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Subject: my Joe Namath lesson
In the early 1970s I learned my own Joe Namath
Lesson.
An architectural designer in NYC for Designers'
Saturday, resembling a pretty, natural, intelligent version of Cher,
the owners of a furniture company invited me
to join them for dinner. They warned me that there was no sign on
the window because their clientèle preferred
it that way. The taxi dropped my date and I off in a block of identical
red brick row homes. We knew which door to knock
on, because our host had written the address on a business card.
Inside it looked like many other cramped eateries
with a bar lining one wall near the entry door. Having given our
host's
name to the man who let us in, he said our table
was not yet ready and told us to wait. I stood facing the door trying
to
be inconspicuous in my knee boots and miniskirt.
A large man in a white "undershirt" and bandage wrapped round his
arm
came over and offered me his bar stool. Assessing
the jean-clad washed out blonde I would be joining I simply turned my
back to him without a word.
A few minutes later we were told to go upstairs
where we found a nicer, brighter room arranged banquet style.
Other members of the group arrived, buzzing about
having seen Joe Namath, with broken wrist, dining with a date.
When my date told our host that he had offered
me his stool and my reaction, there was hilarity. Bob, our host,
literally dared me to go down and ask him to
join us. Bopping down the narrow steps to the dozenish tables,
I headed straight for those broad shoulders.
A few steps from the table two very large men blocked path.
"I wanted to apologize to Mr. Namath for not recognizing
or thanking him earlier." "Mr. Namath is eating" they said in unison.
"Mr. Host upstairs asked me to invite him to
join us" I intoned in my most naive tone. Joe made a motion and I
was permitted
to approach the table, apologizing and inviting
as requested. He told me his limo was waiting outside, but thanked
me.
I played my trump card, "My nephews are such
fans of yours and they won't believe I met you." In my most Oscar winning
plea.
"Give Vinnie their names" he directed.
Pulling one of my business cards from my pocket I wrote their names on
the back,
adding restaurant name and date. Joe scored
big time when his perfectly lit, perfectly posed arm poised to pass autographed
photograph arrived for Scott and Seth a few weeks
later.
Hope this buried memory brings a smile to your
face in these dim, grim times.
Isobel Kramen
Isobel, that was nice - thanks.
Namath was my first football hero.
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