Shooting Stars (17 page)

Rarely do we pick a doorstep randomly. If a celebrity hasn't been photographed or spotted in a while, we assume he or she isn't in town until he or she turns up again, often in formal pictures—red carpets or charity events—or sometimes in a candid pap shot. We also do drive-by
reccys
, i.e., reconnaissance (British), of a celebrity's home looking for signs of inhabitance: blinds going up and down, lights going on and off, cars moving in and out, etc. It strikes me as being like thieves, but the only
thing we want to steal here is a good shot of the celeb. Remember, we're great anti-robber defense.

While I'm paid as a freelancer, I've latched on tight, so CXN treats me like staff. I always hope to be partnered with Aaron, who I still have a pretty significant crush on, but J.R.'s in charge of assignments and he spreads me around the staff, which is productive since I learn something different from everyone. It's been a half year since I started papping, but my learning curve is still straight up vertical.

Being prompt is key to not wasting our day. We
should
arrive at the doorstep of our chosen celebrity home by eight or eight-thirty. But not being a morning person, I'm more likely to end up there at nine. The danger of arriving much later (or even that late) is that celebrities
do
things. They often get up early to go walk or jog, get coffee, or drive to work. Most of them do not sleep in all day. Of course, a doorstep might also be out of town or spending the night out and we don't know it. Sometimes we see them come home, which really isn't that bad 'cause now, at least, we know they are there and may go out again. All in all, doorstepping is a fine way to catch a celebrity, but generally it pans out only about 25 percent of the time.

On the way to the doorstep each morning, if we're not working alone, we Nextel our partner, exchange ETAs, and discuss the layout of the house, the cars, where to park, whether to hide, and so on. When we arrive, the first thing we do is drive by the house to look for the celeb's car or signs of life. Changes may occur during the day, so we need to get the lay of the land. Next, we check for competition. Paps are easy to spot. We look in places where we might choose to sit, and for people (usually Latino males) sitting in parked cars (usually SUVs with dealer plates). Sometimes a sunshade will be covering the front windshield of a competitor's car. It is also likely the car is heavily tinted, and a window is usually cracked open. If the window isn't cracked, then the engine's on for the a.c. The occupant is often sitting in the back seat. If we know the competitor, we might acknowledge one another with a nod, but neither of us is happy to see the other.

If there are more than four competitors on a doorstep, everyone stops hiding. With that many cars, it's impossible to pull off a stealth follow, so we have to hope the celeb will give it up. If it's a doorstep of a celeb who will
never
give it up (an Olsen twin, for instance), we might cut our losses and leave.

When deciding where to sit at a doorstep, we naturally consider the best place to hide from the celebrity. But we also must consider the best place to hide from other paps. Assuming most photographers don't sit on an empty house, late-rising paps often troll doorsteps to see if another pap's already there, and if they get verification, plop down next to them. Sometimes, if we see a slow-moving vehicle coming our way, we duck under our seat in the hope that the passing pap doesn't see us and leaves. Lastly, before situating ourselves in our parked car for what could be an eight-hour day, we factor in comfort: frequency of cops and meter maids, traffic buzz, ease of watch, and direct sunlight.

When working a doorstep with a partner, we cover both street exits if it's necessary. If one person is sufficient to watch both directions (or if we know the celeb being doorstepped departs only in one direction), then we may opt to cover two doorsteps that are located close to each other, ultimately working whichever moves first. As well, a seasoned pap knows who lives in which neighborhoods and often spots celebrities whom they weren't even waiting for. For example, once I was sitting on Mandy Moore and Vince Vaughn jogged by. Dax Shepard, Kate Walsh, and Christina Ricci also live within walking distance of Mandy. And if I expand by another two miles, I can count a dozen more.

J.R. checks in between eight and nine every morning. It usually goes something like this:

“Ahhhh. Hi, Jen.” (Five seconds.) “How's it going?”

“Great, J.R. She looks home. Car's in the drive.”

(Eight seconds). “Ahhhh. Great.” (Five seconds). “Ahhhh. Give it a go.”

Then we wait, with J.R. or Bartlet checking in every few hours. The only thing worse than sitting outside a celebrity's house all day long with no action is sitting outside a celebrity's house all day long among nasty
paps with no action. Nasty paps like to mill around the sidewalks smoking cigarettes, eating peanuts, and giving out menacing stares. Having a periodic call from the boss helps us keep it together.

It's polite protocol to visit with our partner for a while—morning niceties, then a review of the action plan should the doorstep move. If we're chummy, we might jump into one car to visit a bit more. When I do, I always pick my partner's brain: “What do we do if this happens?” “Let's go through the camera menu.” “How does your edit workflow go?” But eventually we'll work our way back to our own vehicles, since that's the best place to be if our doorstep takes off. Nothing like busting yourself first thing running to the car in front of a celebrity.

It's amazing how much I can find to do in my car. I make phone calls to my mom, JoDeane, and Georgia; I do trade reading by browsing a tabloid or two; and I check in with a half dozen other paps. It's important to be in contact with other paps, primarily ones from your own agency so that you can share information. Unless we're on a top-secret doorstep which J.R. has forbidden us to reveal (“Loose lips sink ships,” he loves to say), we call each other and report our location. It's not unlikely that another pap will have additional information about our doorstep—“Beckham flew out yesterday,” for instance—and this saves many wasted hours. On the other hand, if we check in with our competitor “friends,” we don't tell them who we're on at the moment. They may not know he or she is in town, and we don't want our story scooped the next day.

Once our doorstep moves, we radio our partner (if we have one) and follow. Unless there's a reason to be seen, e.g., the celeb gives us better pictures when he or she knows we're there, we attempt to hide. We may be on our target all day, or he or she could go immediately to an unshootable location, a studio for instance, in which case we may “leave it” right away.

If our doorstep goes to pot, i.e., we lose the celebrity or he or she goes somewhere and we don't think it's worth waiting, or if the doorstep doesn't move by 1 or 2 p.m., then we generally head to the city. I prefer to get to town by 1 p.m. for lunch-hour spottings. I troll cafés on
Melrose and Beverly, the Fred Segal department store, celebrity gyms, and Robertson Boulevard. All paps have similar paths, so we're constantly passing one another on the road.

When trolling, paps look for celebrities' cars—both on the road and in parking lots. As well, we look
in
cars, on sidewalks, and on restaurant patios for the celebrities themselves. We also look for other paps, or their cars, engaged in a follow or lurking outside an establishment. Memorizing other pap vehicles—and their drivers' reputations for productivity—is as important as knowing celebrities' cars.

Most paps are too lazy to get out of their cars and instead rely on outside clues (other paps, the celebs' cars) to tell them if famous clientele are inside. I've found, however, that actually walking in stores and restaurants significantly improves my hit rate. Interestingly, when scanning a restaurant or store, it is not necessary to look at each person individually. By simply breezing one's eyes over an area, the subconscious will, without fail, register “recognition.” I'm not exactly sure why this works, but Malcolm Gladwell covers it in
Blink: The Power of Thinking without Thinking
. Soon I will come to see celebrities out of the far peripheries of my eyes, when I'm out with my girlfriends, not even looking for them. As well, more and more I am beginning to spot celebrities by their builds or gaits, so I can easily recognize them even if their backs are to me. If I've seen someone once, I find I see them frequently. If I do make a spot, I
post up
strategically on the sidewalk or in my car, try not to get jumped (by actively watching for and ducking when I see another pap), and shoot the celebrity exiting. Depending on the location, I occasionally attempt to shoot inside, but mostly I reserve that for the paps more experienced than me.

Late in the day, I may ditch the car altogether and go for a stroll around the Grove or traipse through Barneys in Beverly Hills where celebs enjoy shopping for items over a thousand dollars apiece. Or sometimes I just park on Sunset or Doheney and wait for them to drive by—and get stuck in my web.

* * *

It's been months since he first tipped me off, and Rob,
Inn Love
's deep throat, shows no signs of stopping. He tells me that he doesn't feel guilty giving me inside information about the boss because she and Dean do the same thing. As I mentioned, in exchange for tips on Tori's whereabouts, Rob asks not for money but “for photos.” I wasn't sure what he meant by this at first—
pictures of Tori? Of celebrities?
Eventually, however, it became clear: Rob wanted pictures of…himself. Rob wanted to be papped!

We did this a couple of times on Robertson. He shopped there, and I was always passing. He loved it. Before long, it turned into a full-on fetish with Rob texting at least twice a week:

After I take his picture, I edit the best few images and email them to him. I do not ask what he does with them.

Today Rob texts:

He always adds that it will make a great photo, like that determines if I'll come or not.

Turns out, the hotel, which is also a bar and restaurant, is going to be on my way home, and at six I'm nearby. Little effort for the next Tori tip.

Here's how it goes down, in texts:

I find a lucky meter on Sunset and get out with my short-and-flash, the camera Rob prefers. The titillation apparently comes when others think he's famous, so a long lens from inside my truck is not the point. There are a slew of valets in front of the Standard, and I'm not sure what the hotel's attitude is toward paps. Some locales embrace us as healthy publicity, while others pride themselves on being celebrity hideaways. Of course Rob isn't a celebrity, but the valets won't know that, and I don't want to cause a scene on Sunset
over Rob.
Feeling like a tool, I crouch behind a potted plant with my camera in my bag.

Chuh-chuh-chuh, flash-flash-flash.

I'm not sure what he wants exactly—
Pictures of him alone? All the guys? Is everybody in on the ruse?
—but I think it's better not to ask now. I say, “Hey, Rob. How you doing tonight? Don't mind if I get a few frames, do you?” I concentrate on trying to be professional and not doubling over in laughter.

He doesn't respond. He acts coy, like he can't much be bothered by the camera but will “tolerate” it. He doesn't smile, but doesn't cover (of course!). He gives me the peace sign (the money shot?) just before he goes into the hotel. Once they're gone, I hurry back to my car hoping no one's seen me.

A couple minutes later:

* * *

It might be easy to laugh at Rob's vanity, but he is not alone or even uncommon, especially in L.A. The intensity with which people crave fame here is unbelievable. I sometimes wonder if I could make more money as a hired pap who gives nobodies the thrill of feeling famous than I do by going after real celebs. But at least the Rob mystery is solved.

I am also discovering that it is not unusual to have insiders among the stars, or insiders who
are
the stars. Many celebrities make themselves famous or more famous through active participation with paps and tabloids—i.e., they give it up all the time or they set up their own jobs. For example, it is well known that Rodeo2 has some sort of arrangement with Britney, and I know several of “Lindsay's paps” who have her personal cell phone number, and I've seen what appear to be her texts. Besides the two of them, Nicole Richie, Denise Richards, Jenny McCarthy, Hilary Duff, Tori Spelling, many of the Bachelors and Bachelorettes, Hayden Panettiere, and even Katie Holmes and Angelina Jolie, at different times in their careers, have purportedly coordinated with us or the tabloids (or had their agents do it for them). These are
just a few I have heard of; I am sure there are many more. Everyone has a different deal. Some do it just for the publicity, but many also make money off their photos.