[IMG:L]Fame Junkies – Volume 5: The Devil’s Helper
Anyone wondering just how aggressive paparazzi photographers are these days should look no further than Britney Spears’ Malibu home. Earlier this week, two photographers–who were staking out Britney’s house–got into a heated scuffle as they vied to snap a shot of the recently-rehabbed star. In truth, the paparazzi have good reason to be so aggressive; an exclusive photo of Britney can earn upwards of $250,000 these days. Yet if these two brawling photographers were truly interested in mastering the tricks of their trade, they would put Britney on hold–at least for a few hours–and pay a visit to the home of Russell Turiak.
Russell Turiak is still, by his own choice and admission, one of the most loathed figures in the celebrity world. In his heyday, he was the nation’s top paparazzi photographer, and among those in the know, he is still regarded as the elder statesman of his profession.
When I visited him at his home in Yonkers, New York, I was struck immediately by how fit he looked. When I mentioned this to him, he told me that he was a martial arts expert who was “still in crime fighting shape.” In fact, minutes after I entered his house, he struck a martial arts pose in which he thrust out his foot and swung it upwards until it was level with his head.
“Not bad, huh?” he asked as he continued to hold the pose. “I have said before–to do what I do, you have to be part psychologist, part detective and part ninja.”
Eventually, when I made it clear that I was sufficiently impressed, Turiak broke his pose–and took a bow to complete his performance.
At first glance, he didn’t look particularly tough. He had sharp green eyes and a fleshy, boyish face with an almost preternaturally peachy complexion that appeared as if it may have been touched up in a few places with makeup. This, combined with his well-coiffed plume of black hair, gave him the vaguely generic good looks of a local TV anchorman. For the most part, he was congenial.
When it came to talking shop, however, a toughness surfaced, and he assumed the speech and manner of a mercenary or big game hunter–which was exactly how he saw himself. This became apparent as he regaled me with stories about tracking down and photographing Steve McQueen.
“It’s all just a game,” explained Turiak as we sat in his kitchen. “And my best game was against the ultimate game player, Steve McQueen, the king of cool. In The Great Escape, do you remember the scene where he jumped the fence on his motorcycle? Well, he did that stunt himself. And he did everything to keep me from getting pictures of him, but in the end, I won. I beat him.”
When I asked him to tell me more about what it took to be a top-notch paparazzi, he led me out of his kitchen and down a narrow hallway to a giant framed display of photographs of roughly thirty celebrities–including Mick Jagger, Mike Tyson, Tom Cruise, and Barbra Streisand–all with their tongues sticking out. “These are my tongue pictures. Everyone inevitably sticks their tongue out, especially when they’re trying to be careful with what they’re saying, so they pause and think, and then it happens.”
He paused rather melodramatically, and then he drew closer to make his final point. “Doing what I do, you watch people. You become a behaviorist,” he explained. “It’s like photographing wildlife. You become familiar with the nature of the animal that you’re photographing–and it’s the same way with celebrities.”
Turiak eventually led me down into the basement of his house where his office was situated. It was a large, dimly-lit room occupied by, roughly, 30 filing cabinets. The walls were hung with several dozen framed magazine covers from the Star, the Globe, and the National Enquirer.
Over the course of his career, he had shot roughly four hundred covers–mostly for the tabloids–and almost all of them featured a celebrity of one kind or another. These covers, however, represented only a fraction of the photographs that Turiak had taken. There were tens of thousands of others that he hadn’t published, which were stowed away in these cabinets. Periodically, he receives calls from people who wanted to buy or use these photos. His entire Jacquelyn Onassis collection, for example, was currently on loan to the History Channel for a documentary that they were filming.
“Everything is organized alphabetically,” he told me. “So let’s say that you wanted to find the pictures of Steve McQueen that I told you about–they would be over here…” Turiak walked past several cabinets until he came to one that was labeled “M.”
He then heaved open a giant sliding door, and began flipping through a series of dog-eared paper folders. Under his breath, he muttered softly as he perused his files: “Madonna … Madonna with Sean Penn … Madonna and Sean Penn in Hong Kong … I am looking for Mc … Okay, here we go … John McEnroe … Steve McQueen … Steve McQueen with his wife Barbara Minty … Ah hah!”
He pulled out the file and proceeded to show me several shots of Steve McQueen kissing his wife. There was nothing glamorous or sexy about these shots. They were not even particularly good photographs. They were just grainy close-ups of an old man and his wife sharing a moment to themselves, in a small boat on a lake in Illinois.
“Do you ever talk with any of the celebrities you photograph?” I asked.
“Sure,” he replied. “Jack Nicholson once asked me, ‘How many pictures do you have to take?’ And I said, ‘You know when you do a movie and you do take after take after take to get it right?’ And he understood.
I try to say something back that’ll either make sense to them, or make them crack a smile, so they’ll say, ‘he’s a likable idiot’ or ‘he’s a likable asshole.’ And I get along with a lot of them. Jack Nicholson and Sylvester Stallone have always been good to me. Michael Douglas always says hello to me.
Turiak gathered up the photographs of Steve McQueen and Barbara Minty, placed them back in their dog-eared paper folder, and then returned them to the “Mc” section of the filing cabinet. For the next half hour or so, he regaled me with stories, as he searched through his files and pulled out various photos.
At one point, as we got to talking about the issue of privacy, he immediately grew defensive. “This is not about privacy,” he told me in a measured voice as a twitch of anger rippled along the contours of his mouth.
“This is about publicity and who gets to control it. These celebrities would kiss your ass in a Macy’s window on New Year’s Eve to get publicity when they want it and need it–but once they have it, they want to control it. These celebrities are just pimping themselves like the rest of us, they’re just doing it on a grander scale.”
Matter-of-factly, he stated, “When they go into show business, they enter into a deal with the devil…”
The air thickened. Turiak continued.
“They know what the publicity is about and how the machine works: The more successful they become, the more they are going to be pursued. They know the media is out there. They go into the business accepting this; and then they become so rich and powerful, and so sought-after, and so ass-kissed by all of these agents and managers and publicists and lawyers and stand-ins and personal assistants, that they wouldn’t know how to find their own ass if someone wasn’t kissing it for them. But, they’ve made a deal with the devil, and the way I see it: I am the devil’s helper.”
This was adapted from the new book, Fame Junkies. Read the hot, page-turning exposé that everyone in Hollywood is talking about! Purchase a copy of FAME JUNKIES for a discounted price on Buy.com right now.
Also on Hollywood.com:
[IMG:L]Meet America’s Youngest Fame Junkies
Why do more people watch the ultimate competition for celebrityhood, American Idol, than watch the nightly news on the three major networks combined? How come the average teenage boy desires fame almost as much as intelligence–while the average teenage girl craves fame more than intelligence? And why do 43.4% of teenage girls say that they want to be a “celebrity personal assistant” when they grow up, while only 13.6% say they’d want to be a U.S. Senator?
Watch this eyebrow-raising, documentary short based on Fame Junkiies, the critically acclaimed book by Jake Halpern.
[IMG:L]Fame Junkies – Volume 2: Beneath the Red Carpet
OK, so merely one month later, the Oscars are already a quickly fading memory. In fact, the entire two-month-long American bacchanal known as “award show season” seems like it was a frantic, distant dream. At long last, Martin Scorsese is sleeping well. The vintage couture ‘borrows’ have been returned. The Hummer stretch-limos are back in their garages. But what about all the red carpets? I mean this quite literally. What happens to all that red carpet? And, on a slightly more philosophical note, why is it that we are so obsessed with the red carpet in the first place?
[IMG:L]Fame Junkies – Volume 3: The Grooming of Baby Idols
American Idol’s controversial, Sanjaya-focused season is quickly building toward its climatic finale; however, for all those dazed contestants who have been brusquely eliminated–yet emotionally crippled by razor-tongued Simon–there is still hope. Look no farther than the International Model and Talent Agency (IMTA), which hosts two annual talent conventions, one of which is quickly approaching this summer.
[IMG:L]Fame Junkies – Volume 4: The Secret Lives of Stylists
Marcel Winter* has made a life for himself by dressing other people–mainly powerhouse celebrities. Their distinguished ranks include the likes of Halle Berry, Jim Carrey, John Travolta, and Nicole Kidman to name just a few. Over the years, Winter has also developed a successful second career as an analyst of celebrity fashion for several television networks, on which he identifies, candidly, the “best” and “worst” dressed attendees at the biggie events like the Oscars and the Golden Globes.
This was adapted from the new book, Fame Junkies. Read the hot, page-turning exposé that everyone in Hollywood is talking about! Purchase a copy of FAME JUNKIES for a discounted price on Buy.com right now.
