I saw The Killer rip it up atop his piano in 1957 to close the show at Alan Freed’s Brooklyn Paramount after Screaming Jay Hawkins rose from his coffin to put an eternal spell on me. 

That same year I saw Althea Gibson make everlasting history by winning the Women’s Tennis Singles Final at the old Forest Hills. 

I was alone with my idol Elvis at a Vegas crap table in the early 60s, greeted there by sad eyed former Heavy Weight Champion Joe Louis, played pool with Keef, shared the Fountainebleau swimming pool with Jayne Mansfield, lost all my money playing crap with Sammy Davis Jr. in his dressing room, danced with a Shirelle, held a (heavy!) Oscar, ran the Boston Marathon, finished a race in Central Park holding upraised hands with Road Runners Club founder Fred Lebow.  

Lou Reed performed at my basement New Year’s Party In 1962/63.

I saw the Beatles cause screams beyond my decibel limit  2 nights in a row at the Forest Hills tennis venue in 1964.  

I saw the Mick (Key Man) in many Yankee World Series games in the 50s and early 60s. 

I saw Johansson knock out Paterson for the Heavy Weight Championship outdoors at Yankee Stadium.

I was at the after party for Taxi Driver.  

Sophia stared at me at Studio 54. 

I was in the first row at Wembley for Live Aid.  

I was back stage with the Stones in 1989.   

I stood by as Bowie came on to Jo. 

I was behind security at the Friars Club Roast of The Donald and took pictures of his hair. 

My friend Jay Gould says I’m Zelig...