On several occasions I’ve offended people, and I have no idea I’ve done it. My first memory of this was when Laurence Olivier came backstage to meet me after seeing a play I was in. I don’t remember if he had his title then. He was with a woman, and I talked with him about the grind of doing eight performances a week. He said, “It’s not for us to enjoy, it’s for the audience.”
Later, I heard the woman was appalled at how I spoke to Sir or not Sir Laurence. I have no idea what she was referring to. Laurence Olivier didn’t seem appalled at all. I think it probably offended her because I treated him as an equal, which as I’ve said is how I’ve always treated everyone. This makes me popular with doormen, for example, and sometimes less popular with people who expect you to look up to them. I don’t look up or down at anyone, just straight ahead, and my feelings about everyone have nothing to do with their status, only their character.
Several decades ago I was sitting with a group of people that included two world-famous composers. One of them was a close friend of mine. The other was famous for Broadway musicals. My friend said to the other composer, “I’m thinking of writing a Broadway musical. Could we have lunch sometime? I’d like to pick your brain.” The Broadway icon acted as though he didn’t hear my friend, but clearly he had.
When the Broadway composer didn’t respond, I said, “He just asked if you’d have lunch with him.” Again there was no response, but later I heard that over the years whenever my name came up in this composer’s presence he makes his feelings about me clear, and they’re not good. Obviously, I had offended him, but I still think I was right to speak up.
About five years ago, a friend of mine who was a major league baseball pitcher called me from his car on the way to a ball game. He said the name of a future Hall of Fame pitcher who was sitting with him. Probably because I was focusing on our conversation, I rudely neglected to say something flattering to the other pitcher. A few years later I met the Hall of Famer at a gathering, and I apologized. He told me to forget it, but it was clear he hadn’t.
Some recent events come to mind. Once I was hosting a local musical show and introduced an amateur singing group, which by the way was excellent, by saying in a misguided effort to be amusing, “Because you don’t have to audition for this group should in no way reflect on its quality.” The audience laughed, but the group was extremely offended. I feel very bad about that. I’m no longer asked to host that event.
I was once hosting an event at the Maritime Aquarium in my area. I began by apologizing in advance if I offended anyone, because that was not my intention.
I chose not to do any fish jokes, because I couldn’t think of any and had no great desire to try. I then introduced the new head of the aquarium as “probably the most offensive of us all.” I don’t think that offended the lady, because she knew we had just met. There really was no opportunity for either of us to unknowingly offend.
They were giving awards to banks and families in the area who had given money and done good deeds. One woman donor gave a very serious speech that ran three times longer than anyone else’s. As she walked away, I returned to the podium and said, “Very funny.” That was it! The audience laughed, but it was inappropriate. I’m not exactly banned from appearing at the aquarium, but let’s just say I’m not their first choice to host—or second or third.
Another time I spoke at a book party for Ellen Burstyn at the Carnegie Foundation. I wasn’t aware I’d said anything offensive until my publisher called the foundation to arrange for a book party for the last book I worked on. They were told in effect that the foundation was booked every night for years to come. This really bothers me when I think I might have unknowingly offended Ellen, for whom I have nothing but fondness. I know I said I had to leave to see the New York Giants play football on television. On second thought, that really is offensive. The lesson? Think at least three times about doing or saying something that can be taken different ways. Kind comedy is the toughest. Ask Don Rickles.
More recently, a friend asked me if I would moderate a discussion about the European Union at the New York Public Library. I said I really didn’t know anything about the European Union. My friend said this was all scripted, and different actors would play the roles of intellectuals from different European countries using the intellectuals’ own words on the European Union.
I got the script and found it fairly obtuse. I asked if I could meet the people at the library to gain a better understanding of the event. When I did, I asked them what percentage of their audience they felt would understand all of this. One man said about 8 percent. There was laughter and jokes all around, and I agreed to do it.
On the night of the event one of the people from the library approached me and the other members of the company to say there would be a European supermodel (whatever that means) arriving at some point in the evening, and when she arrived we were to stop our presentation so she could say a few words.
When I realized he wasn’t joking, I said incredulously, “You actually want us to stop our performance so a European supermodel can say a few words?” The man stared at me a moment, went away to consult with one of his colleagues, then came back and said that on second thought we shouldn’t stop our performance if the supermodel were to arrive in the middle of the presentation.
Happily, she arrived before the performance and gave a little speech.
I felt the show went extremely well. The actors representing the various European intellectuals were masters at their dialects, and the audience really seemed to enjoy the evening.
Afterward I phoned the fella at the library to see how he felt about it. Generally, people call me after an event, but he didn’t, so I called. When the call wasn’t returned, I phoned again. From his assistant’s attitude it was clear there would be no return call, and there never was. Just one of the many situations where I unintentionally offended, even though I have no idea how.
I’ll try to be more careful.