Back in the ’80s, when I started my column, Glenn Close was a rising movie and theater star who cut an imposing figure.
She wasn’t someone to tangle with.
But when I spotted her sitting at a benefit dinner I was covering, I gamely requested a quickie interview.
The publicist ran over to Glenn and put in the request, then came back to me and said, “Fine. But only innocent questions.”
I had no idea what that meant.
My questions have never committed a crime in their life!
They’ve all been declared “not guilty” by courts of law!
Well, most of them.
So I crawled over to Glenn with a mixture of anticipation and fear.
I was crackling with excitement to meet this incandescent star, but was desperate to not offend the woman since I make a point of keeping every deal I agree to.
“I bet you have no innocent questions,” she said to me, with a twinkle.
She seemed only half-joking, if at all.
I was thrilled. It meant she’d read my work!
“Well,” I responded. “Have you ever had sex with a dead animal?”
I didn’t get up the nerve to go that Borscht Belt on her.
I simply asked her a boring question about the charity we were celebrating and she gave me an earnest answer.
And I left, thoroughly impressed with her control mechanisms.