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One of the most memorable celebrity encounters of my career took place at Minnesota’s Mayo Clinic and was completely accidental.
I was at the Rochester-based medical center on a health policy reporting assignment roughly 15 years ago. A Mayo communications staffer was escorting me to an interview through one of the employees-only pedestrian tunnels that offer a shortcut between campus buildings. The tunnel was empty other than two people ahead of us: an older gentleman accompanied by another communications staffer.
My own guide hustled us forward to join them, with the idea to introduce a journalistic contact to the other employee. We quickly caught up to them and I remember thinking “Wow, that older guy looks a lot like Arnold Palmer” and then “Holy smokes, that is Arnold Palmer.”
The other staffer, who must have been drafted to help Palmer avoid crowds, looked horrified. Patient privacy is sacrosanct, especially at a medical center whose patients include the wealthy and well-known. Yet here was a journalist standing face-to-face with the golf legend. I could see both staffers sweating, swallowing hard, worrying about patient privacy laws and wondering how they were going to explain this to their boss.
Palmer looked tired and his shoulders sagged as he realized what had happened. Even if it was routine care that brought him to Mayo, exams and tests are no fun. Empathy was in order. It was an easy call to say, “Mr. Palmer, I won’t report that you’re here. But I hope I can shake your hand and tell my dad, who’s a golf nut, that I met you.”
He gave me a grateful smile, shook my hand and we all went on our way.
