"Curtis had actually been carrying a torch for Marilyn since they had a brief affair in their early days in Hollywood. Back then, he held off on bedding the ticking sex bomb because he sensed her concealed sadness."

So, Tony: were you concerned with Marilyn's "concealed sadness" and vulnerability when you said something beyond the pale about her ('it was like kissing Hitler')? Clearly Marilyn was troubled. Unfortunately, few of the men in her life were concerned enough for her to be decent human beings toward her (JFK, RFE, Arthur Miller, Joe DiMaggio, Tony Curtis, etc.).

Tony Curtis: Lips don't lie, by Kirby Sommers

Hey, more than anything else, I'm an Upper West Sider. In New York City, this is staking a claim in an area known to be less uptight about anything. So while shopping at the local Barnes & Noble this past Sunday, I discover to my delight that Tony Curtis...yes he's still alive...is going to premier his new book at the giant bookstore Tuesday night.

Now, you have to know the reading room at Barnes & Noble at their 66th Street location is small. So, I figure, okay I'll go. I'll sit. I'll listen. And, maybe I'll even meet the legendary actor. After all Elvis Presley dyed his hair jet-black because he wanted to look more like Tony Curtis. Anyone deserving of the King's obsession is okay with me.

"American Prince: A Memoir" has been in the works for two years and is a collaboration with best-selling author Peter Golenbock - one of the better-known sports writers. It is debuting on October 14, which I did not know when I trekked over to B&G.

As I walk toward the bookstore, I see a limousine and a crowd of overly dressed folks piling out of the car and forming a small crowd in front of the revolving doors. Among them is a man sporting a white cowboy hat. I decide to ignore them and as only New Yorkers do, everyone elbows their way into the store at the same time. It occurs to me this group may just be Curtis's entourage and as I step onto the escalator I look back to take a closer look. It is.

I realize the old guy being scurried into the elevator who seems to be hiding under an enormous white cowboy hat is Tony Curtis. Everything looks different. His eyes, his face, his body, and hell, even his size. Okay he's put on a little weight, but he's also taller than I would have guessed. The only thing I truly recognize are his lips. Those lips are his, they don't lie.

As I step off the escalator a stern looking woman who looks like a librarian in a bad mood is standing there with arms crossed, pursed lips, and one foot tapping the floor. It is clear to me he's late. Her eyes look past me as she skims the crowd. I want to tell her he's in the elevator, but decide to let someone who is part of his group give her this bit of good news.

I approach the computer department, which is just outside the reading room, and to my dismay see the entrance has been roped off. At least 5 employees and one burly New York Police Officer named Melendez armed with a really large gun are standing guard.

"Hi, I'm here for the book reading." I am poised, well dressed and anticipate a warm greeting with someone flinging open the red velvet rope allowing me access to my evening.

"Sorry, we're not letting anyone else in. You'll have to go stand on line." A small man wrapped in an ill-fitting burgundy uniform tells me as he points to an invisible line.

"I'll stand, really I just want to go in." I can see the room, plenty of people are seated and having made the trip standing suddenly doesn't seem like a bad idea.

"No, you'll have to stand on line," he repeats and once again points to a place where I see no line. The others around him begin to glare at me.

With everyone giving me the evil eye, I decide to go find the line the invisible line. So, I trudge off and make my way down the main aisle determined to find it. The tall white cowboy hat is coming towards me and before I know what's happening Tony Curtis grabs my hands (both of them), says hello, and smiles. If only this were 30, 40 years ago when he was beautiful and young and stunning I would have let my hands stay snugly in his. But my reflexes got the better of me and I pull away from the grasp of the old man with the Tony Curtis lips.

My bad. I am now left to my own devices and although I have managed to meet Mr. Curtis I am mortified to see the line does exist. It is behind a wall and wraps around several book aisles. I regret not following him into the room, but vow not to let the B&N gatekeepers from stealing my evening. I go back to the front of the velvet rope and once again ask to be let in.

This time I am bold. I tell them to ask Mr. Curtis to let me in. One of them sneers at me and says no. I meet a few people who, like me, had no idea this was going to be a big event. As it turned out some people got there at 4pm and of those a few got lucky and were in the room.

People begin to complain. "Barnes and Noble should have done a better job, I can't hear a thing," a woman named Carol moaned as she tried to focus at the small TV sized screen aimed at the ceiling leaving us to conclude that the only reason Tony Curtis wore a tall white hat was so he could be seen at the bottom of the screen.

Other than having actually met the man, the evening was horrible. The staff at B&G was rude -- I mean obnoxiously rude. At one point Melendez hand poised over that really big gun came over to me (I found an unobtrusive place where I could at least see the goings on in the room, not really hear them) and threatened to "escort me out." (!!)

"Are you threatening me Menendez, is that what you are doing? I come to a book reading and you are telling me that you are going to escort me out?" He must have realized I wasn't the type to go silently anywhere so he backed off. But, really, everyone was nasty. Everyone was offensive; no one at the B&G staff was even remotely polite.

The coolest cat there was the man with the Tony Curtis lips. And I for one am happy to have made his acquaintance.

2008 Copyright