When I first met David, I noticed a tiny ladybug embroidered on his denim shirt, just above the pocket. Over time, I noticed that the ladybug moved. On Monday, it was on the extreme left side. On Wednesday, it had moved to the center and by Friday, it was all the way to the right.
David was a Hollywood film director and my ad agency had contracted with his studio to shoot some car commercials. As I got to know him, he was delightfully off-center. The shirt was only the beginning.
When I asked David about the ladybug, his answer made all the sense in the world. He said he disliked trying to decide what to wear each day. So he had seven identical denim shirts made, each with a ladybug embroidered where it fit in the week. The rest of his outfit consisted of jeans and a pair of oversize Herman Munster-style boots.
When we first met, David had flown to my agency in Chicago for a pre-production meeting. This is when the studio and agency put their heads together on the commercials about to be produced. At that time, tragically hip show biz types and creative folks carried a newspaper-carrier-type sling bag. These were always leather and had some fancy designer’s name embossed on them.
David, on the other hand, made his entrance carrying a Greyhound duffel bag, complete with the dog logo. I thought, “I gotta’ get to know this guy.” And so I did.
Weeks later, when we were finally shooting out in the desert, we were awaiting the big name Hollywood spokesperson. All of us, including David, were told that this A-lister was sensitive about being short, his recent divorce and his bald spot. We were to avoid any mention of these subjects at any cost.
David was up high in a crane, blocking out the first shot, when he saw the dusty contrail of an approaching limo. It rolled to a halt in a cloud of floating brown dust and sagebrush particulate matter. When this all finally settled, the chauffeur opened the door and out stepped a short, balding big shot.
David then lifted his bullhorn and announced to cast and crew alike, “Attention: we’ve just been joined by a short, recently-divorced, balding Hollywood fruitcake.” (That “Fruitcake” appellation, by the way, was a term of endearment and we were all called that.)
When David’s amplified echo finished its aural sprint and return from all the distant peaks and canyons, the world became scary silent. Any one of three unpleasant eventualities could have happened, but nobody expected the fourth.
The celebrity looked sternly up at David, then broke into a big smile followed by a roar of laughter. And that was the beginning of a wonderful shoot and a lifelong friendship between David and this short, bald man.
Though David’s gone and sorely missed, I cannot see a ladybug without thinking of him.
Jim is a freelance writer and seasoned creative veteran with 25 years of writing experience at two leading advertising agencies. He’s proud to say that his stories are gluten free and that no artificial color is ever added to enhance their appeal.