Still in the spotlight
Jack Valenti is busily scripting the end of his legendary life.
But, even after 85 years, it’s very much a work in progress.
Valenti, who ended his 38-year run as Hollywood’s leading man in the nation’s capital more than two years ago, continues to work five days a week as something of an icon-on-call.
Nattily dressed in dark suits, his silver mane of hair neatly combed and his manners similarly well groomed, Valenti still works the phones to tap political connections dating to his days at President Johnson’s side. Now, however, it’s for new causes that include world health issues and leading an entertainment industry campaign to teach parents how to block objectionable TV shows.
“I have a feeling that retirement is a synonym for decay,” Valenti said in an interview over a fruit plate with nonfat cottage cheese at his regular lunch table at the Hay-Adams Hotel. “I watched President Johnson leave the White House, go back to his ranch, and literally do nothing. In four years, he was dead.”
Valenti wants no part of a sequel. And just tending to his own celebrity as a leading lobbyist emeritus is almost a full-time job.
He rides the speaker circuit telling tales from a Technicolor life: traveling in John F. Kennedy’s motorcade when the president was assassinated in 1963, working as an aide in the turbulent Johnson White House, representing major movie studios as head of the Motion Picture Assn. of America, and fathering today’s film-rating system.
Valenti will return to the national spotlight this spring with the release of his memoirs. And he’s already writing another book about his relationships with eight U.S. presidents.
Although he no longer needs to work, he’s up at dawn at his Washington home, exercising for 45 minutes before heading to his downtown office.
In recent weeks, he attended the Kennedy Center Honors, the White House Summit on Malaria and a dinner at the Italian Embassy for new House Speaker Nancy Pelosi (D-San Francisco). His upcoming schedule is neatly stuffed in his right suit pocket.
“As we’re all going, ‘Gee, if I were Jack I’d be slowing down, taking it a little easy,’ that’s why we’re not Jack,” said Martin D. Franks, executive vice president for planning, policy and government relations at CBS Corp.
One night in December showed Valenti’s glitz hadn’t faded. The National Italian American Foundation tapped him to introduce Sylvester Stallone at a private Washington screening of “Rocky Balboa.” But Valenti was an attraction himself. As he was introduced by the group’s executive director as “Mr. Hollywood,” cameras flashed while Stallone was still seated.
In many ways, Valenti still lives a life of Washington royalty, remaining closely identified with the job he gave up. He is instantly recognized and a frequent guest at society and political events, chauffeured to them in a bronze Lexus sedan with “MPAA1” license plates.
He maintains a stately office on the top floor of the Jack Valenti Building, so christened by the MPAA to mark his retirement. The last four digits of the MPAA’s phone number remain “1966,” commemorating the year Valenti joined the association.
“He knows the players, he’s got a sense of the issues, he knows his way around town, he knows how to use the glitter of the motion picture industry in a city that loves that sort of stuff,” said Stephen Hess, a media and public affairs professor at George Washington University. “In some ways, it really is quite remarkable when you think of from whence he came.”
Valenti has told his life story so often that he can rattle off an abridged version of his upcoming 416-page memoir, “This Time, This Place: My Life in War, the White House, and Hollywood,” in one minute flat:
“It starts when I was born in Houston, Texas, on Alamo Street, takes me through the war. At age 20, I enlisted, flew 51 combat missions as a B-25 pilot. After the war, the greatest piece of legislation ever struck off by the Congress, called the G.I. Bill of Rights, went to Harvard free of charge. Come back, started an ad agency, got to know Lyndon Johnson, wrote speeches for him. In the motorcade in Dallas, suddenly I’m now in the White House. Then, two movie moguls come to see me. Next thing I know I’m in a leadership role in Hollywood. None of these I ever expected to do. Almost 39 years later, I stepped down.”
His ability to both distill a subject and spin an almost endless series of anecdotes about it makes Valenti a valuable asset-for-hire in the nation’s capital.
“What it still comes down to is that he’s real smart and he knows how to communicate real well,” said Peter Chernin, News Corp.’s president and chief operating officer.
Even people who have opposed Valenti admire his ability to frame a debate, such as calling the videocassette recorder a “Boston Strangler” to the film industry.
“He was oftentimes wrong, like he was about the VCR ... but nobody can spin words together like him,” said Gigi Sohn, president of Public Knowledge, a group that advocates easier access to digital information. “He’s one of the most eloquent people I’ve ever come across.”
Valenti’s silver-tongued phrases, often mined from the far reaches of the thesaurus and delivered with a hint of his Texas twang, have made him one of the most quotable people in town. But in Washington, words really matter only when the right people hear them. Valenti has spent decades nurturing relationships with Democrats and Republicans that continue to open doors for him.
“When Jack calls, people are available to see us,” said Edward W. Scott, a Silicon Valley entrepreneur who founded Friends of the Global Fight Against AIDS, Tuberculosis and Malaria.
He chose Valenti as the group’s president in 2004. Valenti in turn recruited two longtime Hollywood power players, Chernin and Barry Diller, head of IAC/InterActiveCorp, to join the board of the group, which raises money to fight the diseases.
Scott recalled a trip to Capitol Hill to meet with since-retired Rep. Henry Hyde (R-Ill.), who was presiding over a hearing. “Somebody whispered in his ear that Jack was in the anteroom,” Scott said. “He recessed the hearing for 20 minutes to come talk to us.”
Valenti’s relationship with Hyde goes back more than three decades. After Hyde won his first election in 1974, Valenti sent him a congratulatory telegram even though they had never met. Valenti still sends unsolicited letters -- typed, with handwritten introductions and closings -- complimenting acquaintances on something they’ve done that he thinks is “brilliant.”
Those personal touches pay dividends in Washington.
“Jack’s the kind of guy who never met a stranger,” said Dan Glickman, who succeeded him as MPAA chief executive in 2004 and taps Valenti for advice under a consulting contract. “He has lots of friends.”
Valenti can tick off a host of powerful lawmakers he’s known for years. Those contacts keep his stature from fading even as his official role has changed to supporting player.
When broadcasters faced congressional wrath after Janet Jackson’s “wardrobe malfunction” at the 2004 Super Bowl, Valenti was brought in to lead a $300-million campaign to educate parents about technology to block TV shows. Valenti is one of the few people who could bring together executives from the movie studios, broadcasters, cable and satellite companies, CBS’ Franks said.
“When he calls a meeting,” Franks said, “people have no choice but to go.”
But why does Valenti still go?
The father of three and grandfather of two has a more than comfortable retirement. For years, Valenti was one of the highest-paid lobbyists in Washington -- his salary in 2004 was $2.3 million, with a total compensation package of $11 million, according to the National Journal.
His fee per speech probably fetches in the mid-five figures, according to industry experts. And the Washington house he shares with Mary Margaret, his wife of 44 years and LBJ’s onetime personal secretary, is valued at $1.7 million.
“He’s not a guy to sit at home,” Glickman said. “I think Jack will always work. It’s the secret to his usefulness and longevity to be out there engaged with people.”
Valenti said he left the MPAA because he wanted to exit on his own terms, not because he was ready for the rocking chair.
“I’ve seen so many actors, so many executives, so many congressmen hang on too long, long past their Hall of Fame days,” Valenti said. “It’s sad. So I didn’t want that to happen to me.”
Valenti has made some concessions to age. He no longer does 7 a.m. business breakfasts. He travels much less. And he’s more selective about how he spends his time.
“I don’t meet with anybody I don’t really want to meet with,” he said.
He’s shaved about two hours off his former MPAA workday, allowing him to exercise -- a regimen of push-ups, sit-ups, weights and a treadmill -- before taking his chocolate Labrador retriever, Lily, for a walk.
“He’s seriously in great shape,” said Chernin, a friend for 15 years. “I think he feeds on the energy of being involved with people and issues.”
Leaving the MPAA also gave him more time to spend on his memoirs than he had when he wrote a book about Johnson in 1976.
“This time,” Valenti said, “I took my time.”
But not so much that he didn’t get up from his computer and out of his office to again be a story-spinning man about town.
“I wouldn’t want to be a full-time writer because writing is a lonely occupation,” Valenti said. “You want to be out amongst people. At least I do.”
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Vintage Valenti
A former aide to President Johnson, Jack Valenti, 85, was head of the Motion Picture Assn. of America from 1966 to 2004. The native Texan is known for vivid quotes often delivered in a style reminiscent of a Southern preacher. Some notable Valenti nuggets:
“I sleep each night a little better, a little more confidently, because Lyndon Johnson is my president.”
1965 speech to the Advertising Federation of America
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“I say to you that the VCR is to the American film producer and the American public as the Boston Strangler is to the woman home alone.”
-- 1982 congressional testimony, when he initially opposed home video recording
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“I don’t care if you call it ‘AO’ for adults only, or Chopped Liver or Father Goose. Your movie will still have the stigma of being in a category that’s going to be inhabited by the very worst of pictures.”
-- 1987 interview on doing away with the MPAA’s X-rating after the porn industry co-opted it
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“A public domain work is an orphan. No one is responsible for its life. But everyone exploits its use, until that time certain when it becomes soiled and haggard, barren of its previous virtues.”
1995 congressional testimony on extending copyright protections
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Source: Times research
Los Angeles Times
