I recently had the privilege of attending two unique Hollywood events: a celebration of Paramount Pictures' 90th anniversary, and a memorial service for "the last of the moguls," Lew Wasserman.

One might ask when 90 became a round-enough number to warrant an anniversary, but one would be discounting Hollywood's eagerness to pat itself on the back. On Sunday evening, July 14, Paramount gathered 90 stars who had appeared in its movies and TV shows to pose for a commemorative photo in front of the historic studio gates. Annie Leibovitz took the shot, which will appear in an upcoming issue of Vanity Fair.

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The most enjoyable aspect of the evening was seeing how excited the stars were to be with each other—and to meet people they genuinely admired. Florence Henderson told me that she approached Morgan Freeman to say what a fan she was; he stunned her by not only recognizing her but returning the compliment. Younger actors were blown away by the mere presence of Jackie Cooper (who was nominated for a Best Actor Academy Award seventy years ago, for his performance in the 1931 Paramount Picture Skippy), Donald O'Connor (who made his screen debut at Paramount in 1938 at the age of 12), Jane Russell, Mickey Rooney, and Gloria Stuart. Actors of renown were impressed to meet Patricia Neal and Jane Fonda and Sidney Poitier. No one was immune from stargazing, and everyone seemed to be having a good time. Publicists were banned, and speechmaking was kept to a minimum.

And it's hard to be blasé when you notice Harrison Ford, Calista Flockhart, Sidney Poitier and his wife Joanna Pacula, Michael Douglas, Catherine Zeta Jones, Morgan Freeman, Danny De Vito, and Al Pacino all sitting at one table!

The next day, my wife and I attended another memorable event: a memorial service for Hollywood agent-turned-media mogul, empire builder, philanthropist, and political kingmaker Lew Wasserman, which was held at the Universal Studios amphitheater. Universal closed up shop at 2:00 that day so that employees could attend. There were several thousand people there, including company rank and file, friends, admirers, family, and a daunting cadre of political figures including Dick Gephardt, Al Gore, California Governor Gray Davis, Nancy Reagan, and the former President of the United States, Bill Clinton.

Speakers included the current chief of Universal—as it now stands, at least—Barry Diller; Wasserman's longtime partner Sid Sheinberg; Jeffrey Katzenberg; Suzanne Pleshette, who enlivened the proceedings with her salty, funny portrayal of Wasserman's relationship with his wife Edie; Jack Valenti, who makes no bones about the fact that he owes his career at the MPAA to Wasserman; and Steven Spielberg, who revealed that he finally got the taciturn Hollywood veteran to sit for a four-hour oral history last year. (Wouldn't it be great to see that tape, or read a transcript?)

Again and again, the speakers emphasized Lew Wasserman's loyalty, honesty, straightforwardness, and modesty.  John J. Sweeney, president of the AFL-CIO, flew across the country to pay tribute to the man he characterized as a friend to workers, and repeated what we've read before: that Wasserman may have been a tough negotiator, but he was fair and his word was inviolate. Sheinberg spoke of how this mighty boss sought to reward loyal employees and encouraged profit-sharing plans. Katzenberg told an amusing story of how he and others on the board of the Motion Picture and Television Fund tried to get Edie and Lew to allow their names to be honored on a new facility—in spite of their abhorrence of such grandstanding. They finally acquiesced, but Lew then told Katzenberg that if anyone ever came along who was willing to give even more money in return for replacing the name, he should take the deal.

I came away from this moving and meaningful service with great admiration for the man who was being honored, but an even greater sense of frustration—that the qualities he valued, so lavishly praised all afternoon, are not emulated by leaders of present-day Hollywood. If only a fraction of the movers and shakers who attended this tribute would try to embrace even one of Lew Wasserman's ideals, the community would be a much better place to live and work.

I can dream, can't I?