Barbara and Me Part 2

(Continued) Because my editor is such a wonderful, dream-nurturing human being, (and maybe because I did her a big favor by helping her in a crunch and doing a last-minute story—that was so wonderfully-written, if I do say so myself, that the subject of the article actually sent my editor flowers!—and I promised her many future favor pay-backs) she agreed to let me go along with the reporter on assignment who is about 12 years old and probably thinks Barbara Walters is as interesting as a “History of Media” class that she slept through in college six months ago, but, as usual, I digress.

So, I blow-dried my hair and shaved my legs and tried on three different outfits and made very complicated arrangements for the kids and power-skimmed the book, making up thoughtful, insightful questions. No pressure—I mean what do you ask the Queen of Interviews?

I arrived at 5:05—a full 35 minutes before the scheduled time, to make sure that traffic or parking would not get in the way of my golden dream moment.

There was already a huge crowd outside of the bookstore. Mostly middle-agey women (like me) over-dressed in colorful sundresses and little kitten heels (like me) and clutching books with the little purple slip of paper that indicated the book had been purchased at that bookstore—a prerequisite for entrance and an audience with La Walters.

I was never so happy to be a member of “the press.”

I strode right past them into the store.

“I’m here from the Danville Weekly,” I told the bookstore owner, expecting the crowds to be parted, to be ushered in to a separate, air-conditioned room, while waiting for Barbara to arrive, even though I had spied a big-time stretch limo on the corner and suspected that the author was already there.

“I’m sorry,” the bookstore owner said brusquely, “Press time is over. She wanted to start early.”

What?

But, she wasn’t supposed to see the press until 5:40.

“She. Wanted. To. Start. Early. There. Is. Nothing. I. Can. Do.”

What would Barbara Do? (WWBD)

Would she push ahead, demanding her right to an interview? Or, more likely, as I know after reading her memoir, would she charm and cajole her way through the pack.

I didn’t seem capable of either. It would appear that I didn’t have the right stuff to be a world-class journalist like Barbara.

But, later, after reading the book, I did get one reassuring glimpse of a mortal Barbara when she described her first press junket to accompany Jackie Kennedy on a trip to India and Pakistan in 1962.

“I did have one momentous breakthrough in Pakistan when Jackie was visiting a monument. ‘Mrs. Kennedy, there’s a bobby pin falling out of your hair,’ I said to her. She turned, smiled at me, and said, ‘Thank you.’ That was it. My exclusive interview.”

Realizing my exclusive interview was not to be, I got in line with the other 199 people hoping for a special moment.

When it was my turn, I asked Barbara where Cha-Cha (her beloved Havanese dog) was and I told her that I also had a Havanese dog who I was nuts about.

Despite her very hurried, necessarily detached manner, Barbara looked at the picture I had brought along, brightened up for a moment and said, “They have these little cute legs.” Then, back to business, she signed my book “Barbara Walters” (no personalizations!) in very perfect, tiny script, and moved along to the next person.

So, like too many dreams come true, this one was more than a little disappointing.

My husband said I should have brought Dog along. Barbara would have melted. I think he was right.

p.s. A couple of side notes:

Barbara looked fabulous, even better (and thinner!) in person than on TV.

And calm. She says that one of the secrets to her success on TV is that she never sweats and that must be true. It was 101 degrees outside and she was (sorry for the cliche) cool as a cucumber.

And, as disconcerting it was for the press (me, in particular), she was smart and kind to begin her signing early. With the extreme heat, she may have avoided some serious medical issues like heatstroke among the crowds.

Alas, I have no photos of Barbara, but here are some photos of the scene. As I was driving by and writing this blog in my head and suddenly realized I needed some pictorial evidence:


A side shot of Barbara's humongous stretch limo. Babs must have quite a posse to fill up that car!


A small piece of the amazing crowd that braved the 100+ degree weather to see Barbara.

And, this is my favorite photo, because after driving by really slowly and taking a bunch of pictures, I think the crowd thought I was paparazzi! As if!