Sorry, Panni, my story upset you...
The fact is...in spite of all...I still adore Ms. Astor and think nonetheless of her at all. You'll also notice that in the story, something kept me from going into the room. While I was certainly well aware of the reality at this point, I didn't want to experience it first hand. Still had I gone in, my respect for Miss Astor would not be diminished one iota. She is still one of my favourite actresses and one of my favourite personalities of the Golden Era. She had balls and tremedous talent.
But maybe it's because I did years of dinner theatre with aging stars with lots of faults and lots of problems that I just don't put a lot of these people up on pedestals. I have very few idols in this business, but even those I do have and just those I admire, I embrace them warts and all. I find their flaws just as fascinating and endearing as the rest of them. I embrace the whole person.
The fact is we could have just caught Mary Astor on a bad day. We could have come on another day, found her all pulled together and as charming as Hell. And that would have been Mary Astor too. (Probably wouldn't make as good as story). None of these people are perfect. I think the problem comes when we try to enshrine them as demi-gods and don't realize that they have good and bad days, good and bad times, good and bad years. We all age and become less than what we were. That doesn't diminish what we were. Or what we accomplished. What is sadder I think is to see some star still trying to desperately cling to the illusion of their glory years, their beauty, their image, and becoming just some, sad ghastly caricature of themselves. If anything my moment of reality with Mary Astor made me love her all the more.
Again, back to my dinner theatre days...we used to say you got stars either on the way up or the way down. I almost always got them on the way down...Martha Raye, Don DeFore, Cyd Charisse, James Drury, Shelley Berman, Nancy Kulp, Rosemarie, Yvonne DeCarlo, Bob Denver etc...when they were at the lower ebb than in their heyday. It made me realize they were just people and no one or nothing to be enskyed. But by the same token, I almost always respected them and valued my time with them and listened to their stories (no matter how tedious they could sometimes get...they were also glorious stories too) because they had managed to struggle for and achieve something I was also striving for. They had lessons to learn. I prided myself that I often worked...more than once...with people who had reputations for being difficult and irascible and I always got along with them and they respected me back. Because while I treated them with the deference and respect due their achievements and years, I didn't fawn on them or suck up to them and, if they were at times, full of shit, I wasn't afraid to tell them so. I can and have told stories about all these people...some embarrassing/some inspiring...because that's just how people are made. I also learned from all of them and came away enriched by my encounter with them.
One of the great encounters of my life came when Henry Wilcoxon walked into a bookstore where I was working when I first came out here. Because I recognized him and actually knew something of his career, we became friends in the last couple of years of his life. One of the things you learn from these people is, even after they reached a certain level of fame, it was never easy. I value the brief time I had with this man and the stories and experiences he told...not all flattering, not all fun or glamourous.
This weekend Mr. Kimmel and I will go to the memorabilia show at the Beverly Garland Holiday Inn and we will gawk and thrill and, yes, occasionally, shudder aghast at the old stars on display there. But we go because we love and respect these people who have a past in a business we love and in a business that we understand takes its toll. The foibles of the business and the people are as much a part of its legend as anything. We embrace the good with the bad, the inspiring with the sad, the sublime with the ridiculous (and is there anything more ridiculous than Skippy Lowe...who we also love because he is so damned entertaining and out there!) We share smiles, hear stories, sometimes shake our head and laugh and whisper between us: "What the Hell happened to them?"
But I don't think it's ever done cruelly or viciously and with malicious intent. Certainly, my Mary Astor story was not meant this way. Let's not forget the impetus for the entire story began as pilgrimage to pay homage to someone we admired. And still do. We went because we remembered her. We hadn't forgotten her. I look at the quirky encounter merely as just reveling in the panorama and the vicissitudes of this business we call show...
