Thursday, June 03, 2010

Do Not Speak Ill of the Dead

Unless you have a little story.

Living in Hollywood for many years you end up doing a lot of work you had not imagined you would ever do. I got by, for a long time, being a production accountant. Yes, I’m good with numbers and I’m not even Chinese.

One of my clients, or really, she was my boss, S, well, I loved her and her partner and I pushed through the payroll paperwork and accounts payable checks for great shows like, America’s Most Fascinating Women, Where are they Now?, The Ultimate T.V. Trivia Challenge, you know, real cultural markers.

(Though much of what is not needed is made in Hollywood, this does not mean it was not fun to make.)

Now here is the story. So my boss, S, she owned the house that used to be Rue McClanahan’s house in Studio City. And the day of closing, I guess it was during Golden Girls days, Rue and her ten-plus cats would not budge. She just couldn’t do it. (I understand. It’s hard to move.)

They tried coaxing her out with flashy vests and cans of tuna (okay, not really, they got a lawyer). And finally, by almost force, they got her out of the house, paid mountains of money to clean up the cat filth and then moved in.

Was this a case of neurotic attachment? Or was it because she was an entitled star and did not want to be told when to do something, well I don’t know.

But if I was a T.V. actress with a passel of pussies and refused to budge long after closing, well, I would expect someone to blog about it and so consider it blogged.

Years later, when S’s business collapsed and all that was left of her staff was me and a few old imacs, we moved to the rec room of her house, Rue’s old house, and I sat there and did the books about once a month for a few months and then I quit and kept quitting doing accounting until I left Los Angeles, never to punch in another number for pay again.

Now, I am not trying to be all catty here, no pun intended. It’s just, I had this close up experience in Rue’s old house. I have no idea what she was like. I knew a few writers from Golden Girls, and there are some stories there---but those are not germane to sweet Rue’s death.

Apparently, her memorial is very democratic. She did not want to have a funeral. What there is is a big ol’ Facebook page. Jump on if you like.

Facebook Memorial Page

3 comments:

Sheila said...

Would you rather be Germane or German? For me it's hard to say - as long as there's beer and butter - miss you Donny - you're a pussy cat:)

40licious said...

Bette Davis upon hearing of Joan Crawford's death: "I never speak ill of the dead. So good, she's dead."

Dan said...

I will spend my day trying to work in the word "passel" in honor of Rue. And you.