Tom Hayden, Michael Keaton, Meir Kahane.
What do these three have in common? They all were mentioned in a single Facebook post (attachment and comments) and brought to mind incidents in my life I had forgotten about.
The conversation started with a post about the movie: The Trial of the Chicago 7. So, it's easy to understand why Tom Hayden came to mind.
Sometime around 1987, I was sitting in the front of coach on a transatlantic flight which meant that I'd be able to deplane first but also gave me the privilege of sitting near the row of lavatories. Sitting on the aisle, I sometimes felt like a greeter for those coming and going. Literally.
Somewhere over the Atlantic, a man came out of the bathroom and kind of hesitated. I glanced up and our eyes met. I think I gave him a perfunctory smile but I also must have registered something else in my expression. I looked up again and he was staring at me with a face that said think about it, you'll get it. It only took a few seconds before my expression told Tom Hayden I did. I kind of smirked and nodded. He smiled and walked away satisfied that I had recognized him (behavior I never encountered in any well-known person before or after).
That's not the story.
Later when I got up to take a walk, I discovered he was sitting a few rows behind me cuddling, not with his then-wife of record Jane Fonda, but with her polar opposite, a very round, very curly-haired woman whose picture I saw at the grocery store a couple of weeks later on the cover of the National Enquirier. The headline? TOM HAYDEN LEFT JANE FONDA FOR THIS WOMAN.
I turned to the shopper behind me and said, "That's true."
That's the story: I scooped the National Enquirer.
I would love to have expanded the conversation on the Facebook thread about how Michael Keaton's acting skills have become so impressive but I hate to go too far afield on other people's posts. The topic at hand was that he was playing Ramsey Clark in the Chicago 7 movie. However, that brought to mind my only encounter with Michael Keaton.
I ran into the actor in baggage claim at the Toronto Airport in the eighties. And I don't mean at baggage claim. I mean in baggage claim. At that time, the Toronto airport was set up so that luggage came down a chute and around a carousel. At the back of the area were bins for unclaimed luggage, some under the chute. That is where I ran into Michael Keaton, legs dangling, sitting with his baggage in one of the bins.
Not many people walked back there so he watched me as I went by. A pathetic specimen. Me. Not him. I'd been sent to Toronto at the last minute on my way to or from somewhere. That's important because my suitcase (a suit bag) was inappropriately heavy for a one-night stay in Toronto. No wheels. I was dragging it behind me. In the summer, my business suit and silk blouse had the look of an outfit that had been worn too long and too hard. Wrinkled and crinkled. My physical appearance was no better. Plus, I had recently undergone foot surgery and was wearing pantyhose and old sneakers, one cut open to accommodate the healing foot. I was exhausted and cranky and looked it.
Back to Michael Keaton. Sitting in that bin, he was being Michael Keaton, generating an energy that spilled out of him. Even cranky me could feel it. Unfortunately, it was not catching. I dragged myself by, rented a car and drove myself to the wrong hotel where I insisted they'd lost my reservation.
My point on his acting is that I think it was hard to harness that energy that was so strong that even in my depleted state I could feel it. Now he can. Beautifully. Of course, I know absolutely nothing about acting.
Nor do I know much about Meir Kahane. However, in the late eighties I did know enough that when I ended up behind him and his entourage in line at the car rental counter in the old Denver airport ( as I recall), I did not get too close. He was an Israeli-American rabbi, an extremist in many eyes and an assassination target. The comment in the Facebook post that resurrected this memory said that when he made an appearance, his bodyguards insisted on sweeping for bombs. So, apparently, I had not made this up.
There were five or six men in Kahane's group. I am not sure but a lot of people were milling around and they needed a big vehicle. For want of a clear memory, let me say from Hertz.
Hertz agent to me: Are you with them?
Me: No. (Moving back but staying close enough to guard my place in line.)
Much paperwork goes on at the counter.
Hertz agent to me: Are you going to be driving?
Me: No. I am not with them. (Saying loud enough for any possible assassins in the area to hear.)
More paperwork goes on at the counter.
Hertz agent to me: Did I get your license?
Me: No. I am not with them. (Again, loud enough for possible assassins' benefit.)
More paperwork goes on at the counter.
Hertz agent to me: Do you need anything else?
Me: Yes. A car. I am not with them.
What confuses me about this agent's confusion is that I was the only woman in line. I don't understand why it was so hard for her to remember I was not with them.
I am sorry to say that my instincts were right. Kahane was assassinated in New York in 1990.
Not much point to any of these stories, but I wanted to get them recorded for old me.
