It happened again last week, this time in a Steakhouse outside Cedar City, UT: A man came to my table and nervously asked, “Excuse me, Sir, but my daughter wanted to know if you’re...”
“Yes!”, I replied, interrupting him not out of rudeness or annoyance but to allay his unease. “Would she like to take a photo?” (The answer is always yes).
This was a nearly weekly scenario in my life for 15 years, ever since I was cast as a frequent guest on a popular cable series, starring the Sister of a well known Pop Star. Even though we haven’t shot an episode in over ten years, the Cable Network has several channels, each aimed at a specific Youth Demographic, and as the original legion of pre-teen fans aged, they merely moved the broadcast to a different channel. At this point the early fans of the show are in their mid to late 20s, though there are currently high schoolers who watch because it’s been picked up by a Streaming Company.
These encounters took different forms over the years, but the one thing they had in common was The Look. I’d board a subway with a group of youngsters nearby, and suddenly the tone of their conversation would shift and I’d know The Look was coming. A brief moment of eye contact, and the beginning of delicate dance that no one taught me the steps to, but a dance that was a necessary element of my craft...
I’d hold eye contact for an instant longer than is normally acceptable when two strange pairs of eyes meet, then offer a brief smile to confirm their suspicion. I always found a reason to look away afterward because it’s just not a good idea for a middle aged man to engage someone else’s children without invitation. But that invitation usually followed: I’d hear the whispers, turn back and see them glancing at their phones, then suddenly the whole group would be looking at me. That was my signal to approach, leading with a bigger smile and an introduction along the lines of “I guess you guys watch (The Show)...”
“We knew it was you!”, was generally the response, and soon we’d be taking selfies, group shots and I’d be answering questions about what it’s like to work with the Sister of a well known Pop Star (“She’s wonderful! Super nice and one of the best actors I’ve ever worked with”). I made sure to greet every one of them by name and share their enthusiasm, asking questions that weren’t too personal, yet demonstrated a genuine interest in how their lives are shaping up. It was always fun, but I kind of hoped one of our stops would come soon because making small talk with a bunch of kids for an extended period can creep out the adults in the car, who have no clue what the fuss is all about (though some of them would up to me and say “My daughter loves that show”).
I grew up with The Look- not directed at me, but at my parents, who were part of the Celebrity Stratosphere when I was young. They were always gracious with their fans, patiently signing autographs, posing for photos and accepting their compliments with genuine gratitude. Celebrity status was an entirely different animal back then: there was an elegance, a tacit decorum in which our privacy was respected by the media and general public. It wasn’t driven by the relentless self promotion of Social Media platforms and Publicists calling in favors from Magazine Editors (of course, there were a few Tabloid exceptions, and Superstars, like Sinatra or the Beatles, were in a separate category).
I love The Look, though I encounter it less frequently these day. I’m in the twilight of a career that’s lasted over four decades and, while I make no claim to being an actual Celebrity, it’s nice to know there are people out there who have seen, and appreciate, my work.
It’s also nice to give people something they weren’t expecting. I love to travel, but I don’t Tweet my coordinates every hour or have an entourage. I’m not glamorous- you could describe my sartorial style as Downscale Preppy. I favor Public Transportation and Budget Hotels, so I encountered The Look in unexpected places: a hotel lobby in Oristano or York; the ferry to Mackinac Island; a pub outside of Cork. People generally don’t expect to run into someone they know from TV, outside of the well known “hotspots”, and they truly seem to appreciate the attention I give them. I recognize that I’m extremely lucky to have the second best job in the world, next to Derek Jeter’s, and the moments of happiness these encounters engender are mutual.
The Look even got me a table at a crowded restaurant in NYC when I showed up for Sunday Brunch with seven friends and no reservation, where it came from the Host. What’s not to love about that?
The Look was a gift from the Career Gods, but I have to handle it carefully. It’s not the same for me as it was for Mom and Dad, because their fans were all adults, and mine were mostly, minors. If I got it from a child with their parents nearby, the first thing I’d do was introduce myself to THEM, the Parents, explaining that I believed their child recognized me from a TV show, and ask permission to say hello. If the child wanted an autographed photo I made a point of getting the info from the Parents and addressing it to them.
As I mentioned, no one taught me these rules, it was just common sense. You never, ever, ask a child, of whom you’re not a Guardian, for personal information (unless, of course, in an emergency).
The Look was always followed by The Photo(s). Unless the fan was a foot shorter than me (in which case I would crouch so our heads were at the same level), I would put my arm around the fan’s shoulder for the shot. In my mind, that was an indication of my accessibility and affability- a sign of warmth and friendship. If there were more than two of us in the frame, I’d use both arms. There was never anything prurient or salacious involved, nor did that slight contact ever seem unwelcome. I never used my own camera to take a picture of them out of respect for their privacy, but I would always give them permission to post their photos on whatever social platform they used.
It never occurred to me that I might have unwittingly crossed an unseen line until last year, when the notion of inappropriate behavior became a daily headline. I don’t mean this as an effort to open a new front in the #MeToo debate- the Predators that went down for their abuses deserved their fate (though I’d rather see Al Franken back in his seat than Bret Kavanaugh in his).
I’ve been on DK for a while and, while I don’t agree with everything I’ve read here, I find this to be a community of thoughtful, perceptive people- considerate, generous and kind (for the most part). Authors whose words I adore, and those that make me laugh until it hurts. I value your opinions, so I’m genuinely curious:
If you, your son or daughter (or other family member, or friend) had been in one of those photos with me, how do you feel about the way it should have been composed?