Gatecrasher by Ben Widdicombe

Author:Ben Widdicombe
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon & Schuster
Published: 2020-07-07T00:00:00+00:00

* * *

Harvey Weinstein only telephoned when he wanted to yell.

Early in my career at the News, I was walking along a street in midtown one evening when he called from the Miramax jet, heading back to Los Angeles from New York, screaming bloody murder.

Harvey was the producer of a stage version of director Baz Luhrmann’s La Bohème, which had just had its Broadway opening night, attracting an unusually large brace of Hollywood stars.

He was an enormous man who wore his appetites on his sleeve—and sometimes his shirtfront, where food stains would accumulate like a list of sins. Because he was so large, I discovered that a good tactic for covering his events was to follow along behind him, like a remora on a whale, and take note of whoever he was speaking with.

On this occasion I overheard him telling different guests, including Tom Hanks’s wife, Rita Wilson, in two separate conversations that he was “fighting with Jeffrey.” From the context, it seemed clear he was referring to his fellow Hollywood heavyweight Jeffrey Katzenberg. So, with the caveat that he had not mentioned a last name, I reported it that way.

And Harvey was not happy.

Mid-harangue, the pilot made him hang up because the jet was beginning its descent into the Los Angeles airport. Fifteen minutes later, after the plane was safely on the tarmac, he called me back to resume yelling.

His publicist, Matt Hiltzik, arranged another call after Harvey had calmed down. That same week, the New Yorker had run a profile of the mogul that focused on his volatile temper. Matt was on a damage-control mission that included the novel strategy of having Harvey blame his outbursts on a heightened blood-glucose level from eating too many M&M’s.

So I ran a follow-up item that portrayed Harvey—albeit tongue in cheek—not as a screaming volcano of id but as a mellow new age guy who was working on himself.

The squib concluded: “Asked if this was the dawn of a kinder, gentler Harvey, he replied mildly: ‘It’s always been this way.’ ”

That item hasn’t aged well. It was intended as winking sarcasm, but still, it was flattering coverage in exchange for access.

Matt was always cleaning up Harvey’s messes, and he made an effort to keep cordial relations with the columns. Once Harvey had him call to ask the identities of the personalities in a blind item of mine:

“Which New York bigwig, visiting his ex-wife and young daughter in Los Angeles, tried to score points with the child by telling her he was in town for a meeting with Harvey Weinstein? The ex later sniped: ‘She’s eight years old, like she’s going to be impressed by Harvey Weinstein!’ ”

I was happy to tell him the item referred to Donald and Tiffany Trump, and Marla Maples.

Unlike the Post gossip writers, nobody at the Daily News, as far as I’m aware, received money from Harvey while they were on staff. It’s possible that, since we were the second-ranked gossip outlet in the city, he just didn’t think it was worth the investment.

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