Photo Courtesy the Daily Mail
From time to time I post stories about interactions with "celebrities," my having lived in Hollywood for over three decades working as a waiter in a celebrity restaurant prior to becoming a photographer for the LA Times and others, as well as being a member of Gold's Gyms for much of those years.
Years ago I was a member of Easton’s Gym on Beverly Blvd. in Los Angeles. One of the other members was Sid Krofft, who along with his brother Marty just this week received their star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame (see photo above). The brothers produced a shitload of kids TV shows that aired mostly on Saturday mornings.
Sid in his younger days was handsome, very rich, and had a rockin’ body—and arrogantly acted every bit the part. He was a regular at Venice Beach, showing up every weekend with a new boyfriend. He and I had said hello a few times as people do when regulars at the same gym.
His name was Sid. Everyone called him Sid. His production company was advertised and promoted as “Sid and Marty Krofft Productions.” One day at the gym I passed him on my way to use a flat bench and said “How you doin’ there, Sid?”
He replied, “Sydas.”
I said, “Excuse me?”
He repeated, “Sydas. My name is Sydas.”
Picking up on his bullshit instantly, based on overhearing past exchanges between him and those he looked down upon I said, “So, you changed your name now? It’s now “Sydas and Marty Krofft Productions?” I didn’t notice that change on the credits of your TV show last Saturday. When did that happen, Sydas?”
The gentleman never spoke to me again.
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