Hollywood on a Saturday morning. The world's biggest box-office star is pulling his forest green GMC Typhoon out of a parking lot when four guys with clipboards dash toward him through the traffic. What would Dirty Harry do? Never mind. Clint Eastwood is not Dirty Harry. He stops, signs a few autographs and produces his patented tight-lipped smile as his supplicants bob their heads and murmur profuse thanks.
In real life, Eastwood knows how to play the self-deprecating good guy. Just listen to him explain why they wanted him to sign blank slips of paper rather than personalized greetings to Uncle...
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