I met Mae West in a quite amusing and memorable way back in
1976 when she was appearing on the Dick Cavett Show on CBS. This was when I was
the TV critic for the Hollywood Reporter and was invited to a press party to
celebrate Mae West’s historic reappearance on screen (no matter how small the
screen she could always fill it magnificently).
When I arrived at the festivities there she was, in a low-cut
red-spangled gown, with the familiar shoulder-length blonde wig, sitting like a
queen on a throne, surrounded by a bevy of men. All the male reporters from the
industry had turned up to see and talk to this Goddess. I saw how she was
talking with her deep growl, and provocative smile, and heard their laughter
and retorts. I started to move closer so I could join the adoring crowd – after
all I was a significant journalist at a major event and paths always opened for
me.
However, a young women, obviously a publicist for the show,
stopped me. I’m sorry she said, You can’t
go over there. Miss West never allows women reporters to get even close to her.
I stopped, prepared to argue, ready to insist, but then I looked over to the dais
and saw why. This was a love fest, men adored her, men got it. Of course, women,
myself included, would have noted the creases in the red dress, the dusty blonde
wig, the deteriorated
countenance of this legendary octogenarian diva.
Mae West was a genius of illusion. The woman that her male
worshipers wished we all could be - sexy, witty, challenging, independent, and
ready for whatever action they imagined. Was she beautiful? She was 83 and yes
there was a radiance to her that transcended time. Okay Mae, I smiled to myself, I
got it!
As the Hollywood Reporter is a paper of record, my review of
the show is somewhere in the HR archive, and you can see the full Cavett interview
on You Tube.
