Charlotte

  I had a friend who managed a store in a mall.  She was very good at what she sold and was invited to go to a company-wide meeting in Atlanta for an overnight stay.  She was very excited about being down there and for being recognized for her hard work.  When she got there, she found that they had put her in a hotel room with another woman that she didn't know.  As they were talking in the room about their stores, the other woman put her hand on my friend's leg and asked her if she would be interested in an intimate encounter.  My friend said no, and that she wasn't into that lifestyle.  

 When my friend got back to Columbia, she told me about that woman and how embarrassed she was.  We concocted a plan to get back at that woman.  The woman worked at a store in Charlotte at an upscale mall.  My friend told me some particular things about the woman like how she dressed and that she drank at the hotel bar.  Our plan was that I would drive to Charlotte and go into that store to say hi to the woman.  She had never met me, so this was a perfect plan.

 I got up to Charlotte one afternoon around five, knowing that the woman got off at six.  I went into her store and greeted her by her first name.  She looked at me strangely and asked how I knew her.  I told her that I met her in the hotel bar and had a few drinks together.  I told her that she said that if ever I was in Charlotte that I could come by her store, and we would go out.  I made the fictional Atlanta conversation very convincing.  Even though she didn't know me, my chat with her seemed plausible to her.  She told me to come back to the store at six, and we would go out for one thing or another.  I excitedly told her I would.  I got back in my car and drove back to Columbia.

 The next day, I told my friend how our plan went.  She laughed very hard.  She thanked me for getting back at this woman and for leaving the woman hanging at her store waiting for me to come back.  I suppose I could count that afternoon in Charlotte as one of my better acting roles.  At least, it was fun.

Charming

  I have been fortunate to meet a lot of famous people.  Some for work and others in public places.  I have written about many of these including Gary Oldman, Burt Lancaster, Dennis Hopper, Charlton Heston, Jack Palance, Joe Biden, Bill and Hillary Clinton, BB King, Gary Lewis, and many more.  I have also spoken online to some including Max Gail, Fess Parker, Hugh Hefner and others.

 I have also written about a trait of mine to keep some conversations private, and they have trusted me to do so including Yoko Ono and Ginger Lynn Allen.  They have trusted me with their lives, and I am glad to call them my friends.

 One of these people was someone who had a lot of mistrust for anyone who they didn't know.  In 2024, I was desperate for money to survive.  I was writing a lot of celebrities to see if any would contribute to me and my Go Fund Me page.  One of these people was a man who had been in the spotlight for all of his life.  His mother and father were very famous.  I didn't know this man, nor anyone close to him, but I thought I would give it a shot.  I found his email address and wrote him a letter about how much I admired his mother, who had tragically died years before.  He wrote back to me, and I could tell he was hesitant to even do that.  He gave me his phone number and said that he would rather talk via text than on email.

 At first, I didn't know that he was who he said he was.  I had been burned before by impostors.  My trick is to ask an obscure question that only the recipient would know.  He answered it correctly.  One of his conditions to our chats was not to reveal his identity to anyone.  He feared that somebody could get hold of his words and use them against him.  I assured him that I would be discreet. He also asked not to share his phone number with anyone and that my phone contact would only be listed as "Prince Charming".  We had a good laugh over that designation. So, we would chat once or twice a week about our lives.  

 I think one reason why we hit it off was that we both had lived in the spotlight growing up, although his childhood was much different than mine.  We both were expected to behave in a certain way, and we both rebelled later on.  He told me that his public persona with his family was much different than his private one.  We talked about his family and his life away from his extended family.  In one of our chats, he asked me if I would like to have a job working for his father.  I was flattered but explained that I was over 70 years old and didn't have a passport.  He told me that he could arrange for me to get a diplomatic passport.  He was very gracious, but I couldn't just up and move to another country like that.

 During our last chats together, he was telling me his thinking about moving back to his country of birth, if his wife and children were up to the move.  I told him that I thought it would be good in the long run.  No one should hold a grudge, and it is better to mend fences than to harbor dislike for people. When I saw the news that he had decided to move back, I felt good.  My friend may have gotten a lot of bad press over the years, but he is a good man who cares about people who don't have a life as good as his.  That is a lesson that his mother taught him.  Thanks, Prince Charming, for being a good listener, and I would like to think I was for you, too.

Agent

  When I moved back to South Carolina from Texas, people told me I needed an agent to get more acting parts in movies and television.  I couldn't just do it on my own.  The agent would have connections with all of the studios to get auditions for me, and I could make more money.  At the time, I had just left my federal government job after being "phased out", so I needed work.  I saw an ad in the newspaper for a woman, who said she was an agent, and was looking for clients.

 I answered the ad and went to her house over in the Shandon area of Columbia.  She lived in an area known for rich people.  Her house was next door to the Shandon Presbyterian Church. There were other people who had answered her ad, and we all sat in her living room as she explained what an agent does.  She said that we all needed 8x10 pictures of ourselves known as "head shots" for the casting directors to see.  She knew a photographer that we could use, but I knew a guy at church who could do mine for free.  It turned out she got a commission for every person she recommended to her photographer.  She also told us that she would take 15% of our income from acting work for representing us.  That sounded like a lot, but I could get work which was all that mattered to me.

 Each week, I would call her to ask if she had any roles for me, and she would say no.  I asked a couple of others she was representing to find out if they had gotten any parts, and they said no.  Things were seeming a little fishy. We had all paid her an upfront fee to represent us, but nothing was happening.  One day, I called her and found that her phone had been disconnected.  She had skipped town with our money and moved to Atlanta.  She hadn't told anyone.  We discovered that she was a con artist and had no interest in being an agent.  We contacted the police, but they told us that they couldn't do anything.  

 A year or two later, the church next door bought the land that her house sat on.  They bulldozed the house and used the land for parking.  I guess it was a fitting end to that woman in Columbia for taking our money.  I got an agent a little later on who was more reputable.  That is until I had a chance to play a role in "Forrest Gump", but I took a part in "The Program" instead.  That's another story.

Fonda

  I am naturally a very shy person. For those who have seen me on the stage or in a public forum, you might think differently, but I know how to put on a front. In unfamiliar social situations, I would rather go sit in a corner and be alone. 

 I have also met some very famous people. Actors, musicians, politicians, religious leaders, and more. From a young age, I saw these people as just people. Just because they might be well-known doesn't mean they aren't people just like you or me. 

 There was a bookstore in Columbia called The Happy Bookseller. They would bring in famous people who had written books to be signed for the public. That's where I met Jack Palance, and we laughed about if Burt Lancaster knew how to dance. 

 One person who came to the store was Jane Fonda. She had written an exercise book. I got to the store before the line formed to meet her, but I couldn't bring myself to go up and introduce myself to her. Instead, I hid in the shelves and looked at her from afar. My shyness took over. Maybe it was because I had seen her naked in films. Maybe it was because of her larger than life family. I don't know, but I regret not at least saying hello. Whatever you may think of her as a person, she is someone that triggered my shyness. I wish it wasn't so.

Lights

  I was up in Charlotte for a Belk meeting and stayed overnight.  They usually gave us a company car to drive, when we went up there.  I didn't have anything to do that night, so I took the car to an adult bookstore to see what I could see.  

 I didn't buy anything, and I headed back to the motel.  The streetlights were very bright along the way.  There were cars flashing their headlights at me, so I thought they were thinking that I was blinding them by my headlights.  I just ignored them.  When I got back to the motel, I found that I hadn't turned on my headlights all the way back from the bookstore.  The street was so bright that I hadn't noticed.  I felt kind of stupid and relieved that a policeman didn't see my faux pas.  I blamed it on two things, because I could never blame myself.

 First, that the streetlights were very bright.  Second, that I was driving an unfamiliar car.  Maybe this is sacrilegious after visiting an adult bookstore, but I thanked God for protecting me that night.  It could have been a lot worse.   

Speed

  I used to have a lead foot.  What that meant was that I liked to drive fast.  It was a lot easier on highways than city streets, but I did my best to drive over the posted speed limit when I could.  If I was driving through a small town, I would slow down below their speed limit, since many of those towns depended on drivers going fast for their economy.  

 Twice, I drove to or from Charlotte, NC in an hour and fifteen minutes.  Normally, it would take at least about fifteen minutes longer than my time.  Both times, I was either in the Belk company car or van.  The first time, I was driving from Charlotte to Columbia with my store manager in the car.  He went to sleep.  When we reached our exit, I put on the brakes for him to wake up.  He looked at this watch and asked me how fast I was going.  I told him that I was going fast enough.  He told me never to do that again.  Ironically, one day he told me to drive up to Charlotte to get our store's payroll to the Belk corporate headquarters.  I had to be there by noon, and I left the store at 10:30.  I got there with 20 minutes to spare.  I even passed a state trooper on the highway doing a traffic stop on another driver.

 One route I wanted to take to see how fast I could go from one place to another was from Batesburg, SC to Columbia Mall which was 41 miles.  I was driving at night in our store's company car.  I drove the backroads, because I thought most officers would be at home having dinner.  I was right.  I drove that route in 35 minutes, despite having to slow down for traffic the closer I got to Columbia.  That may be a record.  It was just fun.

 I was driving back from Laurens, SC one day, and I wanted to do an experiment.  I got on the interstate and drove the speed limit just to see how many cars would pass me.  I lost count after 80 cars and honking drivers.  They were like me on a normal day.  

Gwen

  When I was a buyer for Belk, my departments included Housewares, Stationery, Luggage, Records, Toys, Candy, and a few other things.  At first, they also included Bedding, Draperies, and Rugs.  It was just way too much, especially my expertise didn't include those last three things, so my supervisor hired a woman to buy those items.  Her name was Gwen.  She had an eye for style that I never had.

 Gwen and I became good friends.  We would sit out in Columbia Mall and watch the people walk by.  We would make up stories about them.  One day, I saw a good-looking woman walking with a plain looking man.  I asked Gwen why that was, and she explained that the woman looked better next to the main, and the man was proud to be next to the woman.  It made sense.  Gwen was the better looking of us two.  We would go out to lunch at nice restaurants, and we would alternate giving the tip to the waitress.  It was always $1.  Keep in mind that this was in the late 1980's, when food cost a lot less.

 One day, she asked me to go with her to a rug store downtown to see about buying some of his goods for our store.  The owner was Iranian.  She knew about his culture, but she was insulted that he talked to me the entire time, despite her asking questions to him about his rugs.  She was so mad that she didn't buy any of his rugs, even though they were a good price.  She also asked me to go to Batesburg with her to check out the Belk store there.  She had bought some Linens for the store and wanted to see how they were doing.  I drove the company car to Batesburg and parked right out front of the store.  As we were leaving, I went out to open the car door for her.  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a man, with a mad look on his face, walking fast towards us down the sidewalk.  Gwen yelled at me to get in the car.  The man stopped and stood at the front of our car with his hands on his hips. We guessed he was mad, because I had opened the car door for a black woman.  We were glad he didn't have a gun.

 Gwen and I were in a discount store one day checking prices of similar items to ours.  As buyers, we were told to go to stores and see what they were selling their stuff for, so we could undercut their prices.  We saw a middle-aged woman walking down the aisle by herself towards us.  As she got closer, Gwen picked up a random item off of a shelf and said in a voice loud enough for the woman to hear that this would look great on our mantle in the living room.  She just wanted to see the look on the woman's face.  We laughed at the woman's shocked expression.  I did the same thing later with another customer.  Sometimes, you just have to have fun with total strangers.