Tell me about your encounter with the giants

Cafe Society
81

…Forgot to include these:

As an undergrad in the mid to late 70’s, Philadelphia, I worked summers as a stagehand in various concert halls– from large Spectrum gigs to hoity-toity concertos at the Academy of Music. My brother-in-law, a professional stagehand, got me these gigs, and they paid very well. At the time, they held big open-air, free concerts at Penn’s Landing by the Delaware River and my job there was to help set up the sound equipment. The acts for these free concerts were typically oldies, or lesser-known groups, but there were some exceptions. I got to know the performers more intimately at this Penn’s Landing gig than at the other venues, it was just a more open environment.

One performer, who I can declare a real jerk was Elvis Presley. Seeing that I had backstage clearance, a handicapped young lady handed me her camera and asked if I would go to Elvis’ dressing room and snap a photo of the King for her. I agreed, knocked on the dressing room door, told Elvis the story, asked to snap the photo…to which he replied, “I don’t care if she’s in a wheelchair or not, she’s not getting my photo without paying for it". All right, it wasn’t the real Elvis, only a popular Elvis impersonator of the day…but he was the King of Jerks (I’ll bet the real Elvis, had he been alive, would have given the photo without hesitation).

The popular 70’s progressive rock group, Renaissance, also gave a Penn’s Landing concert and I spent a lot of time with the singer, Annie Haslam (not too interesting until you realize that I was a big Renaissance fan at the time and had a huge - thing - for Annie). I came remarkably close, but not quite close enough to mustering up the nerve to ask her out—a cop out that I still kick myself for.

Yes, I know…these are not exactly the “greats”.

But, the build-up of my story is for this one: Chubby Checker came to town to give a free Penn’s Landing concert. The other stagehands and I finished setting up the equipment early and we were just hanging out backstage a few hours before show time. Nobody had yet seen the musicians. I was banging out a couple of tunes on the keyboard. Now, I’m not a musician. I never took lessons. I taught myself to play by ear…and I wasn’t too bad, if I do say so myself, for a piano duffer. I was playing a little boogie-woogie and the other hands were digging it. I wasn’t paying too much attention to who was coming or going at that time, just finding my groove. Then, out of the blue, I hear, “hey, this kid ain’t too bad”. I look up, and you guessed it, it’s the Chubbster—one in the same who’s 45-rpm Twist records, belonging to my big brother, I used to play all the time in the early 60’s, when I was but a mere squirt…man, my little tot friends and I could really twist to those records. He was standing next to his manager, who was standing next to me. Things got quite surreal over the next couple of minutes when the manager told me that their keyboardist broke his hand and wouldn’t be able to play tonight’s gig. Hmmm, Ok. “Do you think you could fill in for him?” After I picked my stomach off of the floor, I said something to the effect, “gosh, I’d really love to…I’m a huge fan…I’m not a real musician (I just play one on TV)…I don’t have Chubby’s song memorized”…and other declarations of a wussie nature. Came the reply: “not a problem…we’ll turn your volume down…we have these chord cheat sheets for you to use…you know how to read chords, right?”. “Um, why, yes I do”. “Then you’re Chubby’s keyboardist for the night…here, start practicing”. So practice I did. I wasn’t sounding too bad, actually. I had a little experience performing—I played organ and synth in our frat band…we were pretty good, cranking out Pink Floyd, the Cars and Eagles tunes for beer parties—but, this was quite different. This was playing in front of a large crowd with professional musicians…and the front man just happens to be a legend and one of my childhood idols. It doesn’t get any better than this and it doesn’t get any more frightening than that. My mind began to wander into future gig territory…”Now at the Coliseum, Chubby Checker & PoopiePants, performing the Soiled Knickers Twist!”

My ticket to fame, fortune…and lots of groupies of the scantily clad female persuation. Hmmm, which one for tonight? Redhead, blond, brunette…one of each? Here, Chubby, you take the chubby one…

…But, alas, it was not to be. The real keyboardist showed up minutes before showtime, with a cast on his left hand. I guess they figured he, playing with one hand, was better than me, playing with two…and they figured correctly, he was awesome. (Why couldn’t he have broken both hands?) I should have asked Annie Haslam out, when I had the chance.

82

In 1981, I wrote a short humor piece called “Oedipus Wrecked,” which was published in a monthly periodical. Shortly thereafter, the editor of the magazine informed me that she’d received a letter from Isaac Asimov praising the piece. The editor said that she had given my home address to Asimov, and sure enough, a funny note soon arrived in my mailbox. Thus began several delightful years of correpondence. Oh! the limericks, the palindromes, the Gilbert & Sullivan parodies! It was the closest I’m likely to get to heaven in this life.

83

I apparently met and chatted with Roger Maguire – I don’t know how to spell it, the home run guy with the red hair – some years ago, when his time was in Memphis because their minor league team was opening a new ballpark near my apartment. But I didn’t know who he was, and if the girl I was having breakfast with hadn’t asked me what i thought of him, I never would have realized it.

84

I believe you are referring to Mark McGwire (Roger Maris is the guy who’s single season homerun record he broke; that might explain why you are thinking of the name Roger).

As for me…
Debbie Gibson must get around, because I was introduced to her once on the beach. It was by a mutual friend. Problem was, I didn’t know who she was. I mean, I knew she was a singer, but I couldn’t identify any of her songs. So, while I got an autograph (the guy she was with ripped a picture out of a magazine and had her sign it for me), I probably came across as a star-struck kid, since I didn’t really say too much.

I also think I was in an elevator with Bill Cosby. I say think because I wasn’t sure (but I still believe it). See, my dad ran a hotel that was hosting his wife’s family’s reunion. The story from my dad was that Cosby might show up, but if he did he’d be in a disguise so as to not attract any attention. Well, I end up in the elevator with an older guy, wearing a reunion shirt. He has on a hat and a (fake looking beard). He also was holding an unlit cigar and had a huge diamond ring on his hand. Shy me, I never said anything, but I like to think it was really the Cos.

At that same hotel, they later hosted a retirement party for former Miami Dolphin wide receiver Mark Clayton. At 16, I was a “security guard” at the event, so I got to meet Clayton, Mark Duper, and Dan Marino. My friend and I even made small talk with Dan Marino’s dad. [The funniest part of that night was when Duper came into the room. A friend asked if he would mind taking a picture with me, our “security”. Duper had been arrested for drug possession about a week prior. He said to me “as long as you don’t have handcuffs, I’ll take a picture. I’ve seen too many of those lately”]

As a kid, I went to a baseball camp hosted by former Detroit Tiger Chet Lemon (he personally gave me batting tips; too bad my lack of coordination didn’t make better use of them).

And I used to work out at the same gym as Vince Taylor

85

Christine Brewer, considered one of the greatest dramatic sopranos in the world, studies voice with one of my colleagues. She doesn’t have lessons often, but she does occasionally show up in my building. I used to sit in the hall and listen while she coached Isolde while preparing for her debut in the role.

When I got my Master’s degree, I sang the Alma Mater for commencement. The commencement speaker was Madeline Albright, and Ozzie Smith* was receiving an honorary degree. So I can claim to have sung for a former secretary of state and a baseball great.

*(Funny story: while “backstage” preparing for the processional, I was wondering who this guy, who looked familiar but I couldn’t place, and who everybody kept calling “Oswald”, was. Then we got on stage and I looked at the program. :smack: )

86

Since I met quite a few giants* on the job, as a journalist / radio guy, I think those instances are disqualified, I’ll throw in a chance encounter.

About 15 years ago I was trying to scrounge a living as a freelance writer in the south of Spain. I’d got a job writing about the happy life senoir citizens lead on the Costa del Sol and wnt out to get some nice pics for the story. I casually knew a guy working at Los Naranjos Country Club and a friend and I went there and asked if we coulld take some pics of the senoir citizens enjoying retired life on a prestigeous gold course (where membership fees started at $50k back then).
Friend and I walked out to the tenth tee, being close to the club house.

We walked around, big SLRs with long lenses, waiting for someone to show up. Eventueally a pair of older gentlemen did show up. Bald, tanned, wearing goofy golf appareal. We started snapping away and suddenly, the voice of one of these guys seemes oddly familiar. That Shcotish acshent is very well known.

Oops. Sean Connery must’ve thought we were some kind of wannabe paparazzi.

I find it odd that IMDb lists him as 6’2½", because one reason I didn’t recognize him was the pot belly, the ugly outfit and the fact that he was quite short (I’m 6’3").

I talked to the guy at the Country Club later about this, and he confirmed that Connery was a member and that the guy kept a very low profile. He drove a standard Nissan SUV and was always very friendly to people who wanted to talk about golf. If someone wanted to talk about Sean Connery, James Bond or Hollywood, he was not as forthcoming.
*Ex-pres Jimmy Carter, ex-porn actress Seka, Goldie Hawn, Oprah, Siskel&Ebert, to name a few most Americans will recognize.

87

These are such cool stories!

One more from me: Many years ago (like mid-80s), we used to go to Louisville to the Humana Festival of New American Plays every year. One year, we didn’t realize that we’d booked our tickets for the big press weekend, where the place is crawling with celebs, many of whom are there to view the new plays as potential vehicles for themselves. Sigourny Weaver was there, as were Hume Cronyn and Jessica Tandy.

One of the plays we saw was a hugely depressing piece about an old couple. The man was completely dependent on his wife, who was dying of cancer, and she was trying to get through to him that she was going to the hospital and wouldn’t be coming home. My dad was very ill at the time, so I sat for almost the whole performance with tears running down my face, trying not to sob audibly.

On our way out of the theater, I noticed that I was moving up the aisle right behind Hume Cronyn. At this point, I’m a total mess – red nose, puffy eyes, wads of damp kleenex clenched in one hand. But I screwed up my courage to speak to him. I said something really clever like, “Mr. Cronyn, I’m a great admirer of your acting.” The man shook the kleenex-free hand and beamed at me like I was the only person who ever said that to him. “Thank you! That is so kind of you to say!”

I had the opportunity, but I never had the guts to speak to Ms. Tandy. She scared me!

88

An old girl friend used to run autograph shows. Occasionally I would attend. There were baseball stars,hockey stars,football stars Both current and past. She said hockey players were the easiest to work with and the nicest. She claimed Willy Mays would smear autographed baseballs he sold to white kids. They were ,I think, 50 bucks.
Went into a bar about 35 years ago. It was packed with the Detroit Red Wings. Gordie Howe,Lindsey,Ullman,Sawchuck. I sat quietly and had a couple beers.
Another bar was a steady drop in for Norm Cash and Hank Aguirre. They were very nice .
In yet another bar Mitch Rider used the urinal next to me. I did not notice so don’t ask.

89

I almost forgot about two more:

I was once chased around a (gay) bar by Paul Lynde. This was in the late 60s in Columbus, Ohio. It was in a bar that generally catered to an older clientele. I was only in my early 20s, a whole lot cuter than I am now, and kinda out of place there. All of a sudden, someone was grabbing at me, and it was a very drunk and very obnoxious Paul Lynde. I broke free and started to leave, but he chased after me. I only managed to escape when one of his friends, and I think the bouncer, managed to calm him down. I’m sure Lynde was a delight when he was sober, but a really obnoxious drunk.

Also . . . I was once in Bloomingdale’s (the original one in NYC), shopping for some towels, and who should appear beside me but Barbra Streisand. She held up two towels and asked me which one I liked. I pointed to one, a sort of dusty rose color. I was so caught off guard that I was literally speechless. Why would Barbra Streisand, or anyone else, ask a total stranger about his taste in towels?

90

That doesn’t sound like an encounter, but rather a true friendship. Very cool. It would be fun to hear some of it if you ever felt it would be okay…

91

He’s not really mainstream famous, but Phillip Walker is a bluesman who’s been doing gigs all over the South for decades now. One night at club in the north Florida hills, he was tanked and fresh from a set, and stupid me talked him into rolling dice: my class ring against his hat. He won and took the ring with a grunt, went back up and tore the paint off the cinderblocks. It was a bummer at the time but now it puts a smile on my face. I hope he got a few tanks of gas out of it.

Whoa! Dude, that’s really cool. Keep at it.

92

In early 1989 I interviewed Robert Bork, who had by that time retired from the D.C. Circuit Court of Appeals, for the smalltown newspaper I briefly worked at. I was already very interested in the law and asked him a lot more questions than my editor had expected, but the editor liked the interview and ran the whole thing, even though it was longer than he’d anticipated.

Bork was very pleasant. The things I most remember about the interview were:

  • He smoked like a chimney
  • He said he’d often been mistaken for C. Everett Koop (even while smoking!)
  • He said it was an open secret late in the Carter Administration that Thurgood Marshall had been tactfully asked if he’d consider retiring so that Carter could name his successor. Marshall declined, and Carter became the only President of the 20th century not to name anyone to the Supreme Court.
93

Paul Lynde in a gay bar?! The HELL you say!

You forgot to include your most recent encounter with a giant…Bernadette.

94

I got Johan Cruijff’s signature, must be about 20 years ago now. Do not have a clue where it is now, but I remember him being quite grumpy.

95

James Earl Jones came to the high school where I teach a few years ago. It was set up as a publicity stunt by the phone company pimps for whom he was whoring at the time. There was supposed to be a teleconference call between some students from my school and another school somewhere far, far away. Jones was supposed to moderate.
Why was my school chosen? Because the students are almost all poor and black. The pimps whipped the kids into a frenzy in the weeks leading up to the event that JAMES EARL JONES was coming to see THEM!
On the appointed day, the whore in question must have been feeling not quite so fresh. He said hello over the PA system…I heard him. He did a half-assed job moderating a conference call involving only a tiny handful of kids at our end. He left. We nearly had a riot the rest of the kids were so disappointed.
Yeah, he’s a great favorite of mine.

96

I used to be involved in the Temple Ov Psychick Youth, and when Genesis and Paula P’Orridge came to the USA via San Francisco International to celebrate his 40th birthday and kick off a tour of interactive lectures on mind, music and magick, those of us who were active in the Temple in the SF area hosted the two of them and helped to put on the first event. They were both down-to-earth and personable. Gen realized that some of us might be intimidated by their presence, so he came up with the somewhat brilliant idea that when we met to discuss things, plan the ritual aspects, etc, whoever was speaking would wear the Sacred Hat – it was a bright red velvet Shriner’s fez, with a glittery tassel that hung down in the wearer’s face and a garish Shriner crescent-sword emblem in glitter and rhinestones, a hat nobody could possibly be intimidating while wearing.

A few years later Psychick TV re-formed and toured and I went to their show at the Maritime in San Fran. Before the show I was just leaving the restroom, when I heard a bright British-accented voice calling my name. It took me a moment to realize that the startling drag queen in the velvet stretch pants was Genesis himself, who’d recognized and remembered me and gave me a big smile and wave on his way backstage. This was at the very beginning of the phase of androgynous/transgender presentation he’s been pursuing over the last while…a truly outrageous and innovative being, that one.

One day I was walking down Market street in downtown San Francisco and literally almost ran into Jerry Garcia when he turned a corner. I was all cool about it and said “Howdy!” He gave me a big smile and went on his way.

I’ve had a few drinks with Jack Micheline; am acquainted with Gary Floyd, Carol Queen and Keith Hennessey just enough to say “hello” to when we run into each other; have spoken on the phone to **William S. Burroughs, Victor Anderson **(the founder and Grand Master of the Faery Tradition of Witchcraft) and my musical deity Roky Erickson, and knew Harry Hay fairly well during his later years.

Oh, and I smoked a joint with Z. Budapest at a Pagan festival once.

97

If you say so. I don’t know who Roger Maris is either.

98

I’ve got a JEJ story too, also involving a school. When I was in graduate school I supervised a building on campus where I taught a few classes. One day I was doing rounds, poking my head into rooms to see what was going on:

Classroom - empty
Classroom - lesson in progress
Classroom - James Earl Jones talking to someone
Classroom - emp…

Wha?

He was giving a talk that night and was being shown around. Just seemed so random. I didn’t speak to him.

99

I have a pair of clunky lavendar suede work shoes. The most bizarre thing I own. One day I was wearing them and I noticed some guy coming at me just staring at them. As we passed, he looked at my face and I wondered “Where have I seen him before?” After he passed, I realized it was Woody Allen.

It was during the whole Mia-Soon-Yi brewhaha. It took all my mental strength to resist going back and slapping him.

100

Archbishop Desmond Tutu spoke at my college graduation, and I got to shake his hand and welcome him to campus. Quite a guy. Still a hero of mine.