Hooray for Hollywood

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I've moved out from our small off-site design offices and into my permanent office on the studio lot. You can see some pix here, or here, or even here. It has a beautiful view of the Paramount lot and the Hollywood Hills. It's in the Roddenberry building, which was the home of the writing staff of the original STAR TREK; previously, it was writer's offices for DESILU productions. It's an awesome old building, steeped in Hollywood history.

My across-the hall neighbor is A.C. Lyles,, who has been an employee with Paramount Pictures since 1928. He started as Adolph Zukor's errand boy. A legend around the studio for spinning endless Hollywood tales, and endless flirting with the ladies.

So I'm hauling boxes into my new digs, and a very dapper gentleman steps out of the elevator, Variety and Hollywood reporter folded neatly under his arm. He introduces himself, to which I reply, "oh, I know who you are, Mr. Lyles, it's a pleasure to meet you."

"A.C. would be better, mister...?" he inquires.

"Cobb, David Cobb. No relation to Ty, that I know of," I respond.

"Ah, but how about Robert Cobb? Do you know about him?" he asks. I am instantly welcomed into his office across the hall, where endless black-and-white photos line all four walls, showing A.C. with presidents, producers, starlets, and legends. There isn't a face on the wall that isn't famous for one reason or another.

Robert Cobb, as it turns out, was the owner of the Brown Derby restaurant, famous back in the day for its glamorous clientele and post-premiere celebrity sightseeing. "Stop me if you've heard this story," he says.

I have. But I don't.

You see, Mr. Lyles was there at the Brown Derby, along with theater owner Sid Grauman (proprietor of famous Hollywood landmarks both Chinese and Egyptian), on the fateful night when, at a loss for ingredients for a late-night snack, Sid and Robert headed into the kitchen and whipped up an impromptu salad that all agreed was quite delicious.

A.C. told the proprietor of the restaurant, "You should name it after yourself, Bob." And lo and behold, that was how the Cobb salad was born.

I grinned for the rest of the day, knowing that my corporate Hollywood slavery would be made at least a bit more interesting with A.C. only a few steps away.

Jet Plane, Leavin' On A

fidgetcub leaves for his hometown today, to visit family and, most importantly, renew his visa when he comes back from the Great White North. As always, we're both anxious. It usually goes okay, but it's always a bit nervewracking.

I'm actually going on not one but TWO trips this week, which will somewhat take my mind off things. The first quick trip is to Millersville, MD -- I land around 5pm and after a day of business meetings I depart around 6pm Wednesday. The second trip is to Chicago -- I arrive late Friday night and leave around 9pm Sunday night.

Manitoba - Why The Long Face