Gloria Steinem: A Birthday Salute

Gloria Steinem made over as her childhood hero Wonder Woman

[Tuesday March 25 marks the 80th birthday of my old boss and friend, author and activist Gloria Steinem. I had planned to post the following on Tuesday, but if the New York Times can publish their birthday tribute two days early, well then so can I!]

You don’t have to possess a golden lasso of truth, or an invisible airplane, or even bullet defying wrists cuffs (those are way too clunky to call them bracelets) in order to be a super hero. I’m sure these trappings of Amazonian strength got Diana Prince out of many a jam, but they are hardly required.

You don’t believe me? Just look at Gloria Steinem. She has been a flesh and blood hero to millions of women, children, and men all over the world for more than forty years now. Her weapons…no, strike that. Her tools have modified over the years and have included everything from a reporter’s notebook and pen, to a tape recorder, a manual typewriter, a Mac, a mimeograph machine, hand painted banners, a megaphone, and even a pair of tap shoes.

But don’t be fooled; just because her tools are comprised of everyday objects, that does not mean she has not been gifted by the Goddesses with great powers. Among these gifts, some instinctive and others developed through hard work and experience, Gloria possesses a fierce intellect, a quick but kind wit, a warm and prepossessing smile, an ability to make everyone feel heard, to feel that they can be part of the solution to just about any problem, and perhaps most helpfully, a highly evolved sense of empathy that extends to all creatures, on four legs or two.  

Perhaps on another occasion I shall write about why Gloria has always meant so much to me personally, but for now I’d be happy if everyone who reads this would join me in simply wishing Gloria a very Happy Birthday and thank her for always using her powers for good.

#gloriasteinem

Outrageous Acts and Everyday Snack Foods

May 21, 2010

I'm walking around Manhattan with my Dad and Gloria Steinem. We decide to go to a movie, so we head down the stairs into a subway station on Madison Avenue. I am the last one to make it downstairs, but I already have my ticket. While Gloria and my Dad wait in line, we miss our train.

Somehow we make it to the movie theatre; we're now climbing up a set of red carpeted stairs. We walk through a glass door into a small glass enclosed vestibule. We open a second glass door and that's when it happens. The vestibule is flooded with popcorn. We are nearly chest deep in buttery popped kernels. It doesn't seem cause for panic, but we clearly miss our movie.

We dig ourselves out and head to Gloria's house. As I play with her dog, I notice a little girl and her grandmother who hover around, seemingly lost. That's when I realize that this is not actually Gloria's house, but rather a set built to stand in for her house. Now I understand--we're on the back lot at Warner Brothers where Gloria is playing herself on an episode of Gilmore Girls.

My Fair (and-in-every-way-Equal-if-not-Superior) Lady

April 10, 2010

I'm in a sleep loft, but really it seems more like an old barn, staying up late watching old movies with Gloria Steinem and two or three of her friends. As the sun begins to rise and everyone else lapses into sleep, Gloria and I climb from the loft down a wrought iron ladder. I notice that Gloria's right foot is in a cast and she struggles as she descends the ladder.

At the bottom, we find ourselves in a sun-drenched, white bricked living room. It occurs to me that this must be some one's summer home. We have a look around, searching for something to eat. I start dancing and singing "Wouldn't It Be Loverly" from My Fair Lady. Gloria and I are actually trying to stage a musical number in the Summer house! She hands me a woman's straw hat covered in enormous flowers in shades of violet. As I come to the lyric, "with one enormous chair," I plop myself into an overstuffed white canvas armchair.

"Oh, that's good!" Gloria exclaims.

"Wait, wait, wait," a voice calls. It seems we are not alone. To our amazement, a 10-inch claymation version of Katherine Hepburn leaps from the fireplace mantel onto the arm of my chair.

"I want to sing, too," she insists.

We bend to her will, as if we ever had a choice. With her hands placed defiantly on her hips, Claymation Kate bellows at the top of her tiny little lungs another song from My Fair Lady. Naturally she's chosen"Without You." a song expounding the virtues of independence and self reliance.

THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING ERNEST...AND TOVA

August 25, 2007

Gloria Steinem and I are surveying the view of the bay as boats glide in and out of the harbor. We are weekend guests at the Bronx Summer home of Ernest and Tova Borgnine.

As we wait for the couple to greet us, I can’t help but notice Ernest’s Oscar and Tony Awards.* I debate whether to risk touching the trophies or not.

As I make my way toward the Tony, Tova and Ernest make their entrance from atop a modest wooden staircase. We barely have a chance to say hello before other guests start to arrive. Apparently the Borgnines are hosting some sort of liberal fundraiser, which is why Gloria has agreed to be there.

I spend several minutes mingling, waiting for the right moment to tell Tova that I remember seeing her on “The Mike Douoglas Show” hawking her cosmetics line when I was a kid. “Oh, don’t say that,” I think. “That’ll make her feel old.”

The Borgnines' son, who apparently is a doctor still dressed in his scrubs, makes his way to a small stage where he is set to help honor Ernest for his humanitarian work.

There are two rather large trophies perched upon two separate podiums. One trophy is round and sphere like and boasts an oversized Tony insignia, the masks of comedy and tragedy. The other trophy, from Actor’s Equity, is called the King Lear Award. It features a sculpture of lear sitting on his thrown with a stone wall behind him.

I see a petite woman I once worked with, an intense young law student who rarely smiled. We chat politely, and then I walk away.

______________________________________

I don't think he ever won a Tony, but he does have an Oscar.

THE FACE OF GOD

October 21, 2007

I come up out of the subway at 47th Street in Times Square. I am disoriented, unable to remember which street I live on. Instinctively I head west. Eventually I come across a building that seems familiar. I enter the lobby and wait for the elevator, along with several other people.

“It’s on the sixth floor,” I say.

A man replies, “No, it’s on the tenth floor.”

We get in the elevator and are taken to the sixteenth floor.

“We’re both wrong,” the man says.

“Yes, but I had the six and you had the ten,” I tell him.

When we get off on the sixteenth floor I’m not home at all. Rather, I’m at a large banquet hall with several round tables set up for poker. I have arrived at a Poker & Pizza benefit for a Women’s History Museum.

I find my old roommate Bill waiting for me at one of the tables, then I go to the buffet line and get a large slice with pepperoni.

Before returning to my seat, I try to hang a portrait of Eleanor Roosevelt on the wall, but I’m having trouble with the nail. I look at picture frame and see that it contains two pictures, one of Eleanor and one of Gloria Steinem. They don’t fit well together and I decide it is too tacky to hang.

I go out on the window ledge to retrieve what I believe to be a superior portrait of Eleanor, climb back inside and hang it on the wall. Just as I finish hanging the portrait, I hear the crowd inside the hall scream with anticipation as the music begins for the evening’s entertainment.

As I hear the first few notes of Barbra Streisand’s disco hit “The Main Event,” I rush in to find my seat in the bleachers. The poker tables now gone, the entire room has been transformed from a banquet hall into a large indoor stadium.

I find Bill in the bleachers as the lights come up to reveal Barbra on stage. I criticize her performance of “The Main Event” for being decidedly behind the beat.

There is no floor space in the stadium. It’s all been taken up by the giant stage and enormous Art Deco sets that fly in and out, including one that looks like the lobby of a hotel with an ornate gold caged elevator.

Barbra next sings an emotional version of “People,” and I start to warm to her performance. She follows this with a tear drenched version of “I’ve Stayed Too Long At The Fair,” during which she climbs into the bleachers to sign autographs.

As Barbra returns to the stage, my entire section, in a swell of emotion that seems to say, “NO, no, you haven’t stayed too long at the fair,” rushes toward the lip of the stage. Knowing this would upset Barbra, I do not join them.

“What are you doing!” a security guard screams as he implores everyone back to their seats. “You can’t come at her like that. You know how skittish she is.”

The length of the stage now contains an ancient Roman bath with marble columns and jewel encrusted archways. Barbra swims across the water, emerging fully dressed in a lavish golden sheath.

A video screen flashes pictures from Barbra’s life and her many loves, including Warren Beatty.

To close her show, Barbra ascends once again into my bleacher section. Wearing a dark cloak, she is heavily made up, looking like a very old woman, or maybe even a witch. She stands directly in front of me, places her hand on my shoulders and looks me square in the eye as she sings.

I start to cry and think to myself, “This is the happiest moment of my entire life. It’s like seeing the face of God.”