I was sixteen-years-old when Charlie’s Angels debuted in 1976, and I was enamored with the idea that women were solving crimes and outwitting bad guys. The sense of female empowerment was intoxicating to me. I wanted to be a writer, perhaps for television, and Charlie’s Angels ticked some of my aspirational boxes.
Kate Jackson wasn’t just my favorite angel (I wanted to be like the intelligent brunette who could confidently hold her own), but she was also my favorite actress. She appeared on Dark Shadows and The Rookies and seemed familiar and accessible, like a cool big sister I wished I had.
In the summer of 1977, the summer before my senior year of high school, my mom had a doctor’s appointment in Pittsburgh. I was looking forward to the outing. I wore a new t-shirt with a photo of a celebrity on it.
Mom and I got on the elevator in the medical building, and I glanced to my left. I suddenly felt as though the wind had been knocked out of me. The woman standing next to me looked remarkably like Kate Jackson! My brain immediately went into denial mode. What would Kate Jackson be doing on an elevator in a medical building in Pittsburgh? There was a gentleman with her who said, “I forgot that they do things differently in Pennsylvania.” The lady simply nodded and kept looking straight ahead. She was tall and tan.
We all got off the elevator on the same floor, and Mom and I made our way to her doctor’s waiting area. We sat there for a few minutes and then I turned to her and asked, “Did you see that woman on the elevator who looked like Kate Jackson?” Mom chuckled. She knew how much of a fan I was. “I was going to mention it,” she replied, “but I didn’t want you to think I was crazy.” I decided immediately to move to the common waiting area in the hallway. I hoped that I might see her again. I didn’t have a plan beyond that.
I walked out to the waiting area. The lady I saw on the elevator was sitting there alone. I sat facing her, trying to be cool. I looked away and tried to think of something to do or say, when suddenly I felt someone staring at me. I looked over, and the woman was staring at my new t-shirt. She looked up when she realized I saw her, and she gave me a little smile. I didn’t know for sure if it was Kate Jackson or not, but the eyes and smile were identical to what I’d seen on TV and in countless magazines for many years. I looked away again, took a deep breath, and went back to my mom.
“I think it’s her! She was staring at my shirt and then she smiled at me.”
“Did you ask her, to make sure she wasn’t someone who just looked like her?”
“No. I was too scared.”
Hey, I was a shy 17-year-old who was potentially face-to-face with my all-time TV heroine. I was completely shaken and unnerved. I eventually plucked up my courage and returned to the hallway, but she was gone
I’ve wondered for the past 47 years: Was the woman I saw Kate Jackson, or just an incredible lookalike?
Does anyone know if she was in Pittsburgh during the summer of 1977?
Miss Jackson has kept a very low profile the past dozen years or so, and I haven’t found a way to contact her—I completely respect her privacy. So here I am. Perhaps she or someone close to her might see this and help me to solve this mystery.
Some have asked—my mom is now 96 and has bladder cancer. She’s curious about this too, as you can imagine. We’ve had a lot of fun following Miss Jackson’s career and speculating about the lady we saw all those years ago.
FYI: I’m battling rectal and liver cancer and hoping for some resolution to this mystery! Perhaps someone else in Pittsburgh saw Ms. Jackson that day and will contact me.
Thanks for reading,
Rose
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