From The Vault: My Brushes with Royalty -The Kenner Star May,2011

    The last time I was in Westminster Abbey was in the early 1980's. My most memorable moment came, actually, as I was leaving the building.  As I stepped out into the noon-day sun, along with the other mad dogs and Englishmen,  I heard a loud voice above the din of the taxis and double decker buses: “Hey, Ed Clancy. How ya doin’?”

    Well!! I knew I was famous, but not across the pond - Jolly Old England famous. If this had happened last week..or even two or three years ago, I would have assumed they were yelling at that skinny little English bicycle racer who was born with the good fortune of having been christened with MY name. He’s the one who hogs the Google search page that’s supposed to be all mine. But, that Ed Clancy had not been born yet.
    It turns out that the obnoxius guy who sounded like a Yat from Metairie was actually an obnoxious Yat from Metairie, who happened to be in London for a convention of the American Bar Association.  After that ego boosting little episode, my wife and I made it over to Buckingham Palace for the changing of the guard. As it turned out, none of the guards recognized me.
    Fade out. Fade in.
    When, on April 30th of 2011,  Prince William and his bride Kate Middleton appeared on the balcony of Buckingham Palace, the crowd below was shouting, “Kiss, Kiss, Kiss!!” So, they obliged nobless-ly. But it was such a dinky little kiss the masses shouted for more. So they did it again, but it looked like an instant replay of the first one. As I watched, one phrase kept bouncing around my brain– “Kiss Me Kate!”  This, of course, a reference to the famous Broadway musical of the late 1940's, made into a movie in 1953. I have all over the web checking out the world wide newspaper headlines to see which one showed the couple on the balcony and read: Kiss Me, Kate. But I found not one. Closest thing I came to it was a blog article headlined: “Royal wedding: kiss me Kate, but make it snappy, the grandparents are watching.”
    You may have heard that the couple was forbidden to kiss during the marriage ceremony.
    "There will be no kiss during the wedding ceremony," explained the Very Reverend Dr. John Hall, Dean of Westminster. "We don't do that in the Church of England. That's sort of a Hollywood thing: 'You may now kiss the bride.' It doesn't happen here."
    Well...who knew??
    Even though I had watched Charles marry Diana in 1981 (after my wife dragged me out of bed at Jeee-susss-Christ-in-the-morning), I was not aware of the ban on kissing, and that Charles and Di had decided to do it on the balcony.  I also was not aware that Diana looked at Charles and said, “Well, what about it?” Their kiss was even more anemic than William and Kate’s.
    My most recent actual brush with royalty came when Pete Fountain was still playing at his club in the New Orleans Hilton. I had never been up to see the show even though Pete had invited me several times. One night I was in the area and decided to go up and surprise Pete. Unfortunately, I got there late and Pete was already on stage. I went into the darkened room, trying not to trip over chair legs or fall onto somebody. As I made my way forward, in a sort of a crouch, my foot ran into something and I fell sideways, stopping my fall by grabbing the shoulder of a lady who was seated. I looked down saying, “Oh, I’m so sorry,” and I realized it was Princess Margaret. You know, the sister of the Queen of England? Holy Bat, Cowman! I had tripped over her purse in the aisle, and came very close to mugging Her Royal Highness.
    I never did see the show. I just backed up and out of there because it was too crowded to turn around. As it turns out, you’re supposed to back out of the room when you leave the presence of the Queen..and I assume the same holds for her sister.
    Pete later told me that Her Royal Sisterness used to come up to the club all the time, and was particularly interested in seeing the band’s Playboy centerfolds covering the walls in the dressing room.
    “She’s just a regular dame,” said Pete. Princess Margaret died in 2002, but, I am certain, not before she regaled her friends with the story of the handsome American who fell for her at Pete Foutain’s club.
    For more on my brushes with royalty
see the following columns, yes, From The Vault, of the Kenner Star.