Monday, June 15, 1998
Tinseltown meets UCLA campus in Westwood
Dear Irene,
So far, my celebrity tally has accumulated to a grand total of
seven pedestrian sightings in Westwood over the past three years. I
know I promised to constantly update you, but you’ll have to live
the collective moment vicariously through me (my letter, that is)
while you are all the way over in Boston. I know, I know … You
guys hosted the "Real World, Part 1,000" this year, but is that
really something you should be showing off? Really.
So I saw Shaquille unfold his 10-mile long legs from his 3-foot
Porche in front of Bel-Air Camera last year. I spotted Jada Pinkett
(I mean, Jada Pinkett Smith, no dash, mind you) with hubby, Will,
fleeing Burger King, and Alanis Morissette roaming through Borders’
un-student-friendly aisles.
Tom Cruise was sipping Joe in his tinted SUV in front of Coffee
Bean and Adam Sandler (just the other day, in fact) stood chatting
in front of Olive Garden. And last, but not least, I caught a
glimpse of Charlie Sheen (pre-jailbird days) with his blonde
bombshell, 6-foot girlie friend by Rite-Aid, formerly known as
Thrifty’s. Phew!
And, Irene, while this seemed all too exciting when I first
moved to Los Angeles, I realized it’s all part of the UCLA loop. I
mean, why still get excited when a famous Amos strolls by, when our
own campus, which is basically University of Tinseltown itself,
attracts big-time artists of its own?
I mean, when you see John Lithgow walking his dog every morning
around campus, it doesn’t seem like that big of a deal that he
hosted the Royce Hall re-opening this spring. (Finally, we know
what the inside of Royce looks like! It’s gorgeous, baby.) Then
again, Carroll Burnett, Paul Reiser, Paul Simon, Don Henly and
Stevie Wonder also performed, and John Lithgow is pretty big
himself …
Oh, and so what if Charleton Heston read for the 24-hour English
Department reading of "Moby Dick" last year? I mean, he’s just …
oh, well, he’s Moses! OK, so that was tight. Watching Moses read
Melville was one for the books (no pun intended).
And the JazzReggae festival UCLA hosts every year. Yeah, the
Roots came a few years back, and every year we have our own
big-time jazz people play – Billy Higgins, Kenny Burrell, Gerald
Wilson. All student-produced, you can get a $15 sundress, Cuban
cigars, sunshine and have a dance party all on the IM field. This
year’s was especially huge.
But still, stuff like that shouldn’t be that big of a deal,
right? I mean, we see it all the time. Big people come all the
time. Quincy Jones and Herbie Hancock came last year to teach and
perform with the UCLA jazz bands.
Remember when I told you Chuck D spoke on campus last year?
People flocked. There have been so many speakers from the Dali Lama
to Forrest Whitaker (so what if he was the director of Hope Floats
– it’s still Harry and Sandra that star in it). And stars show up
for UCLA-presented awards, like Ellen DeGeneres for the Jack Benny
Award and Nicolas Cage for the Spencer Tracy Award, just last
month. By the way Irene, he does look better in person. He’s
Superman! Or at least he would be if the studios would shell out
the bucks. He’s still Superman to me, though. But so what. Blah!
Why should I care? So what if I was the first one there? It means
nothing! You guys hosted the "Real World," for God’s sake. Sorry,
had to rub it in.
So we have all these things happen all the time on campus. UCLA
is just another film set. I mean, TV studio, I mean, music venue.
(Do you even realize how many people skipped class to see the
Alkaholiks, or Phish, in Westwood plaza?) But hey, that’s kind of
cool in itself. Did you see "The Nutty Professor"? So pretty boy
Cruise in Westwood is nothing. We have all that right here. Big
deal.
But, Irene, UCLA and the arts isn’t all about movieland and
making the moo-la-la-la. Thanks to our friend Phillip Glass (don’t
call him a minimalist, he hates that), I’ve seen a 3-D digitized
opera, and thanks to the multiple-shaped bodies of the Bill T.
Jones dancers, I’ve seen what Phillip Glass might have done if he
were a choreographer, and all in our own Royce Hall. Oh, can’t
leave out Debbie Allen at the Geffen. She’s still a youthful-cut
mama singing and dancing. I hope I look that good when I get to be
that age.
So, Irene, I scoff at the eye-candy Hollywood hype in Westwood!
I refuse to gawk at premieres, sound my barbaric yawp at those
hovering behind velvet ropes all to catch a glimpse at the
glittering red carpet walkers. Why do all that when UCLA has its
own, up close and personal, stuff to look at and hear? (Did I
mention Moses was here?)
So, during my past few years at UCLA, this year as the on-campus
arts editor, I’ve been there, done that.
But hey, I just realized now that, well, it’s all a big deal.
And seeing John Lithgow here every morning with his dogs? That’s
pretty cool.