This Is Your Captain Speaking: My Fantastic Voyage Through Hollywood, Faith & Life

by MacLeod, Gavin

  Dottie sold the big house with the dream pool and moved into a smaller place. She had a nice garden. We had dinner with her every now and then. Then, about three years later, she died too. I spoke at her funeral. They buried her right next to Ted, in a plot overlooking the whole San Fernando Valley. It was strange to stand there looking down at Ted’s stone, knowing his body lay under the ground beneath my feet. The stone was marked with his birth name, Theodore G. Konopka, and right underneath it, in quotation marks, “Ted Knight.”

  I guess you never really get used to people dying. You cry for yourself sometimes, because of your loss. But Ted was a bright, creative friend in my life, and I cherish every memory I have of him. In my heart, I know he’s not dead. He’s in heaven, where I hope to be going someday. That’s what I believe. But I still miss him.

  So much in my life was changing all at once in 1986.

  After Patti and I got married in front of all of those believers the summer before, Pat and Shirley Boone invited us to share our story in front of a number of different church groups. And we did. It was wonderful. Audiences of hundreds and hundreds of people responded in an emotional way to our story of reconnecting through Jesus. It was just so powerful. I wondered if the Lord wanted me to quit show business altogether and start a ministry!

  That thought crossed my mind again after Ted died, yet I kept thinking back to an encounter I had in April of that same year. I guesthosted The 700 Club, and I met a man named Dr. Ed Cole, the founder of a movement called Maximized Manhood. His book of the same title encouraged men to find strength through the Lord. It had sold over a million copies. He said to me, “I believe God has called you to the entertainment world, Gavin. Just be the best actor you can be for Jesus.”

  I’ll admit that I didn’t really know what he meant. How can a person be an “actor for Jesus”? Show business seemed so very different from the business of my faith.

  I would certainly find out in time.

  As it turns out, 1986 wasn’t nearly finished with me yet. And neither was my Lord and Savior.

  22

  BACK IN PORT

  AGAINST WHAT WE THOUGHT WERE OUR WISHES—our expressed desire to stay close to the Cape Playhouse—the real-estate agent brought us miles away, to a whole other town, to show us a big piece of property set back all by itself. As we drove up we saw an old saltbox-style home standing there, next to a big barn with a carport, and a main floor I could turn into an artist’s studio (I was getting back into painting at that time), and a top deck with a full apartment where our guests could stay, all overlooking a beautiful marsh . . . and we fell in love. Patti and I bought that property and turned it into our primary residence. We would keep a place to go back to in California, and our real-estate adventures wouldn’t really slow down until thirty years later, when we downsized to the place we now call home in Rancho Mirage. But in 1986, that home in Cape Cod, far from Hollywood, far from our old life, was the place where we would start our post–Love Boat life together. A life focused on theater. A life focused on each other. A life focused on family. A life focused on doing the work that God wanted us to do.

  We were just barely settling into that new life on the Cape when a guy by the name of Max Hall called me up. He was VP of public relations for Princess Cruises. “Gavin,” he said, “we’d like you to be our spokesperson. What do you think about it?”

  Princess Cruises had seen such a bump in business because of The Love Boat, they wanted to do all they could to keep it going. What better way, they thought, than to hire the Captain to do commercials and make appearances for them! I thought it was the greatest thing ever. I said, “I don’t even have to talk to Patti, Max. This is such a great fit.” Captain Stubing was truly the role of a lifetime. Now here I was, accepting an opportunity to extend that role into real life—to keep on sharing the Captain’s smile with the world.

  Princess Cruises only had two ships at the time, but they were getting ready to expand. Massively. So we made our deal in that busy, busy year for me, and we shot our first television commercial.

  “Princess . . . it’s more than a cruise. It’s The Love Boat,” I proclaimed, as I walked the deck in black tie while beautiful music played and they showed romantic couples in scenes from around the world and out on the water. That commercial won awards for best cruise commercial, and best international travel commercial—and Princess’s business soared.

  Before I knew it, Princess Cruises bought Sitmar, the massive Italian cruise line. They acquired new boats, and kitchens full of Italian cooks, and a new set of captains from Italy who operated in a laid-back, friendly fashion—similar to the way I had approached the character of Captain Stubing.

  Suddenly, my life became a lot more than just acting. I was a spokesperson for this incredibly vibrant, growing company. I was traveling the world, speaking to audiences on the ships, greeting cruisegoers at autograph sessions, attending sales conferences and shindigs for travel agents all over the place. And to think it all grew out of my role on a TV show. How does this happen?

  It’s funny, but a lot of shows on television now give you nightmares. The Love Boat did just the opposite. In fact, a young girl in New York once told me what the show meant to her, and it sums it up pretty good. She said of The Love Boat, “It gives me something to dream about.”

  That dream translated right over to the cruise industry in real life. And the effect of that has continued to this day. People dream about going on cruises. They save up their pennies. They wait to go on a cruise with someone special, or they go on a cruise to find that someone special. People use cruises to mark special occasions, from weddings to golden anniversaries. How many lives have been changed on cruises?

  I personally have had this experience, and I can only imagine how many others have too. How many times are you assigned to sit at a table with somebody you think you don’t want to sit next to, and by the time the cruise is over, you’re best friends? Most cruises have open seating now, but it still happens. Cruising breaks down all kinds of barriers. Thanks to the crews alone, you can experience the whole world on a single cruise. I used to do a lot of the training films for the stewards and everyone else who join the ships from just about every country. Even in the dining room, you never know where your waiter will be from: perhaps Russia, India, Bosnia, the Philippines, anywhere!

  Princess Cruises had already been a part of my life for the nine years I was on The Love Boat. I had already been on some amazing cruises. But I’ll never forget, just after Patti and I were reunited, in 1984, we were onboard the second-ever sailing of the brand-new Royal Princess. Princess Diana had “named” that ship—which is how Princess referred to the glorious ceremony on the day of a ship’s launching, instead of the more old-fashioned and religious-sounding “christening” of a ship. Patti and I stayed in the same suite on that ship that Princess Diana had stayed in. I said to Patti, “Do you realize something? We’re the first ones to sleep in the bed that Princess Diana slept in! Can you believe these opportunities they’re giving us?”

  In all seriousness, I think the reason God gave me that job is I’m a people person. I not only enjoy people saying hello to me or wanting an autograph, but I love it! Everybody needs love, and I love ’em up! I give people hugs. I find out about their families. I love talking to people and interacting with people, especially onboard those magnificent ships. It’s just the way I am. That part of the job is not a “job” for me—it’s an experience!

  Of course the rest of my “job” with Princess Cruises is pretty sweet too.

  Right after they purchased Sitmar, Princess flew Max Hall and me and some other executives, including his new associate, Julie Benson, over to Paris for meet-and-greets with the press. (Funny how a character named Julie was the Captain’s right-hand girl on my show, and now a real-life Julie was about to play a big role in my real life.)

  I had been to Paris once before, for an episode of The Love Boat, but I didn’t get to see very much of it because I was workin
g. This time? I was working, and I got to see the city. I could hardly believe my life.

  When we first arrived, Max’s bag was missing. It went to the wrong airport. He had to buy a scarf, and he put it on his credit card, and when he got home he got the bill for it: it was $385! He called me up, so frustrated. He used to wear a little bush jacket and scarf. I used to wear them too. We were fashionable men in those days.

  Because he was tied up trying to deal with his missing suitcase, Julie and I decided to leave the hotel without him and take a little walk around Paris. We tried to get into the Louvre, and we couldn’t get in, so we started walking the back streets of that beautiful city—until we came across a little place that sold hot dogs. Of all things! Julie and I had a hot dog in Paris, the first time I ever met her. Today, she’s the VP of public relations for the whole company. We had only known each other a few hours then, and I’ve known her all this time. She’s like one of my daughters now. Patti and I went to her wedding—she married a fellow Princess Cruises executive, the handsome Bruce Krumrine. We also went to her father’s funeral. It’s a very familial relationship, and it all started over hot dogs in Paris.

  Again, a hot dog serves as a nice memory for me.

  We went from Paris down to the lower part of Italy, where they were starting to build our new ships at the Fincantieri shipyard. Witnessing the formation of one of those giant floating palaces from the inside out is quite an experience. They took me into the hull as hundreds of men buzzed about, working day and night. There were seemingly millions of wires hanging down from the steel bones of the ship, yet the guide could say, “This is where the elephant bar will be,” and so forth. Six months later they’d take me back, and it was all done. It was magnificent.

  Max was a great guy. He wasn’t much of a world traveler, but he loved to go on cruises. He had met Cary Grant, too, because Cary Grant used to take Princess Cruises long before The Love Boat came along. He used to mingle with the guests, and was nice to everyone, Max said. I wasn’t surprised.

  Max and I would travel all over the world for Princess Cruises in the coming years. We would even travel together when I shot an episode of Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous in Puerto Rico—timing my speech on the beach just right so one of our Princess Cruises would come into frame and pass behind me as I spoke.

  One of the best parts of the gig was that Princess hired me to serve as emcee and host for a whole series of ship-naming ceremonies. Just like on The Love Boat, I found myself welcoming a cavalcade of well-known movie stars and personalities onto these brand-new, real-life “love boats.”

  The star who came aboard to name the first ship I was involved with was Audrey Hepburn. In 1989, Patti and I spent seven days with that beautiful actress on the Star Princess, and she was absolutely delightful. Her boyfriend, actor Robert Wolders, was with her, as was one of her sons. It was the first time I heard someone actually name a ship. I wish I had a recording of it, in that fabulous voice of hers: “May God bless this ship and all who sail upon her,” right before smashing that bottle of champagne.

  Patti and I had dinner with Audrey and Robert, and she was just everything you could ever want Audrey Hepburn to be. (Had I known then that she had had an affair with my old pal and castmate Ben Gazzara, I might have asked her about it!) In fact, when the cruise ended and we were getting ready to disembark in Fort Lauderdale, I saw Robert and said, “Where is Audrey?”

  “Oh, she’s upstairs packing for us,” he said.

  Audrey Hepburn, as famous as she was, packed her own suitcases—and packed his suitcases too. I don’t know why that struck me, but it did. She has a servant’s heart, I thought.

  Funny thing is, I had an “almost” acting experience with Audrey in my career, thanks to Blake Edwards once again. He almost used me a couple of times. He almost gave me the part of the Asian guy in Breakfast at Tiffany’s, but it went to Mickey Rooney instead. And if Peter Falk didn’t do The Great Race, I was next in line for that leading role. But everything worked out just the way it was supposed to. Meeting Audrey Hepburn aboard a beautiful, brand-new Princess cruise ship was exactly where I was supposed to be.

  The actress who named our next ship in 1990 was just as well known: Sophia Loren! The night before the ceremony, there was a big function on the ship, which was launching from Brooklyn. She was supposed to appear, but she wouldn’t come out of her room. She was staying at the Waldorf Astoria, and Max had to trek over there to get her. She just wouldn’t come out. According to him, she said, “I’m afraid to meet all those people.” He said, “You have to!” They had spent all sorts of money, and bought jewelry for her and everything. Aaron Spelling’s designer Nolan Miller, from Dynasty, even designed an outfit for her, just for the occasion.

  Max finally talked her into coming, and she wore that custom dress and a golden cape—and when she walked down the main staircase on the ship the paparazzi went crazy. She was radiant. She looked like a goddess!

  Patti and I met her and her husband, Carlo Ponti, at the bottom of those stairs, and they were kind enough to take a picture with us. We didn’t get to spend a lot of time with her, and while I could see she was shy, I could also tell she was a smart lady.

  The next morning, on naming day in Brooklyn Harbor, they positioned me on a platform so the press could shoot their cameras past me, over my shoulder. There were dozens of chefs lined up with their tall hats, and a gigantic crowd, and all the staff of the gigantic new Crown Princess standing at attention, and Lord Sterling, CEO of Princess Cruises, came riding in with Sophia Loren in a horse-drawn carriage. Everyone began yelling, “Sophia! Sophia!” It was like a Fellini movie! I tell you, art imitates life and life imitates art sometimes. It was magnificent.

  The godmother of Princess Cruises’ next ship was an entirely different sort of celebrity. A political powerhouse of her day: Margaret Thatcher.

  It was August 8, 1991, and because Ms. Thatcher had a cavalcade of bodyguards and handlers with her, they put her up in the suite of the Regal Princess, where Patti and I normally would have spent the night. Princess apologetically put us up in the Waldorf Astoria Hotel instead. Boy oh boy, we were really slumming it that night. (Ha! That hotel is glorious! Are you kidding me? What a treat!)

  That first night they held a dinner in her honor, and President Reagan shared a taped message on a big screen, because he and Margaret Thatcher were very close.

  Max told me, “We’re going to get a great shot of you and Margaret Thatcher, so come with me.”

  This wasn’t an actress. I had a feeling she might not know who I was and might refuse to take the publicity shot he was imagining. I said, “You’re kidding.” But Max pulled me into a big room and said, “I want you to get up on the stage. When she comes in, I’ll introduce you, and we’ll take a picture—and it will make Time magazine!”

  I said, “Okay.” At least it wasn’t a kissing camel!

  Margaret Thatcher came in with a whole group of people, and I saw them whisper something to her, and she looked right at me, sizing me up, and then shook her head no. I felt like I was a nobody. She didn’t want to come over. She didn’t know who I was.

  Max was a persuasive guy, so he convinced her people and they brought her over to me and introduced her. They helped her climb onto the stage and I said, “This is a great honor.”

  We posed for a picture, and I swear she is the only person in my life I’ve taken a picture with whom I didn’t touch. I wasn’t going to touch the prime minister!

  When the flashbulbs stopped, she said—in her distinct British accent—“I understand your television show is very popular.”

  I said, “Yes, we’re on in ninety countries. We’ve been on many years now and we’re all over the world. But in all my years, to be able to meet someone like you, this is a thrill for me. It’s a great honor that you would take the time to take a picture with me.”

  She said, “Well, they tell me this picture will be in Time magazine!”

  Ha! They sold her on
the idea of posing with me the same way they sold me on the idea of posing with the Kissing Camel back in Egypt! (I certainly hope my breath was better.)

  Well, guess what? It worked. Time ran the picture of the two of us. There I was, smiling with Margaret Thatcher, and it looked like we were buddy-buddy—but I wasn’t even touching her. Oh, it makes me laugh. After our photo session, she said, “It’s so nice to see you.” She was so polite. Then somebody brought Patti over to meet her, and Margaret Thatcher said to Patti, “Do you know that your husband’s show is on in ninety countries?”

  Patti said, “Yes, ma’am. I know that.”

  Perhaps politics isn’t all that different from showbiz: we’ll do anything for a little good publicity.

  In 1997, for the naming of the Dawn Princess, we pulled together a reunion of the entire cast of The Love Boat. Eleven years had flown by since that show went off the air, and though we all kept in touch, and a few of us had seen one another here and there, it was the first time the whole cast had reunited in all that time. Jill Whelan was all grown up! The Captain’s little Vicki wasn’t so little anymore. It was wonderful to reconnect with her, and to hear about everything that had happened in her life. Of course Bernie and I connected like old pals from the moment we saw each other, and Ted and Fred got along like Frick and Frack, man. It was just like old times. When you think about it, we were on that show more than twice the number of years that people go to high school or college together. You might not see those people every day anymore, but when you reunite, there’s a magic and a spark unlike any other—because you all shared that experience together. That’s just how it felt on that day in Fort Lauderdale.