I only saw her for a second, but I’ll never forget when she looked straight at me, smiled a famous smile, and said hello.
My old friend, Marc, let me crash at his apartment on 72nd between Central Park West and Columbus while I looked for a place for Billy and me to live. It was March of ’93 and I’d just secured a position as a talent agent at a largish agency.
Billy stayed in LA to pack up our stuff for the move across the country into our new place. “It better have a view,” he warned and I certainly delivered on that request.
Anyway, that particular day it was sunny with a nip. I was walking east toward the park and when I looked up, I saw Mary Tyler Moore striding, galloping really, toward me. She wore a long coat, unbuttoned, and I couldn’t help but show my absolute joy in seeing her.
And there it was. That smile. Her greeting. I said, “Thank you.” It sounded like a dumb thing to say, but I’ve always hoped that she knew my response was because her show changed the way I saw the world.
And that she suddenly made it all seem worthwhile.