By Dana Miller

Sadly, last week was the eighteenth anniversary of the death of my friend and client, Andy Gibb. If you have forgotten, Andy was a talented and successful pop star and one hell of a singer. I find the passage of time hard to comprehend. Andy passed at the very young age of 30 from a broken heart fueled by liquor, dope, and lack of love. Andy was the youngest of the Brothers Gibb. His brothers were the Bee Gees and for awhile, Andy was a solo sensation. He had his first number one hit at the age of 19 and charted three number ones in a row. By 1981, he had a total of nine songs in the top 40. I first met Andy when he moved into a house down from me in Malibu Colony. He and actress Victoria Principal rented the joint to hide behind gates and from the tabloids. Theirs was a passionate, afflicted, and shaky relationship doomed to destroy something or someone. Andy was charming, funny, and honestly quite hot for a tiny guy. I swear he never was more than 125 pounds with a 25-inch waist. To say that booze and blow did Andy in is way too simple an explanation. It's curious, but even today I don't encounter anyone who knew him say a bad...word about the lad. Even the guys at Paramount who reluctantly fired him as host of Solid Gold for flaking out miserably and the producers of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat on Broadway (they fired him after missing 21 of 51 performances) talk about what a sweet, sweet guy he was. Managing Andy was quite simply impossible. I look back at it as a pretty wonderful headache that eventually led to heavy heartache. Half the buyers in the world wouldn't touch him and the ones who would trashed his reputation to whittle down his fees. I was getting mercy work for him in Vegas for $25,000 a week when stars with half as many hits or talent were raking in $75,000. He wasn't into groupies; in fact, the last decade of his life he wasn't into much of anything that brought joy. On the road I would book Andy a two-bedroom suite: one for him, the other for his mother Barbara. Barbara was his rock, but also, like so many showbiz moms, she was his facilitator. I was always firing Andy's band members because they became his conduit to drugs. My only tranquil island in that storm of storms was Barbara, or so I thought. One night backstage at the Sahara Hotel in Vegas a whole horde of folks arrived to meet and schmooze with Andy. As he was taking pictures and signing autographs for the kids, I watched the father of the friends pass something to Barbara. Seems he was the family pharmacist and was hand-delivering Andy's current shipment of his antidepressant, Halcyon. For anxiety you were to take one pill a day. Andy would swallow 10 and hit the stage. And honestly no one could tell. Andy's only real final dream in life was to become a Bee Gee. Brother Barry would have easily let that happen but brothers Robin and the late Maurice wouldn't even consider it. They were jealous of Andy -- a concept Andy wasn't even properly hard-wired to understand. Every night before he would hit the stage he would say, "I think Barry and Linda are coming tonight." I would smile and nod but they never showed. Brother Barry and his wife Linda loved and cared for Andy. They were just into their own thing and had no real idea how deep or fast he was falling. One late night after a show when Andy was high he cried to me that he had hit and killed a man while driving in Ibiza at the ripe age of 16. He confessed that the family's celebrity had covered it up. I could never get confirmation of the incident from the family. If it was true rather than the meanderings of a cheerless and clogged mind that might just explain his life as he led it. Easier to be comfortably numb than face the reality of deep, dark, and a dastardly swarm of scars. I think about Andy all the time. Still hard for me to believe that classic voice is extinguished forever. Just a few years ago the Bee Gees played the MGM in Vegas and as Barbara and I clutched one another watching the boys sing along to a video of Andy we both cried like babies. Not too very long ago I was interviewed by VH1 for a Behind the Music on Andy. I wasn't used. I told the truth, but the Gibb gang had by then circled the wagons and created a legacy for Andy. I don't blame them. Families are complicated things. They'll eat their young yet don't you dare call one a name. It's all for one and one for all. In my office I proudly have Billboard magazine's Artist of the Year award given to Andy in 1978. He gave it to me just before he died. Some people I hope find a peace in death that eluded them in life. I so...pray that is the case for sweet, sweet Andy Gibb.

Last Saturday I flew to Phoenix for the 12th annual Celebrity Fight Night at the JW Marriott Desert Ridge Resort. I had a blast! Flew out with Kirstie Alley and she looks amazing. Kirstie says whatever comes to mind and generally it's pretty damned funny. Would love to see her in something on a regular basis. She told me she basically writes all the Jennie Craig commercials she does. I love the one running now with her as Dorothy from Wizard of Oz -- her idea! Love that. Robin Williams and I spent the time before the big event doing shots at the lobby bar. We talked about his stand-up and the devastation he...so strongly feels...from the death of Dana Reeve a couple weeks ago from lung cancer. My gut is Christopher and Dana's surviving son, 13-year-old Will, can find comfort in the fact that this superstar best friend of his parents will always have his back covered. I loved watching as people approached Robin in the lobby....He was nice to everyone yet truly peachy to the children. Doing shots of Patron and getting down on a knee to hug a little fan -- now that's a hell of a life! ...Jim Carrey, Sir Richard Branson, Tony Hawk, and Magic Johnson all received awards. Reba McEntire and Garth Brooks...were the hosts and it was as star-studded an event as we ever see here. But the big deal of the night was Muhammad Ali. He was like the biggest rock star on the planet last Saturday. People went nuts for him. Is there a greater example of stepping up in a majestic and noble way in the face of total adversity than Ali? He was and is the greatest and just like virtually everyone in that room in Phoenix last week, I was truly humbled and honored to be in...the gentleman's...remarkable presence. In 12 years, over $32 million bucks have been raised for the Muhammad Ali Parkinson Research Center. How awe-inspiring and marvelous is that?!

Late last week it was all about Canon Drive in Beverly Hills for us. Over two nights we hit Spago and Mastro's and gang, if you ever have folks in town who want to see stars, either one of these establishments will totally do the job. Everywhere you looked it was star-studded! ...Steven Spielberg coming in and Sidney Poitier heading out. Garth Ancier was to our left and Barbara Davis to our right. My boyfriend Ryan Black had his ingenious and gifted lovely lady friend Beverly Feldman in town and we wanted to do it up -- so we did! Beverly is a world-renowned shoe designer as well as a world class character. She was here for an appearance at Nordstrom's so we wanted to put together a couple of extraordinary dinner parties and we scored. Thursday night we did a total diva's night. Nothing but lovely ladies were invited. Spago's even created a stupendous chocolate shoe for our dessert. Friday we invited our wacky fun crowd and the evening ended with the always eccentric legal genius Ron Palmieri ballroom dancing in the middle of Mastro's with our guest of honor. Not normally done, but who the hell was gonna stop them?...What a wonderful week....So now, as I put my liver on ice and take to my bed, I'm honestly feeling blessed and amazed at how agreeable it is to grow older.

See You Out & About. Contact me at Malibudana@aol.com.