Friday, April 16, 2004
The Advertiser: Chasing stars in Tinsel Town [17apr04]
MY wife, Pat, and I were on Hollywood Boulevard minding our own business, reading the names in the concrete outside Graumann's Chinese Theatre.
Luckily we looked up as we were about to be knocked over by a tiny woman surrounded by a large contingent of hangers on. I wouldn't know Jennifer Love Hewitt if I fell over her, but everyone else around knew her as she almost fell over us.
Then, next day while strolling along Sunset Strip, a big black limo blocked our path. Like a scene from a gangster movie, the window slowly rolled down. I did a double take. There was a face I hadn't seen in the flesh since the late 1950s when, at Centennial Hall, he stood on a piano in his underpants twirling his coat around his head before heaving it into the audience. Behind the pencil-thin moustache and thick makeup, the face was unmistakable – rock'n'roll singer Little Richard.
He handed us a religious book – Finding Peace Within – a book for people in need. After a dumbfounded moment I asked if I could take a picture. Bad move. The window went up to cover his face. "I have included a nice picture of myself for you," he says. "Tell everyone Little Richard says 'hello'," he concluded as the limo drove off. A little later, on Rodeo Drive, the shopping mecca of the rich and famous, once again we were accosted as Gregg Donovan welcomed us and told of his film exploits. "Gregg Who?" you might say. He is the official Ambassador for Beverly Hills, passionate about his work and plays himself in a cameo role in Harrison Ford's latest movie, Hollywood Homicide.
He asked where we were from. "Ah, Adelaide, the home of the pie floater," was the reaction as he referred to the city's dubious claim to fame. "You are now standing in the most expensive shopping centre in the world," he added as if by comparison.
Walking the streets, it took us all our time to avoid the cables of a number of movies in production. We only had 24 hours to see as much as possible of life in the world movie capital before joining the cruise ship Sun Princess for a Mexican Riviera cruise.
With limited time, if a city bus tour is not practical, taxis are the best way to cover the sightseeing and star-gazing areas. There is little to see in downtown Los Angeles, which is the business district. Public transport does exist but is not promoted for tourists and even the locals seem to have trouble understanding the workings of the system. Anaheim and Disneyland are about 70km from West Hollywood and best reached by shuttle bus. Sunset Strip, the popular escape during the Prohibition years with its speakeasies, gambling, drinking and partying, is still where the stars come out to play. On the Strip we saw punters queued up at the Troubadour Club where big-name acts such as Bob Dylan and Elton John got their start. And Dan Aykroyd's House of Blues, a trendy conglomeration of galvanised iron extracted from a 100-year-old cotton mill in Mississippi, where the likes of Macy Gray, George Thorogood, Keb Mo and Motorhead alternate to play one-night stands, a top-class show every night of the year, with gospel brunch on Sundays.
But the biggest queue, day or night, is always at Pink's Hot Dogs, a West Hollywood institution for 63 years. Queues late at night have been known to reach such proportions that police have had to control the traffic.
MY wife, Pat, and I were on Hollywood Boulevard minding our own business, reading the names in the concrete outside Graumann's Chinese Theatre.
Luckily we looked up as we were about to be knocked over by a tiny woman surrounded by a large contingent of hangers on. I wouldn't know Jennifer Love Hewitt if I fell over her, but everyone else around knew her as she almost fell over us.
Then, next day while strolling along Sunset Strip, a big black limo blocked our path. Like a scene from a gangster movie, the window slowly rolled down. I did a double take. There was a face I hadn't seen in the flesh since the late 1950s when, at Centennial Hall, he stood on a piano in his underpants twirling his coat around his head before heaving it into the audience. Behind the pencil-thin moustache and thick makeup, the face was unmistakable – rock'n'roll singer Little Richard.
He handed us a religious book – Finding Peace Within – a book for people in need. After a dumbfounded moment I asked if I could take a picture. Bad move. The window went up to cover his face. "I have included a nice picture of myself for you," he says. "Tell everyone Little Richard says 'hello'," he concluded as the limo drove off. A little later, on Rodeo Drive, the shopping mecca of the rich and famous, once again we were accosted as Gregg Donovan welcomed us and told of his film exploits. "Gregg Who?" you might say. He is the official Ambassador for Beverly Hills, passionate about his work and plays himself in a cameo role in Harrison Ford's latest movie, Hollywood Homicide.
He asked where we were from. "Ah, Adelaide, the home of the pie floater," was the reaction as he referred to the city's dubious claim to fame. "You are now standing in the most expensive shopping centre in the world," he added as if by comparison.
Walking the streets, it took us all our time to avoid the cables of a number of movies in production. We only had 24 hours to see as much as possible of life in the world movie capital before joining the cruise ship Sun Princess for a Mexican Riviera cruise.
With limited time, if a city bus tour is not practical, taxis are the best way to cover the sightseeing and star-gazing areas. There is little to see in downtown Los Angeles, which is the business district. Public transport does exist but is not promoted for tourists and even the locals seem to have trouble understanding the workings of the system. Anaheim and Disneyland are about 70km from West Hollywood and best reached by shuttle bus. Sunset Strip, the popular escape during the Prohibition years with its speakeasies, gambling, drinking and partying, is still where the stars come out to play. On the Strip we saw punters queued up at the Troubadour Club where big-name acts such as Bob Dylan and Elton John got their start. And Dan Aykroyd's House of Blues, a trendy conglomeration of galvanised iron extracted from a 100-year-old cotton mill in Mississippi, where the likes of Macy Gray, George Thorogood, Keb Mo and Motorhead alternate to play one-night stands, a top-class show every night of the year, with gospel brunch on Sundays.
But the biggest queue, day or night, is always at Pink's Hot Dogs, a West Hollywood institution for 63 years. Queues late at night have been known to reach such proportions that police have had to control the traffic.
