SPAAZZ

Prompted by a prompt for a short story about an 'unlikely friendship' I drew again on a real moment of my life. I have newspaper articles attesting to this having happened. If anyone would like to see one, just let me know.

First, allow me to introduce the person with whom I shared this ‘unlikely friendship.’ Zsa Zsa Gabor.

Zsa Zsa appeared in several mostly B-type films always playing the not-so-bright materialistic seductress which, for her, required little acting skill. Because that's what she was. In real life she'd been married nine times to nine different very wealthy men. She wore mink, drove the finest of cars and lived in a collection of mansions with pools. Her wrists, fingers and neck were like magnets for diamonds. The story was, before coming to Hollywood, she and her two sisters Eva and Magda were Hungarian beauty queens who made a daring escape from the Nazi's.

It was 1989 and Zsa Zsa's star, which was never all that bright to begin with, had faded. from time-to-time she'd appear on game shows or in a cameo appearance on TV shows like The Love Boat. But, for the most part, she had become a has been who never was. One day, as she cruised the streets of Beverly Hills in her Rolls Royce she was stopped for an expired tag by motorcycle cop Paul Kramer. Only thirty-two at the time, Kramer had no idea of Zsa Zsa's history of thespian mediocrity and treated her as just another traffic stop.

Zsa Zsa took exception to how Kramer treated her and retaliated with a slap. Kramer, as most cops often do after being assaulted, arrested her. The story catapulted Zsa Zsa into the headlines. The media dubbed it: ‘The Slap Heard Round the World!’ This is where I come in. I was working as a creative director for an ad agency over 3000 miles away in Orlando. At the time, the Internet and email were in their infancy. All news came from newspapers, TV and radio. I had a wife, baby daughter, a job I loved and was a happy man. Zsa Zsa Gabor wasn’t so much as a blip on the radar of my life.

The story of the slap dominated the front pages of newspapers, was the main topic of discussion on drive time radio shows. TV news couldn’t get enough of it. It riveted the nation! Consider all the things that dominate the media these days. Now, imagine an America obsessed with a comically iconic Hollywood bimbo slapping a motorcycle cop pushing everything else off your news feeds. Welcome to the USA, circa 1989. For me, the overblown reporting on the incident was far more absurd than the slap. Why was everyone so obsessed with this? I decided to get in on the act.

I came up with a phony-baloney Zsa Zsa support group and called it SPAAZZ (Society for the Prevention of Against Anything Zsa Zsa). I appointed myself group spokesman, wrote a press release introducing the group that lauded Zsa Zsa for all of her noteworthy accomplishments, such as escaping from the Nazi's with her two sisters. SPAAZZ reminded Americans of the many B-movies she appeared in and how her career redefined the definition of the true value of cleavage. I intentionally created an absolutely absurd organization run by a totally off-the-wall character with a Zsa Zsa Gabor fetish in answer to the absurd news coverage. I thought the media would see this more of a satire on them, not Zsa Zsa. Out the release went.

The next morning, as I got out of the shower my wife said I had a phone call. It was a New York City radio station. Don Imus, host of the most listened to morning drive time show in the Big Apple wanted to interview me about SPAAZZ. I couldn’t believe it. I spoke to Imus and his millions of listeners with a thick Eastern European accent and pronounced my hometown as ‘Joylando.’ I said ridiculous things as seriously as I could. I defended Zsa! When it was over, Imus asked if I’d be willing to come on the show again. Of course! When I got to work that day, messages from a half dozen different newspapers and radio programs were waiting. I couldn’t do anything about that now. The agencies biggest client, the Florida Department of Citrus, was in the conference room. I had a major presentation to make.

Picture a sizable conference room table. Six men, all citrus farmers, the two owners of the agency, top media exec, top production exec and myself discussing the serious business of how best to sell oranges and grapefruit. In the middle of the table there’s a speaker phone. It rings. Keep in mind, the agency had a standing order to never interrupt a client conference. The receptionist knew this but did it anyway. Her voice had a clear tremble.

“Paul, there’s a call for you.”

Before I could say a word, one of the agency owners barked.

“Damn it, Patricia! You know better than to interrupt…”

At which point, Patricia interrupted him.

“But it’s Zsa Zsa Gabor calling from Beverly Hills. She wants to talk to Paul.”

You could hear a grapefruit seed drop.

“Zsa Zsa Gabor!” one the farmers cried out.

“Why the hell would Zsa Zsa Gabor want to talk to you?” another citrus sodbuster demanded.

I summarized, as quickly as I could, the organization SPAAZZ, the press release, the interview I did on Imus’s show and the messages I'd received. The clients erupted.

“Damn! Let’s hear what the bitch has to say!”

The owners of the agency, also laughing, told Patricia to put the call through. Everyone in the room went silent so Zsa Zsa wouldn’t know they were there. I adopted my Eastern European persona. The conversation went something like this.

“Hello Zsa Zsa darhling! I am so honored to have you call me here in Joylando!”

“Oh Paul, I want to thank you so much for coming to my rescue darhling!”

“Zsa, you are the most misunderstood Hollywood star in the world!”

“Yes! They all think I’m a whore, but I never sleep with a man unless I marry him!”

“So, you have been in love nine times?”

The farmers and the others were struggling to maintain their composure.

“I’ll tell you who was a whore! Grace Kelly, she was a whore!”

The farmers and others struggled harder.

“Damn her. Everyone thinks she a sweet little princess because she married a prince!" I replied with mock Eastern European accented anger.

“I just married Prince Frederic von Anhalt so I am a princess too!”

The farmers and the others lost the struggle against composure.

“Who is that laughing?” Zsa Zsa asked.

I had to think quick! “Those are members of the Joylando chapter of SPAAZZ!”

Zsa Zsa become more excited, “Oh! Thank you, thank you all!”

Each of the farmers replied with appropriate expressions of gratitude.

"We're with you all the way Zsa Zsa!" "Give 'em hell Zsa!" "Loved you in Ball of Nations honey."

"Oh, you all sound so wonderful!"

“They are so grateful to be able to express to the world their Zsa-ness.”

I swear, I was making this shit up on the spot. The ‘unlikely friendship’ had begun.

I ended the call by thanking Zsa Zsa for taking time from her busy schedule to show her support for SPAAZZ and promised we’d do more. And more, we did. Another one of our clients was the Orlando Sentinel newspaper. I was a friend with their funniest editorial writer. I bestowed upon him the title of Executive Vice President of SPAAZZ propaganda. He was honored. With help from volunteers we created The Zsa Zsa Support Kit. It consisted of a t-shirt and handheld placard with fuzzy pink letters reading, Free Zsa Zsa! The kit sold for $19.95 and came with a free bumpem'-to-bumpem' sticker to put on your Rolls Royce.

Newspapers from Los Angeles to New York picked up the SPAAZZ story. Some featured a handsome model wearing the shirt. The first sizable order for thirty kits came from officer Paul Kramer’s sister. It was his birthday, and she wanted to surprise him by having everyone at the party wear the shirt and wave the placard. As all this was going on, Zsa Zsa and I remained in contact. She asked about my job, my wife and baby. I ask about her experiences in Hollywood and about her and her sisters daring escape from the Nazi’s. We spoke as many as three times a week as the SPAAZZ train rolled on.

We promoted the ‘Copy Your Face for Zsa Zsa Contest’. The Internet was in its infancy and things like JPEGs and PDF’s did not exist. Who cares! We had the Orlando Sentinel! It ran a story on the contest, the national newspaper USA Today picked up on it then other print, TV and radio media followed. To enter, people had to put their face on a Xerox-type machine, copy it, include a handwritten message of support and snail mail it to a PO Box in Joylando. The prize was a free trip to Budapest. No hotel, no expense money. You had to find a way to get your own ass to New York where a round-trip ticket for one (coach) was waiting. The winner would fly to Budapest and return on the same day. We got thousands of entries. A Japanese guy who submitted several entries on Japanese Embassy letterhead won. I still have hundreds of those entries to this day. Why? Why? Why did I save them?

We recorded a song titled She’s So Zsa written to the melody of the rock classic, He’s So Fine. The lyrics went something like this.

She’s so Zsa (dooda-lang) So is her car (dooda-lang)

Everyday rules don’t apply (dooda-lang) whether she drives, or she flies

'cause so Zsaaaa!

Sooner or later, she’s gonna marry Wally Gator!

Zsa Zsa loved it! So did the radio stations! There was a decent steak house around the corner from the agency. Three times a week I’d have lunch at the bar and use the house phone to appear as a guest for a San Francisco radio station. It was 11:30 AM in Joylando, 8:30 AM in S.F. – drive time! I never abandoned the character of the eccentric European accented Zsa Zsa cheerleader from Joylando.

On the day of Zsa Zsa’s trial, there were people wearing SPAAZZ t-shirts and carrying the placards with the fuzzy pink letters on the courthouse steps. I saw it on TV and studied the faces. They were laughing and joking and having fun with it. Perfect, vintage Americans circa 1989. It felt good to see people having so much fun with the absurdity of it all but, at the same time, it seemed in perfect character for what Americans were, at the time. People who had no problem laughing at themselves.

Zsa Zsa was found guilty, sentenced to 72 hours in jail, 120 hours of community service and ordered to pay $13,000 in fines and retribution. When she called, I was afraid she might ask SPAAZ to cover the penalty using profits from all the shit we sold. That money was long gone. I bought my wife a fine used Honda and my baby girl some toys. But asking for money was not a ‘Zsa’ thing to do. She thanked me again for standing by her. Then, she began to confess things she thought no one else knew.

“My husband, Prince Frederic von Anhalt isn’t a real prince. He bought the title to impress me, isn’t that sweet? Grace Kelly wasn’t really a whore. I was angry when I said that. She liked to fool around some, she was more of a tease. People can be so cruel darhling. Who is this Wally Gator person? Is he rich?”

This was to be Zsa's last hurrah, and I felt toward her as I would any friend. The sound of the Slap Heard 'Round the World was gone. The world had new things to talk about. The Berlin Wall came down, Nelson Mandela was released from prison, the Hubble Space Telescope was launched, and the Soviet Union was on the decline. A blur of monumental technological advancements, one after the other, changed the landscape for all humanity. From time-to-time Zsa Zsa and I would talk but it was never the same. Like everything, even she had changed, as had I and the whole damn country. She died in 2016, twenty-seven years after the ‘Slap' and the great organization known as SPAAZZ put her back in the spotlight. Her bought and paid for prince of a husband invited me to attend the services. I respectfully declined but sent flowers and a condolence card with fuzzy pink letters.

I keep news clippings and Copy Your Face for Zsa Zsa Contest entries in a plastic box. I think the reason I’ve held on to them was to be able to show physical proof to doubters of this crazy story. The prompt prompted me to open the box and look at them again. This time, when I did, it occurred to me there might be another reason. SPAAZZ lasted for about four calendar months. The ‘unlikely friendship’ between Zsa Zsa Gabor and I went on for years and I'll cherish it to my dying day. Not only because of the absurdity of the whole thing but because, in its way, it represents an America that will never be again. We don’t enjoy our absurdities in the same way. Instead, we darken them to divide ourselves from friends, family, strangers and other nations. 'Our neighbor is eating the cat, the gamma ray from the satellite is starting wildfires and the earth is flat again.' Wonderful absurdities, but all lacking the laughter.

If ever there were a need for people to ignite and engage in ‘unlikely friendships’, now is the time. When you put in the effort to get to know someone with whom you appear to share nothing, you grow. That's what 'unlikely friendships' do. They introduce you to new songs, new jokes, new thinking and in a way, you become something new too. My unlikely friendship with Zsa Zsa taught me to never judge a book by its cover, the value of self-effacing humor and to appreciate the importance of how every person feels about themselves.

How about you? In these modern times filled with fear and suspicion, what is the real-world likelihood of you to ever summon the courage to become someone else’s unlikely friend? Try it. See what it felt like to be an American in 1989. Who knows? It just might blossom into a relationship you’ll cherish forever. Even if it doesn’t, I guarantee you’ll learn something about yourself. And that darhling, is a certainty.