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"Hey, Mrs. Reagan!" somebody yelled outside. "Why a royal party on a movie set?" Said she, smiling: "Why not?" Especially when the place was lent by Fox Owner Marvin Davis, a Reagan contributor, and the dinner was underwritten by eight conservative California tycoons, including Reagan Patron Holmes Tuttle and Union Bank Chairman John Heidt. "We're doing it," said Heidt, "because we want it to be a private-enterprise situation." The menu was Reagan's favorite food from his favorite Los Angeles restaurant: Chasen's chicken pot pie and "snowballs," ice cream rolled in toasted coconut and covered with chocolate sauce.
Most of the guests were celebrated and fell into four categories: vintage movie actors (Roy Rogers, Fred Astaire, Gene Kelly, Fred MacMurray, Loretta Young, Lucille Ball, Bette Davis), British-born stars (James Mason, Roddy McDowall, Julie Andrews, Dudley Moore, Rod Stewart, Elton John), movers and shakers (Henry Kissinger, Armand Hammer) and the special-interest famous (Henry Winkler, Mort Sahl). British reporters were nonplussed by M.C. Ed McMahon but mostly liked George Burns' aging-rake jokes, while the Queen, looking unamused, seemed to scrutinize more than enjoy the pop medley sung by Frank Sinatra and Perry Como. In all, said Britain's Guardian, "not exactly an exhilarating performance." When the Queen left promptly at 11, some of the famous Americans disobeyed orders and stood up, craning, to gawk.
Outside the studio were two dozen demonstrators, a group roughly the size and temper that showed up at most of the stops. There were Latins ("Malvinas, Malvinas belong to Argentina!") angry about the Falklands war, but most were Irish Americans urging independence for Northern Ireland. Their placards outside Fox's gates: BRITS OUT OF IRELAND and, more immediately, BRITS OUT OF AMERICA. A small anti-anti-British crowd gathered too. "I wasn't planning to watch for the Queen," said British Transplant Lesley Heathcote, 25, who wore a BRITAIN is GREAT T shirt and had a pet chow in a Union Jack bandanna. "But when I saw all these demonstrators, I decided to come back and give her a bit of support."
Both camps were gone by the time the wet sidewalk was jammed with a Hollywood pantheon of the Reagan generation, full of wine and weariness and all wanting their cars (CHUCK'S PARKING — PLEASE STOP HERE read the sign out front). "Bloody undignified," grumped a silver-haired BBC man, "standing in the rain in an alley in Los Angeles at my age."
A harder rain fell Monday. At Rockwell International's plant in Downey, Queen and consort each stepped into the cockpit of a space shuttle simulator and played astronaut, making a video landing. The Queen was on automatic pilot; the Prince, who has piloted R.A.F. jets, grabbed the joystick and "flew" freely.
By motorcade, they raced to Los Angeles city hall, where the Queen made her only formal address. Fans swarmed outside, including one group dressed in Elizabethan doublets and capes. "Come on, pedestrians!" ordered a policeman over a bullhorn. "Heads up, pedestrians!"