by Neal JustinMary Tyler Moore threw her hat in the air one more time, and they were all there to gawk: network crews, politicians, autograph hounds, TV geeks who could tell you Lou Grant's favorite drink.
But they were mere bystanders Wednesday morning at the unveiling of the Moore statue at 7th St. and Nicollet Mall, the downtown Minneapolis site immortalized in the opening credits of "The Mary Tyler Moore Show."
The crucial fans were the working women. They were the ones who lined the front of the barricades, the ones who arrived in the middle of the night the way that teenagers do to get Dave Matthews Band tickets, the ones who cheered the loudest when Moore gave her beauty-queen wave. They grew up in the 1970s watching Moore's character, Mary Richards, believing that they could be just like her. Today that might not seem like much of a dream. Richards was an associate producer for a second-rate TV news station, and her dating life was slightly better than a eunuch's.
But 20 years ago, sitcoms rarely featured women who could succeed in business and fail at dinner parties, both without a husband's shoulder to lean on. "You saw this single woman who could be more than a secretary or a housewife," said Carol Leahy of White Bear Lake, who watched "MTM" when she was in high school and college. "She gave you hope."
Nina Ferraro, who works at a Minneapolis hospital, said Richards continues to be an inspiration. "There are still women out there struggling to make it on their own or with their families," said Ferraro, who was born in 1970, the year the show made its debut. "She makes you feel really good."
Both stood near the front row of spectators and cheered when Milwaukee artist Gwendolyn Gillen talked about the inspiration behind her 8-foot-tall bronze sculpture, capturing the moment that Richards' hat is leaving her fingertips. "She helped break the stereotype of womanhood that our generation grew up believing was our destiny," Gillen said. "She was the light breeze that blew through our minds and left us with the feeling that we could do anything we wanted to."
Moore, of course, has heard this all before. She knows what Richards meant to a new generation -- and might mean for future ones. "I hope when a little girl walks by the statue, she'll ask her mother who that was, and it'll be explained to her that she was a young woman who had a dream and followed it through," she said while finishing her breakfast shortly after the ceremony, sponsored by the city of Minneapolis and TV Land, the cable network that paid for the statue and will fund its upkeep.
There were quite a few youngsters in the crowd of 2,000 to 2,500 -- fewer people than expected, with the temperature at a chilly 43 and the skies threatening.
Moore, 65, gamely greeted the crowd around 7:15 a.m., indulging those near the front with an "Ohhhhh, Rob" and a "Mr. Graaaaaant." She enthusiastically signed copies of her autobiography and even scribbled on a ticket stub from Tuesday night's Minnesota Twins game, at which she threw out the first pitch, an achievement she was still beaming about.
But the weather obviously took its toll as she stood shivering beside her statue, conducting a series of TV interviews via satellite with ABC's Diane Sawyer, CBS' Bryant Gumbel and CNN's Paula Zahn. She kept her hands wrapped up in one of the thousands of tams that were distributed Wednesday to fans, and she frequently dabbed at her watering eyes with wadded-up tissues.
You're so brave to come down here in this weather," she told some of the spectators near the front, including Helen Hanson, who showed up at 1 a.m. and held vigil with six security guards.
Despite her obvious discomfort, Moore endured with wit and warmth. She sang along when Sonny Curtis performed the theme song, "Love is All Around." She recoiled in mock horror when the statue was unveiled and quipped, "I think it's been in the sun too long." She tossed her tam into the air a number of times for the sake of photographers. She even put up with the silly comments thrown out by the crowd. "Where's Rhoda?" "Dance for us!" But after nearly a half-hour in the chilly weather, Moore showed she was human after all. "We love you!" someone screamed for the ninth time. "I know!" Moore snapped. Then she quickly turned her attention back to the cameras and to the statue that will never get cold, never get annoyed and never go away.
Last updated: Wednesday, 11/15/06, , GMT Standard Time
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