When I think of Katie, I don’t think of her then, on our screens each morning — I think of her now. Here’s a woman who left one of the most high-profile TV jobs in existence, and could have slowly disappeared afterward. But instead, Katie has gone on to multiple endeavors and remains very much part of the current media and political landscape.
Which got me thinking about how other famous people move forward in their lives: If Greta Garbo (who famously proclaimed “I vant to be alone!”) had been reincarnated as a man, he would likely be Daniel Day-Lewis. The three-time Oscar winner is emerging from retirement after seven years away from the screen. He’s starring in the upcoming film Anemone, which marks the directorial debut of his son. No one could believe that this remarkable actor was truly leaving the public eye — as he declared — to cobble shoes in New England. (Well technically, he succeeded for almost a decade.)
There have been others in the entertainment world who sought solitary solace after major careers. Gene Hackman’s life ended with a bleak passing, but it was preceded by a chosen non-public lifestyle. Anne Bancroft won Oscars, Tonys, and Emmys, as well as marrying Mel Brooks, but was extremely private and rarely gave interviews. “Both my parents lived by the philosophy that you don’t take a picture with people you don’t know,” says their son, Max. “They loved being with friends, but my mother, in particular, did not need to be adored by strangers.”
In the sports world, Yankees Derek Jeter and Alex Rodriguez took swings at privacy after ballfield fame, but returned as commentators and/or owners. One Hall-of-Famer who truly chose to disappear was Dodger pitcher Sandy Koufax, who also rarely made public appearances. His friend, writer-philosopher Noah benShea, says, “I think Sandy was deeply private even at his most public fame. It is a place he rarely left. I think that pitchers in baseball, generally, like quarterbacks in football, tend to live on the field in private places…the crowd is interesting but not intimate to them.”
Two former tennis champions, one male, one female, have succeeded in managing post-trophy lives in relative silence: Pete Sampras hasn’t been seen much in years. (A gossip article recently remarked on his “rare public appearance” while on a coffee run.) His former rival, Andre Agassi, recently took on a commentator role, and many former Hall of Famers appeared at Wimbledon a few years back for a big event — Sampras was not there. He made it known a few years back that his wife is fighting cancer, but his desire for privacy dates farther back than that.
“Pete was always very private and quiet…painfully shy,” says sports broadcaster Andrea Joyce. She recalls spending wee hours one morning, awaiting the player after he’d been sick during a match at the U.S. Open. “He finally came out and I asked him how he was doing. ‘Fine’….one word, that was it. He was uncomfortable with any attention. In that way, he was a lot like Steffi Graff. I think if she didn’t marry Agassi, we’d never hear about her either. I once asked what her ideal match would be. Her answer? Center Court at Wimbledon against Martina with no crowd.”
In the political world, I consider George W. Bush among the limelight-avoiders. When three living presidents — Biden, Obama and Clinton — came together for Los Angeles and New York events, I wasn’t alone in thinking how powerful it would have been if Bush had also appeared on those stages. Those who have seen W recently note that he’s spending his time painting, believing that the works will speak for themselves. But as esteemed Texas-based historian H.W. Brands notes, “Aside from having respect for the office of the president, Bush 43, I believe, feels an obligation to the Republican party, and a desire not to make more difficult a post-Trump return to its longtime values and policies.”
As for literary stars, two of the most famous authors in the American canon — Harper Lee and Margaret Mitchell — had enough attention via one legendary book apiece. Of course, J.D. Salinger — whose Catcher in the Rye still sells 250,000 copies a year — famously chose to stay out of the public eye. “He retreated to Cornish, New Hampshire in 1955,” says Stephen Shepard, author of last year’s Salinger’s Soul. “He was a celebrity recluse, becoming famous for not wanting to be famous. He had also become a devout worshipper of a mystical form of Hinduism called Vedanta, which frowned on any act of ego.” (Salinger paid the price when an admiring student became a temporary girlfriend and subsequently wrote about their relationship.) And notoriously, private novelist Thomas Pynchon will be unleashing his ninth, Shadow Ticket, in October.
Musicians, of course, are in all different positions across the public/private landscape. The two remaining Beatles, ironically, are those who most embraced semi-regular public lives. With this month’s death of The Beach Boys’ Brian Wilson, we’re reminded of the too-common melodic mix of genius, anxiety, and mental illness that brought him fame and caused his reclusiveness. Back in the early 70s, I had a brief relationship with Bobby Darin when he was changing his name (Robert), his music (folk), his clothes (denim, mustache), and his domain (a trailer). It saddened him when he had to trot out Old Mack (the Knife) in order to make a living. It’s not that Darin didn’t like his fame, but he thought he had built up enough good will to change his tune. Alas.
Clearly, it’s not always easy to make a transition — whether it’s a creative transformation or the transition from renown to retirement. As a writer, I cover the theatre world, and watch the Jackmans, Clooneys, and Culkins sign hundreds of Playbills after a long show. Could they — if so desired — accept so-called normal lives, without the adulation? It’s hard to guess, but that’s certainly not the case for all celebs. Molly Jong Fast, in her new memoir about her feminist mother, Erica Jong, writes, “She had that thing many celebrities have where they can’t be alone. My mother and grandfather, Howard Fast, couldn’t get over not being famous.”
Which celeb will fade gently from front-page fodder into our collective memory next? Your guess is as good as mine. Just try not to snap a pic if you spot them on a coffee run.
Michele Willens is the author of From Mouseketeers to Menopause
