GREETINGS FROM OSCAR’S ARMY

At precisely 4:16 Monday afternoon, emcee Army Archerd got his cue. Spotting William Hickey, godfather of the “Prizzi” family, emerging from a gull-wing silver stretch limousine, Archerd adjusted his bow tie, skipped up the steps of a specially constructed podium and announced to the crowd: “Good evening, movie fans!”

For the last 28 years, Archerd has been the human extension of Oscar’s red carpet. On Monday night Archerd once again greeted, announced, schmoozed with and soothed the glittering stream of stars that made their way to the front rows of the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion.

With the help of two spotters, Archerd welcomed dozens of nominees, past winners and presenters, ranging from the ultrafamiliar (Meryl Streep, Cher, Bob Hope) to the more obscure (“Welcome Mrs. Monty Hall, a producer in her own right!”).

During the hectic, adrenalin-charged two hours of arrivals, Archerd would say hello to and introduce nearly all of the major nominees (Jack Nicholson and Steven Spielberg slipped quietly by; Barbra Streisand once again opted for the back-door entrance).

Throughout the evening, Archerd did not misidentify a single star and calmly improvised when the stars did not have much to say. “He says what he has to say on film, ladies and gentleman,” Archerd told the crowd when announcing director Akira Kurosawa, who arrived in shades and simply waved to the crowd. For Archerd, Oscar night is the longest and most terrifying day of the year. “I still can’t get to sleep the night before,” he said in an interview before last night’s ceremony. “I don’t look forward to it. It’s so easy to make a mistake; I’m putting myself up there as a target.”

Archerd, who has written the Just for Variety column on Page 3 of the trade paper Variety for 33 years, makes few mistakes. He has written more than 8,000 columns and says he has never printed a retraction. But on Oscar night, the pressure intensifies. The annual assignment amounts to an instantaneous deadline. In the course of the evening he introduces dozens of stars. “I remember one year Olivia de Havilland came by and I just froze. I couldn’t remember her name, but then as soon as she smiled it came to me.”

Archerd commits to memory at least one nugget of information on each nominee. “Most of the people there will only be seen (on the broadcast) for one brief moment, and this is a real opportunity for everyone,” Archerd said. “It’s their night, and we try to make them feel like they’ve had a warm reception.”

Though he has made few gaffes over the years, the press and the public watch Archerd like a hawk, waiting for him to blunder. One year, in a classic example of art imitating life, director Herbert Ross arranged to shoot the actual Oscar arrival scene for the comedy “California Suite.” When Michael Caine and Maggie Smith arrived, Archerd, who’d been told to announce them in character, announced the names of their characters in the movie. The next day one reporter chastised him for not recognizing Caine and Smith.

Along with the anxious moments, Archerd has been there for the rare glimpses of genuine drama. The most emotional moment, he says, came when the entire academy gave Ingrid Bergman a standing ovation when she won best supporting actress for “Murder on the Orient Express” in 1975.

It was Archerd who got the phone call from Marlon Brando at 2:20 p.m. on March 28, 1972, announcing that Brando would not accept the best actor award for “The Godfather” and would send American Indian Sacheen Littlefeather in his place. (Archerd alerted producer Howard Koch.)

Though Oscar night is clearly Archerd’s most important evening of the year, it is his daily column that remains his first love. Every morning he arrives at the Variety offices in Hollywood and starts working the phones for the next day’s column. He works straight through lunch until his 4:30 deadline, digging up an odd stew of castings, career moves, the latest divorces and other gentle gossip.

The sheer volume of his work is impressive. In a given week he may do as many as 300 items, written in the short, punchy vernacular that is Variety’s trademark.

An item may be as light as this recent example: “General Hospital’s Brad Maule, who anticipates fatherhood on the series, dittoes offscreen with wife Laverne, who expects their first stork arrival in August.” Or as somber as this: “Friends are saddened to learn James Garner’s dad, Weldon W. Baumgarner, died last Sat.”

While much of the copy is on the softer side, Archerd occasionally breaks news. His biggest scoop came last July 23 when he broke the news that Rock Hudson was dying of AIDS. The lead item began: “The whispering campaign on Rock Hudson can and should stop. He has flown to Paris for further help. . . . Doctors warn that the dread disease (AIDS) is going to reach catastrophic proportions in all communities if a cure is not soon found.”

The Hudson item was a surprise to many of Archerd’s readers. It was hardly a typical item, but Archerd says it was his biggest scoop. “Within 48 hours after I printed that, every major news program from ‘20/20’ to ’60 Minutes’ all did specials about AIDS. If Rock Hudson had died of some other disease, I wonder if we would have this current consciousness of AIDS. . . . The power of celebrity attachment to anything is not to be underestimated.”

At 64, Archerd remains a seasoned if terminally star-struck veteran. Fresh out of UCLA, he covered his first Oscar night 40 years ago as a cub reporter with the Associated Press. Later he worked for the now-defunct Herald-Express before moving to Variety in 1947, where he replaced columnist Sheilah Graham.

He’s been able to maintain the feverish curiosity necessary to keep the column going without burning out. “I like what I do,” he says. “I don’t burn out because I’m not part of the scene, I’m looking in at the scene. I don’t get involved, like some unnamed people who cover this business.”

His backers say Archerd writes accurately, in a tough but fair style.

“I always think the column is much better than where it is” (Variety), says one studio vice president of production, who would not be quoted by name. “He reports interesting tidbits about what people are up to, and he gets them right.”

Says another studio executive: “He’s tough but fair. He’s also the scoop man. His informational infrastructure is so strong, he knows about things as soon as they happen.” (When he found out Jack Nicholson had broken his arm skiing, Archerd couldn’t reach Nicholson’s manager or agent so he called Anjelica Huston, who confirmed the item for him.)

Like all columnists, Archerd does have his detractors. One producer, who refused to be named, pointed out that when Archerd emcees various premieres for the studios, he is paid for the evening.

Archerd said he has to be paid because the premieres are televised and used by the studios for publicity. He does not feel it affects his judgment in the least. “I have regularly criticized the academy and the studios when I see things that I don’t like,” he said. “I just do the interviews (at the premieres) and then I’m working for my paper. What I see is what you read.”

(In 1984, for example, his Oscar follow-up column harshly criticized the television broadcast the night before for various gaffes and excessive length.)

Over the years Archerd has had his run-ins with people like Frank Sinatra and Jerry Lewis, and has angered all kinds of sources, but most of them, says Archerd, keep in touch. “I tell people, ‘You might as well tell it to me and tell it to me right, because if I don’t print it right someone else will print it wrong, and then you’ll be upset you didn’t talk to Army Archerd.’ It’s true, and they believe it.”

So does Archerd.