Yea You Get Props

Rickford J. Powell is the man. He's a lot of man, ladies, a lot of man. More man than you can handle. I know you know the lyrics, but that ain't the point.

A couple of years back Ricky introduced me to his next door neighbor, Lawrence Quirk, an Old Hollywood biographer, and according to Ricky, Jayne Mansfield or Jane Russell's publicist. Or maybe it was Joan Crawford. So we were sitting in his backyard garden and Ricky, being a gentleman, introduces me.

Mr. Quirk asks, "Are you an actress?"

I get that question a lot. And I hate it. But when Mr. Quirk asked, I was flattered. Humble. Gracious. I mean here is a man who knows from goddesses. I had to decline. "Publisher," I told him. "Yea, my publisher," Ricky added proudly if somewhat proprietarily.

So Ricky calls me the other night and leaves a message which was landmark, cause honey usually hangs up then gets all "Why don't you answer your phone?" But this time he left a message saying, "Yo! I got you something! I got you a copy of Larry Quirk's book on Bette Davis" (He knows how I love me that killer bitch. Talk about a role model). "I'll leave it with your doorman."

So the next day I go downstairs and the doorman hands me the book and I see it is is signed:

"Stay fierce. Love Ricky."