Bart Greenberg spent four of his most satisfying professional years running special events at the Lincoln Triangle Barnes & Noble. Prior to that he was in charge of signing and performance events at Tower Records. In this column, Bart will share memories of the writers, actors, singers, broadcasters and celebrities—some amazing and even notorious— he encountered during this time.
By Bart Greenberg***During my years running events, I quickly learned how different categories of celebrities tended to share certain personalities. Musical theater people appeared to be relaxed and fun (yes, that included Patti LuPone); mystery authors were mostly upbeat; “serious” authors were quirky (I still can’t explain the darling Joyce Carol Oates’ obsession with professional wrestling); reality television stars were all… I don’t think I can use that language in this column. But news broadcasters and columnists came with enormous egos and usually appeared with entourages (no matter where they would be placed on the political spectrum). Let me give you a few examples of this phenomenon:
The definite exception to the rule was the empress of news broadcasting, Miss Barbara Walters. She arrived early, ready to sign her recently released memoir. It was to be strictly a signing—no accompanying interview or reading, agreed to in advance. Given the intense interest in the book, an unusual number of paparazzi had shown up (we had our regular photographers, including one who specialized in authors). So, rather than 
having them interfere with the signing, it was decided (with Barbara’s permission) to have them get their photos first and then send them on their way. In theory, this was a very good idea.
Accordingly, the paparazzi were lined up in our event space, each with their multiple cameras, their step ladders, their flashbulbs—and their hungry looks. Ms Walters entered from our greenroom ( a large converted closet), looking chic, with every hair in place and beautifully dressed for an afternoon event. Predictably, the paparazzi immediately began to shout at her and demand her attention. She paused and surveyed the guys (yes, all paparazzi seem to be men), then very quietly, but firmly, like a third grade teacher addressing recalcitrant students, she assured them this wasn’t her first time doing this and she didn’t need them shouting at her. If they continued, she said, she would go right back into the greenroom. She didn’t yell, she didn’t curse, she simply made a statement of fact. And like chastened school boys, they shuffled their feet and looked downward.
After a momentarily pause for full understanding, she smiled and started to move down the row of photographers, giving each several angles of her face. One, very carefully, as if addressing a respected aunt, quietly said, “May I have one more, Ms. Walters?” With a knowing glance, she turned and provided him with what he needed. When she had reached the end of the line, she nodded and went back to the greenroom. Our staff invited the paparazzi to depart, and still under the Walters spell, they did so quickly and without protest. The actual signing went off just as smoothly. In her intelligence and taste, and beyond, she was a total professional.
At the other end of the rainbow, in my observation, was Ted Turner. His famed strength and determination unfortunately had transformed itself during our event into arrogance and rudeness. The presentation was to include a half hour of Q&A with the audience and then the signing of his memoir. The first sign of trouble 
was when we received a message that he would be late. Why? He had to complete another interview first—on TBS, the network he owned. When he finally arrived, barging in surrounded by a posse of associates and bodyguards, he greeted no one, not even acknowledging any staff, including one of the Vice Presidents of Barnes & Noble—a classy lady who was always ready to lend a helping hand when in our space.
Storming to the stage, he scanned the crowded room with a scowl and announced since he was running late (as if it was someone else’s fault), he would only answer three questions. The answers were terse and close to accusatory as if he was being accosted on the street by a stranger. Then he headed to the desk and declared he was ready to sign books. With head down, he totally ignored those holding the books. He made only two comments: that people had too many copies of his book and that it was wrong that some of the books had a sale sticker on them (actually, all major non-fiction books have similar stickers on release). As soon as he finished signing the last book, he was up and out, on the run with his posse. Did he think he was in danger of contamination by coming close to anyone left in the room?
After Turner’s departure, our exhausted crew sat spread out on folding chairs, staring at each other speechless. Suddenly aroused by a tap on the event room door, the representative from the publishing house stuck his head in shyly and asked if he could come in. He was so apologetic we had to assure him none of the insanity was his fault. Still. he exited looking like a beaten puppy. Our lead, Jennifer, turned to the Vice President and asked, “Is he scheduled to do any more of these at other branches?” Her response was succinct and loaded with meaning. Even though she never lost her smile, she said, “Not anymore.” She was a total professional too.
