I Knew The Shah. I Mean, He Didn't Come To My House For Passover.

Cindy Adams on just about everybody.

- Steven Gaines

THIS IS PROBABLY the last gasp for gossip columns. I deplore what it’s become. It’s much too vile and vulgar. Soon, they’ll put a camera in the bottom of a toilet and shoot up. When I started writing a column 38 years ago, gossip columns weren’t so nasty. I would never out anyone. I would never tell about someone who is married and is dating someone else. Being a gossip columnist used to be one of the most glamorous things in the world. My husband, Joey Adams, had a very popular column in the New York Post, a humor column, like Bennett Cerf’s. He was the “adopted son” of Fiorello La Guardia, so some of the best judges that money could buy were made in my living room. Joey practically grew up in the Stork Club with Walter Winchell, the most powerful columnist who ever lived. There was no TV, no cell phones, no internet when Winchell wrote his columns. He was a dinosaur. He roamed the Earth. He brought down presidents and created stock-market changes.