Theater.
So I asked Mr. Irons if he could tell me, in a scene when one of the young ladies walks down a castle corridor, what color her gown was.
He laughed and indicated his companion. "You can ask this young lady. She's the costume designer." What a fabulous chat she and I had over the Brideshead costumes!
Sardi story. Pre-cell phone days. Husband was now out of City Hall and working for Phoenix House, a well-know drug rehab organization. Situated in the West 70's or 80's We had a dinner date with downtown friends. I was coming from the suburbs.Would pick up my husband in front of Phoenix House and then we would drive downtown.
I crossed the bridge from Queens to the city. Car suddenly dies. Indicates that battery is kaput. Pull over to side of the road and park.
Can't leave car till after 7, or will get a ticket. Hit phone box after 7, but no answer. Ex has probably left Phoenix House and is probably already waiting on the street for me.
Flag down cab. Get to ex waiting on the street. We cab back to parked car. Call car service people to come for car. They determine that car needs new battery. But they need payment in advance.
Ex says he used up his cash for the wine we were bringing to friends. I used my cash for cab rides. (Again, no cash machines in those days. You went to the bank and wrote a "cash" check for yourself.)
Here we are, in disabled car, hooked up to car-service jack, sitting precariously at an angle.
Ex tells service people the address of Schubert Alley (next to Sardi's) We ride there, tipped up. He runs in, grabs Vincent Sardi, and has him cash a check for the amount we would have to pay the company to replace battery!
A crazy adventure, but it worked out fine!
Now perhaps the saddest story, and a weird coincidence.
I had just left my husband. My daughter in Brooklyn was coming into NYC to do a number with a musical/comedy group. I had arranged to meet a friend at the place.
Got there early. As I was looking around the room for my friend, a little toddler came up and grabbed my legs. I couldn't shake him off. Finally looked into the room to see who he belonged to. There was my son from Pennsylvania! To my surprise (and many happy tears) I realized the toddler was my grandson, and that my son had come all the way from Pennsylvania to see his sister.
We watched the show, visited with my daughter and then left.
We were on the Upper West Side.
Because his toddler son had been in a car for a few hours, my son decided that his son should have a chance to run around before they drove home.We went into nearby Central Park.
It was in the area where John Lennon's memorial stood. Lots of people laying flowers, mourning Lennon, etc.
My son, who was dedicated to John Denver, (flew out from Pennsylvania just to see him in Colorado!) marveled at the mourning after all these years.
"With no disrespect to John Lennon," he said, "I'm a huge fan of John Denver." (Who was very much alive at that point.) "But after 17 years after his death, I'm not going to be moping around like these people." We laughed, he left with his son and went home.
That night, within an hour of our conversation, John Denver died in a plane crash. I don't think my son got over that horrible coincidence for a long time.
One more memory.
Went to England. Had dear friends, titled.
Went to their daughter's wedding. (Lovely affair!) But were told that Dudley Smith, a friend of the family and a titled aristocrat, made an "ass of himself" that day.
For those involved in history, Robert Dudley, the first Earl, was Queen Elizabeth I's special lover.
I do have one more fun memory: During the Bicentennial celebrations in 1976, we were on the flagship in NY harbor when the tall ships went by.
On our ship was Princess Grace and the entire Monaco family. Still have her autograph---"Grace de Monaco". She was very gracious to give it to us.
What is the point of all this?
Mostly to remind people that the really famous people can afford to be themselves---often gracious, open, and lovely.
Only people with less self-esteem have to trumpet their importance.
Life Lesson? If you get to the top, don't forget to be human and humble.
Incidentally, people, if you have your own "famous people" story to tell, don't hesitate to contact me here!
