Eliot Spitzer -- Father of the Year

The day after the Eliot Spitzer story broke, I interviewed Dominick Dunne for a Q&A I'm doing for mediabistro.com. The first thing I said to him was, 'You couldn't write anything more unbelievable than this." He agreed saying, "He thought he was above everyone. He must have to have done something so stupid." Then, of course, the breathless tabloid accounts and gossip disguised as news on the cable news channels took hold and battered us with the made-for-television scandal until it was hard to remember this event actually happened to real people (not including, of course, Spitzer himself).

Despite the schadenfreude surrounding the story in many circles, I have found there is a deep sadness among others. After all, this was not a victimless crime. And I'm not talking about Ashley Dupre-- 'Kristen' -- or whatever her name is or will be when she pens her inevitable tell all or sells herself to the highest bidder -- this time in print. I'm not even talking about Silda. By all accounts, she is certainly devastated. But, someone that travels in that same circle told me today that she won't be standing by her man when the dust settles. He's toast. Rightfully so.

I'm talking about his daughters.

The night the news of the scandal broke, Katie Couric told me, "I take no glee in reporting the story. I look at them and see a family devastated and my heart goes out to their daughters." Dominick told me, "My heart breaks for the daughters. It's something they'll carry with them for the rest of their lives."

So while Kristen cashes in her on fifteen minutes ninety-eight cents at a time (fittingly, that was the top selling price of one of her songs on a pay for play music Internet site hours after the story broke), the three other young women at the polar opposite of the story are left to wonder: who is this man I thought was my father?

When I was 22, my father left our family for a woman he had been involved with for some time. I never saw it coming. I remember the night my mother had to deliver the news at dinner. I asked what time dad was coming home and she broke down in sobs. That same morning I had seen my father at the breakfast table thinking it was a day like any other. He told me that I looked pretty. He never mentioned he was leaving. The event devastated our family to such an extent that when he died a few years ago, my brother had not seen him in nearly twenty years. I had tried, and failed, at various intervals to establish some kind of relationship with him. Months before his death (he kept his illness secret from us, too), I had finally let loose with my anger when 'the other woman' now his wife, decided to email me and tell me I wasn't treating my father well. The night before he died, I called him. We spoke for a long time. He never said he was sorry for any of it. After carrying around the unbearable weight of betrayal and abandonment for so long, I forgave him. Not for him, for me.

So when I see this story play out in papers now (and report on it myself for People) I am drawn back to that time in my life when everything I assumed was true turned out to be anything but. Fathers don't always put their families first. They can hurt you more deeply than you thought possible.

Having known the deep, deep pain I felt in private I can not begin to imagine what this must be like for Spitzer's daugthers with the added burden of having to see this play out in public. I hope they can find some strength by banding together.

So for all the outcries about how Spitzer betrayed public trust, allegedly broke several laws and violated his marriage contract, I say shame on you Elliot Spitzer for being such a lousy father.

That is by far the worst crime you could have committed. Just ask your daugthers.

Welcome to Mommywood!

I know what you're thinking. Just what the world needs another blog. Well, maybe not. If you're reading this, you're either a faithful reader of my 'Lunch' column, a fan of my Oscar reviews for Lookonline, one of my friends who've been listening to me for ages say I would do this or someone who just happens to be on my mailing list. In any and all cases, thanks! This is for all of you who've been telling me I should write a book or a screenplay about my oh so glamorous (can you hear the sarcasm?) life as an entertainment-media-fashion journalist. This is all I can manage at the moment and I think it's a good start.

I'm going to be using this forum a number of ways. First, I must confess I'm a shameless self promoter (shocking, I know) who just happens to have gotten off track due to a little thing called motherhood. So this is designed to get things going in that department. When I became a mom in November 2005 when my husband and I traveled to China to get Madeline I could never have imagined how all consuming motherhood would be. This workaholic was brought to her knees. Juggling a professional life and motherhood has been, without question, the most difficult thing I've ever done. So, from time to time I'll be writing about that part of my life. I wish I could have done it from the very first day. I had every good intention, but the written version starts now and believe me, there's no shortage of material. I cannot believe how much I did not know before Madeline came along and I am even more daunted by things I've yet to learn. So, I'll be sharing those episodes when I think I have something interesting to say.

Most often, though, I'll be writing about the people, events and issues that are part of my professional life. The stories behind the stories, as they say, are often more interesting than what gets printed -- especially when you spend an entire day with a celebrity and your piece gets boiled down to a pull quote or a 300 word sanitized version of events. Dominick Dunne, one of my favorite authors, told me the other day that people always come up and tell him things that have led him to some of the most amazing things in his work as a journalist. When I asked him why he thought that happened, he said it was because he was open to it. "Most famous people only want to talk to other famous people," he said. "I talk to everyone because you never know who is going to tell you something great." I subscribe to that same school of thought and as a result, after the tape recorder is off, before a lunch starts, in the ladies' room or at the airport, I make use of every minute I can with the famous and infamous that cross my path. Some exchanges have been much more interesting than, like I said, the printed version turns out to be. Here's where I can share those stories with you.

I'll also be writing essays on events that spur me to do so. Right now I'm digesting the debacle of Elliot Spitzer's astonishing implosion and will be posting my thoughts on that shortly. The reactions I heard this week from folks ranging from my friend Mr. Dunne to Katie Couric to the taxi driver that drove me to Michael's restaurant have really got me thinking that aside from the incredibly interesting political story, the most devastating aspect of this whole sad mess is the impact it has had and will always have on his wife and daugthers. That's what I'll be writing about.

Lastly, I'll be using my blog to -- what else? -- promote the work I do for the good folks that keep me gainfully employed. People, Variety, mediabistro, Fashion Group International and the like. And, of course, when I finally get out of my own way to write another book I'll be writing about that as well.

I guess I have to admit I think I have a life that's worth writing about. After lunching with Kerry Kennedy and Dayle Haddon at Michael's today -- thanks to my friends at the Hallmark Channel who invited me to tag along, I dashed off to the Beauty Ball where I dished with Vera Wang and Vanessa Williams on the joys of botox for People. But the most exciting moment of the day came when I got home and Madeline, who just turned three, awoke out of a sound sleep shortly after 9 p.m. and announced, "I have to go to the bathroom" for the first time. Perhaps she won't be graduating from high school in diapers after all. Now that's big news -- at least in my house.

Stay tuned ...