George Ames Plimpton (1927 - 2003) was an American journalist, writer, actor, amateur sportsman and literary critic. He went to Philips Exeter Academy, Harvard, then Kings College, Cambridge and he founded The Paris Review. His ancestors were on the Mayflower. His accent was that of an old school New England aristocrat with hints of actual England. He personified sophistication, intellect, grace and wit. That’s why the circumstances in which we met seemed so disconsonant as to be bizarre.
The marketing team at Seagram decided that, to reach our target demo, we would sponsor professional bowling to promote Seagram’s Cooler, a sugary drink with about the same alcohol content as beer.
Those same marketing geniuses also decreed that I would appear in a national television commercial during some big bowling tournament or other. Of that ad, I can say it is a gift to the universe that it’s lost forever.
Professional bowling had - and maybe still has - a kind of Oscars Night for speeches and awards and the great and good of the sport were in attendance. The one I witnessed was, I think, in Cleveland, Ohio, and the keynote speaker was none other than George Plimpton.
What in hell could an erudite Blue Blood have to say to a hall full of polyester-clad, beer swilling bowlers? As a speechwriter, I couldn’t fathom how he’d connect with the crowd, a critical aspect of a successful talk.
I needn’t have worried. Plimpton rocked the house, prompted riotous laughter and, by the second paragraph, had them head and heart. He was dazzling.
At a cocktail (and beer) reception afterward, I was introduced to George. “Oh, you’re a speechwriter. Oh good! Please tell me, how do you think I did?” he asked eagerly.
I was charmed too.
I once bowled 203 and got a tiny trophy in red white & blue, it was 1976 after all. I thought you should know.
My mother liked him a lot.