Hollywood Chase Scene
By Carl Kozlowski

It's the night of the world premiere for Alexander, and thousands of people have mobbed both sides of Hollywood Boulevard in the hopes of glimpsing movie stars and getting autographs. Angelina Jolie crosses back and forth, signing for at least 20 minutes, while Colin Farrell conquers the crowd the way his title character stormed the planet: moving ever forward, stabbing at the papers before him, albeit with a pen rather than a sword.

But neither Jolie nor Farrell is the most unique person in the crowd. That honor would have to go to Gabriel Marks, who for the past four years has plunged into Los Angeles' aggressive autograph-hound subculture with a zeal that has landed him the almost-impossible autographs of celebrities ranging from Tom Hanks to director Oliver Stone.  He's persistent, fast and knows how to bob and weave, dodge and dart through a crowd.

But the striking thing about Marks' success is that he's just 16 years old. Although he looks like TV's lovable Fred Savage from The Wonder Years, he's been at this game -- mixing it up with celebrities and hanging out outside bars on school nights -- since he was 12. His parents aren't shuttling him around; as they don't really approve of his hobby, so Marks has hoofed it the hard way on the city's notoriously under-used train and bus routes when he can't score rides from other autograph hounds.

"It's not something I'm terribly supportive of, because of the hours he keeps," says Judy Marks, schoolteacher and Gabriel's exasperated mother. "They go to the premieres or events, but then afterwards they try to follow the limos to the afterparty, and he often doesn't come back until 4 a.m. I'm always worried about his safety because he got robbed on Hollywood Boulevard once."

For Gabriel Marks, the obsession started in the fall of 2000. His school had a contest where students had to write a poem in honor of the then-upcoming Grinch movie, and those judged as the dozen best artists would be able to attend the film's premiere at Grauman's Chinese Theater. Gabriel lost, but he was determined to be part of the excitement and showed up to collect autographs from the likes of Patrick Stewart and Courtney Love.

He was star-struck, and the event sparked his career as an autograph hound. However, despite the thrill of it all, now Marks is experiencing a bit of angst.  In fact, he sounds more like a world-weary 60-year-old than a 16-year-old kid.

"To be honest, there's no point in me doing this. It's just a hobby," he says. "I have family, things I do outside of this, and if I don't quit soon I'll get sucked in and never leave, like the rest of these guys."

The "guys" he's referring to are indeed mostly males, and mostly much older than Marks. They're not exactly the GQ type: doughy dudes with mismatched clothes who will run full-force at a moment's notice to surround Elijah Wood as he exits a play, or thrust nude photos in the faces of ex-Playboy centerfolds like Krista Allen or Pamela Anderson in the hopes of a signature that can make their fantasies complete.

In L.A., autograph-seeking requires almost war-like strategies as seekers stake out the best spots to corner celebrities and trade tips on who's at what club or at which party via two-way radios and cell phones. Marks says his goal is mostly to build a collection, just "an interesting hobby," but for most of the hounds, it's a living and a way of life. Occasionally, they "move up" by becoming paparazzi.

Regardless of their status, the seekers are fanatical about guarding their tactics, making Marks feel like a traitor to the cause as he ducks into a Hollywood Starbucks and then the courtyard of the famed Egyptian Theater to discuss his adventures further.

"Another reason I'm quitting is that so many of these people are morons. These jerks out here ruin the stars. Every time you're out here, you hear people saying how much will they get for it on eBay," says Marks, with a righteous fervor. "No one sells on eBay. Ninety-nine percent of what's on eBay are forgeries, I guarantee it. The real ones sell through private companies to rich people who will buy anything. Man, I've seen Frankie Muniz [Malcolm of Malcolm in the Middle] sell for $75! Rich people like to buy them and hang them all over the house because it's memorabilia and fun to collect and to own."

Marks' complaints about the tactics of his fellow hounds is echoed by a long-time collector named "Melrose Larry" Green, an eccentric local personality who runs a conservative talk-radio show and whose giddy energy has led to regular-guest status on the Howard Stern show.

"Its one thing to be an autograph collector for your wall. but some people here are trying to sell it, and that to me is ripping off the celebrity," says Green, who could easily pass for Larry David if it weren't for the enormous cowboy hat with a Bush pin adorning his head.

"Some people pose a security risk. Look at John Lennon; it's a fact. There should be rules for autograph seekers, just like for day workers on film sets in L.A. There should be a special section for them."

Green's points are soon made clear by the explosion of activity that accompanies the bevy of stars walking across Hollywood Boulevard to the Alexander afterparty.  Suddenly, there are dozens of hounds coming from every direction, forming a human wall around Colin Farrell.  It seems impossible to get through and get an autograph or take a photo, but Marks plays the youth card and garners yet another success.

But when Oliver Stone marches through with his own mass of bodies surrounding him, trouble ensues. Stone is turning down most autographs, but after he finally complies with Marks, the youngster's blue pen goes flying. The combination of Marks' elation over scoring the signature and dejection over losing his pen is a sight to behold:

"It's my only one! You've gotta have a blue one, because it's the only color that shows up in photos!" he says in mounting frustration as he tears through his bagful of photos in search of a new writing implement. He starts searching the sidewalk and adjoining curbside -- even darting into traffic -- but still no pen. Meanwhile, a bum with mangled hair and a sign saying "Will Tell Lies for A Dollar" laughs hysterically at his plight and pretends to have a pen.

Another frustration for autograph hounds is event security, which Marks claims once even injured his neck while shoving him out of the way at the Daredevil premiere. They have the Alexander party entrance blocked off extra tight. Combine security with the hassles Marks gets from the other hounds, who alternate between being friendly and mocking his youth, and it's also clear why he might consider giving up the game.

Before he makes that decision, though, he shares a few more secrets: live theater, like plays, only draws has-beens like Joanne Worley and Ed Begley, Jr. (yet strangely enough, an older group of hounds chases even those former stars too). Prince has replaced Brando as the Holy Grail of autographs because he stopped signing 15 years ago. Tom Hanks can survive a couple flops like The Ladykillers and still be the best star in town, but Sylvester Stallone is a "spot on perfect" example of a star who wouldn't sign when he was hot but is all too happy to sign now that he's not.

Marks sees himself pursuing politics someday, and campaigning is one occupation that should reward the mastery of crowds that he has developed.  But every politician has a skeleton in the closet, and as Marks prepares to hop in a car to the next event, he decides to come clean with his own worst behavior as a hound:

"One time I was taking Vince Vaughn's picture as he came out of a bar, when a guy came out of nowhere and punched him in the face," he recalls. "I sold it to a tabloid for $250, but then I felt bad when it appeared everywhere because they got the story wrong. So, Vince, I'm sorry. And that's one thing I'll never pull again."