A Boston Marriage

The autograph.  Such a commonplace item in our celebrity obsessed lives these days, it bears a bit of investigation, doesn’t it?  Watch any sort of red carpet event and one is bound to see a shot of celebrities with pieces of paper thrust into their faces, attached to hands that don’t seem to have corresponding bodies. 

Hardly a personal story to go with the signature on the piece of scrap paper you worked so hard for.  Usually the autograph’s not even legible, so really, it’s a scribble on a piece of paper.  It might have been signed by the guy standing in front of you, or the boom mic guy who is dutifully following the celeb until he steps inside whatever venue he’s currently outside of.  Your arm is stretched in the general direction of said celeb; however, and you are riding on faith and hope that your piece of paper will be the chosen one!  What value does this piece of memorabilia actually have?

I’m not harshly judging these autograph collectors.  I’m the proud owner of two autographs myself.  The first autograph I nabbed was Youppi’s – the now defunct Montreal Expos’ mascot.  I was eight.  Big time, I know.  What can I say?  Youppi seemed like a pretty big celebrity to me at the time.  He pretty much commandeered the jumbotron.  Everyone was watching him and laughing at his antics.  He started the wave for god’s sake!  So, I went in search of his autograph.  Why?  Proof that I met him, I guess?  An excuse to be near him, for sure.  Unfortunately, it wasn’t the magical bonding moment that had played out in my mind’s eye.  Youppi got mad at me because I wasn’t holding the paper properly (so he could see it out of his left nostril I suppose).  And perhaps that’s where my scepticism of the autograph experience was born.  Damn you, Youppi.

Fast forward 24 years.  I am working the front desk of a hotel in downtown Toronto and, unbeknownst to me, Jean Beliveau is staying there – unbeknownst to me until I see him approaching the front desk.  In my most un-cool voice and manner, I say, “Hello Jean Beliveau.”  He looks at me totally shocked (and perhaps mildly afraid) and says, “I am surprised such a young woman would recognize an old man like myself.” (Is there a human being with more grace?  I ask you.)  Still being totally un-cool, I respond, “I think every Canadian would know who you are, Jean Beliveau.” (Why do I keep using his full name??)  And then, just to prove my claim was entirely wrong, my co-worker says, “Do you two know each other?”  Yes.  Jean Beliveau is my grand-father; however, instead of calling him ‘Granddad’, I choose to call him by both his first and last name.  We’re a very warm family.

Both Jean Beliveau and I take a few minutes to fill my co-worker in on who he is and what he has accomplished thus far in his life.  Jean Beliveau was gracious.  Jean Beliveau was funny.  Jean Beliveau was everything Youppi seemed to be until I actually attempted to collect his autograph.  So, as Jean Beliveau opened a box of 8”x10” glossies of himself and mentioned that he was signing them at a sports convention nearby, I was tempted to ask for one, but I couldn’t do it.  For one, I was warned when I started working at the hotel that if you like your job (or at least your paycheque) you NEVER ask for an autograph; and secondly, I don’t want Jean Beliveau to yell at me because he can’t see the photo through his nostril.  I just didn’t want to ruin this beautiful moment.

Of course, when my shift ended two hours later, I was feeling differently about my Jean Beliveau autograph (or lack thereof).  I wanted it.  I wanted the proof to go with my new anecdote.  So, instead of walking home, I found myself heading into the convention centre and buying  a ticket into the sports event.  I bought four photos (I really wanted to get one for my dad too – and my brother and brother-in-law since I was there) and then four little tickets which I would give to Jean Beliveau (the money went to the Children’s Wish Foundation) and, in return, Jean Beliveau would write his name four times.  As I made my purchases of photos and tickets, I saw for the first time just what a big business autographs are.  They asked me if I wanted a weekend pass, or a weekend GOLD pass.  Turns out the GOLD members were placed in a separate line and could cut in front of us lowly regular ticketholders.  I was then given four cards that verified my autographs were, in fact, written by Jean Beliveau – otherwise, my autographs would be worthless, I was told.  Seemed a bit cynical, after all what did I care if my autograph had a monetary value?  I was there for my proof of acquaintance!  Then I started to think about the motives of the people around me (there were a lot of people in the GOLD line, so I had time to contemplate); was everyone else in the line-up here to make money on my new friend, Jean Beliveau?  Does anyone get autographs for themselves anymore, or are they all collected just to be sold on a sports memorabilia website to the highest bidder?  Are all of those hands reaching out to Tom Cruise or Ellen Degeneres with scraps of paper then running home to post their scribbles on eBay?

I couldn’t help but check into Beliveau memorabilia while writing this.  The photos he signed for me are now worth $100 – well, they’re for sale for that price.  Not sure anyone is actually paying it.  A cool way to make a few bucks, I suppose.  And that’s when it hit me: there is a much faster way to make much more money.  I could start signing pics of the world’s favourite athlete, David Beckham.  They’re selling for 500 bucks a pop on the internet!  So, I figure I’ll sign 5 a week – one per day (I don’t want to work on the weekends).  That works out to… let’s see… carry the one… 130,000 dollars per year!!  I’ll be making 130,000 a year as a writer (of sorts) and I don’t even have a hand cramp!!  Sure, it’s fraud, but such harmless fraud!  

So, this is the value of an autograph today?  A number with a dollar sign in front of it, owned by someone who never actually met the celebrity/athlete/politician that signed?  What a sad conclusion.  I would prefer to think that the true value of an autograph is in the intention of the seeker.  My autograph from Jean Beliveau is worth far more than the $100 asked for on the internet!  I will look at that photo and forever remember meeting not only one of the greatest hockey players ever to don a pair of skates, but a truly great human being who took time to speak with a front desk agent who most guests would look through rather than talk to.  To put a dollar value on that?  Impossible.

Incidentally, should I become wildly famous, the Jean Beliveau autographed photo addressed to me along with this article will probably net you well over the $100 unaddressed photo.  Not that it’ll be for sale.