My daughter asked me what will happen to the archived columns of the Kentucky Post newspaper once they shut their doors this December. It was a good question, and I am not sure exactly what they plan to do. So, I thought I would post on my blog one of our favorite columns. We both smile to remember back to that time when our dear friend, Ken Fields, was still with us. He was always on board with us, no matter what we wanted to do. Just like in this column written by our friend, David Wecker...
Clooney encounters of the close kind
I'm reminded once again that no matter how diligently I apply myself to climbing the ladder of success, whenever I look up, I'll be looking at the seat of some Clooney's pants.
Let me elaborate. The other morning, I had breakfast with Ruthie Johnson and her daughter, Amy Haller, of south Newport. I've known Ruthie for a few years. Amy, I just met.
Ruthie's in her mid-40s and teaches computer classes for Newport High. Amy's 28 and delivers The Kentucky Post to subscribers in Campbell County. Also, Amy looks very much like Meg Ryan with freckles. The fact is, she lights up rooms.
Ruthie and Amy are devoted Clooneyphiles. Ruthie says it started when she was a little girl. She remembers hearing Rosemary's songs while her mom was hanging laundry on the clothesline. As a former employee of the Beverly Hills Supper Club, she said it was somehow easier hearing about the fire from Nick on Channel 12.
One way or another, Nick was always on the TV in her living room or on the radio in her car, sharing some bit of information in that warm, comfortable way he has. Not just with her, of course — but with her nonetheless. She says it's like hearing from a friend.
The feeling rubbed off on Amy and transferred itself to George. Just as her mother followed Nick's career, Amy watched George graduate from "The Facts of Life" to "Roseanne" to "ER" and the big screen.
Anyway, Ruthie and Amy have had several Clooney encounters in recent months:
• In June, after the gala celebrating Nick's 50 years in broadcasting, Ruthie and Amy waited outside the back door at Music Hall until 3 a.m. for a glimpse of a Clooney.
When George emerged, Amy asked her mom for a scrap of paper so she could collect an autograph. Ruthie handed her a tattered ATM envelope. It was all she had.
"I apologized for the crummy piece of paper, and George said, `Yeah, it was pretty crummy.' And he laughed," Amy says. "He couldn't have been nicer."
• In July, the girls took Ruthie's '97 red Dodge Caravan to Rosemary's funeral. They were half an hour late, parking spots were scarce and yellow tape was everywhere.
"So we turned down an alley and saw a spot," Ruthie says.
"I realized, `Omigosh, we're behind the church.' On the other hand, it was half an hour into the service, so I seriously doubted it was being held for anyone — "
They stood in the back of the church. They cried when Nick got up to speak. And as Ruthie and Amy were leaving the church, the paparazzi descended on them. A woman in the crowd pointed at Amy and ID'd her as George's new girlfriend.
As Ruthie backed the Caravan into the alley, she discovered to her horror it was the third vehicle in the procession. Amy slunk in the passenger's seat, mortified. At the cemetery, men in suits opened the van doors and escorted them to the grave site.
Amy was scared to death she would be arrested. She remembers feeling guilty when people she didn't know began consoling her. She also remembers George having really nice sunglasses and looking really great. For her part, Ruthie concentrated on blending in.
• A few weeks ago, Ruthie and Amy persuaded Ken Fields, a long-time Newport school board member and basically my second dad, to accompany them to the fourth annual Rosemary Clooney Festival in Maysville.
"I went along to give them some legitimacy," he said.
The number on their table was 102, which Ken said put them three blocks from the stage, almost to the fence. But it didn't matter to Ruthie and Amy because they weren't in their seats more than a few minutes.
I sprinkled more hot sauce on my fried eggs as Ruthie and Amy took turns telling me what their evening was like. They told me about how friendly and gracious and charming everyone in the family was, about how they took time to talk to anyone who wanted to talk and about how it really was like a great big family gathering and they were part of it.
Then they showed me the photos. There's Amy and Nina, Nick and Amy, Amy and Dante DiPaolo and there's the both of them with George. It would have been perfect, if only Amy hadn't blinked when the shutter snapped.
"I think they're starting to recognize us," Amy said.
The day after the festival, Ruthie and Amy stopped at Walgreen's in Newport and dropped the film off to be developed. They had an hour to kill before their photos would be ready. So they hopped into the Caravan. Without really thinking about it, they found themselves on the AA Highway, headed for Augusta, Ky.
That's the kind of night it was for them.
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