Oct 13, 1999. While working as an audience coordinator on Richard Simmons’
DreamMaker talk show, an annoying colleague told Richard it was my
birthday, at which point Simmons proceeded to chase me around his studio to
give me an unsolicited and unwanted hug. Yes, I told many people about this
the day it happened, and -- well -- there was a studio full of people to
witness. The reaction of people I told was mostly unanimous, all saying
something to the effect of, "Yeah, that's how Richard is."

I have no actual animosity towards him for what he did (I have more
animosity towards dick clark productions for stiffing me $3,000). I often
joke about this event, not to make light of the very real topic of
harassment, but because -- in my instance -- I survived the ordeal
trauma-free, and because it is probably the only thing David Letterman and
I will ever have in common.

Now, let's go back into the time machine to a year or two prior to that,
when I was an NBC Page. I'll tell a story I guarantee I've not told here
before. I'm writing this more as a form of personal catharsis than anything
else. Read it or not, comment or not.

The only qualification for being a page was a college degree... any college
degree. Early in my page career, a few of us were sitting around talking
about the silliest or oddest classes we took in college. One person took
pottery, another took bowling, and I volunteered that I'd taken a class
called "relaxation techniques" that included lessons on everything from
meditation to massage. "Oh, you know massage?" one female page asked, and
for the next year, I became the go-to page for massages.

I self-imposed a few rules. First, I never asked or offered to give anybody
a massage, nor did I put my hands on anybody who never asked. Second, I
never massaged anybody in a room alone; there were always witnesses. Third,
I massaged the neck, shoulders, back, and lower legs (no "special" areas,
and no feet, because feet are icky). I probably massaged 20 or 30 people in
the year I was a page. I even massaged a couple Days of Our Lives actresses
who sometimes passed through "guest relations" on their way to the outdoor
"Salem Place" set. They'd see me working the kinks out of somebody's neck
and ask if they could go next.

A few things to know about pages in general terms: None of us were each
other's bosses. Every day, we traded responsibilities. One day we might
answer phones in the ticket office, or another day we might seat audiences
for a talk show, or another day we might give studio tours. And though
there are times when one page might tell another page to do something,
there was no actual chain of command, and the next day or even the next
show an hour later, the person giving orders might then be getting orders.

Another thing to know is being a page was a very social job. As a group,
there was almost always someplace to go after work or something going on at
night. One day each week, the Mexican restaurant across the street had free
food in the bar during happy hour -- we were there. On Fridays, we'd go a
block down to Dimples karaoke bar, or to Dalt's where the "Drew Carey Show"
cast often went after a taping. Sometimes there'd be a dozen or more pages,
other times there might be two or three.

There was a female page, I'll call her J though J was not her name. She
arrived a few months after I did. She and I got along, and I gave her
massages as I gave several other pages massages. We hung out after work as
did several others. We never dated, nor did I ever ask her out. I recall
dating two pages, both of whom asked me -- my own lifelong dating history
can easily reveal I almost never ask women out, as I consider it among the
most awkward things on the planet. Anyway, J and I got along really well...
until we did not.

Now, obviously there is only my side of the story here, and J and I are not
in touch, or I honestly would ask her for her side... it has been 20 years,
so there are going to be gaps in my own memory. But from my perspective,
one day her attitude towards me changed. Loudly.

As stated above, pages all perform a variety of tasks. One task is
basically to organize the other pages to dismiss the audience after a show
taping. It is not a supervisory role, but one page is tasked with letting
other pages know when to dismiss their respective sections of audiences, or
there will be chaos. On this particular day, I was assigned that task. But
J decided to pay no attention and released her section of audience without
waiting for my signal, which caused a traffic jam of people. Now when such
things occur, it was common practice for pages to -- for lack of a less
sexist phrase -- break each other's balls. In her position, I'd done the
same thing she had done... we all did. And the response of the lead traffic
cop -- as it were -- is to say, "Hey, you just caused a clusterf*ck," and
the traditional reaction is to say, "you're not the boss of me, so
pppbbbttthhh!!!" or words to that effect (pages were never mistaken as
sophisticates). Pages didn't actually get angry at each other; it was more
of a teasing situation. It was an informal job with a high rate of
turnaround (NBC only allowed pages to remain for a year), and we all
screwed up. Often.

On this instance, when I called J out on her mistake, expecting a silly
teasing reply, her reaction instead was to loudly proclaim, "Stop harassing
me!" I mean loud enough to halt all activity in an otherwise busy studio.
The loudness continued as she accused me of yelling at her, not because she
had made a mistake, but because she wouldn't have sex with me. I pointed
out that I had never even asked her out on a date; I had certainly never
asked her to have sex with me. Her response was to say, "well what was all
that massaging about, then?"

It was at that point when my self-imposed rules saved me; I was able to
point out (and witnesses backed me up) I had never massaged any woman or
touched any woman unless they had asked, that I never massaged any woman
alone, and that I always limited myself to the areas I referenced earlier.
I then insisted that if she wanted to make a formal complaint, we go
directly to our boss. Other pages stood around us, as did several backstage
crew, none of them knowing what to say. J decided she did not want to go
see the boss. I went to the boss on my own and stated my case, not knowing
what J might accuse me of next. To the best of my knowledge, the boss did
not discuss it with J, nor did J approach the boss without me present.

A week later, J was back to being friendly with me. I never massaged her
again, and when the group hung out, I never joined if I knew she would be
there, except when we all went to the bar on my last day as a page (a
tradition was to go to Dimples and sing "Take This Job And Shove It" on a
page's last day, with all the other pages in attendance). I was the one who
took myself out of the social scene, because even though the matter had
dropped as quickly as it had started, I didn't want her to feel compelled
to exclude herself from anything; it was less hassle for me to back away.

There were never any quid-pro-quo deals made; no promises, no offers. I was
never her boss, nor was I in a position to impact her career one way or the
other. Oddly enough, most pages don't actually continue in the
entertainment industry after they leave the program. Of the 60 or 70 pages
I knew, maybe five still work in the industry. If J continued, I never saw
her again, nor did any of the other former pages I'm still in contact with.

I've been reflecting on my own life as a man, given all the recent victims
coming forward. This was my one instance where I was accused of crossing a
line. And one might think, based on my own experience, that my instincts
would be to side with the guys, because I have personal experience of being
accused without reason. But honestly, my own experience gives me the
opposite view.

Sure, in hindsight, massaging coworkers is a bad idea, and my bosses should
have put a stop to it even if I didn't (not saying this as a defense, but I
was single and in my 20s and women were telling me to put my hands on
them... come on). But honestly, despite my own bad judgment in workplace
massages, I covered my ass. Right or wrong, my behavior was very public,
and only done by direct invitation from a woman. There were countless
witnesses to support me, male and female. That said, if I made any woman at
that time feel uncomfortable for any reason, I apologize. Sincerely, to J
or any other page out there. At the time, we all seemed to be enjoying each
other; if I was mistaken in that belief, I'm sorry.

These guys getting accused, let us assume for one tiny moment that which we
do not actually assume -- that the men are innocent... why didn't they
cover their respective asses? I mean, I was a dumb, powerless,
polyester-suit wearing page, but even I had enough sense to use some degree
of caution. These guys are people of influence, with intellect and talent
and wealth and fame... did they feel so f*cking untouchable that they
couldn't even conceive of a scenario in which they'd find themselves being
accused? Part of why it is so easy to side with the victims is because the
accused all seemed to do a fantastic job setting themselves up for a big
fall.

I'm not advocating the current VP's policy of a man never being alone with
a woman. Have a drink or a meal with a coworker, but go to a public place,
and keep your hands to yourself. I mean, even a decade later when I was
teaching, common sense says when a student walks into the classroom alone,
male or female, you prop open the classroom door. And here in the present
day with social media everywhere, I do not even add any current coworkers
on Facebook, because they don't need to know anything about me outside of
the job. I still enjoy casual workplace flirtation, but I never instigate
it, nor do I ever get physical at work. I like having women in the
workplace -- there's a different energy compared to a workplace full of
men. I respect anyone of any gender who can do their job well, and if we
can make each other laugh or smile, well, that just makes the workday go by
faster.

I don't know what the solution is to workplace harassment, in Hollywood or
in general terms. I share my stories, one silly, one not, to contribute to
a larger conversation. If my stories are harmful to the debate, again I
apologize, but the conversation doesn't seem to have any defined
parameters. For me, personally, I can share countless stories of workplace
harassment that I witnessed during my time in Hollywood (again, some silly,
others not), and I might still post those as the conversation and debate
evolves, but I felt it would be wrong to post the stories of others without
sharing my own. My allegiance is with the victims of harassment, and I'm
open to any and all ideas that reduce the number of future victims. If that
means I have to stop joking about Richard Simmons giving me a bear-hug, ok.
If that means I'm taken to task for massaging women as a page, ok. I don't
know what it means, but I want to be open and honest, as all in or out of
Hollywood must be.

-- 
Kevin M. (RPCV)

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