updated 04/21/1980 AT 01:00 AM EST
•originally published 04/21/1980 AT 01:00 AM EST
Lumbering across the tundra like a pair of abominable snow-, er, showmen, Lee Marvin and Charles Bronson teamed up in Banff, but it was not for a Canadian Rocky Mountain high. They are shooting Death Hunt, their first film together since The Dirty Dozen in 1966. Bronson re-creates real-life murderer Albert Johnson, the object of the greatest manhunt in Mountie history; Marvin plays a constable who died pursuing him in 1932. Hard-guy Marvin, whose uncle trekked toward the pole with Admiral Peary in 1909, seemed to relish the threat of avalanches and the rope-scaling down icy cliffs in the sub-zero cold. Bronson, equally undaunted but less enthralled, called it "the most rugged location I've ever been on."
O.J.'s new squeeze
"I can't believe it, is this all for me?" squealed Melissa Michaelsen, the tiny blond star of NBC's new Me and Maxx, when her parents threw a surprise 12th-birthday party for her at the studio. Indeed it was, and the final fillip, the icing on the cake, so to speak, was the surprise appearance of O.J. Simpson, who had come to collect—and give—a squeeze. The two had become fast friends when they paired last fall in the TV movie Goldie and the Boxer, which had Melissa playing an orphan who starts out as fighter Simpson's ward and winds up his take-charge manager. Said the Juice of Melissa, oozing words many an older woman would love to hear: "I really dig her."
Somers' latest flap
Launching her maiden cabaret act in Vegas, Suzanne Somers sought to "humanize" her sexpot image with $35,000 in costumes including her own Big Bird rig (to spoof a chicken noodle soup spot). Suzanne hoofed, chirped and traded Q&A's with the audience during her 40-minute act, winning approving clucks from fans and critics. But she really played chicken before the curtain rose premiere night. Turning away even friends backstage, Somers issued a terse and personal communiqué: "Suzanne will be busy vomiting."
Miller takes emergency measures
"These days most economists' predictions are wrong," says Treasury Secretary William Miller. So when his newly appointed assistant secretary for economic policy, Curtis Hessler, warned he might have to cancel his own swearing-in with wife Christine due to give birth, Miller scoffed. Sure enough, on the appointed day Christine was rushed to the hospital. Undeterred, Miller sped there the next day himself to perform the ceremony, with both men in scrub coats as Mom and 18-hour-old Alexander witnessed. Said Miller: "From now on I'll listen with more respect to your forecasts."
Hawn in command
A month after wrapping her part as a Gl in Private Benjamin (she was also executive producer), Goldie Hawn took part in a real-life military maneuver—at an L.A. eatery. She was tapped to pin the silver oak leaves on freshly promoted Lt. Col. Dennis Foley, the film's technical adviser. Foley was surprised when his real commanding officer stepped back and Goldie stepped up to do the honors. She soon had Foley at ease with a kiss and a bubbly two-glass salute.
Gary Coleman got picked on by someone decidedly not his own size while vacationing in Honolulu. It was no mere bully however, but 6'4", 417-pound Jesse Kuhaulua, Hawaii's eminent sumo wrestler. Kuhaulua was visiting the state capital building, where Coleman was sightseeing with his parents. Spying the 47" NBC star, Kuhaulua lived up to his official sumo name, Takamiyama—High-Seeing Mountain. Indeed, Coleman wasn't about to try his own Diff'rent Strokes strength—zingers—on Kuhaulua. His grin said it all: You're Ichiban—Number One.
If Americans consider French President Valéry Giscard d'Estaing myopic for his lack of solidarity in the Afghanistan crisis, sure enough, he had some difficulty seeing the feature Prix du Président race at France's Auteuil steeplechase. It was his first visit there since taking office and, slow in noting the start, Giscard had further difficulty when his binoculars strap proved too short as he tried to adjust them. But he did see a U.S.-bred horse named Reasonable Choice take first place. Doubtless that had been Giscard's pick—Reasonable Choice was his party's slogan during his own successful Prix du President race in 1974.