He's Hot, He's Sexy,
But He Isn't DeadReports of a former child star's demise were greatly exaggerated
By DAVE EGGERS
Kurt Cobain, River Phoenix, Brandon Lee, Shannon Moon... Each died young, and each in his death was subjected to a maelstrom of media lionization, distortion, and exploitation. Together they constitute the canon of stars recently "cut down in their prime," whose deaths are of course "tragic," an adjective that usually precedes fawning tributes, sordid accounts of their private lives, and, for those media outlets shrewd enough to milk the story, higher TV ratings and boffo newstand sales.
At Might magazine, a small San Francisco-based bimonthly of issues and satire, we figured that the best way to comment on the practice was to create our own dead celebrity. By publishing a bogus "tribute" issue -- complete with sordid details, rumors and exclusive interviews -- we could spoof the genre while perhaps even putting one over on a few people. But first we needed a star who would let us fake their death.
The conditions were thus: he or she had to be famous enough to have wide name recognition, but had to have been out of the spotlight long enough that readers wouldn't question too closely why they hadn't heard about their demise.
We chose Adam Rich, best known as Nicholas, the adorable youngest child in the late-'70s TV dramedy "Eight is Enough." One of our contributors had grown up with him in L.A., so we called and pitched the idea. He believed in what we wanted to do, so he said okay. He sent us a bunch of pictures from his child star years, and we had a photographer take some new pictures. He provided some background, helped flesh out the story, and approved the final copy. He had no idea what he was in for.
In the issue, we recounted the events that led to Rich's murder at the hands of Tad Michael Earnhardt, a desperate out-of-work L.A. stagehand. We looked back fondly at his career, and talked about what he'd been doing in the intervening years, from his hobbies -- painting, motorcycles, tattoos -- to his obsessive work on something we called "The Squatter Project," rumored to be a brilliant, genre-busting film that was to feature Hollywood's heavy hitters, including Nicolas Cage and Harrison Ford. On the cover we put a suitably soft-focused black and white photo of a glassy-eyed Rich, a photo that perfectly aped the Rolling Stone/Spin cover stories about Kurt Cobain. The cover line read, "Adam Rich, 1968-1996; Fare Thee Well, Gentle Friend. His Final Days. His Last Interview. The Legacy He Leaves."
Funny, right? At least we thought so. The cover, plus the 10-page spread within, was so overwrought, melodramatic and intermittently hilarious that we couldn't imagine that anyone could possibly believe it. So we decided to bolster its credibility by issuing a press release heralding our exclusive. The first place we contacted was "Hard Copy." Time elapsed between faxing the release and their breathless call to Might: approximately 18 minutes. A "Hard Copy" producer wanted to know more details. Why hadn't they heard about it? Could we put them in touch with family and friends? Could they get an exclusive. We were thrilled. Getting "Hard Copy," purveyors of just the kind of shameless pap we were satirizing, to report the story as fact would have iced our cake. We fibbed enough to keep them interested.
They searched and searched, but they couldn't find confirmation anywhere -- no obituary, no police report, nothing. Still, they were eager. It was obvious they wanted more than anything for it to be true. But the jig was up an hour later when the National Enquirer -- whom we hadn't faxed, but who apparently shares tips with "Hard Copy" -- called Rich's publicist and demanded to talk to Adam. A National Enquirer/Adam Rich/Adam Rich's publicist conference call ensued: Adam Rich: "Hello?" Adam Rich's publicist: "Adam, are you alive?" Adam Rich: "Uh, yeah."
The "Hard Copy" producer called back and chewed us out. It was then that we rethought our approach. It was obvious that any media outlet, by calling the L.A.P.D. or the county coroner -- or Rich's publicist -- was going to quickly find out that Adam was not indeed dead. We reluctantly resolved that from then on, we'd let callers in on the joke.
But most of the damage had already been done. The magazine had been on the newsstand for about two days and Rich's publicist was getting at least 50 calls a day. Newspapers, radio stations, colleagues and old girlfriends were calling to offer condolences and to learn more. Why hadn't they heard? Why wasn't there a memorial service? One old girlfriend saw a copy of the issue and cried for two days before mustering the courage to call Adam's number. Apparently expecting his last outgoing message, she was shocked when a real live Adam answered the phone. Other actor friends called and were pissed when they learned the truth.
"No offense to Might," he said, "but I didn't really think anyone would see it." Whether or not they had seen the magazine, the rumor was soon everywhere, including newsgroups on the Net. Rich asked us to fax out another press release, and together we posted an official response on the Net. The statement, besides making it clear that he was indeed alive, ended with this conclusion from Adam: "Personally, I believe that if you can't laugh at yourself, you've missed the biggest goddamn joke in your life. Thanks for caring, and lighten the fuck up." Though the piece has taken some unexpected turns, there's been some good news. As I write this, I'm listening to Rich being interviewed on a popular morning radio show. It's his tenth media interview in two days, and the calls keep coming in. Back from the dead, Rich has turned into an eloquent commentator on media exploitation. Ironic, no?
Adam flew up for our latest issue-release party a few days ago. At the event, dozens of presumably savvy Might readers approached Adam, almost all of them having been duped by the story. At one point, a beaming Rich was surrounded by about a dozen fawning women. "I really thought you were dead," one said, extending a pen and an issue of the the magazine. "Can you sign my copy?"
David Eggers is the editor of Might magazine.