Is Silence Golden When Encountering a Celebrity?

Why do people who encounter celebrities in public places ask for their autographs?

We have all seen this phenomenon dozens of times, especially in Southern California, where there are probably more celebrities per capita than anywhere else (except in small and exclusive resorts that are frequented almost entirely by celebrities).

Celebrities, of course, are imprisoned in their celebrity. Unless they don’t mind fighting off mobs and having their clothing torn off their bodies, they avoid appearing in public at all, except at well-policed events such as the Academy Awards ceremony, where they alight from limousines and parade over red carpets through barricaded lanes.

But in addition, celebrities are created by their own images. They may hate the media, but if their faces were not well known through the media they would not be celebrities. The irony of it is that, as much as they may resent the wear and tear of public adulation, most of them probably dread its end. When they are no longer recognized in public, they are finished.

I don’t know what psychologists say about this common urge to touch celebrities and get their autographs, but I suspect that in part it is a need to make them real. They are fairy-tale figures. We know them only as images on a screen or photographs in the paper. Meeting them in a public arena verifies that they are human, three-dimensional and vulnerable. To get their autographs is somehow to bridge the gap between fantasy and reality.

I have never asked any celebrity for his or her autograph, and I never will--unless it’s on a check. And yet, when I chance upon a celebrity in a public place I also feel drawn to him, as if he were magnetized. I never speak. (Neither does he.) I try not to stare. If everyone followed those rules, celebrities would feel free to move about among us, though they might not like it (not being pestered) as much as they think they would.

What can one say to a celebrity? “I’m a fan”? “I enjoy your work”? “You’re wonderful”? What can the celebrity say in answer? Nothing, really, but, “Thank you.”

Certainly one doesn’t dare to attempt a serious conversation. One doesn’t walk up to Jane Fonda and say, “Where do you stand on abortion?”

I have been introduced to several stars at private gatherings, but that doesn’t count. One may not ask for an autograph in such situations, and, as for conversation, one may only state his admiration, briefly. Nothing more is wanted, nothing less is acceptable.

I have already reported here, I think, an encounter I had with Marlon Brando, that most reclusive of stars. It was in a computer store. He was shopping for equipment. He was wearing a tropical straw hat and looked like a planter. I didn’t let on that I recognized him. I had an idea that if I had accosted him he would simply have stared at me until I went away. He also ignored me, which I thought was very decent of him.

Not long ago I was standing at the curb in front of the Brown Derby, in Pasadena, waiting for a valet to bring my car, when a man in a handsome overcoat walked up beside me. He was Harry Hamlin, the macho-sensitive lawyer in “L.A. Law.”

I wondered whether I should tell him that I enjoyed his work. I thought of telling him that I thought he handled one of his recent cases very badly. I wanted to ask him how his on-screen romance with Susan Dey was going. (She can be difficult.) We stood there silently side by side and neither spoke.

I have never known whether he was relieved that I hadn’t showered him with praise and asked for his autograph, or annoyed that I hadn’t. That must be a constant dilemma for celebrities.

Anyway, if he reads this, I want him to know that: (1) I recognized him, (2) I like his work, (3) I think he is sometimes too emotional and heavy-handed in court (I think he deserved that recent suspension), and (4) I wish he would tell Susan Dey to either get rid of her negative moods or get lost.

Nothing personal, of course.