Who, out of anyone living or dead, would you most like to meet? Do you ever ponder that question? Just thinking about it makes me nervous. And the answers people give to that question astound me! I’ve heard Abraham Lincoln, Ghandi, and even God. What, precisely, would one say to God?
I have behaved like an idiot on the few occasions when I have been in the presence of a famous person. Case in point: There is a movie called Housesitter that was filmed in the bucolic village of Cohasset, MA in 1992, starring Steve Martin and Goldie Hawn. I happened to own a bookstore at the time, right in the center of the village where many scenes were shot. The cast also included Dana Delaney and the excellent Julie Harris, and was directed by Frank Oz. Very famous, talented people, but for reasons I didn’t bother to think through, it was Goldie who interested me the most. I became obsessed with getting her into my store.
Which doesn’t quite explain what I’m about to tell you about how I blew off Frank Oz and Julie Harris, or treated Dana Delaney like a zoo animal. And Frank Oz was just lovely to me. On the first day of filming, he came into the store to buy a book for his young daughter. He complimented me on my store and apologized for any inconvenience his movie might be causing me. He certainly didn’t have to do that, since a gentleman from Hollywood had been by the previous week to present me with a compensation check for loss of business. (Which, in itself was a joke, because I had no business.) I responded by pressing a Little Harbor Bookstore tee-shirt into his hand and implored him, "Please give this to Goldie and tell her we’re thrilled to have her in town!"
The next day, Julie Harris popped in. She had electric rollers in her hair, and was holding a black cast-iron skillet which she had just purchased at the hardware store across the street. "I’m so excited to find this! My Grandmother used to make cornbread in one of these," she said. I’m not sure how the conversation proceeded from there, but I got into an argument with Julie Harris about the book I was ringing up for her, called The Education of Little Tree. I only remember that the argument was about the authenticity of the book, we were both sure we were right, and no tee-shirts were gifted.
Later that day, Goldie’s "people" were in the store, and I practically fell all over them. (I’m not making this up. I wish I was.) I promised that we could deliver anything Ms. Hawn would like: A safe haven (I’ll clear the store!), a cool spot to rest, a rocking chair, a cold drink, a cup of tea, and a spotless bathroom located much closer than her trailer. They promised to tell her while backing away from me and out of the store.
Sometime later, Dana Delaney appeared on the porch of my store. She was in a scene which started with her leaving my store, and running into Goldie’s character on the street. But things kept going wrong, and she must have stood there waiting to shoot the scene for 30 minutes. During which time I and two of my employees stood not three feet away from her, separated by only our screen door, and stared at her. We may or may not have offered her water. I don’t recall.
On the last day of shooting, when I had all but given up hope, the door to the store opened and in walked Goldie and her 12 year-old daughter, Kate. Goldie’s assistant told me she would like to use the bathroom. I wordlessly showed them the way. Kate picked out a book, and an assistant paid with a check which was signed by Goldie. They left the store. I never said a word.
Even now, I have trouble explaining this. I think there is a broad disconnect between my fantasies and the real world, and that even as I campaigned so vigorously to bring about a meeting between myself and Goldie, I never truly believed it would happen. So when it did happen, I had no plan for what I would do or say. If I had, what should I have said to Goldie? I’ve loved you since Laugh In? You were terrific in Private Benjamin? BIG FAN!!!
All true. But not a reflection of how I feel about her - why it is that she interests me. What I should have said was, "Thank-you for being such a great female role model. I have a daughter, too. I’ve heard you were one of the first to form your own production company - that you don’t let the boys push you around. Yet in spite of being tough, you haven’t felt the need to sacrifice your adorable, giggly, sexy side. That’s what I want my daughter to see. She can be any kind of woman she wants to be, and still be respected, without sacrificing any part of herself. Go get ‘em, Goldie!"
But I didn’t say anything. After she left I just took the check that was signed by her and taped it to the wall in my office. I left it there for about a month, but every time I looked at it, it just reminded me of how I had behaved like a lunatic stalker. So, on my way out of the store one night, I pulled the check off the wall and stuck it in my night deposit bag. Business wasn’t that good.
I have behaved like an idiot on the few occasions when I have been in the presence of a famous person. Case in point: There is a movie called Housesitter that was filmed in the bucolic village of Cohasset, MA in 1992, starring Steve Martin and Goldie Hawn. I happened to own a bookstore at the time, right in the center of the village where many scenes were shot. The cast also included Dana Delaney and the excellent Julie Harris, and was directed by Frank Oz. Very famous, talented people, but for reasons I didn’t bother to think through, it was Goldie who interested me the most. I became obsessed with getting her into my store.
Which doesn’t quite explain what I’m about to tell you about how I blew off Frank Oz and Julie Harris, or treated Dana Delaney like a zoo animal. And Frank Oz was just lovely to me. On the first day of filming, he came into the store to buy a book for his young daughter. He complimented me on my store and apologized for any inconvenience his movie might be causing me. He certainly didn’t have to do that, since a gentleman from Hollywood had been by the previous week to present me with a compensation check for loss of business. (Which, in itself was a joke, because I had no business.) I responded by pressing a Little Harbor Bookstore tee-shirt into his hand and implored him, "Please give this to Goldie and tell her we’re thrilled to have her in town!"
The next day, Julie Harris popped in. She had electric rollers in her hair, and was holding a black cast-iron skillet which she had just purchased at the hardware store across the street. "I’m so excited to find this! My Grandmother used to make cornbread in one of these," she said. I’m not sure how the conversation proceeded from there, but I got into an argument with Julie Harris about the book I was ringing up for her, called The Education of Little Tree. I only remember that the argument was about the authenticity of the book, we were both sure we were right, and no tee-shirts were gifted.
Later that day, Goldie’s "people" were in the store, and I practically fell all over them. (I’m not making this up. I wish I was.) I promised that we could deliver anything Ms. Hawn would like: A safe haven (I’ll clear the store!), a cool spot to rest, a rocking chair, a cold drink, a cup of tea, and a spotless bathroom located much closer than her trailer. They promised to tell her while backing away from me and out of the store.
Sometime later, Dana Delaney appeared on the porch of my store. She was in a scene which started with her leaving my store, and running into Goldie’s character on the street. But things kept going wrong, and she must have stood there waiting to shoot the scene for 30 minutes. During which time I and two of my employees stood not three feet away from her, separated by only our screen door, and stared at her. We may or may not have offered her water. I don’t recall.
On the last day of shooting, when I had all but given up hope, the door to the store opened and in walked Goldie and her 12 year-old daughter, Kate. Goldie’s assistant told me she would like to use the bathroom. I wordlessly showed them the way. Kate picked out a book, and an assistant paid with a check which was signed by Goldie. They left the store. I never said a word.
Even now, I have trouble explaining this. I think there is a broad disconnect between my fantasies and the real world, and that even as I campaigned so vigorously to bring about a meeting between myself and Goldie, I never truly believed it would happen. So when it did happen, I had no plan for what I would do or say. If I had, what should I have said to Goldie? I’ve loved you since Laugh In? You were terrific in Private Benjamin? BIG FAN!!!
All true. But not a reflection of how I feel about her - why it is that she interests me. What I should have said was, "Thank-you for being such a great female role model. I have a daughter, too. I’ve heard you were one of the first to form your own production company - that you don’t let the boys push you around. Yet in spite of being tough, you haven’t felt the need to sacrifice your adorable, giggly, sexy side. That’s what I want my daughter to see. She can be any kind of woman she wants to be, and still be respected, without sacrificing any part of herself. Go get ‘em, Goldie!"
But I didn’t say anything. After she left I just took the check that was signed by her and taped it to the wall in my office. I left it there for about a month, but every time I looked at it, it just reminded me of how I had behaved like a lunatic stalker. So, on my way out of the store one night, I pulled the check off the wall and stuck it in my night deposit bag. Business wasn’t that good.
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