DiMaggio, Lewinsky Celebrities of Different Eras By Richard Craig March 13, 1999

This week, like a couple of ships passing in the night, the 1900s and the 2000s each sailed through our nation's consciousness, going in separate directions.

On one hand, we mourned the passing of Joe DiMaggio, a dignified exemplar of the stylish, yet private celebrity one could be in America through most of the 1900s. On the other hand, we saw Monica Lewinsky fluttering her eyelashes at Barbara Walters, symbolizing an entirely new era of celebrity as we head into the next century.

It's a contrast between what we dream of being and what we've become. And it sends a chill up your spine, doesn't it?

Take a look at DiMaggio -- a man with imperfections, yet with sense enough to hide them. Admittedly, he reigned in an era when the news media were neither as ubiquitous nor as prying as they have become. He became a cultural icon at a time when celebrities were not subjected to a microscope (or a hidden tape machine). Getting a chance to see him play was a must for every baseball fan alive at the time, yet knowing his every move off the field was unnecessary.

As much as he occupied the spotlight, DiMaggio never seemed to fall in love with his own photo in the papers or on the TV screen. What other human being could have played in New York City, then married Marilyn Monroe, of all people, and still managed to maintain a closely guarded private life?

What is particularly remarkable is that DiMaggio remained famous after his career ended, well into the new era of celebrity, yet managed to keep his private matters to himself. Others from the same decades -- Ted Williams, Mickey Mantle, et al -- dealt with assorted personal foibles after their careers ended, yet DiMaggio remained a mystery. Was he shy? Was he aloof? Was he a snob? Nobody really knew, because that's the way he wanted it.

While DiMaggio achieved fame, Lewinsky stumbled across it. In an era when outrageousness rules -- where Dennis Rodman, Howard Stern and John Bobbitt get more attention than the Pope -- Lewinsky became the poster child for doing the unthinkable. Rodman may have pierced his ears, nose, lips and God knows what else, but Monica pierced the presidency. For this questionable act, society has exalted her into neo-celebrity status. DiMaggio spent years patrolling center field on foot to achieve celebrity, but Lewinsky achieved equal fame in a few afternoons on her knees.

That fame -- or infamy -- is why millions watched as Lewinsky did what so many do these days -- she apologized for her actions, then set about proving that the apology meant nothing. Perhaps she didn't realize the irony involved, and Walters certainly wasn't going to point it out to her. No matter -- this interview wasn't about journalism, it was about ratings and about further eliminating boundaries of private behavior. Lewinsky was certainly not interested in preserving the dignity of her private life, nor was Walters interested in pursuing the subject as a news story. Of course, the fact that Walters got the interview -- as opposed to a traditional journalist -- says a lot about who is in control of Monica's story. And when you hear commentators howl about Walters' softball questions compromising her integrity as a journalist, it raises a fair question. Exactly whom, or what kind of society, conferred journalistic integrity on a celebrity schmoozer like Walters to begin with?

Alas, this sort of shameless promotion appears to be what we're in for in the next century. As media become more and more numerous and spread information more and more quickly, it will require more and more outrageous acts to command our attention. The notion of a celebrity like DiMaggio maintaining his dignity -- indeed, the notion of dignity itself -- may soon be a relic of the 20th Century.

©1999 Richard Craig. All rights reserved.

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