David Cassidy on the Web
Life with a View
A brush with stardom: C'mon get happy
February 5, 2011
By Deb Pasco
www.miningjournal.net
A recent Monday did not begin auspiciously. When I skidded into work late, my boss sternly advised me to check my voice mail immediately.
And the day gets even better, I thought, anticipating a message reaming me for screwing up somebody's community announcement submission.
To my amazement the day did get better: the voice mail was from David Cassidy.
Yes, the David Cassidy, star of "The Partridge Family" and perennial 1970s Tiger Beat magazine poster boy.
Our own Renee Prusi had interviewed Cassidy over the weekend and had mentioned how much I'd hoped to be the one to intercept his phone call. He was kind enough to leave me a message.
As if that wasn't enough, Cassidy's publicist had offered Renee two concert tickets, and she invited me to be her guest at his show at the Island Resort and Casino the following Saturday. Adult me said, "I'd love to." My inner 10-year-old shrieked so wildly I'm surprised the sound didn't leak out of my ears.
Renee also said we might get to meet Cassidy. My inner 10-year-old didn't shriek again - she fainted.
When we reached the casino and Renee picked up our tickets, she was told we'd definitely get to meet Mr. Cassidy before the show. The "meet and greeters" were escorted backstage through narrow hallways, then led in groups to Cassidy's dressing room. Seeing the normally unflappable Renee breathless with excitement was one of the highlights of my night.
Imagining meeting my childhood crush, I anticipated receiving a handshake and the faux-friendly greeting one expects from a man accustomed to facing the fanatical adoration of legions of quivering, anonymous female fans for 40-plus years.
Instead, David Cassidy greeted us with a genuine smile and a hug for each of us. After a few seconds of chatting he posed for photos and we were gently hustled out the door to make way for the next group.
To answer your questions: he is a surprisingly small, wiry man; up close he looks his age, having admirably refrained from becoming a Botoxed caricature of his younger self; and yes, his million-watt smile is as killer as it was back in the day.
Watching him perform to a less than capacity crowd comprised mainly of middle-aged women, singing the Partridge Family standards he'd scorned in their heyday, I wondered how it felt to have achieved your greatest success at age 20. Wouldn't every subsequent success have a less-than feel?
If that's how he feels about performing now, he gave no indication of it. He sang, played guitar and drums, and chatted up the audience with charm and good humor. Whether or not he was having as much fun as we were, he acted as if he was - the sign of a true showman.
His final song was, of course, "I Think I Love You." He waved the audience up to the stage, shaking every hand he could reach. I squeezed my way to the front for the opportunity to take his hand, look him in the eye and say a "thank you" that encompassed every moment of happiness he'd brought me, from childhood Fridays in front of the TV to this happy flashback of a night in my middle age.
Hey, David - we still know we love you.
