Serving Celebrities: The Complete Collection (10 page)

One last story about the great Richard Harris, I read where at the end of his life he was living at the Savoy Hotel in London. When the time came, he was wheeled out of the hotel on a gurney by the paramedics. As they made their way through the hotel’s lobby, Richard Harris suddenly sat up and removed the oxygen mask from his face, long enough to announce “It was the food,” informing all the hotel’s patrons. It was a great line for a great man to go out on.

Joe Cocker Wears Tightie-whities

A
t the Sunset Marquis Hotel and Villas, one of the continual problems working there was that the different departments of the hotel never communicated well with each other, causing many gaps in service -- and sometimes embarrassing situations.

One day I came in and prepared to begin my butler duties in the hotel’s villas. When I checked the guest list a name jumped out at me; Joe Cocker. Joe Cocker is a very powerful and emotional singer. Who can forget his performance in the documentary film “Woodstock,” singing A Little Help from My Friends? Or for that matter John Belushi imitating him on Saturday Night Live… or even better, John Belushi imitating Joe Cocker on Saturday Night Live, while standing directly behind Joe?

One of the duties of my job at the hotel as a butler was to prepare the rooms for the arrival of the guests. We would have to make sure the room was clean and ready for service. I would also place the amenities in the room; the quality of amenities depended on how much the management liked the guest. If they were friends of the hotel, it was wine, flowers or a favorite liqueur -- if they were mid-level; a fruit bowl, fancy water or candy -- if they were normal or a pain in the ass, two small bottles of Volvic water and a box of six Sees Chocolates and thanks for the thousand dollars a night.

My friend Joe Cocker was getting the full treatment; some wine, a specially-made fruit bowl and two
large
bottles of Volvic water. I put the fruit bowl together and then chose the best brand of red wine I could find and placed two bottles of water with it, on the tray. Before I left the butler’s pantry, I called down to the front desk and asked if Mr. Cocker had checked in. “No, not yet,” was the answer.

I made my way up the hill to the villa assigned to Joe, carrying the wine, water and fruit bowl on a tray. Working the villas was a fun job because most of the celebrities stayed there. The guests liked the spacious rooms of the villas better than the small suites in the hotel. But the villas were well-spaced across the hotel’s grounds and had many long staircases to climb, before actually getting to the room, so it was almost always a long walk. Most times I had to carry a tray with at least a two dinners on my shoulder

This villa was an especially long walk up a hill, leaving my shoulder aching. I got to the villa assigned to Joe Cocker and removed the butler keys from my pants pocket. I finally unlocked the door and hurried in.

I opened the door as fast as I could and hustled into the living room, yelling, “It’s your butler,” as we were instructed to do when entering any of the hotel’s rooms. I got to a table and place the tray on it, when Joe Cocker suddenly appeared in the bedroom doorway, wearing only a pair of white jockey shorts. His hair was a mess and he looked like I had just awakened him from sleeping.

I suddenly felt caught, Joe was standing there in his underwear, mumbling groggily, “What’s happening? How did..?” At the same time I was stammering “I… They told me… I thought…. I have some amenities for you.” Joe was trying to focus; obviously he had just arrived and was a bit jet-lagged. He mumbled his thanks, and stumbled back into the bedroom. I apologized to him as he left -- it was very embarrassing.

This didn’t happen often but it did and it could have been avoided. One time I entered a room with a guy from housekeeping, over some issue. When we went inside, the housekeeping guy didn’t announce himself. I figured that he had recently been in the room and knew it was empty. We started to enter the bedroom of the suite when the housekeeping guy, who was leading me, stopped abruptly and started to speak someone I couldn’t see already in the bedroom. “I’m sorry… I didn’t know anyone was here… Excuse me, we’ll just leave…” But rather than leaving, this housekeeping guy, just stood apologizing to a person inside the bedroom and telling them that we were going to leave -- but he wasn’t leaving. Thinking fast, I reached over and dragged the housekeeper out by his the jacket. In the hall, after I asked him what had happened, he told me that there was a guest in there and we had walked in as the guy was in the middle of pleasuring himself. “He was cute, he shouldn’t have to do that alone,” the gay housekeeper added.

When I finally got down to the front desk, I asked why they didn’t tell me that Joe Cocker had checked in. The wise-ass desk clerk said, “Really, what’s the big problem? So you walked in on Joe Cocker in his underwear?” I replied something that I knew would be true, “I’m never going to get that picture out of my mind.” And yes, I haven’t -- actually, I’ve cringed through this writing and once even vomited in my mouth. Some things stay with you for all your life -- like Joe Cocker in his underwear.

The Time I Told Roger Ebert “I Loved You”

F
or the last twenty years my Sunday nights have all been mostly spent the same way; watching Siskel & Ebert, going into 60 Minutes and followed by The Simpsons. Sure, there were other shows after, but those three shows were my “must-see-TV” for the week. I would be on and off other shows but these shows I followed almost religiously. I love films so I had to watch every week of At the Movies with Siskel & Ebert.

Even after Gene Siskel passed away, I still watched Roger Ebert and his new partner, Richard Roeper. I liked Siskel a lot and tended to side more with him but Roeper was okay -- a lot more misses than hits (in my opinion) and it was always fun at add “…and Mom, I’m gay,” to the end of every movie review he did (
Qualifier -- I have no knowledge of Roeper’s sexual orientation or preference. It is kind of dick-ish but it was only for my own entertainment)
.

While working at the Sunset Marquis, I eventually met Roger Ebert. He would come to stay, sometimes bringing his wife. He was always personable and I never had any problems with him.

Years later, when I was working at the Sundance Film Festival, I went to see a screening of Karyn Kusama’s “
Girlfight
” at the Library Theater. The Library at Sundance was a bit of guerrilla film-viewing. The Library was just that, the Park City Library and the theater was a converted auditorium (like many of the Sundance venues) which was part of the charm. Another part of the charm was that the building was probably built in the forties and had an antique air-conditioner.

The air conditioner would work only when the thermostat would rise above a certain temperature and then kick on, but it would take a while for the air to reach specific areas of the room. With the stuffiness of theater and the fact that it’s January in the Wasatch Mountains and everyone is bundled up in warm clothing, fainting becomes very possible. If you go to six screenings at the Library, over a festival, I’ll almost guarantee that you will see at least three episodes of fellow theatre-goers succumbing to the heat. It’s so bad that the theater staff won’t even stop the film to help the fallen; they will only stealthily help the patron out -- trying not to interrupt anyone watching the film. The secret is to get there early and find a seat that gets the first blast of the fresh air as the air conditioning kicks on.

Me, I had my own system. Being a theater manager myself (at the Holiday Theaters), I would go early and offer my services to help seat the screening I wanted to go to. When they would take up my offer, I would go into the empty theater and choose my place to sit, directly under the A/C vent, leave my bag to save my seat and help them load the theater.

While I was helping them load this one night, Roger Ebert walked by me and up the stairs, into the theater. I wanted to say something to him but I understood he probably wouldn’t remember me from the Sunset Marquis, seven years before, so why bother him. Also, there are notorious stories of people bugging Ebert during Sundance over negative film reviews that would end with Ebert verbally cutting the questioner to pieces. I didn’t want to have to gauge his mood, so I let him pass. When the theater was full, the Library’s theater staff thanked me for my selflessness and let me go to take my seat. I sat and waited for the film to start.

At one point, while I was waiting, Karyn Kasuma, the director of the film, came over and left a coat and scarf on the seat next to me. I recognized her because I had met John Sayles on the street. I’m a huge fan of Sayles’ films, so I went over and introduced myself (that’s why you go to Sundance). I asked if he had a film in the festival. Sayles was very gracious and said that he didn’t have a film but was there to help support Karyn and
Girlfight
. He then introduced me to Ms. Kasuma. Ms. Kasuma obviously didn’t recognize me as she laid the coat and scarf down. I planned to remind her of our meeting when she was finally seated.

I felt kind of honored that the director of the film was going to sit next to me -- maybe Sayles would be sitting with us, though she saved only one seat? I thought it was kind of strange that Ms. Kasuma would watch the film with the audience. Most of the film-makers would do the introduction and leave during the film, then return for the Q & A. I bet it would be terribly nerve-racking to sit in the audience while your film played, living and dying with every laugh and every gasp of reaction to what you have created -- Ms. Kasuma wasn’t going to do it either. Just before the film started, Roger Ebert took the seat beside me. It was his coat and scarf -- it was his seat the director was saving.

It was going to be cool sitting next to Roger Ebert. I had seen his show so often and now I was going to watch a film with him as he reviewed it. When he got comfortable, I introduced myself and reminded him that we had met at the Sunset Marquis. He thought he remembered me and asked if I had kept in touch with some of the other employees that he knew. I told him I hadn’t and I inquired on how his wife was. After he told me she was doing well, the lights went out and the film started.

Ebert took out a small pad of paper and a pen from his pocket. As the film went on, Ebert would make one word notes on the pad of paper -- other than making the notes, he watched the film like anyone else.

Girlfight
is the story of in inner-city girl who takes up boxing to escape her difficult home. While boxing she meets a male fighter who she falls in love with -- it’s the story of their trials trying to learn to love each other, in a brutal sport.

The film goes on; at one point in the story, our leading lady ends up fighting her love interest in the ring -- during a clinch, she whispers to him, “I love you.” With all the sounds of the boxing crowd and the body blows, it was hard to hear the line. Ebert leaned over to me and asked, “What did she say?” “I love you,” I answered. Roger repeated, “What?” Trying to raise my voice over the sound track, at an inopportune time when the sound dropped out I said, maybe a bit too loud, “I love you!”

Some people in the row in front of us, turned and stared at me and Roger -- Roger was still intently watching the film, nodding his head up and down, “Yes, that’s what she said.” I could see them recognize Roger Ebert, one guy then tossed back to us a snide, “Save it for the chair lift.” His four friends laughed, a woman next to him said loudly to the first guy, “I always thought the other guy was gay… I didn’t know.” What a dick.

Back in L.A.; on a Sunday night, I watched Ebert and Roeper review the film on their show. From what I remember, he liked the film and the performances… but he never mentioned me or my feelings that I expressed that night… it’s like that with love, you know.

Cleavon Little and the Knuckleheads

C
leavon Little is probably best known as Sheriff Bart in
Blazing Saddles
; who can forget the scene when he enters the western town to the call of; “The sheriff is a… a
bell rings so you can’t hear the last word?
”

I worked as a bartender in a trendy upper Westside restaurant in NYC. The owner, Glenn, was good friends with Cleavon. Every once and a while Cleavon would show up, usually to wait for Glenn to go golfing, hang out or do something. One day Cleavon came in during a Saturday lunch and sat at the bar.

I said “hi,” and asked him if there was anything I could get him? He asked for an orange juice. I made him the OJ and served him. As he waited, some of the wait-staff came over and greeted him. Cleavon was a very nice guy, quiet and just a classy individual, who was also a good actor, and since most of the wait-staff were actors and actresses, he was popular amongst the staff.

Cleavon had told me once about the some of the strange people who have approached him on the street about Blazing Saddles. He wasn’t all that thrilled with the attention but he was appreciative that they recognized the performance. Many felt that since they used the word “nigger” in the film it was all right to use it in front of Cleavon, if you met him on the street. He said he didn’t really know how to handle it, should you confront a person who doesn’t know the difference between reality and a film?

On this Saturday, Cleavon took his orange juice and moved to a small bar table to wait for Glenn and visit with some of the staff. Suddenly this guest, Tim, who came in often, and always threw a lot of money around, approached Cleavon and introduced himself. Cleavon was polite and thanked Tim for his devotion to the film. But Tim couldn’t stop; he invites Cleavon to his table and Cleavon declines, saying that he’s waiting for his friend. Tim asks him to come over for moment; everyone at his table loves
Blazing Saddles
. Cleavon slowly gives in and goes to Tim’s table. He takes in the introductions and Tim’s enthusiasm about the Mel Brooks’ film. Finally Cleavon slips away and goes back to his bar table to wait for Glenn.

After a few minutes, Tim arrives back at Cleavon’s bar table. I could see that Tim was now openly bothering Cleavon. Tim offers to buy Cleavon a bottle of Dom Perignon. Naturally, Cleavon declines the champagne, but now Tim is avid that he accepts the bottle in payment for visiting his friends and in appreciation for
Blazing Saddles
. Tim turns to me and orders the bottle of Dom. There is no way that Glenn would allow me to refuse selling Tim this one hundred and thirty-dollar bottle of champagne, even though Cleavon is telling me at the same time he doesn’t want it. I got the bottle out and showed it to Tim. Tim said that he had to buy it for Cleavon. Cleavon had given up -- he would take it. I opened the bottle and offered a glass each to Tim and Cleavon. Tim accepted the champagne and I told his waiter to add the bottle of Dom to Tim’s bill. Tim thanked Cleavon again and went back to his party’s table. So there was Cleavon little, still waiting for Glenn, but now he has almost a full bottle of Dom Perignon to drink.