No autographs, please!

Byline: Mark Baker The Register-Guard

Michael Jackson has no comment.

"I'm an anonymous guy," he says. Yeah, right.

Jennifer Lopez doesn't return our calls.

And Chuck Berry wonders why in the world we want to speak with him.

However, Paul Newman (actually both Paul Newmans), Bruce Lee and even Charlie Brown are more than happy to chat with us.

So are Patrick Ewing, Donald Sutherland and both Martha Stewarts. After all, every single one of them lives right here in Lane County, and they have nothing to hide.

Really.

And you know who else lives around here, according to the most popular book in town, the Qwest Dex phone book? A bunch of former presidents; some more Hollywood actors; and a few famous musicians, comedians and writers.

There are even a couple of well-known journalists. Check it out. Tom Brokaw and Charles Osgood both live in Springfield.

That's right, we're talkin' Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor, Gary Cooper and Jimmy Stewart. We're sayin' Dean Martin and Jerold (Jerold?) Lewis. You want more stage talent? Check out Robert Redford and Jack Lemmon, Robin (the female version) Williams and Bruce Willis.

How about three Richard Harrises? How about an Ed Harris? We've got five Don Johnsons in Eugene alone. And Roger (Bond - James Bond) Moore is out in Cheshire.

One Bob Hope might have just hit the century mark, but I bet you didn't know the other one was out in Bethel.

Need a laugh? Dennis Miller is in Eugene. And Marcola. And Cottage Grove. Need some more laughs? Richard Pryor, Tom Arnold and Steve Martin aren't far away.

In the mood for some tunes? Well, you have a bunch of David (bet at least one goes by Dave) Matthewses to choose from. Or you could opt for some drums with your vocals and check out Phil Collins.

Or you might even look up James (14 of them - owwhh! I feel good!) Brown. Or, what's up, pussycat? - one of several Tom Joneses.

Need a good story? Got two Stephen Kings in Eugene.

The horror.

Wanna play some ball? Maybe Eugene Police detective Ted Williams would be game. Or you could toss some footballs to Eugene's Jerry Rice.

Think your rights are being violated? Well, did you know that James Dean is the chairman of the Eugene Human Rights Commission. A rebel within the laws.

Not to go all presidential on you, but we've got three James Monroes in the vicinity, three John Adamses, a few James (gotta be a Jimmy in there) Carters, a William Harrison, an Andrew Johnson and our very own JJK.

That would be John J. Kennedy Jr.

And what story about people with famous names in the Eugene-Springfield and surrounding area would be complete without a word or two about Eugene Organ?

"It's a pure coincidence," says the 56-year-old Organ. Contrary to local lore, Mr. Organ was not born here or named after our fair city.

He was born in the tiny town of Tama, Iowa. And, of course, his wife - Lucinda, born and raised in Eugene - did take notice when she met him years ago in Iowa.

She didn't say anything right away about his name, but it came up "relatively quickly," Organ says.

'I always get good seats'

So what's it like to go through life with a famous name?

"I tell you, that name can get you in trouble sometimes," 71-year-old Paul Newman of Springfield says.

"I couldn't get away with anything," Cottage Grove's Charlie Brown says.

"I'll tell you one thing you don't do with this name," says 69-year-old Bruce Lee of Springfield. "You don't order a pizza."

It might arrived chopped up - karate style - in little pieces.

"Men fantasize about my name," says Eugene's Elizabeth Taylor, who has spoken to men over the years on the phone while working various jobs. "But I always have to inform them that I'm nothing like the Elizabeth Taylor they're thinking of."

Of course she's not. At an undisclosed age, she sounds a bit younger.

"I don't agree with her politics and a lot of what she's become," Taylor says of Taylor.

"She's kind of become an old fuddy-duddy. I hope I don't become an old fuddy-duddy."

Having a famous name can lead to silly questions: "Were you named after him?" the young store clerk asks Eugene's 43-year-old Phil Collins.

It can lead to morbid questions: "Oh, I thought you were dead," the bank teller says to Eugene's John J. Kennedy Jr.

But it can also lead to some perks.

"I always get good seats," Eugene's Robert Redford says.

"Well, I normally go by Don, but when we're making (hotel) reservations, I usually go with Donald," Springfield's Donald Sutherland says.

And, yes, having a famous name can lead to annoying, prank phone calls. That's why Redford has dropped the "Robert" in his phone book listing.

Movie stars and dental tools

Although it can lead to instant recognition and provide lots of amusing stories, it's the down side of having a famous name that makes one wonder why the heck certain parents choose to name their children after famous people.

Wait, it doesn't work that way.

After all, some of our local namesakes were born before their more famous counterparts. So 79-year-old Martha Stewart of Eugene certainly wasn't named after that other Martha Stewart, the lifestyle entrepreneur who currently finds herself accused of insider trading, because that Martha Stewart is only 61.

And Eugene's other Martha Stewart, a recently retired school bus driver, just turned 62 in April.

Springfield's Bruce Lee, who, by the way, used to work with John J. Kennedy Jr. at KPD Insurance in Springfield, is 69. And that means he was born seven years before the Bruce Lee of martial arts and movie fame, who would be 62 if he were alive today.

Besides, our Bruce Lee says he wouldn't know a karate move if it flipped him on his back.

When Springfield's Donald Sutherland was born in the late 1930s, the famous movie actor Donald Sutherland - who has twice been in Eugene to make films (1978's "Animal House" and 1997's "Without Limits," in which he played former University of Oregon track coach legend Bill Bowerman) - was just 3 years old.

Movie star Robert Redford was 8 when Eugene's Robert Redford was born in Richmond, Va. And although piercing-blue-eyed Paul Newman of "Cool Hand Luke" and (speaking of Robert Redford) "Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid" fame was 25 when Eugene dentist Paul Newman was born, the now-famous one was still a little-known, fledgling Hollywood actor.

You might argue that the parents of Cottage Grove's Charlie Brown knew what they were doing when they named their newborn son in 1959, but, says Brown, the famous comic strip was only 9 years old and the "Peanuts" gang had yet to hit the television airwaves with such 1960s classics as "A Charlie Brown Christmas" and "It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown."

So was it really that unusual when Brown was riding his bicycle through the streets of Cottage Grove as a child, tossing The Register-Guard from door to door while his pooch, Snoopy, trailed him?

Well, maybe.

A customer along the route thought Brown, who was named "Charlie" after his father's barber, should have a dog, so he gave the boy not a beagle, but a puppy who was part Chihuahua and part Manchester terrier. Unfortunately, Snoopy was killed when a car hit him one day while Charlie was delivering papers.

Sharing a name with the famous comic-strip character can have its ups and downs, but Brown says that it made him more gregarious, even if some kids called him a "blockhead."

All in all, our famously named local folks say it's all been worth it - all the comments, all the hubbub, all the strange, late-night phone calls.

After all, how many people get to say that their dentist is Paul Newman? Or that their next-door neighbor in Springfield is Patrick Ewing, even if he's not the one who played basketball for the New York Knicks, but the one who is a foot shorter, even if he often wears his Patrick Ewing hoop shoes around town?

No, most all of them are content with who they are.

"I'm glad I'm me," says Martha Stewart, the retired school bus driver. "I wouldn't really want to be her right now."

Mark Baker can be reached at 338-2374 or mbaker@ guardnet.com.

CAPTION(S):

Martha Stewart of Eugene has never been accused of insider trading. "I'm glad I'm me," says the retired school bus driver. "I wouldn't really want to be her right now."