What follows is mostly true. These are stories as I remember them from my days as a bartender for Wolfgang Puck Catering. Working flashy events for high end clientele, it was hard to take any of it too seriously, like Hollywood itself, but they did provide some entertaining memories. We weren't supposed to take any pictures, post anything on social media and for God's sake don't ask for autographs, but they didn't say I couldn't write about it.
In the early days of catering, I worked a lunch at the Music Center. I had a couple tables to look after, pretty straight forward. I was surprised but excited that one of my guests was Kirk Douglas. I think he was 87 at the time, it was long after his stroke, God bless him he made it to 103. I asked him if he would like something to drink, we have iced tea, lemonade… he grabs my forearm and stops me with a very deliberate, "vodka and tonic please." I wasn't expecting that, and it made me smile.
I bring him the drink, he looks me in the eye, takes my hand and presses a folded up five-dollar bill into my palm and says, "thank you." It was a nice and genuine gesture. A couple minutes go by and I walk back over to find his drink was already gone. I was puzzled, did he drink it that quickly? I asked him if he would like something else. Again he grabs my forearm and says deliberately, "vodka and tonic please."
I was slightly concerned, it's only a few minutes past noon, he took down the first one so quickly, but then again, this is Spartacus. I bring him another drink, he looks me in the eye, takes my hand and presses a folded up five-dollar bill into my palm and says, "thank you." I come back a couple minutes later, and again the drink is gone. Now I'm worried, I know I supposed ask him if he would like something else, but I'm afraid he's going to ask for another vodka and tonic. At 87, even Spartacus shouldn't be pounding Ketel and T's for lunch. At this rate I'm worried tomorrow's headline is going to read, Kirk Douglas killed by polite but over-serving waiter. I cautiously ask in a for-the-love-of-God-please-say-no tone, would you like another? He smiles and says, "oh no, just some iced tea please." I realized Kirk just wanted to get his Spartacus on before some boring lunch program began. He couldn't have been more lovely.
One of my favorite celebrity encounters was the man himself, Sidney Poitier. I was a big fan of his work, and in person, Mr. Poitier was nothing but class and dignity personified. I waited on him three different times. The first was at a wedding and I brought him a drink but didn't have much interaction. I do remember his was incredibly polite. The third time I saw him was for his daughter's wedding. He stood up and gave a beautiful toast. I loved his cadence, I could listen to him read the phone book. I was a little disappointed however, I always had a thing for his daughter, and I feared this wedding put the nail in my chances. But the second time I waited on Mr. Poitier was my favorite, it was a 50th birthday party for a movie producer at his house in Beverly Hills. Every once in a while, I'd have to change into an outfit provided by the client, usually it was just a T-shirt, once it was a cheap suit that I got to keep, but tonight it was pajamas. The event was my first and only pajama party, mine were comfy red flannel pjs. I had dreams about showing up to work in pajamas. They turned out to be my most comfortable work attire.
So we're all set up and ready to go, and the first guest to walk down the stairs and up to my bar is Sidney Poitier. From my bar I watched him descend the stairs slowly, gracefully, dignified, in the finest, most expensive silk pajamas ever made. The robe looked like it cost more than my car. I once saw Hugh Heffner in the smoking jacket and the whole outfit, but this was very different. Sidney was discerning tastefulness. He walked up to me and said in his buttery tone, "I'm so pleased to see you're in pajamas. When I received the invitation I thought this might be an elaborate practical joke. I was afraid I would be the only one wearing pajamas."
"No sir," I said, "we're all in pajamas, but you make them look good."
I was lucky enough to see a lot of musical acts perform while working, like Stevie Wonder, the Eagles and Tony Bennett amongst many others. But, one of my favorite musical moments was at an art exhibition in a Beverly Hills residence. My job was to offer wine to guests. I spent the day walking through crowded rooms while trying to balance wine on a silver tray. I walk up behind this person and begin to maneuver around him, when it occurs to me that this guy reminds me of someone. There weren't many celebrities at this event, but this guy is short with crazy hair and even from behind he looks old, wrinkled and wise. Knowing what type of event this was, I suddenly get excited, I mean from behind he certainly looks like, could this be? I float past, so close I have to twist my body to get around him. Staring right at him the entire time, I can feel the answer before I see the result. I was right! It's Bob Dylan! I stood there with my wine in awe. I wanted to tell him all things he's heard a million times before, I wanted my Woody Guthrie moment with him, I wanted to take a glass from my trey and drink wine with him. But he just stands there already holding a glass of wine, and doesn't even look at me, so I sulk away to the next room of oblivious, pseudo art aficionados to peddle my vino.
