I am staring in dismay at a one line email. ‘Sorry, it’s a no’ it says.
This is the reply to my carefully composed email to a a sort of semi famous person, for a piece of professional help. We are in parallel fields and know several of the same people. My dismay is not just the disappointment; it’s the shock of a response that seems so abrupt and ungenerous.
OK, she probably gets many such emails but surely courtesy would suggest at least giving a reason? (Too busy, it’s my policy never to do it, it’s phoney …)
I often get requests like this myself and my own rule is to say yes, unless I know there is something about it that suggests an uncomfortable clash of values. This has only ever happened once.
This has made me wonder what it is reasonable to expect from people in the public eye. They are entitled to privacy. The more famous they are, the more tedious the attention can become. No wonder so many celebrities talk about ‘Us v civilians’. They see themselves as the officer class. That’s why some of them move only amongst other members of the ‘Us’ brigade, defended by cars with tinted windows and gated estates patrolled by scary men in dark glasses.
But does it have to be like that? The now sadly late Dolly Parton was famous for her kindness with fans, giving them time, a genuine smile and proper eye contact. During my career in TV, I often worked with celebrities. Yes, sometimes they made sure they were what one very famous personality called ‘in costume’ when you went to a pub with them. But most often they were polite and charming with awestruck onlookers. Delia Smith signed autographs uncomplainingly, Madhur Jaffrey gave advice about Indian recipes as if she’d never been asked those questions before. When I saw Daniel Craig a few months ago in a tiny Norfolk village with his wife and children, he was gamely unfazed by people’s whispers and nudges. A friend who lives near Boris Johnson’s former home, likes to describe the many cheerful chats he had with this famous politician when they arrived on their bikes at the same time at a particular set of traffic lights on their way to work. I once intercepted Penelope Lively in my local Sainsbury’s, asking to discuss her novel Moon Tiger. It had won the Booker Prize and had just been reissued. I told her, very politely I assure you, how much I had enjoyed the book and that I had found the ending a bit of an anti-climax. She took this impertinence gracefully.
Against this are celebs notorious for their impatience with fans: Justin Bieber, Jennifer Lawrence and Christian Bale are examples. Some will sign autographs, but only for money. I once saw the entertainer (and later, convicted paedophile) Rolf Harris, rudely swat his way through a crowd of shocked small children at an event where he was appearing as the star attraction – the very same audience whose support had made him famous. If you seek public attention and the public gives it to you, they are the source of your wealth and influence so you do owe them something in return.
Celebrities need privacy and security. They can attract stalkers. Amateur and professional paparazzi are waiting to pounce, looking for that unattractive flash of thigh, the sagging chin or indiscreet kiss. With experience, most find ways of safeguarding their families and personal time. We should respect that. They are not our property. When they live in small communities, neighbours are often touchingly protective, understanding that they appreciate being treated just like everyone else.
This takes me a long way from my ungracious correspondent. She is not an A list celebrity by any means. But I think a touch of the Dolly Parton philosophy might have been a good idea.
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Peabody Awards, CC BY-SA 3.0, via Wikimedia Commons
