Stay Interesting

by Jonathan Goldsmith

  I even got to thank Warren Beatty in person for all the help with the ladies he unknowingly gave me so many years before at the Beverly Wilshire Hotel. My son David was working crew on one of his movies. He told him my story and mentioned who I was and Beatty was a fan of the campaign and said he’d love to meet me. Soon after, we did meet, exchanging stories from our very different perspectives on Hollywood through the sixties, seventies, and eighties.

  I’ve also been able to use my celebrity for good. I’ve worked with Mines Advisory Group, an organization that removes old but still active mines and bombs in the jungles of Vietnam, Cambodia, and other parts of the world. I work with Caring Canines, a service-dog organization. With Willy, my Anatolian shepherd, who’s certified for service, by my side, we visit local old-age homes and the VA hospital. I am presently the proud chairperson of Make-A-Wish Vermont, which helps lift the spirits of children suffering from debilitating and life-threatening diseases in our state. Sometimes, when I see how the joy these young people experience can ease their pain and heal their physical maladies, I think back to Dr. Benji in the Philippines. Maybe we can heal with the mind. Maybe laughter, joy, elation, good friends, and a few wild adventures can make us better. If there is one thing I have learned in my long journey, it’s that life is far too serious to take seriously. I hope it’s something that you, my dear reader, learn as soon as possible.

  I have had so many experiences since the start of the roller coaster that was the Dos Equis campaign. They are too numerous to detail here, but there is one of note: Perhaps the most incredible encounter was when I, in my seventies, returned to camp to play once more with bows and arrows, as I had so many years before with my father.

  This time, the camp was Camp David. I was a birthday surprise for President Barack Obama.

  • • •

  The first time I met President Obama, I was part of a welcoming committee in the state of Vermont, where I reside. He was starting his second run for presidency, and we were invited to be in a greeting line of about two hundred people. Barbara, my agent, who was by then also my wife, was right when she said he would recognize me: He is a big sports fan, and the campaign ran heavily on ESPN. Our ten-second photo op turned into a several-minute conversation.

  I thought, This must be a setup. Someone has to be playing a joke on me, and they prompted him with information. But when he mentioned that he loved a New Yorker feature about me that had been printed a year earlier and quoted from the commercials, I knew this was serious. I drove home feeling as if it were a dream. The president of the United States was interested in me.

  Six months or so later, I got a call from one of his deputies at the White House. Would I like to be part of a special celebration for the president on his birthday? Ten of Obama’s best friends in the world—friends from high school and grade school, mostly—were to be in attendance. And me, chosen as his surprise guest. All top secret.

  You bet I would.

  The Secret Service picked me up at Reagan National Airport, and a few hours later I was at Camp David, the president’s private retreat, usually reserved for visiting heads of state. Frankly, I would have thought they would have chosen George Clooney, who is not only a huge movie star but also a good friend of Obama’s and a fund-raiser for the Democratic Party. I just hoped the president wouldn’t be disappointed.

  There was to be fun and games all weekend, sporting events like bowling, riflery, and more. And archery. The president was set to arrive momentarily. Wanting to make a strong first impression, I thought of what my father had done in those woods at our camp so many years ago. I picked up five or six shafts and went over to the target and stuck them together in a tight cluster near the bull’s-eye. Then I went back to the shooting position and stood with a bow and a single arrow as I inspected my “work.”

  I could hear the president coming with an aide.

  “Damn,” the president said in a half-hushed whisper, “this guy’s good.”

  I turned around and, feigning bemused resentment, said, “What took you so long?”

  He clapped his hands and laughed. He could not have been nearly as happy and amazed as I was to be there. I was to meet him two more times, once at the White House Correspondents’ Dinner and once in the Oval Office.

  The former was brief; the latter was as well, but it left me with something even more tangible than an incredible memory. I had been asked by the president’s personal photographer, Pete Souza, to have lunch. Unfortunately, the day before our scheduled meeting, there was the tragic terrorist attack at the Charlie Hebdo office in Paris. I was sure the lunch would be canceled, as I assumed that the president and his photographer would be on their way to Paris.

  The lunch was on, however. But I was informed that, for obvious reasons, the president would not attend or even make an appearance. After lunch, Pete asked if I would like to see the Oval Office. I jumped at the opportunity. What an awesome sense of wonder and history just to step inside such a place. Here was Roosevelt’s chair for the fireside chats. Here was the bust of Martin Luther King Jr. The desk, a gift from the queen.

  Suddenly, the doors swung open and energy filled the room. It was the president. He saw me.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked.

  “I came to give you this,” I said, thinking fast, reaching into my jacket pocket and producing a Cuban cigar. “And what are you doing here?” I asked the president.

  “Hey, man. I work here,” he said. “I came to give you this.”

  It was a little blue jewelry box. Inside were gold presidential cuff links.

  I pull them out from time to time. I wonder if they are real gold. But I would never have them appraised. I already know their value. To me, like so many memories, experiences, people, and places that I have had in my life, they are priceless.

  Acknowledgments

  This book is finished, but hopefully the story continues for a good while yet, filled with more adventures, misadventures, escapades, friendships, and, most of all, the interesting people without whom life would certainly not be the same.

  If I’m being honest, I wish this all hadn’t taken so long. But, then again, maybe if success had come earlier it wouldn’t have meant as much as it does now. (And, of course, it would have given me more chances to screw it up.) The harder knocks, disappointments, and travails one has, the more opportunity one has to gain awareness of who the devil we really are. I’m still trying.

  As I look back and reminisce over my journey and contemplate surviving the turbulence and difficulties inherent in all our lives to becoming a successful actor and, hopefully and more important, a successful man, I have many people to thank.

  First, of course, is “the Coach,” my dear father, Milton, without whom your author would never have been. His advice to a little boy many years ago to “never give up” has sustained and driven me all these years.

  To all those who told me no, a special thanks. You also drove me on, giving me the resolve to determine my own worth, pursue my own dreams, and define my own destiny.

  To my many friends and fans: Thanks for your kind thoughts and support, without which success would have been not only more elusive but devoid of any real meaning.

  To my dogs, who have taught me much about unconditional love and simple joys, and to those few horses in Hollywood who didn’t throw me: my heartfelt gratitude.

  To the Reverend Steve Berry, who opened my heart and eyes to the mysteries of life.

  To John McEntee, my booking agent, who is always looking out for me, far beyond the realm of booking.

  To Chris Budden at Havas Agency, for his friendship.

  To the advertising creatives Brandon Henderson, Karl Lieberman, and Jeff Kling, who came up with the Most Interesting Man in the World campaign: Though I have gotten the accolades and recognition, you are the unsung heroes. I trust by now you have moved out of your parents’ base
ments and have gone on to other interesting campaigns worthy of your talents.

  Through its tenure, there were copywriters, art directors, account leads, producers, clients, and so many more who dedicated themselves to the development of the advertising campaign. I am indebted to them all. They are too numerous to name, but two deserve special mention: the director, Steve Miller, and the entire crew at Radical Media, who helped to craft the look, feel, and tone of the campaign and made filming a joy for nearly ten years. And the mad genius Paul Fix, who, as creative director, helmed the campaign for nearly four years and then helped me in the construction, organization, and completion of my own story. Thanks always for your rare talent and friendship.

  And, speaking of my own story, a sincere thank-you to Bryan Bender, the young and talented writer—then at The Boston Globe, now at Politico—who, after interviewing me upon my return from Vietnam, suggested I had a story to tell. He got the ball rolling for this book. Bryan, your ongoing friendship is so appreciated.

  To Captain Ed Aigeltinger for the adventures and close calls.

  To my wonderful lawyer, Ailleen Gorospe. My dear buddies for the good times: Tony, Les, Bob, Clark, Eric, and Jamie.

  To Jill Schwartzman, my editor, and her crew at Dutton, especially Jamie Knapp, Andrea Monagle, and Marya Pasciuto, thanks for all your support, friendship, and hard work.

  Special thanks to the inimitable Marcus Wiley, my business partner and dear friend, for his guidance, good taste, and innate ability to smooth the road on this lovely ride.

  To my children, David, Drew, Cory, Jillian, and Karrie: You are my inspiration, who I think of more than you know.

  And of course my wife, Barbara the Empress, who has had so much to do with my good fortune.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Jonathan Goldsmith grew up in the Bronx, trained in theater in New York City, and then moved to Los Angeles. After decades in Hollywood and many adventures, he moved to the country in Vermont, where he now lives with his wife, Barbara, and two beloved dogs, Willy and Zoey.

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