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Fans
written and photographed by Gary Boas

Unidentified Collector, Celia, and Pops in front of the Kyoto Steak House New York City n.d.

Gary Boas's book Starstruck is a collection of photographs and stories from his lifetime obsession with famous people. This story is one of many featured in the book.

Fans who are collectors are the most bizarre-looking and -acting people, and I don't mean this disrespectfully, because I'm one of them. But somehow, they all look a tad bit off. Back in the day, some of them would be dressed all glamorous, and some of the others had four teeth in their mouth. If I was a star and I saw them while I was coming out of a building, I might run. It was like a Fellini movie. But they were all the biggest sweethearts. We were a family. Even now I get a lump in my throat when I think about them. I have so many great memories about these people and I miss them, especially when I think about what it's like today versus what it was then-there's no comparison.

Each city had its own special brand of fans. There was a whole crew that hung out in New York for a while getting autographs-older people, mostly-who if you didn't know them . . . well, they were practically street people. I'd say there were about twenty of us. We all hung out together, but we didn't know each other beyond when we were hanging and waiting for people. We never talked about our personal lives; that wasn't part of what we chit-chatted about because we were so busy comparing notes.

We would meet in the Manhattan and Edison Hotel lobbies (those were our toilet stops; it was difficult to find a public toilet off the street) and then at Ray's Pizza on 8th Avenue to swap stories and network for the day. There was always that great feeling when you saw someone on the street, because you had that common bond. You actually went out in the day looking forward to seeing your friends. We'd wait together all the time for people-first it would be fifteen minutes, then it would turn into a half an hour, and then, sometimes, half a day. If we were together, it was easy to wait for hours. We stood around and just chatted and chatted. It was always a very warm and supportive atmosphere. The sad part is, when I go to New York nowadays, either those people have passed or they've given up schlepping things around.

Celia with Hal Linden at the Tony Awards party Americana Hotel, New York City Sunday, March 28. 1971

Celia was the most infamous, she and Good Humor Man David. He was a Good Humor ice cream man by day. He had about three teeth, and all these hairs growing out of his nose and ears. He'd go around and ask everybody, "Are you anybody? Are you in show business?" If you were pretty or had a fur coat on he'd say, "Are you somebody?," then he'd ask if you had a quarter. And sometimes stars would give him fifty bucks or a hundred bucks. So he was in the in crowd. He just got autographs on a tablet; I don't know how he kept his stuff in order.

Celia knew everybody. She had this voice that sounded like she was sliding a whistle down her throat when she talked-all these weird noises-and if you'd ever tell her somebody had died who she liked she'd go, "Aaaoooooh," and she'd look up at heaven and talk to them, and she'd get a tear in her eye. She used to run around with this woman named Pearl who had bug eyes and fire-engine-red lipstick and a little leopard hat. When Pearl died Celia kept saying, "She got one of them ice cream rushes and died. I'll tell you, she ate it too fast. It killed her-you know, it freezes your brain up. I told her she ought to stop on that stuff."

Celia was in love with Ian McKellen. She would wait at his stage door every night when he was doing a play, and all the other fans would tease her about him being gay. She was so heartbroken when she finally found out it was true. Richard Burton used to take Celia and bend her over and kiss her in front of everyone. Here he was married to Elizabeth Taylor, and he's kissing Celia, just to get her going. Everybody knew her: Merv Griffin-Celia was his favorite. He'd pick her up and hug her and laugh with her and sometimes bring her in and sit her in the audience during his show. In 1998 I had to tell him that she had died. It was at an event in L.A. He was standing alone, waiting for his car, and I went up-and here's Merv, a multimillion-dollar man-and I walked up and just started chatting with him. I said, "I just had to tell you this-did you know Celia Gordon?" He said, "Oh my God, yes, I know Celia. How do you know Celia?"

I said, "Well, we used to hang out at the Little Theater when you did your show in New York."

He said, "Oh my God, I haven't seen her in years, I just don't get back to New York." And I told him, "Well, she just died in April." He got all choked up. He got red in the eyes, and you could see that it really moved him.

There are certain telltale signs of an autograph collector: we've got ink stains everywhere, usually on our pants and our hands. I always have an ink stain on me-my pen leaks in my pants pocket all the time-and I practically have a permanent big blue ink spot on my leg. Also, everybody has their own little format of what they collect-autographs on index cards, newspaper clippings, 8-x-10s, books, match packs-and everyone has their own method to their madness in how they keep things organized and what they get signed, and why and how important it is to have that signed. Some people have to have fifty record albums signed, somebody else has to have every single cast member sign a Playbill, another person has to have every single letter in someone's name.

Pops, Unidentified Fan, and "Good Humor Man" David at the Tony Awards party Americana Hotel, New York City Sunday, March 28. 1971

This one woman, Marlene, she collected mainly out of Baltimore and D.C. I don't know how she knew what the hell she was doing, because if you looked at her she was one of the most disorganized people, but she'd have, like, twenty books, like I used to, with all kinds of bookmarkers hanging out with the initials of whoever she needed written on them. She looked like a Bible freak. And she's still around: she's been that obsessive for years; I think she's in her fifties now. She's still throwing these books around, and they're all beat up to hell and half the pages are ripped, and you'd think, why is she getting these books signed, they're falling apart-but it's very important to her. If I were carrying my books around, that's what they'd probably look like, too. She's just been carrying them around forever.

There was one old man with thirteen children who collected. His real name was John, but we used to call him "Pops." He would shuffle down the street with a shopping bag and a he had cigarette hanging out of his mouth like his lower lip was an ashtray. He had no teeth-not a single one. He was so bowlegged, you literally could crawl through his legs. And poor- I mean poor 'till it looked like his shoes were falling off his feet and everything. At the time, I would walk all over New York: I was young, I was brave. Take a cab or a subway? You've got to be kidding-there's things to see. Oftentimes he'd hang out with me and the other collectors in front of Sardi's until about two in the morning. And when I was leaving, he'd always say, "Here, let me give you subway money to go." He thought that I was walking because I couldn't afford to take the subway, and he didn't want me to get mugged. I would always have to convince him that I was walking by choice, and that it was going to be all right. Here's this poor man with shoes falling off his feet, trying to give me money so I'd be OK. Most of these people aren't around anymore.

And it's sad, because the Hinckleys and the Chapmans and people like that have given a bad name to fans, because they were so obsessed. Yes, we're all obsessed a little bit, but I never met any fan that I can remember where I thought, "Ooh, that star has a problem here," you know, where a fan was so nuts over someone that I was listening to him thinking, "Ooh, hmm . . ." It was more just of the moment, and you'd have your favorite, who you'd put a little bit more energy out for, but most of the time you would be very knowledgeable about everybody. And even now there seems to be one person I know in every city who knows everybody-from stars to politicians to songwriters to producers-they are just on it.