People in the News for November 6, 1997

Thursday, Nov. 6, 1997 | 9:50 a.m.

Beneath his nice-guy hat, Garth Brooks has a will of iron, or at least a will of some fairly rigid, perhaps aluminum-based alloy. And beneath that, he has a tummy ache. One of those good tummy aches we all get when we're excited and nervous about releasing our long-delayed album. "I'm sick to my stomach and I love feeling that way," he says. Also feeling sick to their stomachs but not particularly liking it are some bigwigs at Brooks' record label, Capitol Nashville. Make that former bigwigs; after months of head-butting with the star, they learned that Garth's head is buttiest. The singer, unhappy with the marketing of his last disc, withheld delivery of the new album, "Sevens," until management changes were made. Now a Brooks favorite occupies the top slot. Despite that, he claims to have played no role in the shakeup. "The decision that was made, was made by the company," he insists. Nonetheless, the tiff left him with a heavy hat; he actually considered not recording until his Capitol contract expires in 2015, and "had taken pictures to put up my house for sale." Funny, our own threats to refrain from working until 2015 failed to result in any substantial management changes. Brooks' new release, due Nov. 28, is "more about me," he says -- we can see an exciting "It's more about me!" promo campaign taking shape already -- and he has high hopes for it: "If this doesn't sell squat, it's over."

Acting!

When Kathy Ireland acts, we feel excited and nervous, sick to our stomachs in a good way. And act she does, making her live theater debut in an L.A. production of "Three Tall Women." It's been an educational experience that goes beyond simply discovering that "thespian" does not, in fact, mean she's guesting on "Ellen." "I am learning that I cannot whistle in the dressing room," she reports. It's an old theater superstition. But what if, say, a few bars of the latest Garth Brooks number accidentally tweet from your lips? "You have to leave, turn around three times and spit over your left shoulder, then knock on the door and ask permission to come in." No wonder theater has become the vital artistic institution it is.

Chicken winged

It'll be a mascot grudge match in a San Diego courtroom as Barney and the San Diego Chicken go at it felt beak and purple claw in a trademark-infringement lawsuit. Barney's creators are dino-sore about the Chicken's act, in which, according to their filing, he "would punch, flip, stand on and otherwise assault" a mock Barney. And they're really going after the Chicken's McNuggets: Along with a permanent injunction against the act, they want $100,000 for each time the Chicken has already pummeled Mock Barney. For his part, the Chicken points out that there have been numerous Barney parodies. "They probably think that the Chicken is easy picking." Kenneth Fitzgerald, an attorney for the Chicken -- and isn't that a resume item Perry Mason would kill for -- says the act is a parody protected under the First Amendment. The whole affair has curdled the Chicken's naive idealism. "I used to think that Barney was a lovable character, but now I think he's just the biggest bully on the block." He's feeling sick to his stomach but he doesn't like it.

Compiled by Scott Dickensheets