I guess it is that the news of the nation and the world is so bad that I have taken refuge in simpler times. Well, they didn't seen simple AT the time, but then isn't that the way of the world? It can always get worse. I have been streaming "The Avengers", with the late Patrick Macnee, especially the ones with the late Diana Rigg as "Emma Peel". And I have found myself not merely calmed but delighted. The charm. The dialog. The nuance. The deft comedy. The apolitical banter. And, of course, the beauty of two well dressed human beings at the height of their health and fame.
I got to see Mr. Macnee on Broadway some years after the original series came to an end, in the above titled show, "Sleuth". That was about 1976. But. I got to see him again, informally. I think. I am pretty sure it was him. Actually I am nearly positive. But it was far from 3 Stable Mews in the City of London. where Steed resided.
It was on, I think, the 300 block of either Genesee Avenue or Ogden Avenue, or was it N. Orange Grove, in the Fairfax District, Los Angeles, California?
I used to live in that neighborhood and one day, spring or summer it was circa the mid-1980s, as it was a warmish day, I spied a man of about six foot two, with a still thick head of well crafted hair, wearing a summer like open safari jacket. And carrying what looked like the Los Angeles Times. Clearly he did not live in the neighborhood, a nice but not affluent one, so did my eyes deceive me? This was a casual Steed. No bespoke suit. No umbrella. No bowler hat. No. No. No. I knew the man's walk. After all, how many episodes had I, even by then, seen of him in the eponymous series, and several times? He had a very particular broad confident stride. But I needed to get closer to see him, to be sure. At least a half a block closer.
I guess it would not have been as surprising to see him on a Los Angeles Street, or even in the United States, if I had then known what I know now, that Patrick Macnee had already long been a resident of the States, more particularly, Palm Springs. In fact, he became a citizen in 1959, before, I think, the arrival of the first iteration of the original series, with Ian Hendry. But then, in 1986, he was to me the quintessential Englishman appearing as if by magic in my diverse, sometimes scruffy-ish neighborhood.
It was definitely him, the incongruity of his location notwithstanding. Emma Peel's John Steed, my John Steed, as though he was middle aged even when he filmed the show, and I was but a pre-pubescent, then pubescent teenager, I found him a romantic idol. A man's man with style. Of course, and who didn't, I wanted to be Emma Peel. She was beautiful, educated, strong. And looked great in a cat suit, which I never would even try.
I had to restrain every fiber of my being, not to cut into a run to get closer, and maybe, maybe, say something. Like "Hello, Mr. Macnee, whatever are you doing on this little Los Angeles street?" That would be idiotic. "I'm a fan", also seemed uncreative. I didn't want to be one of those unseemly sorts and so, I contented myself with trying to watch what might be his destination.
It's been so long, and I can't rely on my memory any longer, but I thought I had read that his daughter, who is maybe a year or two older than I am, was at the time, living in my neighborhood. Jenny, I think.
At one point, I seem to recall having found the actual building, a typical four unit one. I hoped that perhaps Mr. Macnee might be about once again to see her. But it was not to be.
Thinking of that passing moment made me smile this week. I thought I'd share it with you.
