And This is Why I Am Not Married to Burt Reynolds

Tony Randall and Burt Reynolds were filming Woody Allen's "Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Sex But Were Afraid to Ask," when a few of the writers at Paramount asked me if Tony would arrange for them to meet Woody.  I promised to find out at lunch.

We ate at a small restaurant within walking distance of both Paramount and Tony's studio.  I enjoyed my eggplant immensely and stared longingly as Tony left almost half of his on his plate.  He wasn't a big eater; when he didn't go out Tony often had only a can of tuna for his midday meal.  Perfect.  It always meant more for me.  I eagerly reached for his eggplant.  Tony held up his hand.

"It didn't taste right," he told me.  "I'm sending it back."

"Mine tasted great," I said, planning to do the tired old gag of clutching my stomach and falling over on the table as if poisoned.  I couldn't pull it off because the nice waitress was approaching with the check and probably didn't want me making a spectacle of myself.

When Tony cast aspersions on the food, she apologized profusely, snatched back the bill, and refused to let him pay.  It made me uncomfortable, especially since every morsel of mine was gone.  Celebrities, however, become accustomed to the special treatment they invariably receive.  Tony shrugged off my concerns with the comment that it's just the way the world works.  It was the way his world worked, not mine.  If I hadn't been there with Tony, my meal would never have been free.

Tony and I had many memorable dinners and lunches, including at Sardi's and Ma Maison.  This one was memorable too.  I remember it as "the eggplant embarrassment."  But, there was more embarrassment to come.

On the way out, Tony offered to introduce me to Burt Reynolds if I went back to the studio with him.  He liked Burt, thought he was wonderfully funny, and admired him as an actor.  I gave the matter some serious consideration for half a second.  Burt Reynolds was awfully cute at the time.  If fate had plans for us--small ones, like love at first sight--wouldn't it be a mistake to say no?  I agreed and we were on our way to the studio.

I should have known better.

As we walked, Tony related another tale of special treatment lavished on the "Star."  In New York he had gone to see Martin Sheen in a Shakespeare play.  When Martin noticed Tony in the audience he stopped the proceedings to pay tribute to him.  Tony was clearly proud of that moment.  He manifested his ham-actor-feigning-humility persona and thanked me for warning him previously that Martin was a fan.  If he hadn't known, the shock of "Shakespeare interrupted" might have been too much for him.

After we agreed that Martin was a great actor, and especially adept at spotting talent in others, Tony regaled me with accounts of the gorgeous women he'd seen lining up to meet Burt.  My prospects for a future with the superstar began to dim.  Then, they disappeared altogether.

Burt Reynolds wasn't there.

My mind cleared.  I recalled my promise to my friends, including Joe Glauberg, one of the nicest, most decent men in show business, who achieved well-deserved success as the creator of "Mork and Mindy."  Tony liked Joe and the others I mentioned, but couldn't guarantee that Woody would meet with them.  He described the director as extremely intense, serious, and totally focused on business.

I sensed discord.  Tony respected Garry Marshall's creative control on "Odd Couple," but even Garry wasn't allowed to give him "acting notes."  No one told Tony Randall how to act.  Did Woody Allen fail to realize that?

Finally, Tony said he'd talk to Woody if I did something for him.

"What?"

"Peek into Burt's dressing room."

"No."

Tony explained that a flimsy wall which didn't quite reach the ceiling was all that separated their dressing rooms.  If I stood on the bed I could peer into Burt's room and see if he was entertaining anyone.

"That's disgusting.  An invasion of privacy," I said.  "You do it."

Tony looked offended.  He claimed he'd never do anything like that.

"But you can do it," he insisted, "for the guys," meaning my friends at Paramount.

And, all right, I was curious.  Besides, aren't all actors exhibitionists?  Don't they want to be watched?

I hoisted myself onto the bed, stood on tip-toe, angled my head by the ceiling, and nearly fell over with relief when I saw...nothing.

Tony tried to act disappointed and suggested that I come back later to try again, but we both had had enough of playing Peeping Toms.

The meeting with Woody never came off.  I suspect he and Tony didn't get along.

And, Burt?  In the highly unlikely event you ever read this blog post...Sorry for the intrusion.