Sign(ings) of the times
They used to be called “Stage-Door Johnnies,” a term coined in the 19th century to describe the young men who huddled outside stage doors at theaters in hopes of meeting actresses or chorus girls. If they became too aggressive or otherwise obnoxious, the theater’s bouncer would give them the bum’s rush.
That’s what should have happened last week when a fight broke out among modern-day Stage-Door Johnnies — I mean autograph seekers — at Steelers training camp in Latrobe. But the Steelers apparently don’t have a bouncer. So Steelers tight end Pat Freiermuth stepped in.
Freiermuth was signing an autograph for an 8-year-old boy when a bunch of grown men – I repeat, grown men — started a rugby scrum while trying to get an autograph from backup quarterback candidate Will Howard. Fearing for the kid, Freiermuth grabbed him and lifted him over a barrier to safety.
Not a bouncer, but close enough.
Video posted to Instagram and TikTok shows several Steelers “fans” grappling with each other, punching, swearing and looking very much like the tumbling ball of dust with arms and legs sticking out of it that cartoon animators use to depict a melee.
Such an event shouldn’t make the news. But I guess local media were primed to grab a “feel-good story” to counteract the pall hovering over the country from the war in Iran and soaring grocery and gasoline prices.
Yet it didn’t make me feel good at all.
I can understand a kid being in thrall and wanting the autograph of professional athlete, a rock musician or a movie star. But what possesses supposedly mature adults seeking autographs to behave like a pack of hyenas descending on a fresh kill on the African veldt?
I’ve met my share of celebrities. I interviewed countless others when I was an entertainment editor. I didn’t ask any of them for an autograph.
After all, what good would it do me?
No one needs a celebrity’s autograph. I’ll give you a pass if they’re getting one for a kid too shy to ask for himself, or if you want to use it as a prize at a charity auction. But if you plan to sell that autograph on eBay or at a collectibles show, you’re not a fan, you’re a “grapher” — someone who collects autographs only as a cash grab.
I saw a herd of graphers in the parking lot of the American Music Theater in Lancaster, Pa., chasing a bus that carried members of Ringo Starr’s All-Starr Band. More than a few of them struggled to run while carrying armloads of vinyl LPs to thrust in Ringo’s face as he climbed down from the bus. I saw the looks of despair when they found out Ringo wasn’t on the bus.
Graphers, is this how you want to be remembered, as a desperate, fortysomething person schlepping sweat-stained LPs and autograph books from town to town? If your epitaph reads “HE GOT RINGO’S AUTOGRAPH,” will you be satisfied?
I hope the people in Latrobe who almost crushed that 8-year-old are ashamed of themselves. But my guess is they simply swarmed the next player. I’m not gonna say “get a life,” but …
Kudos to Freiermuth for being the adult in the room. And for not spiking the kid after he picked him up.