Autographs

When I was a kid autograph books were a thing and you’d inevitably get one for your birthday or Christmas. But these little books were for comments and signatures from your friends and family and even your teachers. They were not for movie stars or celebrities. We didn't know any famous people and were unlikely to encounter any, so that was not the goal. The idea was the common folk in your hood or house wrote a little poem or joke then signed it. Here's my brother's entry:

In my adult life I have obtained a few autographs of famous people, some of them by accident, like a porcelain plate autographed by Ron Howard, found in an apartment I moved into alongside its official papers. I believe it was for some sort of charity auction but I couldn’t track down any owner, so I have a plate wrapped in newspaper in a box in my basement with Opie’s name scrawled across its shiny white surface in permanent marker.

And then there are the intentionally collected signatures. Wes Anderson. When he presented Darjeeling Express in Toronto, he autographed my screenplay after the screening: "Wes A.". This first-name-last-initial quirk very much echoes my high school days - my yearbooks are full of it. In my autograph book, both my brother and my eldest sister signed this way.

I love that Wes A. picked up on this signature method, completely in sync with who he is and what his films often are about, in part, or in whole, like Rushmore. (At the same premier, I also got Jason Schwartzman's autograph, which he adorned with a heart).

I asked Wes A. if he’d read my screenplay (the one he autographed). His answer was no, but at least he took the time to explain to me that he only shoots his own stuff (which I already knew but you gotta try).

Then there was Tony Curtis. At his art opening at Sutton Place in TO, he waved at me from above the heads of other autograph-seekers - a movie star gesture - and so I made my way to him for the signing. I believe that particular scribble is lost for all time, in one of my many moves from place to place, city to city.

But I have not lost the one from Ian McKellan, received long before he became known to the world as Gandalf. It was at the backstage door after his one man show Acting Shakespeare.

Jackie Chan. I was a background player in The Tuxedo. Approaching the stars was strictly forbidden for the BG, but I didn’t care and Jackie was super friendly towards me. I also got a photo with him. It was before rampant selfies with ubiquitous cell phones. I had borrowed a little camera from a friend and a crew member graciously snapped the shot on a break. Again, I didn't care - what were they going to do to me? Kick me off the set? It would have been worth it if they had, but they didn't and so I had nine days of watching Jackie Chan work.

But the autograph I cherish the most is one I got when I was a kid. Mary Poppins bedazzled me, both the character and the movie. So I wrote Julie Andrews a fan letter. I didn’t know her address so I just put her name and “Hollywood” on the envelope, no zip, no state even.

Imagine my utter delight when I got an envelope postmarked Hollywood, California. Julie sent me back a 5" X 3" black and white autographed photo. What a thing to find in your mailbox when you’re eleven years old. I was thrilled. And through all my many moves since I was that age I have managed to hang on to it.

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Thanks for reading!