Here’s why America’s biggest star of the moment is White-hot, so to speak, at the age of 88: She’s smart, shrewd, strategic and her own best publicist.
Betty White is one of a handful of septuagenarian and octogenarian women actors who’ve remained players in the entertainment industry. How they did it might surprise you.
I’m not dismissing her immense talents. Betty – I hope she doesn’t mind the familiarity, but that’s a result of her skills – is an incredibly versatile actor with killer comic timing. She’s delightful when appearing as herself. And she’s a beautiful woman.
But the more I study her, the more I’m convinced that Betty innately knows her brand and brilliantly markets it.
A first-hand example:
About 10 years back, Betty was attached to a series concept and came to our offices with the producer to pitch our CEO and head of programming. We were used to a revolving door of celebrity visitors with pitches in tow and, thanks to the tastes of our executives and the business in general, most were supermodels, sexy news types and film stars looking to cash in on TV.
To our staff, these famous faces usually merited a glance, little more. That was especially true for a grandmotherly type with a blond bouffant and dimples, wearing a sensible pantsuit.
At that time, Betty wasn’t BETTY. “The Golden Girls” had wrapped years before and only a handful of us on staff were old enough to remember the range of her impressive career.
But here’s where Betty was genius: When she emerged from the pitch, she worked the room. To be more precise, she worked the long corridor between the CEO’s suite and our lobby.
All those younger, hotter talents who normally navigated that hallway never deigned to connect with our staff, especially the assistants filling cubicles along its sides. Most buried themselves in cellphones, BlackBerries or whispered conversation with their agents/companions.
Not Betty.
I’m convinced she realized that the two 40ish male executives who took the meeting would never think about it again but that there were influential allies to muster. So as she was escorted to the lobby, Betty fired up the charm quotient, chatting up those who sat along the way. A smile here, a friendly comment there … and a little explanation as to why she was visiting.
Word spread and more people found excuses to wander over. Others (including me) unknowingly heading down that hall found ourselves face-to-face with the disarming Golden Girl. By the time she reached our elevators, Betty had our staff eating out of her hand. And, as you probably guessed, all of them (including me) pressed our CEO to sign her up for whatever she was pitching.
I wish this had a fairytale ending. But I’ll guarantee that her concept got more consideration by our CEO than dozens of others, if only so he could mollify everyone who’d been Bettyfied.
These days, Betty’s the Queen of Hollywood’s Great Dames, a sorority who’ve survived and even thrived in an industry notorious for banishing its elderly. Many have charted careers while unmarried or widowed. Take them for coffee – or more likely, a few cocktails – and you’ll hear great stories of working in touring companies one step ahead of creditors or plum roles on long-forgotten series or films.
Some have had fairly smooth professional and personal journeys. Others have pulled themselves out of chaos, dusted themselves off and instinctively reinvented themselves time and again.
Despite their differences, the Great Dames have a lot in common. They’re tenacious and observant. They exercise enormous chutzpah in the most artful way. They know the value of their charm (see last week’s New York Times column about how Betty flustered its reporter).
They’re game for almost anything, often before much-younger colleagues. They ask the smartest questions and maintain endless humor, even at their own expense. Didn’t you, like me, watch those Comedy Central roasts just to see what Bea Arthur would say?
My current Great Dames list includes Carol Burnett, Doris Roberts, Mary Tyler Moore, Cloris Leachman, Ruby Dee, Debbie Reynolds, Marion Ross, Florence Henderson, Diahann Carroll, Rita Moreno and Shirley Jones. In the wings are Candice Bergen, Holland Taylor and Sharon Gless. And I pray I’m around when Wanda Sykes hits 70.
Having worked for years with one Great Dame, I’ll attest that her off-screen performance was even better than her Emmy-winning work.
My GD was always the first cast member to RSVP to an event, the first to arrive and among the last to leave. She’d tirelessly work a room full of total strangers, charming each person while learning what they did (in case it might benefit her).
She worked our company too, knowing everyone’s name, who wielded the power, how our business was doing. She’d enthusiastically agree – again, ahead of a younger and often uninterested cast – to any promo shoot, appearance or tour, no matter how time-consuming.
The feelings were mutual. Our besotted CEO secretly extended our GD the nicest perks. Her occasional requests to us for help with outside projects were immediately handled.
And she became my pal. She counseled me on what buttons to push to win the cast’s cooperation and even served from time to time as my ambassador. She’d regularly phone to fill me in on her other activities, ask advice and inquire about last Saturday’s date. Not to mention some memorable dinners where she shared outrageous stories from her past, always over several bottles of excellent wine.
I was head of publicity, with decision-making and budget power. I knew I was being played to some degree. But what the hell: I simply adored her.
As Mother’s Day approaches along with Betty’s much-publicized “Saturday Night Live” hosting the night before (May 8), I celebrate the Great Dames. They’ve played the game masterfully. And for all of us women in the entertainment industry, we can learn a lot from them if we just watch: that while the boobs might drift south, the talent and the brains stay put.