The author reluctantly attended a book signing party at Carnivale, spurred by an invitation from Christie Hefner. Despite typically avoiding such events, he surprised himself by agreeing to go with his wife, who was interested. At the event, he mingled with notable figures and acquired Maureen Dowd’s book, “Notorious.” He humorously observed Dowd’s casual approach to signing and shared insights about the event’s discussions on celebrity culture, particularly regarding the impact of figures like Donald Trump. The author reflected on the ongoing allure of celebrity journalism, even amidst its critiques.
My wife and I ventured out to a party downtown Wednesday night, which is a rarity for me. I often avoid parties due to a combination of not receiving invitations and lacking the desire to attend, as they typically require me to move to unfamiliar places and mingle with new faces. I usually prefer the comfort of my home.
However, my “close personal friend” Christie Hefner invited me to a book signing at Carnivale, the lively Latin American restaurant on Fulton. While that alone didn’t fully entice me (by “close personal friend,” I mean I enjoy Christie’s company and we had lunch once at the Cliff Dwellers Club), it did lead me to ask my wife if she wanted to go, recognizing the challenge of being married to me for — wow! — 34 years and trying to inject some excitement into our routine. To my surprise, she responded affirmatively, expressing her interest in attending the party.
Even then, I’m not sure we would have made it. But Christie (come to think of it, we’ve also dined at the stunning, albeit narrow, Venetian palazzo on Michigan Avenue owned by auctioneer Leslie Hindman) is nothing if not organized, and her assistant nudged me until I eventually RSVPed that we were attending.
Upon arriving at Carnivale, we were welcomed at the door by owner Billy Marovitz, whom I’ve known since he was a young lad, having been a close friend of his uncle, Judge Abraham Lincoln Marovitz (and when I say close friend, I mean we shared lunch at the old Standard Club and he came to my apartment on Logan Boulevard to officiate my brother, Sam Steinberg’s wedding to his wife of — good heavens! — 35 years, Yuri).
The venue was buzzing with people, and I spotted several notable figures, including former Gov. Pat Quinn and former TV political reporter Mike Flannery, whom I considered approaching. However, he didn’t glance my way, and the moment slipped away.
Given the mountain of unread books near my nightstand, there’s no way I could tackle one more, even if I spent three months doing nothing else. Still, having hosted — I can’t believe it — nine book parties myself, although smaller in scale than this one, I adhere to a moral principle I call “Buy the book!” I rushed to beat the crowd and secured a copy of the featured book, “Notorious: Portraits of Stars from Hollywood, Culture, Fashion, and Tech,” while standing in line next to the beloved Chicago journalism icon, Carol Marin.
In an odd moment of personality quirkiness, I introduced Carol to the author, New York Times columnist Maureen Dowd, who, perhaps weary from a lengthy book tour, looked up without much interest or understanding. She glanced at my name on a Post-it note, wrote it down with a Sharpie, noted “Star power!” and signed her name as “Maureen.” No last name. In all my years attending such events, I can’t recall any author doing that. Maybe she sees herself as a brand akin to Cher or Madonna. Or perhaps she has arthritis or something—I shouldn’t speculate.
The discussion featured Marovitz asking questions, and later I would discover that Dowd repeated chunks from the book’s introduction almost verbatim. While I wasn’t in full reporting mode, I like to share that I’m sometimes social. She commented, “Hollywood and Washington are twin capitals of illusion.” I captured that line in a photo and shared it with my 2,860 followers on Bluesky.
My close personal friend, Northwestern professor Bill Savage (we’ve shared countless lunches over the last twelve years), responded to my post with, “And her success in turning political commentary into bull- – – – gossip column pseudo-psychoanalysis since the Clinton Era helped make it so.”
Can’t argue with that. I replied:
“She does have a troubling tendency to refer to the man currently dismantling American government as ‘Elon,’ as if they were cozying up together in footie pajamas at a slumber party. I wasn’t aware that the book conveys a contact high from huffing celebrity, which is pretty much how our country found itself in this predicament.”
Unlike much celebrity journalism, that last observation feels worth sharing. We must never forget that the President of the United States, Donald J. Trump, was the star of “The Apprentice,” and for millions of Americans, including half of Congress, that fact supersedes all others. One would think that alone would lessen the allure of celebrity worship. Yet, I can tell you firsthand, it certainly has not.