Sorry, and not condemning you, but there’s not enough money or opportunity in Hollywood for me to let that skank in my house. Her and a many other libs.
I don’t know if I would have succeeded or not had I kept pursuing the profession. But it didn’t take long for me to say “This ain’t for me. My soul ain’t for sale.
This was a long time ago and her appearance at my abode had nothing to do with show-business.
However, she made an enduring impression on me personally as a particularly distasteful person, and I was glad when she left.
(With glass in hand, which was very strange - a tumbler of no value.) George Dickel, by the way, which I preferred at that time.
I did think, later, that it was funny that she seemed to be in a bad mood because nobody (to my knowledge) “knew who she was.” She seemed unkempt, clad in black, sort of sweaty-looking. Maybe she was drunk.
I think, in retrospect, somebody must have recognized her from TV, but I did not. There were some other “minor stars” there.
To me she was just a strange, creepy, grumpy “emo” person who came, stomped around my living room, muttered some inanities, demanded booze, and left.
Maybe she needed to go somewhere where someone thought she was important.
So there’s my “Sarah Gilbert” story.