Tip It! (8 page)

Another great place to see stars is at a Screen Actors Guild strike. Kathy got in SAG early because of a commercial she made as a teenager in Chicago, so when she joined the picket line, we got lots of nice pictures. The actors’ strike was even better than the golf tournaments, because whereas the golf event attracted mostly guys, the strike gave you the guys and the girls! [
It’s like going to the slaughterhouse and saying, “Those calves were adorable!” I don’t really think the purpose of a union strike . . . oh never mind.
]

We had a near disaster with Elliott Gould when we saw him at the strike and wanted a picture with him. He was really big at the time [
ouch
], and some young kids who wanted his picture, too, were getting a little pushy about it. They’re very bold sometimes, these teenagers, and they’ll just go right up and say things to a celebrity. Well, this one kid was doing just that, insisting on an autograph, and Elliott barked back, “No, I don’t want any pictures!”

Gee, thanks, little brats, for ruining it for everybody! [
Why do I think those “teenagers” were named John and Maggie Griffin?
]

Well, I had an idea. I said to Johnny, “You know what I’m going to do? I’ll go over and get near him, but stay behind him. Then, see if you can get the two of us together.” [
News flash: My mother was the first photobomber. You just got schooled, Harvey Levin
.]

Here I am, a woman in her early sixties, trying to sneak a photograph with a star! I went over and stood real quietly, and there’s Johnny trying to get into position to take the picture. I’m all relaxed and smiling for my husband, and then Elliott turned around to look at me. He must have noticed Johnny and the camera. I knew he was going to say, “Hey, what’s goin’ on?”

But instead, he smiled and said, “What are you doing back there? Come on and get up with me. I’d love to have my picture with you!”

I almost died. What a nice man! [
The woman really knows how to play the age card, doesn’t she? She played that poor Elliott Gould like a fiddle
.]

We got a nice picture of Jack Nicholson, too, although I nearly got knocked to the ground for it. [
When you play the game hard, Mom, sometimes there are casualties
.] I guess I didn’t recognize him standing near me, because he had a cap on. But before I knew it, at least seven photographers got into a real fit and rushed him, pushing so hard I fell right into him. I thought, “Who is this guy?” Then I saw the smile, that sneaky smile. No wonder, I realized. My big meeting with Jack, and it could have broken my hip! [
You should see the other guy.
] I’m glad Johnny was there to get the picture. Those paparazzi, they can be terrible when you’re trying to get a snapshot of somebody famous.

Once Kathy became successful, though, I got to meet all kinds of celebrities through her, and that’s just been wonderful. She would take Johnny and me to film sets, TV shoots, awards shows, and the like. It was really fun for us, and it continues to be fun for me. Who would have thought all those years ago, watching stars on television like Milton Berle, Dick Cavett, Liza Minnelli, and Carol Burnett, that years later chatty Kathy from Forest Park, Illinois, would be performing with them!

Loni Anderson with her fofties. Johnny probably took this one.

Elliott Gould at the actors’ strike. He didn’t like these obnoxious kids.

I almost got trampled when Jack Nicholson showed up!

Jack Lemmon wanted a smoke, and we got a snapshot!

Or that we’d get to see them up close and get to say hi! Kathy talks so easily with them, but when I get around a star, I may think I’m very relaxed and casual, but that’s clearly not the case. When we met cooking star Paula Deen for dinner, who I just love, I kept saying, “Well, Paula Deen says this” or “Paula Deen says that.” Kathy finally said, “Ma, Paula Deen is right there. You don’t have to say her last name all the time!” Everybody laughed, but that’s just the way I am. [
Crazy?
]

Don Rickles, for instance. Meeting Don was an ultimate favorite. Friends of mine over the years have taken offense at the jokes he’s made, but I think he’s great. Nobody ever really got mad at Don, because there was never any meanness to him. That’s why I don’t want Kathy to get mean-spirited. Like with Ryan Seacrest. She just loves to pick on him, you know? [
Pick on “her,” Mom. “Her.”
]

Anyway, the day I met Don, it was a big secret I wasn’t to know about, apparently. I knew they had made an appearance together at the Emmys. Kathy helped him out onstage and got the crowd to stand up and cheer for him. I was so proud of her. I thought, “Kathy, now that’s class!” That showed a good upbringing, because this man who’s been so big for so long deserved that reception. Well, all I knew was I had to go over to Kathy’s house, and that the
D-List
cameras would be there. The only hint I got was that the producers kept saying, “Somebody’s coming over that we think you’ll like.” Believe it or not, I had no idea.

When I got there, they had me wait a bit, and then they told me to go upstairs and into the kitchen, because that’s where they said this mystery guest was. When I got there to the table, everybody was blocking this supposedly special guest. Then tour manager Tom and Kathy’s assistant Tiffany pulled away, and Don Rickles was sitting there.

I almost died!

Why don’t they ever tell me in advance? Thank God I was wearing something decent and my hair looked good! [
As opposed to naked and bald?
] Well, he was just so delightful and so sweet. And what else? Funny! He kept up the quips, I’m telling you. He said that when Kathy told him he was going to meet her octogenarian mother, he expected to see somebody shuffling in with drool hanging out and terrible hair.

Laughing, I said, “I think I look like the person you’re talking about.”

“Aw,” he said, “you’re beautiful! You’re beautiful!”

That’s how cute he was. Everybody was in love with him. He was funny on camera, naturally, but off-camera is when he gets serious. He asked me how long I’d been married, and when I told him nearly sixty-five years, he said, “That’s great!” Because his record is good, too. Over forty years with his wife, Barbara!

Then I said, “I think it’s so wonderful that you and Bob Newhart and your wives have been such great friends.”

Me with the great Don Rickles, a sweet, classy, hilarious guy.

He zinged back with, “You had to ruin the conversation, bringing that jerk’s name up! And we were having such a great time!”

I know guys hate it when you say they’re sweet, but that Don Rickles, he really was lovely. [
So true, Mom.
]

(AND YOU CAN TOO, AS LONG AS YOU
ALWAYS CARRY THESE ITEMS)

1.
TISSUES
. I don’t give a hoot what Kathy says, everyone needs a tissue at least once a day.

2.
MLV MAKEUP KIT
. Remember all you need is mascara, lipstick, and Vaseline to look sharp and lovely.

3.
COUGH DROPS
. Good for coughs but also handy if you’ve got a dry mouth or a sweet tooth.

4.
ANOTHER PURSE OR TWO
. I can live out of my purse, but you should have an extra in case you need to downsize.

5.
RUBBER BANDS
. The greatest invention since the wheel and sliced bread.

6.
YOUR TEETH
. Enough said.

7.
SCRAP PAPER
. It’s always good to have something to write on if you need to send out a VIP (Very Important Paper)!!!

8.
HAMBURGER HELPER
, or a bread roll you squirreled away from a restaurant. What if someone gets hungry?

9.
A PHOTO OF YOUR FAVORITE DREAMBOAT
. Mine’s Robert Young, but pick whoever you like.

10.
A CAMERA
, in case your favorite movie star walks by at the fancy gala you’re standing outside of!

11.
YOUR ID
. When you’re a senior like me, it comes in handy for free meals and discounts at the golf course, the movies, and national parks. I call it my senior card.

12.
PAPER TOWELS
. They clean up any mess a tissue can’t handle.

Pavilions

I love my Pavilions supermarket in West Hollywood. [
Wait. She’s not really going to write an entire Hollywood highlights section about a supermarket, is she?
]

First, though, you should know that it took a while for me to love supermarkets. My dad had a neighborhood grocery store, and because of that, we hardly ever traded at the A&P, which was the big grocery when I was growing up. The A&P was competition for my dad. [
Who says “traded” anymore? Was wampum involved?
]

“They’ll kill me on price,” Dad would always say. “I can’t begin to sell stuff as cheap as they do.” [
Why didn’t he just outsource it to India?
]

But at least my dad was smart. Wherever he had a store, it was in a neighborhood where citizens might find it inconvenient to go out to the chains. [
That is a great name for a gay bar, though. Meet me at The Chains!
] People didn’t always have cars then, so they relied on their local store. But as I got older, and started a family, stores got bigger, and you started seeing more supermarkets. I always tried to shop at a family-run place—if not my dad’s, which he worked at till he retired—but when we moved out to California, the Safeway was a couple of blocks away from our first place, and I loved it. They had everything. Meat, fish, even makeup. Corner stores just didn’t have that variety.

Then we moved to West Hollywood, and the Pavilions worked out beautifully. They recently remodeled it, too, and now they have a great deli, you can get pizza, sushi (although I don’t eat sushi) [
Who would? That foreign shit’ll kill ya
], and a Starbucks coffee! [
So much for the mom-and-pop song and dance
.] There’s even a little outdoor eating place, so you can sit down there [
and judge others
] instead of going to the bar or the coffee shop. It was time for them to remodel, too. It was getting a little rundown, and in a gay area, that’s just not tolerated. [
Preach!
] The Ralphs supermarket nearby had already remodeled, and it was much nicer. Pavilions almost lost me to Ralphs.

Of course, I knew where everything was at the old Pavilions. I could shop fast. The new one, I don’t always remember where the canned soups are. Let’s put it this way, I get in a good walk when I go to the new Pavilions, whether I want one or not. Also, everyone’s [
read: gay men are
] real nice if they recognize me and want to say hi [
read: “Hey gurl!”
] and get a picture. But I’m usually very serious when I shop. I’m not looking around to see who’s noticing me, and I’m certainly not dressed up to get noticed. One time, though, this lady [
named Henry
] came up to me, and she was very nice, but as God is my judge, she followed me for the rest of my shopping.

I’d pick out my milk, then she’d be right next to me. “Have you tried this brand?”

I’d pick out my oranges. “Oh, these oranges are better than the ones you picked.”

I’m so chicken, I took the ones she chose, just to be accommodating. But I wanted to say, “Gee, lady, we talked already for a while. Can I get my shopping done and get outta here?” [
Who’s Sean Penn now?
]

If I don’t learn that new Pavilions fast, that could be a problem.

R
age [
Not “anger,” readers; Rage, the gay bar in West Hollywood
]

One day Johnny and I were walking home to our apartment in West Hollywood, and he said, “Gee, Mag, it’s still so nice out, why don’t we have dinner out instead of at home?”

“Sounds great!” I said.

Well, we happened to notice this cute little terrace area on Santa Monica Boulevard, so we went in and asked if we could sit there. They couldn’t have been nicer to us. It was four thirty in the afternoon and only a few other tables were taken, so the bartender killed himself to give us this lovely spot. [
He didn’t really kill himself
.] We noticed it was happy hour [
Ah, “dinner”
], so we got potato skins and chicken kebabs, and they were the best hors d’oeuvres we’d ever had! Plus, the wine was only $4 a glass! We
might
have even ordered a third glass to share.

I tell ya, we sat there for two hours, and it was wonderful. We saw that there was music playing and dancing going on [
Btw, it’s clearly nine p.m. at this point
], but we had a nice view of the outside, so we didn’t pay any attention. Well, we went back a couple of weeks later, and again, they couldn’t have been sweeter. The food was just as good, too. We even got a free cup of coffee. This was looking to be a regular place for us!

A short while after our second time there, our nice gay neighbors Randy and Steve were visiting, and one of us happened to mention, “Gee, we stopped at Rage the other night.”

It was hardly out of our mouths when they both said, “WHAT? You guys went to Rage?”

“Sure, why?” Had we done something wrong?

“Um, did you look at the video screens? Did you see what was going on inside?” [
In other words, select clips from
Jurassic Prick
and
Who Rimmed Roger Rabbit.]

I told them we were there at four thirty in the afternoon! What would be going on then? That’s when I found out that Rage is a gay bar. Well, every bar in that area is gay, but you know what I mean. I guess it would have been a different scene if we’d started our happy hour at eight p.m. And I have to assume the people there were glad we wanted to face away from the inside!

Randy and Steve got a big bang out of that. [
I think
Randy and Steve have had quite a few big bangs.
] Really, every gay guy who heard was in hysterics, too. Of course, when we mentioned it to Kathy, she had a similar response.

“You went to RAGE?” she said. “Talk about
me
shaming
you
!”

McGinty’s Irish Pub

My brother Pat had a tavern in Chicago [
Hold on a second, are you implying that Irish people from Chicago have bars? Unheard of!
] that we loved going to, so when we moved to L.A. Johnny and I did our best to find a similar one.

Well, bless the day we found McGinty’s in Santa Monica! [
That’s what church is for!
]

We loved going there. It wasn’t fancy, and sometimes you’d look around and think, “Would it kill them to paint the place once in a while?” But it was clean—if a little cruddy-looking—and Johnny loved all the Irish beers and stouts they had. Now, Irish taverns aren’t the same as English pubs. The English like a nice fireplace, comfortable chairs, attractive furnishings. The Irish have a saying: “If you want comfort, go home.” [
The Irish have another saying: “Move out of your mother’s house, you drunken forty-year-old.”
] Don’t get me wrong. I love the English, I love their accents—although I’m not so keen on that Cockney slang, since I can’t understand it—and their pubs are so quaint and cute. But the Irish don’t go for that quaintness.

McGinty’s was like a real nice neighborhood place, and there was a strong Irish clientele. You’d hear names of towns and counties in Ireland as you sat at the long communal tables. You could play darts, and they had great food. They even had Indian cuisine, because of the connection to England, I guess. Johnny didn’t really care for Indian food. But they had great potato dishes and sandwiches.

I don’t think it’s there anymore, though. It might be called something else. [
Ma, you could have said this up front. I was really looking forward to some Indian potatoes
.]

You’ll probably have to go to Tom Bergin’s or Molly Malone’s instead. They’re okay. Or the Cat & Fiddle in Hollywood. You can sit outdoors there, and they have a nice fountain. Great mac and cheese.

The Penmar Golf Course

Johnny and I were big golfers, and this was our favorite course in L.A. It’s by the Santa Monica airport, it’s reasonably priced—they have senior rates!—and it’s perfect for beginners because the courses are kind of flat; it’s mostly par threes and par fours. (And all you ladies, one of the holes is par four for men, but par five for us!) Plus, it’s a nine-hole course, so you don’t take up too much of your day in case you wanted to get other stuff done, or maybe catch a happy hour across town. They have a coffee shop, too, in case you get hungry. The key is that everyone’s friendly there. We made some great pals at Penmar, like Skip Belden. Hi, Skip!

The Polo Lounge at the Beverly Hills Hotel

Johnny and I would go to the Polo Lounge all the time and sit in their lovely garden area. You’d always see a celebrity! [
Please sweet Jesus, let it be
Robert Young, dead or alive!
]

We’d take all our Chicago friends there when they came to visit, and it didn’t disappoint as a place that makes you feel like you’re in Movieland. So if you’ve got friends in Los Angeles and you’re out for a vacation, get them to take you there for happy hour—you never know who might be stopping by after work on a TV show or movie shoot! Don’t make a habit of it, though. It can be expensive.