Second Negative

The celebrity effect

The problem with most celebrities is that they act like celebrities. Is it possible to appreciate a person’s professional behavior and skill, and yet be appalled by their personal behavior? Of course, what complicates matters is that much of the personal information we know about celebrities we usually don’t know about other people. It is reasonable to believe that if your co-workers knew intimate details of your personal life, their opinion of you might change. Would that be fair?

I’ve been thinking about this lately because of Lance Armstrong. Lance and I both live in the same city. It’s true that I’m at home more often, but we both live here. As an athlete, his gifts are exceptional. His recovery from cancer was nothing short of amazing, and the foundation he helped create and fund will save lives and increase awareness. All around, he seems like an intelligent and thoughtful guy. Right? Well, professionally I would have to agree. As an American, I hope he wins a record sixth Tour de France.

The problem (and the curse of celebrity) is his personal behavior. Lance recently divorced his wife (mother of his three children) and started dating a pop star. Conveniently, this all occurred after he became a household name. During the latter part of his marriage, people routinely saw Lance in downtown clubs behaving “improperly” with females that were not his wife. Surprising? Well, no. In bad taste? Certainly. A friend of mine who works retail answered the phone one day to find Lance on the other end. Of course, she didn’t know who it was at the time, but was quickly informed, “This is Lance, I’m coming in. Have the owner come down”. Interesting. In a metro area of one million, he introduces himself as “Lance” and requests to deal only with the business owner. Perhaps I’m being too harsh. It’s entirely possible that the pre-fame Lance Armstrong introduced himself on the phone with only his first name, and always requested to deal only with the owner.

Unless a celebrity ventures into politics (like Arnold) they don’t usually have to answer for their personal transgressions. Even then, people seemed to forgive the Governor of California for years of sexual harassment on movie sets, so why wouldn’t they forgive Lance Armstrong for leaving his wife for another celebrity, and generally strutting around town like a prima donna? Is that what we expect? Do all rules of good behavior go out the window when fame arrives? Obviously you don’t have to be famous to behave inappropriately, but the rate with which bad behavior follows celebrity is ridiculous.

The funny thing is that the same people who condemned Clinton for his philandering ways (and abuse of power) shout “Go Lance!” without any thought or consideration that his actions off the bike might be less than admirable. Is it possible to separate the man from the myth? Can we love the pure skill with which O.J. Simpson played football, and yet hate the man who killed his wife? Or does one of the separate personas always consume the other and dictate our final conclusions?