Joe is a Hollywood veteran. He was producing television long before the advent of technicolor.
Joe loves telling stories. Particularly how he managed to secure himself and his clients the best tables at the best restaurants on the westside of LA.
The trick he said, was to make the reservation in the name of a minor celebrity that would hold up under any scrutiny. His favorite, though I suspect it would not work these days, was to call and reserve a table for Manny Florscheim.
Upon arrival at the restaurant, most maitre de's would assume he was the founder or a close relative of the Florscheim family, fine purveyors of men's shoes. The beauty being, no one had any idea what a Florscheim looks like. It's not as if they were the Rockefellers. And besides, Joe, sporting a full head of silver hair and always adorned in the finest fashionable threads, could very well be the Florscheim Footwear King.
That was the magic of his plan. No one would bother to check. After all, who goes around impersonating a shoe salesman?
I don't know what gave Joe the bigger kick: getting seated long before the teeming masses or catching the Maitre De sneaking furtive glances at his shoe wear.
Though if you think about it, what he had on his feet merited no attention at all.
I suppose it's only human nature. If someone tells you they are the heir to the Q-tip empire, you're going to be checking their ears for errant nuggets of wax.