Buying the Night Flight (53 page)

During November, when I was becoming increasingly dispirited, I had dinner in Washington one night with the sophisticated TV critic Michael Medved, who even with all his experience in Hollywood, was nevertheless stunned by these events. At the end of our talk he leaned across the table and said to me of Linda Bloodworth-Thomason, "But she wants to be you!" Medved then reminded me that Linda had publicly referred to her sitcoms as her "columns."

Next, I sought out a brilliant young law professor at the College of William and Mary in Williamsburg, Rodney Smolla. Rod was a national expert on cases such as mine, and had written several books and a legal treatise on these issues -- not a bad fellow at all to have on your side! And so, early in December 1993 , I took him to a very long lunch at the Cosmos Club, where in 1988 I had become the first woman member. He tried to explain to me the murky and confused, but endlessly fascinating, waters in which I, usually the most expert of swimmers, now found myself so uncomfortably struggling for air. Essentially, we talked about the new imagery.

"There are five or six causes of action that are available to you," he began. "The first is defamation, or libel -- but to win with libel, you have to prove that you are the person depicted. Then, there is a far more complex legal position called 'false light invasion of privacy,' which is also sometimes known as the violation of your 'right of publicity."'

The "false light invasion of privacy" claim, Rod went on--as I admittedly struggled to try to understand
what in God's name all this meant
-- involved placing the plaintiff in a "false light in the public eye." But above all, there was the new and increasingly famous law in California, the "Right to Publicity" law, which was supposed to protect you against a kind of (my term) "plagiarism of persona." Like so much in these new areas, it was treacherous because, although it protected you on one level, it also required the loser in any such case to pay the winner's lawyers' bills -- had I lost, they would have ruined me financially. It was already abundantly clear to me that their lawyers were big spenders.

From the beginning, I began to believe that even my beloved freedom -- and thus my capacity to produce and create -- might increasingly be on trial. This situation was not at all mitigated by the fact that Linda and Harry were by then being lionized all over Washington, as they had created the Democratic Convention film of candidate Clinton's life and were in charge of the presidential inaugural. Worse, my lawyers had forbidden me to either speak or write about the case, because at that time I was seriously intending to sue them; so, I felt like a mute who has been ambiguously violated, while unable even to defend herself.

The week before the inauguration, I decided to act, so of course I did what any normal, sensible woman, knowing she was totally and unequivocally in the right, determined to serve only law and justice and The Good and dedicated to the Protection of Future Generations, would do: I called my old friend of thirty years, the greatest journalistic talent of our generation, the young man who had sat in front of me during those early days at the
Chicago Daily News
, the patient and understanding, calm and abstemious, Mike
Royko.

It takes a great deal to make my tough and savvy old pal from the west side of Chicago incredulous or to shock him in any way. The word "unbelievable" is not in his dictionary (surely not after what he has seen all his life in Chicago politics). Yet, even Mike was shocked.

Only five days before the inauguration of the new American president in January 1993, when Linda and Harry were vying around the clock for respectability in the Clintons' new home town, Mikes's first column on me and the creative Hollywood Thomasons came out in the
Chicago Tribune
and other papers across the nation. To spare the sensibilities of the tender-hearted reader, I shall quote only a few of the kinder portions here:

Although I watch few TV sitcoms, I've looked in on one because the main female character reminds me of an old friend...

The real-life Georgie Anne is a brilliant, respected expert in foreign affairs, who writes a column that appears in 120 newspapers, has authored important books and magazine articles.

Along the way, she's put her life on the line more than once .... She has reason to be proud of her accomplishments. It wasn't easy. She broke into journalism when the few women on newspapers covered cooking, fashion or society. So along comes these TV people who need an outline for a TV character...

Then, on to the Thomasons:

I'll tell you who these sleazy TV producers are, since you'll probably become familiar with them during the next four years. They are a Hollywood couple ... part of Bill Clinton's innermost circle. They helped shape his and Hillary's public image and created the highly effective "Man from Hope" propaganda film shown at the Democratic Convention. They're close chums, and you'll hear more about them because they are the Clinton's show biz connection.

In Washington, they are already big names, the kind of instant powers who will be fawned over and gawked at during the inauguration glitz. What informal roles will they play during the Clinton administration? As we know, it can become necessary for presidents to tell lies. Sometimes for alleged national security purposes, but more often to protect their hides. So if Clinton feels the need to tell a lie, but is not quite sure how to do it, he can consult the Thomasons. They've already established their credentials."

At this, "the story" broke all over the country. Meanwhile, almost all of Linda's "responses" were centered around denying that she had ever heard of me or that she might ever have wanted to. When TV Guide wrote a complimentary piece about me and the show, for instance, she faxed them:

I wouldn't know Georgie Anne Geyer if she threw herself on the hood of my car. I have never read her book. I have never read one word of her column .... I understand Miss Geyer says that if anyone really believes that these are just major coincidences, then she must be living in never-never land. I would say that is exactly her correct address.

Frankly, after that bit about landing on the hood, for some days I tried to keep my wits about me and my eyes alert when crossing the street. But despite Linda's, shall we say "intemperate" words, I was feeling infinitely better; I was now, after all, fighting the case in my court, which was the press. And so I was snuggled up late at night at home in my favorite chair with my beloved Japanese bobtail cat Nikko, on January 22, 1993, the Friday right after the inauguration, which the Thomasons' imagery ad made into "Hollywood North." I switched on C-Span, and there, to my amazement, were Linda and Harry, speaking that noon at the National Press Club.

Linda was all in black, with black dress, black cape, and even black hood tied tightly around her head, while Harry looked very rumpled and incongruously "down-home Arkansas" for a Hollywood multimillionaire. Their talk was rambling, and I was frankly surprised that they were not more disciplined or polished.

But just as I was trying to analyze them, in the question period the president of the Press Club suddenly asked Linda, "What did you think of Mike Royko's column on Georgie Anne Geyer?" For a moment, Linda looked as though someone had thrown a water pitcher at her; then, she composed herself and sat there in the National Press Club and said the most astonishing thing. She said, "Georgie Anne Lahti is a wonderful journalist. . ." Then she corrected herself quickly, saying "I mean Georgie Anne Geyer."

I soon discovered that I was not alone. A man called me from Nashville: he was a songwriter from the Thomasons' home town in Arkansas, and his name was Wood Newton. Who was the character in their other sitcom,
Evening Shade
, but one Wood
Newton! (He started to sue them, but the court ruled against him, saying that he had written a letter approving the use of his name.) Later the Thomasons used the name of
Washington Post
reporter
Lloyd Grove of the paper's style section, and in
Hearts Afire
again, even had another character threaten to "break Lloyd Grove's legs."
I called Grove, and he said he had called Harry, whom he knew, and that Harry told him, "Sometimes we just do that to people we know." Grove then explained to me that , "I think it's because I wrote that piece about how the Clintons gave their old used underwear to the Salvation Army and took it off their taxes." Grove's response, a good one, was to write a hilariously funny satiric takeoff on the Clintons -- in short, to satirize
them
.

More than a year later they came out with still another sitcom,
Women of the House
, and this time, among other clumsy satires, they included making fun of the famous Washington Post editor, Ben Bradlee's wife, Sally Quinn, all because Sally did not invite their main character to her New Year's Eve party! (Social resentment: such a sad thing!)

In January 1994, I was invited to the White House for the first time with this administration for a columnists' luncheon on NATO expansion. This may seem unimportant, or it may seem a little self-important for a journalist to complain about not being invited, but in fact it was extremely odd. These briefings almost always include major correspondents and columnists, and being excluded carries a message. It was also a little odd because that day the president called me "Georgie," instead of Georgie Anne or Gee Gee. Nobody calls me "Georgie," but that was what by then they called Markie Post in the show. And when I walked into the White House that day, Vice President Al Gore, who has always been friendly to me, laughed devilishly when he saw me. "I saw the picture in the paper of you," he said, referring to one of the articles having to do with
Hearts Afire.
Then he laughed again, covered his mouth and said, "oh, I guess I shouldn't be saying that here."

Meanwhile, during that first winter of 1993, Harry Thomason had muddied the waters still further by telling the
Washington Times,
"I'm sure that maybe, subconsciously, we had (modeled the character on me). I think all writers base characters on real people. Since all this has come up, I've been noticing her byline, and we think she's a terrific writer."

Then on May 2, 1993, I was at the Washington Correspondents' dinner in the Washington Hilton Hotel. It was a mammoth, noisy affair, and we waited, and waited, and waited for the president, who was, as always in those days, late. A little after eight o'clock, a man at my table sidled up to me and whispered, "Hey, there's Markie Post and Harry Thomason over there." And, yes, there the two of them were, sitting nearby on a slightly raised balcony.

Now, the record will clearly show that I was beautifully dressed, in a long black evening gown with white gloves and pearls, and that I was in high but ladylike spirits. I immediately made my way over to them.

Markie Post, wearing a tight-fitting silver sequined gown that surely looked better on her "Georgie Anne" than it would on mine, was chatting with her myriad admirers; and how demurely I waited for "my turn" to confer with my stand-in! When she finally turned to me, ever so graciously, as if granting a favor at court, I smiled ever so sweetly and said, "Hello, I'm Georgie Anne Geyer."

She looked utterly terrified. Indeed, she threw her hands up before her as if I were going to hit her. But I only smiled ever-ever so sweetly.

"Georgie Anne, I can assure you that I am not playing you," Markie finally said, once she regained her composure. At this point, Harry Thomason turned toward us, and he was now the very soul of charm. "Tell me," I said, "what exactly did you mean by saying that 'subconsciously' you modeled her character after me?"

"Well," he said, still smiling an odd smile, "I meant that probably we had heard of you because we now know what an excellent journalist you are." I only smiled ironically.

The next day's
Washington Times
characterized Markie Post at the dinner as "breathless." And, why? The Times reported:

She had just cornered Georgie Anne Geyer, the real-life journalist who had accused the producers of the CBS sitcom Clinton chums Harry Thomason and Linda Bloodworth-Thomason, of stealing her identity. Miss Post, who plays Washington journalist Georgie Anne Lahti, said the encounter was "great" for both Georgie Annes: "I grabbed her and said 'Georgie Anne, Georgie Anne! I love you and I swear with every fiber of my being that I am not playing you!"

Reality? Imagery? I was having a hard time keeping up. The final blow in the show itself came when the fictional Georgie Anne and her Capitol boyfriend John Ritter finally make love. This astonishing act, preserved on the screen for all the world to see, follows seemingly interminable panting sessions more appropriate to some stiff 1950s college couple than to an emancipated 1990s pair in Washington. It contained more heavy breathing than a mafia "hit" but ultimately inspired less audience interest about whether or not they "do it" than about whether Eddie Fisher ever remarries. They "do it" in the Capitol, of course, because that is where they do just about everything and anything, thus illustrating once again such overwhelming respect for their country's institutions. The eerie part, however, is that they "do it" to a funny and not widely known Randy Newman song, "You Can Leave Your Hat On."

Interestingly, that song happened to be my office theme song for a long time, when I had my staff on the Castro book, and it was a special joke between them and me.

But by spring, the show was all but dead -- the result of both bad reviews and of my campaign in "my court," the press. They actually had Markie do one
Hearts Afire
in which she denied sleeping with Castro, obviously a sop to me, albeit a rather curious one, since it was a little odd to see oneself on TV insisting she has not slept with a leader that she -- I mean I -- had not slept with. Soon, the "other woman" in my life, Georgie Anne Lahti, even got married, thus becoming at one stroke even less interesting in terms of her licentious potential than she had been in the beginning.