In August of that year I worked the door for the sweltering month of August. Most everyone was out of the city at the beaches, but the club still drew a crowd, albeit somewhat questionable. Steve Maas watched the guests gather at the ropes on the CCTV from his nearby apartment. He had also installed an intercom to consult the security about who to let in as well as who not. One night I spot Meryl Streep approaching from the alley. “Don’t let her in,” barked Steve. “But it’s__” “I know who it is. Don’t let her in or else you’re fired.” Meryl showed up smiling, until I said, “Not tonight.” “Why?” Doormen rarely explain why. I shrugged and she stormed away. Later I asked Steve when he arrived, “Why?” “Because I didn’t like the way she turned around on the quay at the end of THE FRENCH LIEUTENANT’S WOMAN.” I nodded and didn’t say the word, because I kind of agreed with him.
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