Charity Hic

Why, in the land of star appeal, hollywood loves to hype malady

here's a Trivia quiz for Today show buffs. Was actor Cliff Robertson up at dawn to pitch (A) his new flick, (B) a sleeping disorder or (C) the phone company? If you answered (A) and (B), go to the head of the class. Mind you, there was nothing crass or even concocted about the actor's stumping for narcolepsy, the disease whose victims doze off in midsentence. The wife of Robertson's oldest pal is afflicted, and the group considers it the hard-core test of Robertson's jokes if she's asleep before the punch line. But it did seem a first to be hyping, simultaneously, both cause and career--and thus raised the usual prickly questions. Was Robertson using his Hollywood clout to rev up interest in charity? Or was narcolepsy itself an excuse to hype Malone, his new film? Even Jane Pauley seemed a tad unsure when the sleeping disorder had had enough play ("Is there really anything that can be done?" she gamely inquired after the 800 number flashed) and when it was time for commercial fare. "In the meantime," she finally managed, "your career continues apace. You're starring with Burt Reynolds. . . ."

All things considered, celebrities and charities would seem to be a match made in heaven. The Jerry Lewis Telethon for muscular dystrophy, on Labor Day weekend, raised $34,000,000 in pledges last year alone for M.D. and made something of a hero of Lewis and those stalwarts who last through the night Indeed, appearing for M.D. is not a bad way to flog a flagging career. For that matter, stumping for heart, lungs and kidneys has rescued more than one flickering star. After all, celebrities achieve and maintain their status through publicity; and since most of them plan to remain celebrities until something better comes along, why shouldn't they spend a few evenings a month helping out--and being helped by--a worthy cause?

But it's not that easy, especially when dealing in the show-business world of inflated and fragile egos. The Hollywood Christmas Parade, an annual benefit for various charities that is carried live by a local Los Angeles TV station, offers a valuable lesson on just how the system works. "Because of the insurance and the time available, we had to limit the number of cars and floats," explains Rita Tateel, who, as president of a firm called Celebrity Connection, was deeply involved in arranging last year's parade, "and, hence, the number of people who could participate. So we had a lot more celebrities who wanted to be in the parade than we had room for.

"We had one top network show where the main lead agreed to be in it if the only other person in the car with him was his wife. Then we got a call from the publicist for the second lead in the same show, wanting to have his client in the parade. So we had to tread lightly. We approached the star first, asking him if he'd consider having the second lead in the car with him but not wanting him to look like a bad guy if he said no--which he did. But we finally got the second lead in anyway--in somebody else's car."

A shortage of stars is rarely the problem for charities that feed on Hollywood. More often, it's the battle of the A and B lists, with so many events scheduled that celebrities can be picky about their largess. Sometimes, there is even that dreaded occurrence: charity conflict. Last year, a $500-a-plate dinner for the Betty Ford Center at a new Los Angeles hotel competed with the Princess Grace Foundation Awards being doled out that same night in Dallas. Dinah Shore, Julio Iglesias, Ernest Borgnine and Leslie Uggams chose the Los Angeles event; Frank Sinatra and the late Cary Grant, even though they were on the dinner committee for the Ford gala, opted for Texas. Mrs. Ford herself, as able a milker of charitable cows as has ever worked the circuit, not surprisingly picked the charity she founded, though not without regrets. "It's a competitive world," she acknowledged to a reporter. "You know how many dinners there are."

Why do charities care so much about celebrities? Survival is one simple answer. "You can't have a charity event without stars or you don't get planted in the papers," says Corinne Entratter, a Beverly Hills publicist whose job it is to whip up interest in such occasions. "Entertainment Tonight will not send a camera crew without stars. And donors always ask, 'Who's coming?'"

Who's coming--which star is hitched to which affliction--results from a sometimes obscure matchmaking process. Certain stars are attracted to diseases or causes because of a personal connection or a political conviction: Barbra Streisand and Jane Fonda support liberal and Democratic causes; Charlton Heston works' for conservative and Republican groups; Mike Farrell and Doris Day, among others, will lend their names to almost any organization involved in animal rights. Larry Hagman hates smoking, so he does antismoking spots; Victoria Principal's mother has a form of arthritis, so she agreed to be the celebrity spokesperson for the Arthritis Foundation; Jill Ireland went to work for the American Cancer Society after developing breast cancer; and Michael J. Fox asked to represent the Spina Bifida Association of America when a nephew was born with the disease. Frank Sinatra--still the busiest and most sought-after star on the charity circuit--will always say yes to a telethon for his wife's favorite cause, a hospital for abused children; and Hollywood husbands from Milton Berle to Dean Martin have performed for SHARE (Share Happily and Reap Endlessly), a charitable group that helps the mentally retarded, founded by their wives.

But there are other forces at work. Back scratching among friends and colleagues on a movie set or a TV series also plays a large part in which charities some celebrities will pitch. The Hill Street Blues crew was known to turn out almost en masse for events supported by individual cast members; for a long time, wherever you saw Tim Conway on the charity circuit, you also saw Harvey Korman (both from The Carol Burnett Show). Such mutual do-goodism is so commonplace that on Mike Farrell's first day as a regular on M*A*S*H, or so the legend goes, Alan Alda walked into his dressing room and said, "Look, let's make a deal. I won't ask you to work for any of my causes and you won't ask me to work for any of yours."

Causal attraction often begins on the job; playing the role of an afflicted or disabled person, for instance, has inspired more than one actor to devote time to a similar charity. David Birney did several public-service announcements for the handicapped after playing a policeman who loses a hand on an episode of Police Story; his wife, Meredith Baxter Birney, made what seemed to be daily TV appearances to talk about eating disorders when she starred in a TV movie about bulimia. Kirk Douglas and Mickey Rooney became champions of the aged and the mentally handicapped when they starred in TV movies on those subjects.

Occasionally, of course, the involvement is baldly self-promotional. When pictures from a Playmate test shooting of Suzanne Somers first ran in Playboy in 1980, Somers was the biggest star of one of TV's hottest sitcoms, Three's Company. Concerned about possible damage to her image, her publicist suggested that some highly visible charity work might help present a revirginized face to the world and arrangements were made for Somers to host an Easter Seals Telethon. But there was a catch--the telethon was 20 hours long. Somers decided to work just the first three hours, then appear again for the last three; in between, she caught some beauty sleep in her dressing room.

A year later, Somers' career had again run into serious trouble. Her contract demand had grown too big for the producers of Three's Company, and she was bounced from the show in a torrent of bad press. Once more, Somers' publicist turned to the Easter Seals Telethon to restore her tarnished image. It didn't work. For whatever reasons, the Easter Seals executives opted not to use her a second time.

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Think of celebrities on the charity circuit and two distinct sets of images appear. On the one hand, there's the Old Glitz: an endless Jerry Lewis Telethon, Dr. Joyce Brothers sharing billing with the Berosini Orangutans, Charlie Callas and Gary Collins cheek by jowl in the cast list, opera star Leona Mitchell being followed by the McDonald's All-American High School Jazz Band. Such showbiz flash was typified by a recent full-page ad in Daily Variety headlined "Sammy's check put us over the top!" above a color photograph of the ubiquitous Sammy Davis Jr. caught in mid-telethonic hysteria. "Only minutes before our 1987 telethon on KSDK, channel five was to leave the air with $1,997,100," said the ad's copy. "Sammy stopped the music. I personally am giving this money. Nobody can take this away from me.' And St. Louis' first $2,006,983 telethon was in the bag.... Is it any wonder the St. Louis Variety Club Telethon is now the Sammy Davis Jr. Telethon?"

The flip side is the New Glitz, with Elizabeth Taylor and a few thousand intimate friends raising money for AIDS in the name of Rock Hudson, or Rae Dawn Chong narrating a film for teens on safe sex. Phil Collins and Michael Jackson join hands to feed starving Africans; Robin Williams, Whoopi Goldberg, George Carlin and Garry Shandling joke to benefit the homeless. You won't see the Berosini Orangutans at any of those more trendy--though obviously worthy--functions, and it's almost as unlikely that any of those stars would be caught dead on the Jerry Lewis Telethon.

In fact, in an era of David Letterman-honed cynicism, the younger, hipper stars and their advisors are exhibiting an obvious antitelethon, anticharity bias. "I can't think of one good reason why I'd ever advise a client of mine to get involved in something like that," says a publicist who specializes in the painfully hip, "Brat Pack" type of actors. "It sounds cruel, but it's really not the proper image for certain actors, unless they want to spend the rest of their careers doing guest shots on Hotel." Although Billy Crystal did a taped appearance on last year's Jerry Lewis Telethon, he was a rare exception--you're unlikely to see Jerry introduce his "good friends" Madonna and Sean Penn, or Tom Cruise and Molly Ringwald.

Whatever category stars fall into, any celebrity can potentially hurt his or her career by being too generous, a process Barry Greenberg of Celebrity Connection has dubbed "Asnerization" in honor of actor Ed Asner, who, until his career started to stall, was a fixture at a dizzying variety of political and charitable galas. Another recent victim of Asnerization was St. Elsewhere's Ed Begley, Jr. "He's very sincere and wanted to help as much as he could," explains Tateel, "but he wound up spreading himself much too thin. There was a time when you could go to an event any night in this city and see him. Whoopi Goldberg had the same problem; so did Steve Garvey. They all had to be gently advised to say no occasionally--make themselves harder to get."

All of this can make the process of matching celebrities with charities as tricky and challenging as casting a movie. Peter Mathon of the Arthritis Foundation likes there to be some rationale for choosing a celebrity, some credible connection to the cause. With limited knowledge of who's afflicted with what, they enlisted the aid of a broker--often crucial in matching stars to diseases. "One of the agencies we contacted was Celebrity Connection; they knew that Victoria Principal was looking for a cause to commit to and that her mother had lupus--a form of arthritis. It was a perfect match. Victoria has been our chairperson for four years now--one two-year term and two one-year extensions. And she has definitely been the most active in recent years, at least since Jane Wyman. Of course, a Victoria Principal can't do the definitive education job about arthritis, telling people what kind they might have and how to live with it. But she can catch someone's attention, get people to make that first telephone call."

For Principal, the Arthritis Foundation was a chance to channel her available time and good intentions toward a cause directly connected to her life. David and Meredith Baxter Birney agreed to become celebrity chairpersons for the American Diabetes Association not so much because of any direct involvement with the disease ("though we later found out that people on both sides of our family had it," David says) but as a way to be able to say no to the hundreds of other requests that came in. "With all the other things we've done, I never had a real sense of making a difference," admits David. "Working for the A.D.A. takes up more time, but it's a much more effective use of our resources."

The Birneys aren't alone in putting a limit on their charitable involvement. Actor Tim Matheson, of such films as Animal House and Fletch, turns down celebrity golf tournaments and telethons by the score. "What I do now is concentrate on a couple of pet projects, things that mean something to me," he says. "I love white-water rafting, so Friends of the River gets a lot of my time. And there's the End Hunger project, something I got involved with because of Jeff Bridges."

Not surprisingly, celebrities tend to go with the latest flow, getting caught up in trends, jockeying to work for what Greenberg calls "the charity du jour." Different eras bring different celebrity causes: Twenty years ago, it was civil rights; ten years ago, it was migrant farm workers; five years ago, it was the environment. AIDS is undoubtedly and understandably the entertainment industry's favorite cause at the moment; last year's AIDS Project Los Angeles Commitment to Life Award to Elizabeth Taylor took in almost $1,000,000 and filled the Wiltern Theater with a crowd that equaled or beat the Academy Awards. But in the crush, some other hot charities from the recent past--the homeless, the hungry, the farmers, the Betty Ford Center, Children of the Night--have been forced to take a seat farther back on the bus.

"It started with the celebrity-owned-and-operated charities such as We Are the World and Farm Aid and Comic Relief," Greenberg explains. "They did a lot of good work, sure--nobody wants to deny that. But they also took up a lot of time and attention and gave celebrities the excuse not to do their things. As a result, some of the older, more established charities, such as heart, lungs and cancer, have had stars' time and attention taken away from them."

R.P. (for retinitis pigmentosa) International is a cause that has benefited a great deal from celebrity support. Founder and president Helen Harris, who is losing her sight to the disease and whose two sons also suffer from it, says that when she decided to start the organization 14 years ago, she first tried to get help from the medical establishment. When that didn't work, she wrote to several celebrities, including Charlton Heston. "Three weeks later, Heston agreed to help, and right away we began to get media attention," says Harris. Since then, many other stars, from Stevie Wonder to Fernando Valenzuela, have given their time and effort to R.P.I. But because of the crunch of charities competing for celebrity attention, Harris decided to take out an ad in Daily Variety this past April, to invite Hollywood to a press conference. "Remember, as you celebrate Hollywood's 100th anniversary, none of the fabulous history of Hollywood would have happened if everyone had R.P.," the ad said. "There would be no Hollywood sign, no Mann's Chinese Theater, no Wonderful World of Disney, no Walk of Fame and no Oscars."

Although Harris stops short of admitting that she wrote the "Open Letter to Hollywood" because R.P.I. is no longer "the charity du jour," she does agree that it is getting harder and harder to compete for celebrities. R.P.I. has put on several successful telethons but had to give up its October slot last year when it couldn't raise the approximately $50,000 it needed in time to firm up the date. "October was perfect for us, because Halloween night is the best time to get an early diagnosis on a child who might have R.P.," Harris explains. "Now the October slot has gone to the March of Dimes and we've been offered time over the July fourth weekend. It could work--I've come up with a slogan, 'Liberty, justice and eyesight for all.' But putting together a telethon takes time. I work 12 to 14 hours a day, seven days a week, as it is, and a lot of it isn't fund raising or calling celebrities. Just today, everything came to a halt because a woman called and said she was going to kill herself. We got her medical and psychiatric help."

Harris admits that it is embarrassing to have to rifle through her Rolodex of celebrity names--specially printed in large block letters so that she can read them--and call to ask for help. "But then I think about things like that call from the suicidal woman and I say to myself, 'If we don't keep the line open, who will she call?' So I make my calls and write my letters, knowing that at least half of the replies will say 'Unfortunately' or 'However. . . .' When I get to that point, I just throw them away."

Smaller charities, naturally, may land a star only with luck or cunning, and even perseverance may not pay off--especially when aiming too high. Greenberg tells the story of the woman from some small community who writes to Frank Sinatra six months ahead of time to say that her organization "is having its annual chili cook-off on September (concluded on page 145)Charity Chic(continued from page 120) 25, to raise money to build a new bathroom for the local church, and they'd love to have him there. Three months later, a letter arrives from Sinatra's office, saying they're very sorry, but Mr. Sinatra won't be available on September 25. Without missing a beat, she writes back and says, 'How about the 26th?'"

Some groups, on the other hand, have trouble recognizing a potential star when they're offered one. "You can't imagine the trouble I had convincing the Spina Bifida Association to accept as its celebrity spokesperson some kid who had the third lead on a little-known series called Family Ties," says Greenberg. That kid was Michael J. Fox, before Back to the Future increased his visibility.

"The irony is that the lesser-known stars often work harder, do better and make a greater contribution than the bigger names," says Greenberg.

"When I was working with the American Diabetes Association, a publicist would often say, 'I'll give you one big name if you'll take two of my unknowns.' We'd usually say yes, hoping that the unknowns would remember us and come back when they were famous," adds Bob Oettinger of the Motion Picture and Television Fund.

Hollywood publicists exhibit a classic-case of schizophrenia when it comes to urging their clients to do charity work. They're glad to offer a young, up-and-coming TV-series regular who hasn't had his or her face on a TV Guide cover yet to virtually all takers, especially for an event where lots of celebrities will appear. "You never know who they'll be standing next to when a picture's being taken," says a top flack. "They could wind up in the same shot with Joan Collins!"

Once that client starts to move up the ladder, though, the ground rules change. "I tell my people that it's better to do too little charity work than too much," says a partner in a large public-relations firm. "It's like sex--if they say yes to everybody, pretty soon they stop getting asked."

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Why do some stars who don't need the publicity continue to pitch and pitch for their causes, expending precious free time that could easily be spent in more self-indulgent pursuits? Experts cite the guilt factor, and many stars freely admit that being paid lots of money because of fortuitous body parts--voice box, teeth, chiseled chin, breasts, dancing feet--does give them an occasional twinge.

Others, of course, stump for money: Bob Hope works his favorite charities for free, but he has been known to charge other causes $50,000 for the pleasure of his company. Some celebrities are suckers for certain kinds of sports activities (golf, skiing and tennis are perennial favorites) or cultural events or causes associated with their home towns. Still, the charities have to be willing to cough up a first-class airplane ticket and a limo from the airport in order to get a name. Indeed, the prospect of freebies has lured more than one star--even wealthy ones. "You never want to be out in the open at any event where celebrities are being given a free gift," says Greenberg. "You could get killed in the rush. Offer them a limo and a triple filet mignon dinner for a good cause and you'll get some acceptances. Throw in a free sweat suit or a T-shirt or a pair of running shoes or a camera--things they could buy for themselves out of pocket change--and you'll have to beat them off with a stick."

His colleague Tateel adds, "I worked last year's Betty and Jerry Ford Ski Tournament for the Vail Valley Foundation and got them some good names. But if I'd known in advance that the celebrities were getting free pairs of skis, I could have signed up anyone in the business."

Often, there are stars in waiting, with bumpy careers, who'd love to work the charity circuit for a PR boost but never get a call. "Lots of charities have A-team celebrities as their national spokespersons. They know how hard it is to get those stars out to the local branches that want a Victoria Principal or a Mary Tyler Moore," explains Greenberg. "Those groups should be grateful to get somebody from the B team--and they usually are. So there is certainly a place for everybody.

"The key here is the multicelebrity function," Greenberg continues. "If one star has to carry an event, then you have to turn people down. But at a function where you're throwing quantity at a cause--hey, we'll put McLean Stevenson on the dais. Or take him on the road: McLean in Topeka, Kansas, is great marquee value."

Even controversy has its up side. "Sure, some celebrities can put themselves out of the running for certain causes by their past actions," says Greenberg. "You wouldn't book Vanessa Redgrave for the United Jewish Appeal or Jane Fonda for the Republican Convention or Jerry Falwell for the A.C.L.U. But certain stars can do no wrong. Frank Sinatra is still the number-one charity attraction, no matter what Kitty Kelley or anyone else says. And controversy in and of itself isn't a bad thing. If Al Campanis had been booked for an NAACP function the week he made that remark on Nightline about blacks in baseball, it would have been the most successful NAACP function of the year.

"In fact," he adds, idly thumbing through his Rolodex of stars and their agents, "I've just been sitting here wondering how to get Imelda Marcos to host the March of Dimes Gourmet Gala in Houston."

Who's Got What charting the stars and their favored afflictions