‘As I Once Told Old Dino …’

I’ll admit, I’ve done some name-dropping in my time.

During a discussion of, I don’t know, wheat-growing conditions, I have been known to casually drop in the remark, “You know, I was chatting with John Travolta the other day, and he told me … “

Everybody stares at me, either vastly impressed or vastly disgusted. It’s hard to tell which.

Then I continue with some fascinating words straight from this world-famous celebrity’s own mouth.

“John said to me, ‘Jim, my friend, the weather is clear and sunny over here.”’

The stares grow more intimidating, but I barge ahead.

“He didn’t bring up local wheat-growing conditions specifically,” I say. “Actually, I think he was in Maine or New York or somewhere. But we had quite a little laugh together about the, you know, weather.”

Actually, if my companions weren’t vastly disgusted, they should have been. Nobody is more pathetic than a name-dropper. Well, maybe deadbeat dads or crooked cops or charity fund-drive embezzlers, but very few people are more pathetic than a name-dropper.

I don’t consider myself a habitual name-dropper, but as a reporter who has interviewed such huge international stars as John Travolta and Accordion Joe, the Rhinestone Mailman, the temptation is strong. I mean, put yourself in my shoes. If your close friends bring up the subject of “Jailhouse Rock,” you almost have to slip the following sentence into the conversation, “As Bob ‘Elvis’ Wankling, the top Elvis impersonator in three counties, was telling me just the other day, that movie is a classic of musical cinema.”

Like I said, I have met numerous big stars.

Yet I try to keep quiet about it normally. And the world would be better off if everyone else would, too.

I have run across a number of world-class name-droppers in my time. Everybody knows these people. They think they can impress you and puff themselves up by mentioning all of the big shots they know. I remember a conversation once a long time ago that went something like this:

Charlie: “I actually worked on that project with the great Totie Fields.”

Me: “Really? That’s fascinating.”

Charlie: “We used to have drinks with old Dino.”

Me: “You mean …?’

Charlie: “Dean Martin. I called him Dino, of course. Foster Brooks and I got such a kick out of him. I’ll never forget that time at the White House where I was telling Jack …”

Me: “You mean …?”

Charlie: “Jack Kennedy. Good friend of mine. Terrible thing that happened there in Texas. Anyway, we were talking about old Mo and what a saint he …”

Me: “Old Mo?”

Charlie: “Mohandas K. Gandhi. Lots of people called him ‘Mahatma,’ but from me, he wouldn’t stand for it. He used to say, ‘Charlie, my old American friend, to you I’m just plain Mo.’ We used to pal around, go to nightclubs, barbecues, jail, places like that.”

Maybe I’m just naturally skeptical, but I thought that “Charlie” was laying it on a bit thick. I know for a fact that British authorities did not allow Gandhi to “pal around” in jail.

During conversations like this, I have made quite a study of name-dropping techniques, and I thought I would pass along some advice for those who wish to develop their name-dropping skill.

Never say that you “spoke” with, for instance, a senator. Instead, say that you “shot the breeze” or “had a little confab” or “got drunked up and raised hell” with the senator.

Never quote the important person as saying something mundane. Quote the person as saying, “Jim, my friend, once again you have enriched my life by your mere presence,” even if what he really said was, “Move along, you’re hogging the reception line.”

Don’t merely call yourself “an acquaintance” of the famous person. Call yourself an “old, old family friend,” or a “a trusted boyhood confidant,” or “the executor to his vast fortune.”

I must close with one final amazing fact: The “Charlie” in the dialogue above is actually my good friend, the star of stage and screen, Mr. Charlton “Charlie” Heston.

I made that up in a pathetic attempt to impress you. I don’t suppose it worked, did it?

, DataTimes MEMO: To leave a message on Jim Kershner’s voice-mail, call 459-5493. Or send e-mail to jimk@spokesman.com, or regular mail to Spokesman-Review, P.O. Box 2160, Spokane, WA 99210.

The following fields overflowed: CREDIT = Jim Kershner The Spokesman-Review