Geraldo the Cheapskate

I have a few celebrity stories. Not many, as I have spent the bulk of my time on Earth in places most celebrities would never consider visiting. But there were a couple of times where the planets aligned and I had the chance to bump into someone experiencing their fifteen minutes of face time.

There was the time I met Ed Ames at a radio station when I was a wee one and he was a TV star. Or the time the mayor of Atlanta showed up at the restaurant and bar where I worked as we were closing with his “bodyguards” and a buxom young girl who was not his niece, his daughter, his wife or his secretary, and I refused to let them in (that almost got me fired but it was completely worth it). There was the time I had the extreme misfortune to meet NFL quarterback (before he became an ESPN regular) Ron Jaworski.

But no star crossings stick in my mind as much as Geraldo Rivera. Before Geraldo made it big on Fox, before he embarrassed himself opening Capone’s vault, before he tried on that ‘serious journalist’ jacket, he hosted a show called Good Night America late at night on one of the networks. Very few had heard of him at the time, but I knew who he was. I was fresh out of high school and working at a restaurant and bar in Atlanta when he stepped off the elevator. No one recognized him except me. I told everyone who he was but the reaction was along the lines of, “who? So what?”

I was determined to treat him like a semi star at least. I took Geraldo to the restaurant and sat him at a good table. I picked a waiter who I knew would get his order right and on time. I checked with him during the meal. Afterwards, I escorted him to the revolving bar that gave a view of the Atlanta skyline for an after-dinner drink. Then I walked him back to the elevator. All the while I did not fawn over him, I simply gave him good service.

As Geraldo was stepping on the elevator, he turned to me and told me what an enjoyable evening he had, and he pressed something into my hand. I held it until the doors closed, observing proper protocol, before looking down on the bill he had placed in my hand.

There he was – George Washington – staring at me. One dollar. One single, solitary dollar. This was the tip from the man who got almost two hours of attention from me that night. If only I had the chance to thank Geraldo for contributing to my college fund.

That’s my Geraldo Rivera story. The man was a cheapskate and one of the worst tippers I have ever encountered.