My brushes with stardom (or famous people I’ve bumped into by accident)

by Rick Blechta

I loved the post by Douglas yesterday, and having not a jot of an idea about what to write about today, I’m going to riff off his post.

I seem to have a knack to run into famous people. I don’t know why this is; it just happens.

Here’s a list and a very brief description of each encounter:

1. When I was 15, I caddied for Ed Sullivan. Really. He wasn’t a terrific golfer and disliked giving up on a ball off the fairway, so I spent a lot of time in tall grass and the borders of the woods surrounding the fairways. He was a good tipper, though. And the way he was on his TV show was the way he was in real life, so you could say I spent 18 holes on The Ed Sullivan Show.
2. I slammed jazz guitar great Wes Montgomery’s hand in an elevator in New York City. It was one of those self-operating ones. I was shutting the outer door when he stuck his hand in to stop me. I wasn’t paying any attention and was in a rush because my brother was double-parked on the street below — at rush hour (not a good thing in the Big Apple). Fortunately I didn’t break anything! Wes wasn’t too happy with me, though.
3. I once got on an elevator in the Toronto Canadian Broadcasting Corporation’s headquarters. The Prime Minister of Canada at the time, Jean Cretien followed me in along with his two Mountie bodyguards. Trouble was I had a very lethal pair of scissors in my pocket at the time. We went up several floors silently with me trying to melt into a corner so I wouldn’t be noticed while I kept my hands far away from the pocket where the scissors were.
4. By far the most amazing event was meeting Eric Clapton and spending over an hour chatting with him. Trouble was, I didn’t know it was him until at least an hour had passed. I’d never seen him with a beard. His band at the time, Cream, was playing in New York the next day and needed some speakers repaired. He knew the repairman from a previous gig in town and decided to spend the afternoon with him (better than sitting in some hotel room). I rushed in needing a speaker repaired for a gig I had that night. Tony, the repairman, asked Eric if he could just take care of me, and then get back to work on Cream’s blown speakers. I assumed the bearded Englishman was one of Cream’s roadies, so while Tony worked, I chatted with him. I asked about touring with Cream and he answered that it was gruelling, complaining that he was tired of listening to Jack Bruce (bass) and Ginger Baker (drums) fighting all the time. Almost done with my speaker, Tony said he’d like a coffee. Eric offered to go to the luncheonette down the street and asked if I’d like a coffee too. I declined. As he left, Tony called out, “Thanks, Eric! I appreciate it.” Then the penny dropped. All I could think about were the things I was asking him as if he was just a nobody roadie and not really twigging on to the way he was talking about the band. Boy, did I feel like an idiot!

There were other brushes with fame, but these are the cream of the crop.

Oh! One more that's too good not to share: my darling wife once hit Richard Nixon in the head with a door…