Sometimes when I’m out in public, I’ll hear, “Hey, you play that news guy on TV!” Now and then someone will say, “It must really get old, with so many people knowing who you are.” Truth is, not everyone knows. In the early, three-channel days of local TV, it seemed like everyone knew the on-air people. Now, with hundreds of channels, we see far more faces on the small screen.
Chattanooga TV cowboy show host Bob Brandy was my first in-person celebrity sighting. He brought his show to my school. In my little brain, he was as big a deal as John Wayne. They both appeared to be cowboys, and they were both on TV. That was good enough. If John Wayne had come to my school, he probably wouldn’t have drawn as big a crowd, because he wasn’t giving away Little Debbie snack cakes.
A few years later, I saw another local TV celebrity shopping at a grocery store. I was excited about seeing him, so I went up and said hello. He didn’t seem happy about being recognized by a 12-year-old kid. He grunted and looked the other way. I never forgot that and vowed if I ever got to be on TV, I would be nice to people.
In fact, I may be overdoing it. Occasionally a person will look at me, and I assume they recognize me. I’ll smile and say hello. About half the time, they smile back. But the others have no idea who I am, and are probably thinking, “Who is this guy, and why is he talking to me?”
I’ve never figured out celebrities who hate being recognized. They seem perturbed when someone shouts their name. Take it from me. If you don’t want to be singled out, don’t become a TV personality, an actor, an athlete or a politician. It comes with the territory.
Early in my TV career, my first taste of fame came at the drive-thru window. When I pulled around to get my food, the cashier recognized me. She turned around and alerted a co-worker. “Susan, come look! That’s David Carroll, he’s on the Morning Show!” Susan looked through the window, saw my face and said, “Yeah, I stopped watching it when he came on.” Susan probably still grabs the remote when she sees my face.
My ego soon got a temporary boost in the supermarket produce department. As I was squeezing tomatoes, an attractive lady started staring at me. She kept getting closer. She finally worked up enough courage to speak. “Excuse me,” she said, “but I just HAVE to ask you something!” My head started swelling. I’ve been recognized! I figured she wanted to ask me what it’s like being a TV star or about the famous people I had met. “Sure,” I replied. “You can ask me anything.” With a sigh of relief, she said, “Thanks! Where do y’all keep your cantaloupes?” I realized I was wearing a white shirt and a red tie, just like the store employees. She thought I was a produce boy.
Some years later, a man said, “You look familiar. Don’t I know you from somewhere?” I said, “I do the news on TV.” “Oh,” he replied. “That’s right. I just can’t think of your name.” I said, “It’s David Carroll.” He paused for a second, and said, “No, that’s not it. He’s younger than you.”
Six years ago, I was reminded how fortunate I am. I was recognized at a fast food place. A lady named Jeanette Liles said, “I’ve been staring at you and you’re David Carroll, aren’t you?”
I owned up to it, and she said, “I’m sure you get tired of people stopping to talk to you, but I’m 85, and this may be my only chance to tell you how much I love watching you.” Yes, we hugged.
I just read Jeanette’s obituary, and seeing her name took me back to that day. It reminded me of the privilege of being a broadcaster. It is not about fame. It is about connecting with people. Trust me when I tell you that a simple act of kindness will stay in your heart forever.
