Photo: xirannisxReading about the sad and sudden death of the actress Natasha Richardson, I’ve come to wonder if perhaps, in some small part, she died not in spite of her fame but rather because of it.
Most people seem to think that fame is generally a good and valuable thing. I don’t think that’s so true. Money, power, even glamor — O.K., but fame comes with hidden costs. There is loss of privacy, of course, and a variety of vulnerabilities, especially if you have children, as Richardson did. I have written about a number of famous people over the years and every single one of them had a serious stalker at some point. (Here is one hideous example.) To most of us, privacy may seem like an important but abstract notion; to the famous, it is a high-stakes game. President Obama, whose fame is obviously attached to even higher stakes, on The Tonight Show yesterday mentioned his security detail:
Michelle jokes about how our motorcade — you know, we’ve got the ambulance and then the caboose and then the dog sled. The submarine. There’s a whole bunch of stuff going on.
Even for a famous person who isn’t president, the vulnerabilities of fame naturally create anxiety. It becomes more necessary, or at least more appealing, to build a cocoon. When you are famous, your every move is of interest to someone — and, consequently, of value to someone else. While anti-paparazzi sentiment seems to have diminished since Princess Diana died — an obviously extreme case of the price of fame — I would posit that, among the famous, that sentiment is as strong as ever.
There is a vicious cycle at play. When famous people complain about the price of fame, non-famous people complain about famous people’s complaints. Shouldn’t they be happy that so many people care about them? I would! Besides, they bring it on themselves by courting attention …
To this last point: sometimes yes, sometimes no. There is a big difference between a professional celebrity and an actor, or a pair of actors like Richardson and her husband, Liam Neeson, who are in a business where fame is a byproduct of success. Do some movie stars love being famous? Sure. Do some of the smartest ones hate it? Yes.
According to this Times article about Richardson, she died of an epidural hematoma. “If surgery is performed quickly,” wrote Denise Grady and Anahad O’Connor, “it may be possible to save the patient’s life.”
This article and others report that Richardson had a relatively minor fall on a beginner’s ski slope outside of Montreal and seemed to be fine but left the slope immediately. The ski resort reportedly advised her to see a doctor; an ambulance was called but was sent away “because treatment was not needed.” Later, however, another ambulance was called and took Richardson to a small nearby hospital, which seems to have had no trauma center. She was eventually moved to a larger hospital in Montreal and then flown to a New York hospital, where she died. [Addendum: a more recent update has further details.]
It is a horrible story and one can’t help but feel great sorrow for her family. To die so suddenly from a minor mishap, to leave behind a husband and two children … well, it is heartbreaking.
The question that came to my mind was whether Richardson and Neeson’s fame may have, in some way small or large, contributed to her death. I realize this may sound ghoulish; I do not mean to offend. But if I were part of a famous family and was advised to go to the hospital after a minor mishap, the invasion of privacy might have appeared to outweigh the benefit of what was a seemingly precautionary measure. Do I really want to deal with the possibility of tabloid photos, career rumors, the sheer noise of it all? There’s another angle as well: it may be that, because of the patient’s fame, medical precautions were delivered but, if met with resistance, not followed through as aggressively as they could have been.
I am probably wrong about the particulars of my speculation. At least I hope I am. But that doesn’t change the idea: fame carries a price that shouldn’t be so readily dismissed. Richardson’s death is sad; it would be sadder yet, however, if her fame did play a role.
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My wife and I call this “The Great Equalizer.” The poor die from malnutrition, preventable disease, and the like. The rich die in skiing accidents or plane crashes, or in this case, because they refused proper medical care to avoid a scene at a hospital.
Considering the ravages of poverty, and the stressfulness of living from hand to mouth, I’d still take the money that comes with her kind of fame, and consider myself happy to die of something other than starvation.
I suppose I should answer your question “Does fame kill?” with another question: “Who is (was) Natasha Richardson?”
And if she had gone to the hospital right away and survived this accident, would we now be discussing whether the famous get better treatment than the rest of us?
I have to agree with Justin. Can’t we attribute all of our paths in life to some fortuitous decision or other?
I don’t think that fame, like most other virtues, has the power in itself to establish a death sentence. It is just as likely that if she was not famous, that other things would have happened along her lifetime because of her circumstances.
The aftermath of many of these celebrity deaths, however, are completely affected by the fact that they are famous. The media goes into a frenzy with documenting these deaths, almost forgetting that every life is a life.
Since we don’t know anything about Natasha Richardson personally, I think it’s a bit much to suggest that her fame contributed to her not going to the hospital sooner. After all, presumably she has seen doctors in the past for routine and urgent reasons without any difficulty. Likely, she, as many of us would, felt that whatever happened was not too serious and she would be fine. Unfortunately, epidural hematomas are insidious and have that period of lucency that may convince us things are fine when they actually are not. What happened was terrible and tragic. It sounds to me, like the kind of thing that while rare, could have happened to anyone and that’s what makes it so frightening.
Is this in any way a commentary on Canada’s healthcare system? Would Richardson have gotten care more quickly if she were in the U.S.?
This goes back to an earlier post by you Dubner. Does anybody know if she was wearing a helmet? Skiing helmets are designed for these low speed falls (guessing thats the case since she was concious, and on a beginner slope). Not to be sexist, but it seems women are less likely to wear helmets, and the large part of the reason is because how it may make them look (based on observational experience, and question asking). Maybe I will start taking notes on the tram, on how many people I see wearing helemets and which sex they are.
Anyways why are we scapegoating fame. Skiing is inherently risky, I always believe that you assume these risks the moment you clip into your bindings. Why does it have to be about anything else. Part of the reason people ski is the risk,
Also get sick of all the comments that only rich people ski, apparently none of those people have actually lived in a ski town, and worked along sized the majority of the locals (not the second home owners). Ski resorts do not pay that much, most people work there because they love it, so do some research before you throw up those comments.
I think MM is almost certainly correct. Ms. Richardson seems to have been the sort of person who didn’t want to create what seemed like needless fuss. As the doctors and EMT personnel who’ve been weighing in for the past few days repeatedly state, that’s a standard reaction. You fall, you feel shaken up, you’re relieved to feel pretty much okay, you don’t want more medical attention because it’s a little embarrassing when you fall – and you want this thing to be over. Many of us are second guessing here in light of all the info we now know. But prior to all this coverage, most of us, nonentities though we may be, would likely have done just what Ms. Richardson did.