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Bridges! The lady behind you! Please! The lady behind you!”Īs the yellow shirt disappeared inside, Ojalvo turned around with a triumphant smile.Ĭelebrity autographs come in tiers. Bridges!” she screamed, brandishing the posters. “We aren’t going to make it!” She pulled the photos out of her purse and pitched herself into the crowd. When she finally made it to The View, a familiar yellow shirt could be seen sliding in the front door, surrounded by a throng of screaming fans. “Save a spot for me!” Ojalvo yelled, though she knew he wouldn’t. While Ojalvo hightailed it to the train station, a young man from the GMA crowd zoomed past, obviously on his way to the same place. “Broke every bone in my leg.”) Bridges had only signed two autographs, she explained, and she needed five, so now she had to catch him before his appearance at The View, 20 blocks south. (“Someone beat me up,” she explained brusquely. Then she was dashing through Times Square, moving swiftly despite the cane and the limp. When it became clear that he was not coming back for her, she spun on her heel. As he turned away, her cries intensified: “One for my brother too, please? Mr. “Jeff, you promised!”īridges paused to sign a few posters, but not enough for her liking. Bridges, right here sir, one for the old lady?” she yelled in her thick Bronx accent. No one was confident he’d follow through, but an hour or so later, he re-emerged and turned gamely toward the writhing crowd. Photo Illustration by The Daily Beast/Getty/Emily Shugermanīridges, sporting a bright yellow button-down, brushed off the graphers, promising to sign on the way out. “Jeff! Jeff! Over here!” they yelled, waving their pens in the air. When Bridges finally emerged, the crowd went wild.
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The smartest graphers clocked the license plate on the car, so they could follow it the rest of the day. Everyone grew tense, pushing forward slightly, hanging their signing boards over the barricades, getting in position. (“I just love his music and I think he’s sexy,” she said of the latter.)īut Ojalvo and the other graphers stopped chatting the minute a black Escalade pulled up to GMA, signaling the arrival of a star.
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Only two made her really weak at the knees: Chris Evans and Pitbull. The nicest celebrity she’s met was Jessica Chastain, the rudest was Brie Larson. The most she’d ever made off an autograph was $500, for a signed copy of Bruce Springsteen’s book. The longest she’d ever waited for an autograph is 10 hours, she said, when she missed the cast of Aquaman going into a hotel and had to wait outside until they left. She also regaled her competitors with stories from a decade in the biz.
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But somehow she managed not only to hold her own, but to hold sway: All morning long, she texted and called other graphers, telling them who was in town, where they were shooting, when to show up-the air traffic control of professional autograph hounds. Graphing is a predominantly male, highly physical job-the graphers push and shove each other to get signatures and hoist their signing boards over each other’s heads-and Ojalvo is a grandma with a limp.
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She got a flat rate for each signature, plus a percentage of the profit once they sold. He was a grapher, too, but his job kept him from getting out as much, so he sent Ojalvo instead. She wasn’t going to sell the autographs herself that was a job for a man we’ll call Joseph-the guy who hired her to run down celebrity signatures almost a decade ago. “No more Red Bull for you,” she chided, and then, when he persisted: “Come here so I can smack you around!” She was easily the oldest person there by 20 years, and had already slipped into the role of grandma, scolding a younger grapher who was making too much noise. the next Monday, I found Ojalvo deep in a crowd of about 20 graphers, her bleach blond ponytail sticking out through a sea of men in baseball caps. We’d met outside the set of GMA the week before, when Ojalvo was staking out Jensen Ackles and Christy Carlson Romano, and she’d agreed to let me shadow her for a day.Īt 7 a.m. Ojalvo is a “grapher”-a professional autograph hound who hunts down and sells celebrity signatures. And Ojalvo desperately needed to beat him. Above her, the real Bridges was cruising along the streets of Manhattan in a black Escalade, making his way from the set of Good Morning America to The View. Her long black cane balanced on the seat next to her, the 65-year-old expertly peeled signed photos of actor Jeff Bridges off a piece of cardboard and replaced them with fresh ones from a large, plastic binder. on a Monday, and Teresa Ojalvo was whizzing below Manhattan on a downtown 2 train, trying to catch a celebrity.