SHE was born a princess, the golden child of Hollywood royalty. The silver spoon in her mouth was platinum rather than sterling, and her home was a palatial Beverly Hills mansion to rival any royal castle.
It was a long way from Brooklyn, where her family had its roots. And while she may have come into her own as Donna on the TV show “Beverly Hills 90210,” Tori Spelling’s Tinseltown pedigree seemed to be working against the young actress.
Early critics often sniped that the only reason she had been cast was that she was the daughter of the venerable Aaron Spelling. They attacked her as a pampered princess whose idea of hardship was finding she had no champagne in the refrigerator.
But once the series wound down, Spelling rebelled against the Hollywood prototype, ditching the comfy confines of her parental palace for more modest L.A. digs and a less luxurious lifestyle.
Now, don’t misunderstand. Spelling didn’t exactly trade her Prada for Payless, but she did veer away from the grandeur of daddy’s world just enough to sample reality. One of her new challenges has been to try stage acting for the first time.
“Maybe Baby, It’s You,” a two-person play written by Charley Shanian, opens on Wednesday with Spelling one of the cast. The play, in which Spelling plays 11 different characters, depicts a variety of predictable lovelorn scenarios with a surprise outcome.
“I went to see the play, and knew immediately that I had to do it. The writing is amazing,” Spelling said. “I get to do 11 different characters, which is exciting. It was something I couldn’t pass up.”
No doubt, neither will the critics, who are probably waiting to attack. Whether or not Spelling triumphs in the role probably won’t be important to them. The fact that she comes from powerful stock and is surrounded by luxury probably will be reason enough for mudslinging. Meow!
CAN you blame Monica Lewinsky for cashing in on kneeling down? After all, life in the spotlight is pretty heady stuff – the attention, the endorsement money, not to mention the invitations to great parties.
Now, four years since she broke into the headlines and became fodder for comedy skits and gossipmongers, she continues to crave publicity. Never mind that she choked back tears at a press conference last week as she told reporters that a healthy sense of humor is her best defense. She can puddle up all she wants, but as long as she agrees to press conferences and interviews – not to mention an HBO documentary to be aired in early March – her protestations are meaningless.
This leaves me wondering who’s pointing her in the direction of the cameras. It’s obvious to me she’s still not up to the task. HBO honchos are billing this documentary as a completely “unrestricted” look at Lewinsky. Who cares? I didn’t care then; I don’t care now.
Let’s put this scandal to bed. Lewinsky’s 15 minutes are up. She’s tired of the jokes, and, quite frankly, so am I!
THE most profound teaching instilled in me early on centered around family and the importance of remaining close-knit.
My parents are old-school. They were often disturbed to hear me refer to a girlfriend as “my best friend.” To them, my brothers and sister were the only best friends I needed. I was raised to recognize that only family could offer unconditional love, and taught that the family bond means much more than being reared under the same crowded roof, sharing clothing and sleeping in the same bed.
Sometimes, as we lay in that bed, we talked late into the night about the really important things, such as how much we meant to one another. We often traded “I love you’s,” and we meant it. We even made a solemn pact that we would do anything – even give our hearts – if it could save another’s life.
This childhood promise came to mind last week with the sad story of former Post reporter Mike Hurewitz, who donated a large portion of his healthy liver to his brother Adam, a 54-year-old doctor in dire need of liver transplantation.
Mike’s courageous decision, made out of love, cost him his life.
Rethinking my pact with my brothers and sister made so long ago, I am clear that, even today, knowing the risks, I would make the same choice. The connection of blood and bone, of genes and chromosomes, of unconditional love and a profound childhood promise, speaks louder than any amount of logical reasoning.
E-mail: vgotti@nypost.com