Joanne Sherman’s column:Bobby almost slept here

When I climbed the stairs to the pharmacy, I had to skooch over because of a man and a little girl sitting on the steps, eating ice cream cones. As I maneuvered around them my visiting friend’s eyes widened and she whispered, “Is that who I think it is?”  

Yes, it was. Once inside the building she said, “I’m going to ask for a picture.” 

“Neh, ehh, ehh!” I made that sound I don’t know how to spell and said, “We do not do that on Shelter Island. We leave our famous people alone.” 

That famous person was Archbishop Desmond Tutu. He never knew that I saved him from having a special moment with his granddaughter interrupted. But a man (a non-local man) asked to take a picture and claimed the archbishop was incredibly “kind and gracious.”

Well, of course he was. He won the Nobel Peace Prize — for real! What did the guy expect, a dope slap?

Shelter Island has long been a hide-away for the rich and famous, from Leon Uris to Jimmy Buffett. When John Kennedy Jr. summered here he could eat breakfast at the pharmacy counter and no one tipped off the paparazzi so they could grab a photo of him with egg on his face. Jimmy Fallon is a regular at SALT and Jessica Chastain was in the audience at a recent summer musical at the Havens House barn.

Islanders are not gushers. We never fuss over celebrities. Oh, we notice them, for sure, we just pretend we don’t.

When Lady Gaga, Judge Judy and an Iranian princess were alleged to be house-hunting here, all we did was shrug. The princess still lives here. (Shrug).

That’s what makes what happened one February so puzzling. When rumors swirled that Robert De Niro was purchasing a home on Shelter Island, collectively, we went bonkers. Granted, it had been a gray January; slushy, cold and boring. And just when we were desperate for a diversion, along came the Goodfella. We’d gather in tight knots at the IGA and post office parking lots to share the latest gossip. “DeNiro is coming” rumors grew and swelled, changing on an hourly basis. 

It wasn’t DeNiro, it was his wife who was buying the house. Nope. He’s divorcing his wife. His sister is buying it for him so his wife doesn’t know about it. 

No one was supposed to repeat any of this, and every day, dozens of us would swear each other to secrecy, then run off to either the post office or the IGA to share what we learned.

Someone said, “Don’t tell I told you, but my sister works at the real estate office and she said he’s looking for a big house. And he’s paying cash.” We all knew the house in question, it was a big house. Really big. Why would a divorced man need such a big house? 

For parties! Of course, those Hollywood types are always having parties. Noisy all-night parties. Someone swore they saw a sleek limo at the house and that Meryl Streep was in the front seat. 

“No, it wasn’t her, it was Faye Dunaway,” someone corrected, “Or maybe Kathleen Turner. It was a blond. He knows them all.” 

Well, that set us off.

“You know how those movie stars are,” we reminded each other. We knew that if Meryl came to his parties, she’d bring Cher because Page 6 reported that they were best friends.

By mid-February it was rumored that Meryl and Cher had scooped up the house next to their buddy, Bobby. And Shaquille O’Neal and Pee Wee Herman were also buying in the neighborhood. On top of that — get ready to clutch your pearls — they were planning to clear the trees; all of them to make room for party tents and fancy party port-a-pots. 

Then, just when our collective February frenzy couldn’t get more frenetic, someone whose uncle worked at the ferry said, “Don’t tell I told you, but DeNiro has demanded front-of-the ferry line privileges.” 

“You mean like the mail truck and the ambulance?” 

“No! Ahead of the mail truck and ambulance!” 

But that wasn’t the worst rumor. He was buying all of Sachem’s Woods to build a giant casino and a helicopter landing pad. Well! We weren’t having that! And the SICAE! (Shelter Island Committee Against Everything!) was formed to deal with this Badfella, when he finally showed up.

February came and went; but DeNiro didn’t. Ever. I was kind of disappointed not to meet Pee Wee, but oh well. At least the idea of DeNiro helped get us through the most difficult short month on Shelter Island. Now, as we enter yet another February after a gray, slushy winter, I have two words to help whisk us right through the worst of it … Taylor Swift.