Tom Arnold, a goldfish & me

Tom Arnold and I lived together in college, but I wasn't sure he'd remember me. It was college, after all. Plus, we were just roommates, not ... you know ... roommates. And he has had a few other diversions since then — like a bunch of TV shows, 50-plus movies ... and those three wives.

But still, we had history.

We met when I was a Tri-Delta at the University of Iowa and Tom was a sorority "houseboy." Tom was putting together his first stand-up bits, and my best friend and I became his "beautiful young assistants." (Hey! We were young.)

And you thought Roseanne made him a star.

You have to figure, if we're all a mere 6 degrees away from Kevin Bacon, certainly many of us actually know someone who became a celebrity. But how do you reconnect when one person's grown famous, and the other has merely grown saggy? I just wasn't sure.

Until, that is, I learned that Tom was appearing at the Rite Aid Health & Beauty Expo in Seattle. Suddenly, I was inspired. And that very day, "McHale's Navy" was on TV, starring Tom, Tim Curry and a squealing pig.

If that's not a sign, I don't know what is.

Getting to Tom

I had an official "press" appointment with Tom at the end of his day, but I was nervous, and I really needed to see him sooner. So I stood at the end of the autograph line as amazingly excited fans filed by.

Finally, it was my turn. I scooted up to the table and announced, "It's Sandy."

Tom didn't look up. But he did start to write "To Sandy" on a standard 8-by-10 head shot.

"It's Sandy. Sandy. From Iowa."

Eye contact. Thank God. Tom stood up and hugged me.

The Green Room

After Tom's last stage appearance and autograph session, I was escorted to the "green room," which was black, to wait for him.

Ed McMahon and his really, really young-looking wife were sitting on a leather couch.

Jay Buhner sat in a chair, holding a cup of coffee. He tried to scoot back, but the chair tipped out from under him. "I'm going down," he announced. His coffee bobbled a bit, but he did not drop it.

Minutes later, Tom strolled in. He still remembered me.

A temporary downer

For the first few minutes of reminiscence, I forgot to take notes. Then I remembered I was working. ...

Q: I know when I think "Health and Beauty Expo," I think Tom Arnold and Ed McMahon. What exactly are you doing here?

A: When I first heard about it, I thought it was funny. I thought maybe I'd check it out. Maybe I could get some material from it. Plus, they pay you well. Actually, when my agent told me about it, I went to a Rite Aid in Santa Monica, and it was pretty frickin' amazing. I spent the afternoon there!

Q: You did talk about your addiction recovery, though, and how you reach out to help people. So should I not mention the time you had the party in Minneapolis and told everyone the cops were there, just so they'd run out and leave their drugs behind?

A: Print that. Absolutely.

You know, I never smoked pot till I was out of high school, and when I moved to Minneapolis, I had six comedy managers, and they were all coke dealers. I'm sure I did many heinous things.

The first day I was in L.A., I met a big-time dealer. Whatever money I made went to partying. I would stay sober for six months and reward myself with drugs.

It got horribly bad. I had no friends, no jobs, so I went to rehab. It's been 16-½ years, some hard times. But I'd be dead for sure if I didn't.

Q: You do know this is supposed to be lighthearted and funny, don't you?

A: Oh. Yeah. Sorry.

The road to fame begins in Iowa

Tom's early acts included a catchy sperm-bank ditty ("substantial penalty for early withdrawal") and "Tom Arnold's Fabulous Goldfish Revue," wherein I held a flaming tennis racket while Tom catapulted a floppy fishy (wrapped in a protective condom) through the flames on a toy motorcycle.

Q: The song was called "Tom Arnold's Sperm Bank & Trust," wasn't it?

A: That's it. The irony is that I have a very low sperm count. I wrote that song after I was rejected at the sperm bank. I also had not abstained for 72 hours. Not because I was with a woman ...

Q: And about that Goldfish Revue. Fish died, didn't they?

A: Yes. Especially when I left them in the trunk of my car. It was cold.

Q: Did you actually graduate? I think I missed that.

A: No. I graduated from Indian Hills (a community college) and went to Iowa for two years, then I moved to Minneapolis with a trash bag of stuff and $100. They promised me a job at a comedy club, and when I got there, they said it was for one weekend, and it paid $15. I sold Time-Life books. Then the greatest job ever — I started writing. That's one great thing Roseanne gave me — confidence — and even if you divorce, they can't take that away. They try, but they can't.

Dreaming about fame

Q: I am so happy you remembered me. Right now, do you feel like you're talking to me, or to "the press"?

A: When they said someone from the Seattle paper wanted to interview me, I said no. I wanted to limit the press from this, wait until I'm promoting something. Then they said, "She knew you in college," and gave me your maiden name. I had flashbacks.

Q: Are you surprised I'm a journalist? I'm actually using my degree!

A: I was surprised. It's like a real newspaper! You're not working at the Foot Locker — which is still a good job.

In college, when I was watching "Mork & Mindy," I'd say, "I'm gonna know him one day." I hate when people say that — I think they're crazy. If you had said you'd be writing for a newspaper in Seattle, people would think that's crazy.

Q: I dream about you sometimes, but I dream about Kiefer Sutherland, too, and I don't know him at all. Does it freak you out that people you've never met might dream about you?

A: Well, the fact that you know me helps.

Q: Yeah, but I don't necessarily have kissy dreams about you.

A: Thanks for saying that.

Q: Do you always feel famous?

A: You don't always feel good about yourself, but it wasn't like yesterday I was an American Idol. I've been doing this for like 20 years. I like my privacy a lot, but I like to be able to go to places — like Iowa games — and get people excited. I like to get things done and help people.

Women's issues

Q: So, how did serving dinner to 100 hungry Tri-Deltas prepare you for life in Hollywood?

A: First of all, you've got an unvarnished perspective of women — they can be just as disgusting as men, and they wear sweatpants. It shatters that fantasy of what women are, once you get into a marriage.

Q: Are you a good husband? I saw that your second wife [Julie Champnella] was, coincidentally, a blond girl from Michigan [so am I].

A: Yeah, that was a big mistake. She was 21. Way too young. I thought I could make somebody happy, but I've realized I can't make anybody happy.

I've always been attracted to women a little bit unhappy. I thought if they didn't need me, then what do I do?

Q: That's very sweet.

A: But it can make life harder. I am a good husband. [Tom has been married to third wife Shelby Roos since 2002.] Not 100 percent, sometimes. I follow the rules. I work really hard. I need a little private time, but it's been almost four years, and that's getting into record territory.

Does she realize I'm a good husband? I don't know. The other two, when it was over, then they liked me a lot.

Facing up to fame

Q: Tell me how you've gone Hollywood, and how you've stayed true to your Midwestern roots. I know you got hair transplants.

A: Yeah, but I would have done that anyway. I can't be fat and bald.

Q: New teeth?

A: Just caps, 'cause they were knocked out in a bar fight.

Q: Botox?

A: Hell, no.

Q: What about your old self?

A: I've got a really good group of friends that are down-to-earth. I don't feel like an insider in Hollywood — ever.

Q: I think you look like one.

A: Even Jim Carrey doesn't feel like it. There's no really cool, cool people. There's people that do amazing work, but if you let them talk, then you find out they're just regular people.

Farewell, famous one

The black green room started to fill up. Tom introduced me to Ed McMahon. Mrs. McMahon hugged me. Billy Blanks bounced by, filling the room with a lovely Eau de Tae Bo.

Someone took my picture with Tom. Big hugs. Quick kisses. Tom said he was proud of me. We walked out, literally in opposite directions.

But we had reconnected — just a regular famous guy, and the girl who knew him when.

Sandy Dunham: sdunham@seattletimes. com