Eve Babitz got an assignment to write about Spago and invited me to join her. It was the original Spago on the hill above Tower Records where Wolfgang Puck made veal schnitzels for Billy Wilder, and movie stars fought for reservations. The maître d’, Bernard, led us to a prized window table. Eve faced the door with a view of entering V.I.P.’s, while I looked down on the Viper Room.
Just as the smoked-salmon pizza arrived, Eve grabbed my hand. “Sean Connery just walked in. Don’t turn around. Stars hate it when you stare.” I didn’t stare, but I thought about the time Michael Ovitz arranged for me and my partner to write a screenplay with 007.
