Yesterday an author told me that when he interviews family members of a famous individual, they are considered “sources” and it is not “kosher” to pay sources for interviews and access to all of the tapes, letters, records and photos. I countered that family members are the people responsible for preserving the memory and name of the renowned individual. Is it “kosher” to feed off of another individual's fame? Ethics always trumps technicalities, no matter the field. Family members know that person intimately and would be happy to "collaborate." Any other information from a distant source is hearsay. If the family has limited resources – or even if they don’t – it is honorable and customary to compensate them for collaboration on a project that creates history. On the other hand, as a writer, I know that authors don't devote years to a project unless they have a sincere interest in a story. And if they want to make big bucks, they probably wouldn't have chosen writing as a career.
My stepfather, Phil Hill, was famous. I remember acting as his “protector” (hardly a body guard) at an event at Laguna Seca where he was signing autographs. He had not yet been diagnosed with MSA (Multisystem Atrophy), but likely was ill because he tired easily and needed breaks. My job was to cut off the line when he needed an extended break. I let one guy cut in line because he was an enthusiastic and educated fan who was about to cry. Good Lord, man, pull it together! Another man asked if I would be so kind as to sign his program instead. He was thrilled and left me at the back of the line scratching my head in wonder. Another man became belligerent and refused to leave. He glared at me and pushed out his chest. He was joined by the vulture I witnessed at every event who collected as many signatures as possible and made his living feeding off the fame of others. Someday he would cash in on the posters and photos. Repeat visitors were welcomed if they had a sincere interest in Phil’s history, but objectification is disgusting no matter what form it takes. But who am I to judge? Maybe the guy waits in long lines for signatures because he enjoys the others around him. Maybe he educates fans about the history of the racers he doggedly pursues.
What does this have to do Doing and Being? Fame is a burden, but the passion that made Phil famous was not. Emotionally, he supported my bliss (dance) 100% because he could see that it lit me up and gave me meaning and a reason for being. Regrettably, Phil never wrote an autobiography – to tell his story as close to the truth as possible, but to him what mattered was the intensity of the moment: telling a great story and telling it well. He knew how to masterfully dole out details that led to a climax that had everyone in awe or stitches (depending) by the end. He loved music and Christmas and the smell of a garage. He loved Planet Earth, Animal Planet, his cats and Formula 1 at 3 a.m. He loved caviar, Italian proscuitto (anything Italian or English) and George Latour’s private reserve cabernet. The reason people enjoyed basking in Phil's presence is because he knew not only how to DO but how to BE. He lived moments fully and deeply as if they were his last. He was one of the most authentic people you would ever have met. Whereas many famous folk master a “Scheiss Freundlich” attitude, Phil had no interest in wearing a persona. What you saw was what you got.
Why is it that someone who knew how to tell a great story never told his own? I think he trusted the visually gripping and aesthetically appealing photos he took and later published in collections, which includes a book he was in the midst of finishing when he died. He trusted his friends from Road and Track to recount memories. He trusted his son, Derek, who is making a documentary, and his daughter, Vanessa, who has a far broader involvement in the car world than I do. He knows that they will tell the truth because they understood the private, classy while INTENSE man he was. I knew Phil not as a racer or car collector, but as a father figure. He was deeply kind, tender, generous, intelligent and terribly, wonderfully funny. While he understood the underbelly of humankind, he chose to focus on the light – especially in his last years. It will be interesting to see what is written about him, but based on how he lived, I think he decided that the only real truth we will ever have is in the moment. The rest is a result of confabulation, imagination and longing.
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