Celebrities, celebrities, celebrities!
I was up to my eyeballs in muckity-mucks, stars and media-mites at the recent White House Correspondents’ Dinner.
Thanks to a generous gesture by the CA’s Washington correspondent, Bart Sullivan (that’s Bart’s wife Susan, left, with me and, ahem, Jane Fonda), I got a seat at Table 256 in the ginormous ballroom of the “Hinckley” Hilton. Some would say that the spot against the wall, waaaaay left of the dais, next to a pillar wasn’t prime. I’d say that by the time we sat down for dinner, I’d already had more fun than I’ve had in a loooong time.
The annual event, during which the White House press corps rubs elbows with the president, politicians and Hollywood hotties, starts hours before the time listed on the invitation.
I had my seat in the Hilton lobby bar by 4:15. Primo, too. I could see the revolving door through which a stream of famous people swirled, decked out in black tie. I moved a large, but surprisingly light, planter out of my way and encouraged the biggest dang Secret Service agent I’ve ever seen to just scooch a little bit to the right so I could watch the show.
NYC Mayor Bloomberg, columnist Roger Simon, commentator Kate O’Bierne, Helen Thomas, this CNN guy and that MSNBC reporter paraded past my post. And the great part? Seeing me in formal dress, they were checking me out, too! Ha!
Bart and his lovely wife Susan joined me at about the same time the Secret Service shut down street access to the hotel (called “Hinckley” because that’s where John Hinckley shot President Reagan) and the protesters showed up outside. Tonight’s topic? Media coverage of the last awful ramblings of the Virginia Tech shooter.
We split up to check out the crowd. The Sullivans headed for the Terrace Level and the cocktail party. I waited for more celebs.
If you’re not a journalist, this won’t be such a big deal, but for women in the media, there’s no bigger icon than Helen Thomas, longtime reporter and dean of the White House press corps. She’s about 4-foot-nothing and spunky. I spotted her by the elevators and sprinted to get a photo. She gladly obliged. My journalism gal pals are all soooo jealous!
About then comedian Rich Little joined the crowd, escorted by C-SPAN prez and White House Correspondent Association head Steve Scully. If they had both known then how the night would go for them, they probably would have turned around and gone home. Little’s hair was dyed a weird shade of brown and he seemed to be cranky and sort of mumbling to himself. Rehearsing? Cussing? I snapped off a photo as he slid by.
Down at the Terrace Level, I ran into Carl Leubsdorf and Bob Hillman, a couple of my former colleagues from The Dallas Morning News. Hillman now writes for politico.com, the new DC newspaper. Pleasantries exchanged, it was time to plunge into the chaos of seeing and being seen outside.
Gen. Barry McCaffery here. Soledad O’Brien there. Morgan Fairchild, her complexion like that of a Barbie doll, posing by a glass door. Media moguls standing in clots on the garden pathways.
I joined columnist Cal Thomas back inside near the red carpet entrance. He’s about 6′5 so he was getting quite the view. He says he’s been going to the dinner for ages and professed some disdain, but he admitted he likes watching everyone, just the same.
Sam Donaldson and wife approached. Thomas commented, “There’s a handsome couple.”
“I’ve always thought so,” Donaldson shot back.
In came David Gregory, stopping to talk to Tiki Barber. Oh, and there’s former Tennessee Sen. Fred Thompson and his pretty wife Jeri. She confided to me she just couldn’t wear black. She had a baby five months ago and she needed to wear something lively. She looked great in white and red. I mentioned to Thompson, likely an ‘08 GOP presidential candidate, that Bart would be talking to him a lot. He indicated he understood and I took that as confirmation he’s in the race.
I spotted singer Sheryl Crow and took a photo of us together. That was before she almost came to blows with Karl Rove about global warming. (I’m glad we didn’t shake hands, that whole one-square of toilet paper thing and all.)
A young girl in a wheelchair made the rounds, wearing a lovely goddess-y dress and some snazzy strappy sandals. I heard “Hi, I’m Katie,” and wheeled around to see Katie Couric bending down to greet her.
Then a stir. Who is it? Someone big? I dodged and ducked around the crowd. It was Gayle King! Who? Oprah’s BFF. Glamorous in a lime-green long dress, she trailed a handsome escort who indicated to me it was something else to be watching her reception.
Jumping back in time, I bumped into Henry Kissinger and he agreed to a photo. I snapped G. Gordon Liddy and his wife.
I walked up the red carpet myself and persuaded a photog to shoot me even though I’m a nobody.
Sally Quinn and Ben Bradlee of the Washington Post passed by, heading for the escalator. I hopped on with them, talking to Quinn about one of her new hires, former CA reporter/editor David Waters. “Oh, we couldn’t do it without him,” she cooed. Really? He’s only been there a few weeks…
Downstairs I spotted Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia, alone, slinking around the corner. I unwittingly crashed the “diplomat’s line,” lured by one of my faves, historian Doris Kearns Goodwin. She was chatting up Andrea Mitchell of NBC and some bigwig who was giving her an update on the Boston Red Sox game that night. Goodwin’s a big Sox fan. She smiled for a photo.
Then I got kicked out of line because, yes, I’m a nobody.
Good thing, too, or I wouldn’t have been on the other side of the hall when country music star Tim McGraw walked up. (Ohmigosh!!!) He posed for a photo (yes, his eyes were closed, but hey) with his arm around me! His arm around me! I went away and screamed out loud — discreetly, of course.
The security checkpoint turned out to be a good spot for people watching, but I soon moved into the incredibly huge ballroom, standing by the one entrance people could use. Security, you know.
I snapped Larry King and his wife. McGraw came in with wife Faith Hill. Then Wolf Blitzer glided in with Jane Fonda. I grabbed Susan, slapped the camera into Bart’s hands and asked “Miss Fonda” for a photo. She looked irritated and uncomfortable and you’d never know it by the giant smile she slapped on. We look like we’re having a wonderful time together!
So that’s the gist. By the time I sat down at Table 256, for the program (the president didn’t make funny; neither did Rich Little), I had had the time of my life.
(Posted by Guest Diva Carolyn McAtee Cerbin)
