When I first read Johnny’s blog about this event, I thought: How nice that he’s doing a show that the public can actually attend. From what I can tell, he and his band don’t leave the LA area, and mostly perform at various upscale private affairs. But if he can do one public event, he can do another. There’s hope yet for me to see him perform live!
But the more I thought about it, the more I was afraid this might be a unique opportunity. The movie is set in 1925, the reception has a 1920’s theme, and his band plays 1920’s music. Maybe I can’t count on future shows being open to the public. Maybe I better strike while the iron is hot! So I did something impulsive, and hustled on out there!
Sunday morning I took a ridiculously early (5:00 am) plane out of Newark airport. By mid-afternoon, I was at Patty’s house, where she and I were trying on our dresses in front of her daughter.
My dress was very light pink with silver and pearl trim. It was loaned to me by my friend Joanne, and was definitely a vintage 1920’s style dress, (not an original). It was a little worse for wear, losing some fake pearls around the bottom, but still looked pretty good. Actually, the vintage-style outfit was two pieces, the low-cut dress with straps, and a full-length matching jacket with long loose sleeves. The whole outfit was pretty loose, in a 1920’s sort of way. Just the evening before, I was out at a mall in New Jersey buying accessories for it, glittery silver shoes and a silver handbag and two really long strings of fake pearls. I felt as if I were all set for the 1920’s motif.
On Monday Patty, who was going to the premiere with me, went to work for half a day. While she did that, I got my hair and my nails done. We headed into Hollywood early, and after parking, arrived at the front of Grauman’s Chinese Theatre at 5:45 pm.
There was a large crowd of spectators already forming across the street, where serious-looking security people kept them behind a velvet rope. On our side of the street, it was a much smaller crowd of people. These were people who either already had their tickets, or, like us, were waiting for the Will Call table to open up at 6:30 pm to pick up their tickets. Patty and I were near the front of the line, and at 6:30 pm they moved the rope and let us go to the table.
While I was waiting for them to find my tickets, I looked at the woman standing next to me, an AFI organizer holding a clipboard. (AFI stands for American Film Institute, the organization which, among other things, preserves and restores old films. The evening was a Benefit for the AFI.) On the top sheet on the clipboard, I could see a list of more than a dozen names with their limo pick-up and drop-off times printed off. At the top of the list:
George Clooney, Pick-up (blank), Drop-Off 6:45pm
Renee Zellweger, Pick-up 6:15pm, Drop-Off 6:45pm
Well, I guess I know what time they’ll be walking down the Red Carpet!
Unfortunately for us, though, as soon as we got our tickets in hand, we were ushered across the Red Carpet and into the building, where we picked up our free popcorn and soda, and found our assigned seats, (7th row from the front, far right). So we were not able to actually watch the celebrities get out of their limos and walk the Red Carpet into the building. (That’s not the reason why I came to LA, but it would’ve been nice to see.)
The inside of Grauman’s Chinese was a lot bigger than I imagined, about 1500 seats. And Patty and I were among the first ones in. So we sat there and ate all our popcorn before the movie ever began, while we watched all the other people come in and get seated.
7:30 pm came and went, then 7:45 pm. Finally, just before 8:00 pm, three or four important-looking people gathered off to the side, just below the stage, and just a few feet from where we sat. One of them was the woman with the clipboard. Patty said wryly, "There’s the woman with the clipboard. It must be going to start soon!"
Sure enough, a minute later, we heard her tell some flunky: "Tell Clooney 30 seconds!" Off he went to deliver the message. And within a minute, the head of the AFI got up on stage to address the audience. He made some comments about film being a true American art form, etc. Then he introduced the stars, who were standing in the back of this large room with about two dozen other standing people, so it was actually kind of hard to see them.
The movie Leatherheads was great! I thoroughly enjoyed it. When it was all over, everybody applauded. And as the first few names rolled on the credits, everybody applauded again. Then little by little, people started to get up and leave. We stayed almost until the end, though.
When we finally left, we followed the crowd to the reception in the Grand Ballroom, somewhere in the same complex. (This was good for us, since we didn’t really know where we were going).
I should mention here that my feet were killing me, and I hadn’t even gotten to the reception yet. I had just bought these silver high-heeled shoes Saturday night, and didn’t have a chance to break them in. I had tried to buy a big enough size so my toes wouldn’t hurt, but my toes hurt anyway, and now the heels were loose, so I had to stuff something in them so they wouldn’t fall off my feet! My own fault – I should’ve known better, and gotten something flat or with a low heel. Vanity, thy name is Woman! Anyway, I lived though it, but I walked slowly most of the night, and dancing was out! (Not that I’m any great dancer, but I like to keep my options open!)
When we got inside the Grand Ballroom, Johnny’s Vintage Dance Band was already playing. (Damn, I thought, I hope I didn’t miss much!)
Since we arrived to the reception so late, the unreserved tables on the right side of the room were filling up fast. Instead of being able to sit down, we had to stand at one of those tall bar tables that only can accommodate four people. Normally I don’t mind standing, but as I said, my feet hurt. I ate my dinner quickly. (The buffet dinner was catered by Wolfgang Puck, and the food was delicious!) Then I turned my back to the table so I could better see the stage and the dance floor.
Watching Johnny live onstage was a real treat! The band sounded great, of course, but to me, Johnny really was the whole show! He talked to the audience, more than just to introduce the songs. He led the band in a very animated way, and really worked to keep the band sounding tight. Occasionally, he would step up to the old-fashioned, over-sized microphone to sing. And other times, while leading the band, he would suddenly break into a dance. Damn! What a good dancer he is! The man was a bundle of energy – he was all over that stage all evening, and really kept the show moving at a lively pace! He was truly entertaining! What a natural performer he is!
I only recognized about a fourth of the songs. I am woefully ignorant of many songs from that era, unless they were in some old black-and-white musical that I’ve seen. (I’ve recently been trying to correct that oversight in my musical education.) But familiar or not, the songs all sounded great. The band was very professional, smooth and polished as a 1920’s dance band should be. All in all, the show was excellent! Not "excellent for that type of band", not "excellent for that type of music", not "excellent for the Jazz Age era". (Even though all of these are true!) No, no disclaimers necessary. It was just excellent, period! Already I longed to come back for another show, when my feet were in better shape for dancing.
At some point, I turned back around to Patty and the other couple at our table, and apologized. I said that I didn’t mean to be rude, keeping my back to them the whole time, but I really really wanted to see the band and the dance floor!
After Patty finished eating, she wanted to walk around the room to see who she could recognize. I told her to go ahead without me. I wanted to stay put and watch the band, and my sore feet gave me the perfect excuse.
As the evening wore on, and the crowd started to thin a little, we were able to move from our tall standing table to a couple of couches that were positioned around a coffee table for eating. Not only was it very comfortable, but I finally got off my feet, and it gave us a better view of the stage.
Then for the last 20 or 30 minutes of the show, we moved to a regular table, now empty, which was right at the foot of the stage and next to the dance floor! At last, I was as close as I wanted to be! And I could put my feet up on a chair. I was loving it! Too bad the show was almost over.
We relaxed in our now-prime seats, listening to the music and closely watching both the band on the stage, and the dancers on the dance floor. Patty actually did not know that I had come to see Johnny; she only knew that I had heard about the tickets for sale because I knew "someone" in the band. (We both had been so busy… I had told her I would tell her the full story later, and never had the chance.) So it was quite a compliment when Patty observed, after watching Johnny dance: "This bandleader is great! But he’s going to be exhausted at the end of the evening. He’s been running around the stage, and dancing like this the whole show." I just smiled.
Patty was also studying the dancers with great interest. Dance was something she really knew; her father had been a dance instructor. All evening there had been 3 or 4 young couples, all dressed in 1920’s casual clothes, who were great dancers and had spent a lot of time on the dance floor. I had been watching and admiring them all evening. But now, from her seat right next to the dance floor, Patty was studying their shoes.
"Those people are professional dancers," she stated.
"You could be right," I said. "They’re very good."
"I know I’m right! Look at their shoes. Those are dance shoes. They’re probably professionals hired to put on a show, and keep the dance floor from looking empty."
I hadn’t thought of that. I nodded that she was probably right. There had been a lot of people on the dance floor throughout the evening, all ages, all manner of dress. But these couples had been out there a lot, and they were certainly the best on the dance floor.
Right about then, Johnny announced last song, and some more couples got up to dance. I just sat there with my feet up, and tried to savor the moment.
After the last song had ended, Johnny quickly jumped off the front of the stage onto the dance floor, and spoke with the group of 1920’s dancers that Patty and I had just been talking about. Then he quickly walked off to the side, looking like he might disappear into the back somewhere. Suddenly he was back on the stage, moving from one band member to the next, saying something, but only for a moment. He moved quickly, like he was pumped full of adrenaline. Then he jumped off the stage again, went off to the left just a little ways, and stood there for a couple minutes talking to a well-dressed man who looked like he was working the event also.
I was carefully watching all this from my table, wondering if I had the nerve to go ask him for an autograph. I decided that if I was going to make my move, I’d better make it fast, before he really did disappear for the evening. So I took my ticket in hand and walked towards him, trying not to limp and show how much my feet hurt.
As I got close, I said "Excuse me", by way of apologizing for interrupting, but the well-dressed man waved me in, clearly knowing I was there to see Johnny.
Timidly I asked, "Mr. Crawford, may I have your autograph?" And I handed him my ticket, back side up, and my pen.
Johnny looked me straight in the eyes, and grinned like I was an old friend he was really happy to see. "Of course. What’s you’re name?"
"Pamela."
Much to my surprise, he proceeded to make conversation, and didn’t just look down at the thing he was signing. In fact, he didn’t start writing at all. Instead, he continued to look me right in the eyes, like I was the most interesting person in the world at that moment, and asked, "How was the movie?"
"It was great!" I answered. And it dawned on me that he didn’t see the movie, because he was setting up for his show.
Then he asked, "And how did you hear about this?"
I was caught off guard. "What? You mean the premiere tonight?"
"Yeah, how did you hear about it?"
"From you, Johnny! I read it on your blog on MySpace!"
His eyes really lit up. "Are you Pamela who’s been writing all the comments?"
Cautiously I answered, "Uh, yes," all the while thinking: Oh, no, have I annoyed him by writing too much?
But Johnny, obviously pleased, leaned very close to me, and said excitedly, "And you weren’t going to tell me?!"
No, I thought, I wasn’t going to tell you. I didn’t want to come off like some Stalker Chick.
Before I could respond, he gushed, "I guess this MySpace stuff really does work!"
"Yes, it really does. The Internet is just an amazing tool." My tongue loosened up a little, as I found myself responding to what he was saying.
About then I noticed my friend Patty had come over to join us, (no idea how long she was actually standing there), and I introduced her.
Johnny asked both of us, "How far did you come for this?"
Being the local, Patty answered first. "I live in Santa Clarita. That’s just north of here up I-5."
Johnny, still grinning that infectious grin of his, looked into my eyes like he could see into my soul. "And how far did you come?"
Suddenly, I didn’t want to admit how far I’d come. "I… I…"
Patty stepped in. "She came from New Jersey."
"I came from New Jersey," I echoed, "near New York City."
Johnny marveled, "You came all that way for this! You didn’t come just for this show, did you?!"
Actually, I did! I was a little embarrassed to admit the truth of it in front of other people, but yes, the only reason I flew out to LA was to see Johnny perform and hopefully to get to meet him. I mean, going to a Hollywood premiere is certainly a once-in-a-lifetime thing for me, but even that was of secondary concern. I didn’t have the nerve to tell him that, though. Instead, I just made it sound like I timed my visit with Patty to coincide with his show.
Johnny continued, "So you’re doing other things while you’re out here?"
I nodded, even though it wasn’t true. I find it curious that he would even pursue the question, though. Does he suspect the truth? Can he not believe that somebody would come 3000 miles just for him?
As he proceeded to write something on the back of my ticket, he actually started apologizing for not answering the MySpace comments and messages he receives! Pointing to my ticket, where all he had written so far was "To Pamela", he said, "It takes me so long to compose messages, I just can’t answer everybody… I wrote something about it in a blog, but I don’t think people always read those."
I assured him, "That’s OK. You don’t need to answer every time a stranger sends you a letter."
But he just repeated about how long it takes him to think of what to say. And later in the conversation, he mentioned it again, apologetically. Can you believe this guy? He just doesn’t want anyone to have their feelings hurt!
The conversation was a bit of a blur after that. He was talking fast and furious about a wide variety of things, and no sooner did I nod or answer, then he was on to a different topic!
He told me that the man he was talking to when I walked up was a professional butler who was working this event. I just responded with a "Wow, that’s interesting!"
Then he switched topics. "Weren’t the dancers great? They are the (can’t remember name) Dance Company. I hope having professionals on the dance floor didn’t stop people from getting up on the dance floor, too." (Patty was right!) I got the definite impression that Johnny was the one who hired them.
I thought it was a fine idea, and said so. "Oh, no. I think it was great. It kept things hopping. And people don’t like to get up on the dance floor if they’re the only ones, and they think everyone’s watching them."
About that time, a beautiful woman in a red dress, about 15 years younger than me, with a male companion on her arm, came up to Johnny while he was talking to me.
"Sorry for interrupting, but I just had to thank you, Johnny, for spreading the word about the premiere. I read your blog on MySpace, and that’s how I found out about it and why I’m here tonight. So, thank you!"
Johnny lit up again. "Really? So did she." He gestured towards me. "She’s also here because of MySpace. Isn’t that amazing? I was just saying, this MySpace stuff actually works!"
Woman in Red Dress smiled, said thanks again, and walked away with her male friend.
Johnny turned back to me. "Isn’t that something? She heard about this from MySpace, too!"
His enthusiasm was like that of a little kid’s. I couldn’t help but grin back at him.
Johnny continued in that vein. "You know, there really is an amazing variety of music online!"
I immediately agreed. "Yes, I’ve been having a really good time exploring all the music out there."
"And a lot of it is really good!"
I just nodded in agreement, as he extolled the virtues of checking out music on the Internet. This answers something I was wondering about, (but would never ask him), which is: He adds bands to his Friends List by the fistful, from just about every genre imaginable. Is he really interested in such diverse music? Or is he just doing some aggressive networking? After listening to him talk about music, I’ve concluded it’s the first.
Suddenly I became aware that the large reception room had really emptied out, except for workers shutting things down, and that we were now slowly strolling across the room and headed for the door. I was barely aware of the fact that I was walking with him; I was so mesmerized by his very presence, I was just following his lead without thinking. I didn’t even notice my feet hurting anymore.
Abruptly he switched topics again.
"Did you see the new blog about the review of my new CD?"
"No, I didn’t! On your site?" I was startled. How could I have missed that?
"Well, maybe I forgot to put it up." (I swear to God, he said that!) "American Profile magazine wrote a very nice article about my band and the new CD, and they put it out last weekend. But I failed to make the CD available by the time the article was published. The magazine's online store has been receiving orders for the CD since the article came out." He looked dismayed. "But the CD isn’t coming out for a little while yet. And I wanted it to be available in time, so people wouldn’t go looking for the CD and not be able to buy it."
The words shot out of him rapid-fire! And then he paused and looked at me intently with those big brown eyes, waiting for a response, so I said: "Yeah, you don’t want that."
"Exactly!" he said, as we neared the door.
I knew my time with Johnny was short now. I was enjoying my visit with him more than words could say. And suddenly I felt the need to tell him what I couldn’t tell him at the beginning, namely that I had come clear across the country just to see him perform. Not to visit my friends, not to see celebrities walk the Red Carpet, not to bask in the California sun. No other reason but him.
I knew that his band rarely does shows outside the LA area, so I couldn’t wait for him to come to me. And most of their gigs seem to be special events, not easily accessible by mere mortals. This was an opportunity I just couldn’t pass up, and I wanted to explain that to him, and I wanted to explain it now, face to face, before we parted ways outside the door.
Here I go… "Johnny, you know how some people ask in their comments: When are you and the band coming to Texas? Or New York? Or some other place? Well, I know you guys don’t usually travel…"
"Comments!" He picked up on that word, and knitted his brow ever so slightly. "You know what I don’t like? All those Glitter Comments people leave. People mean well." He looked at me earnestly. "I have to put them up. But they don’t fit the look I want for the site. They’re just so… glittery."
I sighed a little and thought, Never mind.
I’d been guilty of glitter myself once or twice, so I apologized. "Yeah, well, sorry about that. It’s a girl thing."
"I suppose…" He rolled his eyes a little.
About this time, I noticed that Patty was several steps ahead of us, already out the door. As Johnny and I stepped out also, I got her attention, and motioned for her to come back and join us. The three of us stood outside in the cool night air, chatting for a few final moments. He clearly was getting ready to say goodbye, so I asked if I could get my picture taken with him. He was, of course, happy to oblige. I handed my digital camera to Patty, and she snapped a couple of pictures. Then Johnny asked someone who was standing nearby to take a picture of all three of us, which they did.
While we were posing for the camera, Johnny complimented me on the vintage-style dress I was wearing. Actually, I think it was the second time he mentioned he liked it, the first time being when I first approached him for the autograph. Throughout the course of the evening, I had received almost a dozen compliments on the dress, when we were in line out on the sidewalk, when we were sitting in the theatre before the show, when we were at the reception. But to have Johnny tell me he liked it, now that was special!
After the pictures, we said our goodbyes, and I shook his hand and thanked him again for everything. Then he walked off to the left, and Patty and I walked off to the right towards the parking garage.
I felt like I was in a trance. Time had been standing still. I don’t know how long we had been talking, but with the pictures, it had to be at least 20 minutes! (I would say it was longer, but he really does talk fast!) And all I asked for was an autograph!
Looking back, I realize that I was practically the only person he talked with after the show ended, (not counting brief words to band members, dancers, and other workers). The woman in the red dress really only stopped by for just a minute or so to thank him, and then promptly left. And my friend Patty was in the conversation in the beginning, mostly listening, and then became more interested in heading for the door. At first I thought Johnny was just being polite. But this went way beyond polite! Asking where we are from is polite. This was… I don’t know what, but way beyond polite! My head is still spinning!
And the funny thing is, I wasn’t nearly as tongue-tied as I should have been. As soon as MySpace was mentioned, I immediately, and totally without thinking, went from addressing him as Mr. Crawford to just calling him Johnny!
(Side Note: We never once mentioned The Rifleman or his acting career. It just never came up. The conversation was almost exclusively music, the Internet, or the reception.)
Later, I looked to see what he finally wrote on the back of my ticket. It read:
To Pamela –
Thank you
so much
for coming!
Your friend
Johnny
Crawford
On the way home that night, Patty said Johnny was "adorable" and "utterly charming". I couldn’t agree more!
The next morning, I slept in late. That afternoon, while both Patty and her husband were at work, I lounged by their pool in the backyard. Like a scene out of a movie, in typical California fashion, I sat by the pool while I talked on my cell phone to my sister and my friend Joanne telling them all about my exciting time at the Hollywood premiere the night before! All I needed were some sunglasses. Too much!!!
Wednesday morning I caught the plane back east to New Jersey... and reality. Sigh!
Pamela ;-)