Erin

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Monday, October 28, 2019

Robert Evans. RIP.

When I very first moved to Hollywood, a (now famous for being a very very very bad #metoo abuser) agent gave me homework after our first meeting, including watching "The Kids Stays in the Picture." (Also: "The Player," "The Bad and the Beautiful," and "Swimming with Sharks." He wanted me to understand what it would take to make it in Hollywood. He wasn't the first #metoo moment I ever had nor the last, but he was one of the scarier ones.) Thankfully, things never worked out with that agent and I escaped, harassed, but never assaulted. I think the days of touring with a band had taught me how to handle guys like that, but also I just didn't go back after the second meeting. 

But the films were great.

The focus of "Kid Stays in the Picture" is legend Robert Evans. A few years after watching the documentary, I actually met him at a private concert where I was singing (alongside my dear friend pianist Jeremy and another singer, Adam) for a different Hollywood legend, a friend of Evans' who was unwell. The concert was all by request, featuring songs from the Lady Gaga / Tony Bennett album. We performed on a gray Saturday afternoon after a baseball game for three Hollywood legends of production, their bodyguards, and a handful of grandchildren and great-grandchildren.

Evans was unmistakable with his tan skin, big golden sunglasses, red turtleneck and slate gray sports jacket. He was there to support his friend, whose home it was, and he was very kind, hugging his pal, squeezing the guy's hand when we sang a childhood favorite song and everyone teared up. After the concert he shook my hand, introducing himself as "Bob," and told me I was "very talented." He smiled at me and I have a feeling like he patted me on the head although in my very high heels I was rather tall. I don't remember if he actually did. It just seems like he did. He may have.

It's that sort of strange Hollywood experience that almost makes you wonder if you were just born during the wrong decade or what, singing jazz standards from the 30s and 40s and 50s in a gold lame dress for giants of a different era.

Anyway, Mr. Evans died this last weekend. RIP, Bob.
https://www.latimes.com/…/robert-evans-chinatown-godfather-…