3-15 “Starstruck” – Cousin Geri

Raise your hand if, when you’re looking for a Facts of Life episode to watch, you fumble around on your couch-side table and say to yourself, “I know there’s a DVD here somewhere.” Bonus points if the only reason you were looking for the DVD was that you were surprised that there wasn’t already a Facts DVD in the external hard drive you bought just so you could watch Facts DVDs (I had had guests over who preferred Looney Tunes).

If you’re such a person, then perhaps you are already looking for a particular episode. If not, as I was not just now, you scan the list of episode titles, knowing you’ll know the answer when you see it.

Oh yeah.

We open with Tootie reading the letter she received, personally signed by the star himself, as the president of the Eastland chapter of the Jermaine Jackson fan club.

I remember reading somewhere that they tried to get Michael. In other episodes, it is clear that Tootie is a Michael Jackson fan. I keep wanting to make jokes about “the lesser Jackson” and then I feel bad about it. Let’s carry on.

Tootie has made a list of items for the club to include in the package they’re sending to Jermaine for his birthday the following week.

I am not going to rip on Tootie for doing shit like this. I wrote a note to Loverboy singer Mike Reno, which my sister was charged with throwing on stage at their concert; I have written to baseball players Andre Dawson, Mark Grace, and Vance Law (Vance Law wrote me back); and I exchanged letters with Timothy Leary when I was in college. Seems quaint in the social-media age.

Tootie reveals that along with with signed photos and a card and a cake, the birthday box will contain the papier-mache sculpture Tootie is currently forming in his likeness. I drew a picture of Morten Harket from a-ha, and another of the band The Outfield. Shut up.

Tootie goes on to exposit that Jermaine happens to be doing a concert in New York next week! On his birthday! But none of them are going. Sad face. Instead, they plan to convene, listen to his music, and swoon.

Tootie officially adjourns the meeting. Oy.

Buzzkill and worry-wart Jo stalks into the lounge to find out why Tootie isn’t working on the scarves she promised to make for the scholarship fair. Jo is under a lot of pressure to organize the event to fund the scholarship that she previously received, for which Cousin Geri is in town to perform and Blair is currently creating doggy-mobiles to sell. Tootie whines about having to go to the scholarship fair instead of Jermaine’s concert, and whines about not being able to camp out in Times Square among the 30K other people wanting tickets. Is it shitty of me to wonder whether Jermaine Jackson solo could ever sell out a venue that holds 30K people?

True story: when I was twelve, I camped out in front of the General Store in Albuquerque to get tickets to the Denver date of David Bowie’s Glass Spider tour. Pre-Internet days, folks, when you had to actually go to a physical location to purchase concert tickets. Then they started where you could buy them over the phone, but since there weren’t cell phones you had to station one person at the telephone at home trying to buy them while the other camped out at the store. Think of these sorts of work-arounds we had to employ when anyone tries to tell you that it was a simpler time.

Tootie basks in her status as “Jermaine’s number one fan” and pushes back against Jo and Natalie’s insistence that her correspondence is a form letter with a rubber-stamp signature. Here is where Tootie’s obsession style and mine part ways. I never thought any of my package correspondence was any bigger of a deal than it was, and while I had vivid fantasies of the members of Loverboy driving by my parents’ Albuquerque home and happening to hear their music coming from the backyard, where I was roller skating, I understood that none of that was actually real for real. For real.

In retrospect, I may have this episode to thank for that.

Fast forward to the night of the scholarship fair/Jermaine Jackson concert. Jo runs round nervous, trying to get everything in place. Mrs. Garrett calls Tootie aside; one of Tootie’s teachers has approached Mrs. Garrett about Tootie’s slipping grades. Tootie protests that she’s been too busy with Jermaine’s birthday to trifle with English papers.

Tootie feels bad, however, when she breaks the news to Jo that she has also neglected her promise to make scarves for the scholarship fair.

You can see the hurt and disappointment on Jo’s face as she laments that she tries not to count on people for exactly this reason. Tootie is shitty as she defends herself by saying that Jermaine is a friend, and the scholarship is for some girl she doesn’t even know.

Jo: “Oh yeah, you know her. She’s someone just like me. And last year she was me.”

Tootie felt that burn. She starts promising to make it up to Jo – to take any job Jo wants her to do at the fair that night. The phone rings and Natalie goes to answer it.

On the phone is Jermaine Jackson’s publicist.

“Well, Tootie, in appreciation of the super job you’ve done with your fan club, Jermaine would like you to be his special guest at his concert tonight!

“You’ll have two tickets waiting for you at the box office! Thanks for being Jermaine’s number-one fan!“

Tootie gloats to the other girls, whose reactions are a perfect mixture of pleasure for Tootie, confusion, and concern. Cut to Tootie babbling to Mrs. Garrett about what an amazing time they’re going to have at the show.

My mom went with me to both the Loverboy and David Bowie concerts mentioned above. And a lot of others too. Robyn Hitchcock at a coffee shop in Santa Fe. That one was amazing. The Moody Blues in Santa Fe, when I jumped up on stage and hugged John Lodge.

Mrs. Garrett has other ideas. She reasonably explains to Tootie that she knows it’s a big disappointment, but they’re already committed to Jo that night. There will be other concerts, she explains.

Tootie: “I’m goin’!”

Mrs. G: “We’ll go.”

Cut to Mrs. G explaining to the other girls that she agreed to take Tootie to the Jermaine Jackson concert that night. The girls are understandably annoyed that Mrs. Garrett gave in to what they perceive as a tantrum. They demand to know why Mrs. Garrett agreed to do this, and abandon them four hands short for the scholarship fair.

Mrs. G: “Because . . . I didn’t know what else to do.”

The girls discuss the origin of the term “fan” and talk about the fact that they’ve all been really super into someone. Mrs. G remembers fawning over Frank Sinatra, but talks about how this is something else. This, she says, is like the films she saw of people screaming and crying over the Beatles.

Hey, listen to my friend’s podcast: Dan Hates the Beatles. My friend’s name is Dan and he hates the Beatles. His co-host is Josh. Josh likes the Beatles. Dan hates the Beatles for much the same reason I do: it’s not so much “hate” as it is, “it’s fine, but there’s so much stuff that I like better. Stop telling me I’m wrong for not agreeing that they’re the best band ever. “

The frenzy over the Beatles frightened Mrs. Garrett, who would’ve been in her late 30s/early 40s when the Beatles were everything. I am now taking submissions for a fanfic about Mrs. Garrett raising her two sons as a single mom in the 60s.

The girls all look very serious as Mrs. G explains what a mess Beatles fans became. I only just found out what the word “Stan” means these days, and as a fan of that song, I am gobsmacked that people use it to describe themselves, as if it’s a desirable way to be.

Tootie, Stan for Jermaine Jackson, and Mrs. Garrett work their way through a (very small) crowd in what appears to be a backstage area. I have seen a handful of my favorites at a place where the backstage was like this, most notably Loverboy at Midnight Rodeo in Albuquerque. I didn’t get in, but I got them to send my headband back to be signed. The headband which was given to my sister after she bashed her head trying to throw my note to Mike Reno to him, and which she’d given to me at least a decade earlier.

That headband is a special muthafuckin’ possession.

Tootie pushes her way through the crowd with her stupid present, yelling about how Jermaine is expecting her. She announces that she’s president of his fan club, and several girls respond, “So am I.” The wheels haven’t started turning yet. When someone distracts the lone security guard by taking his hat, Tootie pushes her way into the (tiny!) dressing room.

Jermaine tells the bodyguards to let her go, and invites her to join him on the couch for a chat.

Y’all, this is what I envisioned throughout my whole childhood: that I would somehow – whether by joining the crowd outside the hotel or by running into them by happenstance and, of course, having an immediate connection – end up on a couch chatting with one of my favorites. In retrospect I suppose that vision was influenced by this episode. I did talk to David Bowie briefly outside his hotel in Hamburg. He mostly said, “Oh, that’s lovely, thank you very much.” I did get to Skype with Clark Brandon!

Tootie begins their pleasant little getting-to-know-you couch session wide-eyed and enthusiastic: “You were expecting me! I got a call from your publicist!” Jermaine explains that he’s not really involved with that; he just plays his music. Tootie’s wheels start to turn.

Outside, Mrs. Garrett pushes her way to the front of the mini-mob and asks if anyone has seen a young black girl.

Hooray for employing black actresses, but a throwaway comic-relief line that is not Facts at its best.

Back inside, Jermaine asks Tootie what she would like to say to him, now that she’s gone through all this trouble. She comes up with “I really enjoy your music!” and asks about his dog. What dog? The dog on the album cover. Jermaine says that he’s allergic to dogs, which doesn’t mean that he doesn’t have one, but that’s clearly supposed to be the implication.

One of the crew comes in and complains that they were supposed to have a back exit. Another crew member summons Jermaine to sign some shit and Jermaine politely excuses himself. Alone, Tootie overhears the publicist on the phone giving the exact same spiel he gave her to someone else.

She gets it, but the final kick in the teeth comes when she sees what’s become of her papier-mache bust, which a security guard assures everyone is not going to blow up.

Close to tears, Tootie heads toward the door. She takes one last look around and perhaps considers saying goodbye to Jermaine, but he’s wrapped up with crew and plans and questions and he doesn’t even notice her.