It’s a Crime Nondescript Capers Lead to Fame, Fortune

“I know you think I’m joking, but believe me that’s the only way I could break into show business.”

Does the name Rupert Pupkin ring a bell?

Mr. Pupkin spoke the words above to a live audience near the end of his national TV debut as a stand-up comic. Even as a disbelieving but amused audience laughed, Pupkin explained that, no, he was serious--he only got the gig after kidnaping host Jerry Langford and holding him hostage in exchange for this appearance on the show. Indeed, as soon as Pupkin’s five minutes were over, the FBI arrested him.

But that was just the start of things. Pupkin served only two years and nine months of his six-year term at a minimum-security prison for abducting the talk-show host. He signed a book deal “for more than a million dollars,” according to his publicist. The book title: “King for a Night.” Hollywood later bought the rights.

It was a beautiful deal, baby.

In 1994 terms, does it even matter that Rupert Pupkin was a fictional creation, that he was the character Robert DeNiro played in the 1983 film, “The King of Comedy”?

The movie was no doubt written as a satire on celebrity status and some people’s craving for it. Anyone watching the movie today, however, would be more likely to say, “Yeah, that could happen.”

Could happen? It happens all the time.

I caught a TV news teaser the other day and saw throngs of people surrounding a partially obscured figure. Obviously, it was a media horde and the only question was, who was the celebrity?

Turns out it was Joey Buttafuoco, the Long Island auto mechanic fresh from jail after serving part of his sentence for having sexual relations with a minor, the notorious schoolgirl Amy Fisher. Young Miss Fisher made her own news by shooting Joey’s wife some time ago. I’m sure you caught one of the three TV movies last year about Amy.

So, here’s Joey--already made famous by Letterman and Leno monologues--commanding a media crowd as he returns home. Having done nothing in life thus far but have an affair with a teen-ager, Buttafuoco may be set financially for life as his celebrity status kicks in.

It calls to mind a figure skater of recent vintage. Tonya Harding may have been headed for a nondescript career as a professional ice skater, but no more. She reportedly sold one TV interview for more than a half-million dollars and, by golly, she still has a life story to sell for either book or TV.

And for what? For being involved in an assault on another skater.

A friend says he heard that Lorena Bobbitt might get a job hosting a Spanish-language talk show. Why not? She earned her celebrity status the in-vogue way: She grabbed a potential murder weapon and went to work.

In a world in which Charles Manson T-shirts and songs sell, who wouldn’t tune in Lorena’s show?

To be sure, we’ve always had people famous only for criminal activity. But have we ever been so brazen about accepting them in our midst as pop celebrities? Once, we would have ridden a Joey Buttafuoco out of town; now we put him on the cover of magazines.

At least Al Capone ran an empire. Buttafuoco repairs carburetors.

I’ll try not to lose much sleep over it, because I can’t do anything about it. The media seem incapable of resisting these people. But we can’t take all the blame; the public seems incapable of resisting them, either. Let’s face it, all three networks didn’t do Amy Fisher movies because they thought no one would watch.

Just like pulling off a caper made a nobody named Rupert Pupkin a somebody, so it works for Tonya and Joey and Lorena, ad nauseam .

Joey and Tonya must love “The King of Comedy.” They’ve probably seen it more times than I’ve seen “Casablanca.”

Just as I replay over and over Ingrid Bergman’s confessional to Bogart, Joey and Tonya probably can’t get enough of Rupert Pupkin saying, “. . . You’ll think I’m crazy, but I figure it this way--I’d rather be king for a night than a schmuck for life.”

Cash in while you can. Who knows, there may be another celebrity discovery just around the corner.

Dana Parsons’ column appears Wednesday, Friday and Sunday. Readers may reach Parsons by writing to him at The Times Orange County Edition, 1375 Sunflower Ave., Costa Mesa, Calif. 92626, or calling (714) 966-7821.