Personal Glimpses: Behind-The-Scenes Of The Lives Of The Famous

A Different Tune

Edward Johnson, general manager of the Metropolitan Opera, was reminiscing about the time he sang at the Rome premiere of Giacomo Puccini's Gianni Schicchi. Puccini himself conducted, and when the opera was over Johnson tried to get him to come on stage for a bow. The composer–conductor modestly seemed reluctant. But as Johnson held his arms, urging him to come on stage, Puccini whispered, “Pull, pull!”

—Leonard Lyons, From Reader's Digest March 1949

A Household Name

Nehru is not a messiah like Gandhi. Any messianic feeling would have been quickly scotched by his wife and daughter, who took to calling him around the house by the names the people used: “O Jewel of India, what time is it?” or “O Embodiment of Sacrifice, please pass the bread.”

—John and Frances Gunther in Life, From Reader's Digest December 1961

Mind the Gap Year

A distinguished dropout showed up on campus at the University of Southern California recently. Ten years after abandoning his graduate work in favour of the space aeronautics programme, astronaut Neil Armstrong, 39, had come back to U.S.C. to dedicate a science centre—and also to take the one small step that belatedly earned him a master’s degree in aerospace engineering. In lieu of the thesis that he never got around to writing, the first man on the moon delivered a lecture for his sheepskin. Title: Lunar Landing—Techniques and Procedures.

—Newsweek, From Reader's Digest May 1970

Higher Sense

Almost 30 years ago I attended a Braille-reading competition that was being held in the presence of Queen Elizabeth II, the Queen Mother. My attention was caught by a little blind girl who was holding the bouquet of flowers to be presented to the Queen Mother. 

As she waited, the child gently ran her fingers over every bloom before breathing in its perfume. Later, I glanced at the Queen Mother and was surprised to see that her eyes were closed. Just as the blind girl had done, she was letting her fingers feel the flowers she had been given. She, too, had noticed and was trying to experience the beauty of flowers through the sense of touch.

—May Fenn, From Reader's Digest May 1985

A (Not So) Kindred Spirit

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, author of the Sherlock Holmes stories, was convinced that the dead could communicate with the living. Once, shortly after the death of a fellow writer, he was asked if he had heard from the deceased. He admitted that he had not. “Are you convinced now,” continued his questioner, “that spiritualism is a fake?”“Not at all,” replied Doyle. “I hadn’t expected him to contact me. We weren’t on speaking terms when he died.”

—­E. E. Edgar, From Reader's Digest March 1971

Divine Intervention

Orson Welles tells of being invited, as a newcomer to Hollywood, to a dinner party at the home of movie producer Jack Warner. In the course of the evening, Welles launched into one of his favourite stories, only to realize halfway through that he had forgotten the punch line. “There I was,” he says, “with the biggest stars of Hollywood looking attentively at me. In desperation, I spoke directly to God: ‘If you will get me out of this, I will never ask anything ever again.’ At that moment there was an earthquake, and everyone ran out of the house. After the tremor had ended, I said, ‘Well, there’s no use trying to finish the story now.’ That was the last time I had the nerve to ask God for a favour.”

—“Dinah!” variety talk show, From Reader's Digest June 1978

Meeting her Hero

Diane Daisy Miller recalls a surprising discovery she made as a child: I didn’t realize what my father did for a living until I was six. Then a playmate at school told me. That night when Father came home, he flopped down into his easy chair. I approached him with awe. He didn’t look famous to me. I asked, “Are you Walt Disney?” 

“You know I am,” he said.

“The Walt Disney?” I insisted.

He looked startled; then he grinned and nodded.

Whereupon I said the five words he must have thought he was safe from in the bosom of his family: “Please give me your autograph.”

—The Story of Walt Disney (Holt), From Reader's Digest December 1982

Priceless

At a beach in southern France, a little boy, obviously sent by his parents, approached Pablo Picasso with a sheet of paper and begged the artist for a small, autographed drawing. Picasso thought for a moment, then tore up the paper, took some colour crayons, drew designs on the boy’s chest and back, signed his ‘work’ and sent the youngster back to his parents. “I wonder,” said the artist with a mischievous smile, “if they’ll ever wash him again.”

—Janik Press Service, From Reader's Digest August 1981

Room for Improvement

Burth Reynolds remembers the day both he and Clint Eastwood got fired from Universal Studios: “I was told I couldn’t act, and Clint was told he talked too slow and his Adam’s apple was too big. As we were walking to our cars, we were quiet—but then, it’s always quiet around Clint. Finally I said, ‘You’re in trouble, Clint. I can take acting lessons, but you can’t get a new Adam’s apple.’”

—Long Island, N.Y., From Reader's Digest Newsday, January 1984

Even Homer Nods

Writer Isaac Asimov renowned for his brilliance in science, is human after all. In his autobiography, In Memory Yet Green, he recalls: “We received a utility bill a few years ago that was twice as high as anyone else’s in our apartment building. Furious, I went over to the gas company. After waiting in line, I finally got to the window, slapped down the bill and said, ‘See here, we have never used this much gas. We have no children. We both work. How can we possibly get a bill like this? I demand an explanation!’ The man at the counter replied, ‘You really insist on an explanation?’‘Certainly. If you can think of one besides your general incompetence.’‘Fortunately,’ he said, ‘I can. This is an electric bill.’”

—Published by Doubleday, From Reader's Digest January 1989

The Little Boy Who Couldn’t

In an interview, movie director Steven Speilberg talked about his inspiration for Elliot, the little boy who befriends an extraterrestrial in the film E.T.: “I like to make my characters better than I ever was. Elliot is the boy in me I always wanted to become, but I’ll never be as level-headed, intelligent and sensitive as he. Also, a lot of that movie is about my life growing up in suburbia, particularly about losing friends.

We moved often when I was young. I remember that I would just make friends and begin to feel that I belonged, when we would uproot and move a thousand miles. Then we’d begin again. For a kid that can be very traumatic. “The friendship that E.T. and Elliot find and hold on to—clinging to each other desperately—is sort of what I went through in four moves from the ages of four to sixteen. I wished I had had a best friend.” 

—All Things Considered, with Susan Stamberg, National Public Radio, From Reader's Digest November 1982

Pulling No Punches

Muhammed Ali remembers a once-in-a-lifetime bicycle: When I was a kid in Louisville, my parents gave me a brand-new bicycle. Proud and happy, I parked it outside a gym one day. Then somebody stole it, and it just about broke my heart. Someone told me there was a policeman in the basement, and when I found him, I told him that I'd find the guy who'd stolen my bike and beat him up. When he discovered that I didn't know how to fight, he offered to teach me. That's how I got into boxing. To this day I never found the thief. But every time I got into the ring, I looked across at the other fighter and told myself, "Hey, that's the guy who stole my bicycle!"

—Nona Louise Dunbar, From Reader's Digest February 1996

Plain as Day

What’s Ray Charles doing when he’s not singing? Most likely, he’s playing chess. Charles is so good, his band members refer to his chess partners as ‘victims’. But don’t some people try to cheat when they play against a blind man? “Cheat? “Charles asks. “You can’t cheat in chess. There’s no way for you to put a horse someplace that it wasn’t. I’m gonna see that!” Charles empties a bag that contains the 32 specially made pieces for his wooden chess set and deftly uses his fingers to feel the unique cut and texture of each piece. “Now it’s all set to go. These are the black pieces,” he says, pointing directly in front of him, “and these are the white, right?” Right.

—George Varga in San Diego Union-Tribune, From Reader's Digest May 1994