I'm celebrating my 25th Anniversary.

 

In May, 1982, I married my typewriter.

 

For better or worse, for richer or poorer (they don't call us starving writers for nuthin'), in sickness and in health (a deadline's a deadline whether you feel okay or not), forsaking all others (I've never cheated on my typewriter with a computer), I've been a full-time writer ever since.

 

I've interviewed thousands of people and I've had more than 500 articles published in dozens of magazines and newspapers. I've had two of my own books published, and have ghosted seven, with five more in the publishing pipeline. I've edited fiction and non-fiction, coached writers and authors, and played book midwife. As a journalist, I've written features, columns, essays, and criticism. I've covered a variety of topics in the arts and sciences. Along the way, I've also worked in TV and radio. I've written promotional material, designed book covers and newsletters, and have done voice-overs.

 

Okay, you get the picture: I'm pooped.

 

But, I'm also still rarin' to go. I can't help it. As any writer will tell you, this isn't just what we do, it's who we are. Somebody once asked me what I plan to do years from now when I retire.

 

"Retire?" I said. "Oh, no, writers don't retire, they just type slower."

 

I was 26 when I took the full-time freelance plunge, and since then I've accumulated a gazillion stories behind the stories. I could fill up a book (hint, hint: any publishers out there interested?), but for right now I'll just fill up a couple of columns.

 

IT ISN'T EASY BEING GREEN: It's the mid-1980s and I'm a Contributing Writer for South Florida magazine. It's 8:00 Saturday morning and I'm in a deep sleep. The phone rings. I answer it, still half asleep. I hear a very familiar voice. I know that voice, it's Kermit the Frog. Kermit the Frog? What the hell is Kermit the Frog doing calling me? I realize that I'm sleepily carrying on a conversation with a Muppet. I must be dreaming. A minute or so into the conversation -- believe it or not, I sense that I'm actually making sense as I talk to the famous TV puppet -- it hits me: I had scheduled an 8:00 a.m. phone interview with Muppets creator Jim Hensen, also the voice of Kermit. So much the voice of Kermit that they sounded exactly alike. I told him that as I startled myself fully awake. I got out of bed and finished the interview. Hensen, who, sadly, died of pneumonia years later, was just as nice as Kermit.

 

NOT SO NICE: Also in the 1980s, I'm beyond excited because I'm going to interview one of my comedy idols, Sid Caesar. The genius. The legend. The star of the 1950s sketch comedy hit TV series, Your Show of Shows, which is still the gold standard. Unfortunately, during the interview, I find out what many others have discovered when dealing with Caesar when the camera isn't on. In 2002, on CBS's Sunday Morning, playwright Neil Simon, who got his start writing for Your Show of Shows, says: "Caesar was both the funniest man I ever worked with, and the angriest." Neil Simon was right. Too bad that when I interviewed Caesar I wasn't treated to any of his funny side. Instead, I saw the angriest man I've ever met. I never submitted the article for publication. I can't enjoy his work the way I used to. And, after Caesar, for a while I was wary of interviewing someone whose work I really admire.

 

TO INTERVIEW OR NOT TO INTERVIEW, THAT IS THE QUESTION: It's the fall of 1987, and I've just seen singer/songwriter Dan Fogelberg in concert for the third time. I'm a huge fan. Have been since I first heard one of his albums back in 1974 when I was a college freshman. No, huge fan isn't right. I'm his biggest fan. It's all about the music and the lyrics. I'm a musician, too (a pianist), and this is the admiration one musician/writer has for another. I have every album, I know every song. Okay, so he's a hunk, but I swear this is about the music, the lyrics, the voice. He's been dubbed "the thinking woman's sex symbol," but that's just the icing on the cake. Really. I want to interview him, but I'm worried. After the Caesar fiasco, I worry that if Fogelberg turns out to be a jerk, I'll never be able to listen to him the same way again. Maybe I should forget about it, leave well enough alone, just be a "civilian" with this one and not a journalist. Nah, I have to interview him. But, first, I'll see if I can find out if he's a creep. I call a music critic I know. He tells me not to worry. Fogelberg's a terrific guy. But, there's one problem: he hardly ever gives in-person interviews. If he agrees to an interview, it'll almost certainly be by phone.

 

SETTING UP THE FOGELBERG INTERVIEW: Ever the optimist, I just know he'll agree to an interview, and I just know it'll be in-person. I call his "people," and I'm told that the interview will probably be by phone if Fogelberg agrees to do it at all. That doesn't matter, I think, he'll end up agreeing to do it in-person. A few days go by, then I get the call: "I don't know why, but Dan's agreed to do the interview in person, after his concert in Philadelphia." Hearing this, I'm ever so professional on the phone as I make the arrangements. Then I hang up and run around my kitchen screaming. This will not be the last of the screaming.

 

THE LARRY KING/DAN FOGELBERG WEEKEND: I've been talking to Larry King about doing an interview. This'll be fun: an interviewer interviewing an interviewer. It will be published in Sunshine, the Sunday magazine of The Ft. Lauderdale Sun-Sentinel. I'm a frequent contributor. Larry got his start in Miami on the radio. Now he's got a nationally syndicated radio show, and he's had his CNN television show, Larry King Live, for a little more than two years. I try to also sell my article to TV Guide, but they're not interested: it's only cable, they tell me, and cable doesn't mean anything. Obviously, I'm ahead of my time and TV Guide has seriously misjudged cable's potential. I've always been an absurd mix: a late bloomer in some areas and ahead of my time in others. Less than a year later, TV Guide is trying to get Larry King to write a column for them.

 

Anyway, back to the interview. I'm going to fly from Miami to Washington, D.C., interview Larry on Thursday night, November 19, 1987, his 54th birthday, at the CNN studios. I'll stay for the show, then drive with him the few miles to Virginia, to the radio studio where he does his show from 11 p.m. until 3 a.m. A few hours later, I'll take a train to Philadelphia, rent a car and drive out to the suburb where Dan Fogelberg will perform on Friday night.

 

I arrive in Washington and I have the afternoon to myself before I'm to meet an old friend for dinner then go over to CNN. So, I do what any information junkie would do: I zip through the Smithsonian in less than three hours. All I really remember are Dorothy's ruby slippers and Archie Bunker's chair.

 

At CNN, Larry's staff is welcoming, and Larry is a delight. He's just as good an interviewee as he is an interviewer. A great storyteller and pee-in-your-pants funny. After the show, we drive over to the radio studio. He does a one-hour interview with Kathleen Tynan, author of The Life of Kenneth Tynan, a biography of her late husband, the legendary British theater critic. Then, Larry throws open the phone lines for three hours of conversations with callers about anything and everything. Off the air during brief news and commercial breaks, Larry and I continue our conversation.

 

Larry tells me more stories, makes me laugh again and again, then tells me about the heart bypass surgery he's scheduled to have in a few weeks. Sometime around 2 a.m., he gets around to making a pass. He delivers a line I later learn he uses with pretty much everyone female, civilians and journalists: "Can't you feel the chemistry?"

 

"Actually, Larry, I can't," I laugh, "and I don't think you do either. I think you'd flirt with any girl between the ages of eight and eighty."

 

He pretends to be hurt, but we both know he's not. I get him laughing again. I know that he's between wives, and, hey, a guy's gotta try. He behaves for the rest of the night. He was a wonderful interview, one of my favorites.

 

A few hours later, I'm on a train to Philly. I'm beside myself. I'M GOING TO INTERVIEW DAN FOGELBERG! I'd told my then-husband that this interview was going to be the best day of my life.

 

"Better than our wedding?" he asks.

 

"No contest," I tell him. It's a good thing he has a marvelous sense of humor.

 

When I arrive in Philly, I rent a car and then realize that I have a major rite of passage ahead of me. Oh, dear Lord, I have to drive on the Skuylkill Expressway. I'd grown up in one of the Philly suburbs, but had moved down to Miami at fifteen. Throughout my childhood, I'd heard the terrifying tales of driving the dreaded Skuylkill (dubbed "The Sure-Kill") Expressway. I was too young to drive it myself when I lived there, and had deliberately avoided it later on visits back home. But, now, I have no choice. There's really no other way to get where I need to go in a reasonable amount of time. I'm 31, I'm supposed to be the brave journalist. Okay, maybe not so brave. After all, I don't do hard news. I'm a feature writer. I 've never wanted to do "dead body journalism." But, still, I pride myself in being pretty darn brave, anyway. I was going to drive "The Sure-Kill," and I was going to live to tell about it. In case you think I'm exaggerating, remember that the TV show thirtysomething, which ran from the mid-1980s through the spring of '91, disposed of one of its major characters, Gary, by killing him in a car accident on the Skuylkill Expressway.

 

I figure that I've had some good training driving the nightmarish expressways in Miami, and I enter "The Sure-Kill." It doesn't have enough lanes and it winds around a lot, parallel to the Skuylkill River, but other than that I discover that it isn't that bad. Actually, it's all relative. It isn't that bad only because Miami is so much worse.

 

When I arrive at my hotel, I walk into my room, put my bags down, and dial the phone.

 

"I did it," I say to my parents. "I drove the Skuylkill Expressway. And I survived."

 

I go to the Dan Fogelberg concert and keep reminding myself to breathe. I have my journalist hat on, so to speak, so I play the role of calm, cool professional. I'll do the interview in his dressing room after the show. My article will be published by American Songwriter magazine.

 

Proudly bearing my backstage guest pass, I'm ushered into his dressing room. I'm ridiculously calm as I shake Dan Fogelberg's hand. I'm great in a crisis. Not that this is a crisis, but you know what I mean. Great under pressure. I go nuts later. So, I sit down with my tape recorder and do one of my two favorite interviews (you'll read about the other one in Part Two in the next issue) of my entire career. My music critic acquaintance was right. Dan Fogelberg is a terrific guy. His fiance (whom he later marries) and his road manager come and go during the hour-plus interview. I talk to Dan musician and writer to musician and writer.

 

We have a fascinating conversation.

 

He's a perfect gentleman. Rats!

 

When the interview is over, I drive back to my hotel, walk into my room, put my stuff down, and then run around in circles screaming.

 

I spend the rest of the weekend in Philly, and then fly back to Miami on Sunday.

 

When my then-husband picks me up at the airport, I say, "You're the luckiest man in the world."

 

"Why?" he asks.

 

"Because the wrong guy made the pass."

 

"You mean Larry King made a pass at you?"

 

"Yup."

 

"What would you have done if Dan Fogelberg had made the pass?"

 

I don't miss a beat. I look at hubby, smile, and say, "Well, I sure as hell wouldn't be standing here!"

 

He knew I was only kidding. Okay, half-kidding. Oh, alright, I probably wasn't kidding at all. Like I said, it's a good thing he has a marvelous sense of humor.

 

NEXT ISSUE: More stories behind the stories, including more Larry King, my without-a-book Oprah appearance, Christopher Reeve, Arun Gandhi, and covering the media and the publishing industry.

 

P.S. Larry King is celebrating 50 years in broadcasting. Let's all wish a Happy Anniversary to the industry's best interviewer and a tireless promoter of good books and their authors!