When I was younger, I used to wonder about the celebrities I liked. As to who they really were. As to what it would be like to meet them. As to whether or not they were the same people I pictured them to be.
And then, I met one of the people I admired most: Woody Allen. I had watched a huge chunk of his sprawling filmography, memorized most of “Annie Hall”, even listened to the bulk of his stand-up. But when I told that to him, he essentially shooed me away. I don’t know what I was expecting. I guess, I just wanted him to smile when he heard.
But in person, he didn’t seem like the kind of person who readily did that.
A similar thing happened with Biggie Smalls, or as he’s more widely known “The Notorious B.I.G.”. If you don’t know, Biggie Smalls is one of most revered rappers of all time. Killed famously in the east coast/west coast feud of 90’s hip-hop, he’s regarded as a pioneer of the art form and one the best rappers ever. Even after his death, the public clung to him. There were movies written about him, songs that referenced him, and buildings with his face on it.
I went to one of those buildings, a couple of days after I realized they existed. It was one thing to admire Biggie Smalls, it was another to see him. And this, was as close as I was gonna get.
So, I dragged my friend to famous mural of Biggie on the corner of Bedford and Quincy and I remembered just looking up at him. Here he was, this patron saint of hip-hop. An artist, quite literally, larger than life, sporting a crown on his head and flanked by his most powerful lyrics. I thought to myself, “This is exactly how I pictured him”.
But there was one thing, I didn’t take into account. The person who drew this didn’t know Biggie. In fact, whoever it was, was probably familiar with him the same way I was: as the face of east coast hip-hop. They viewed him as deity, as someone that didn’t deserve a tombstone but a portrait three stories high.
You want to know the truth? The Notorious B.I.G’s real name is Christopher Wallace. “Biggie” is what people on the street would call him because they thought he ate too much. He didn’t do much of “gangsta” stuff he advertised in his songs. And he died from what would, nowadays, amount to little more than a twitter-feud.
But you wouldn’t know any of that, on the street, looking up at his face. You would be awe during the day and fearful during the night. Either way, you would have no doubts that this human being did something special. But, with 20 years of perspective, did he?
Or did he just do something flashy?
