The mystery behind Mary Tyler Moore's smile

Mary Tyler Moore is rightly being celebrated for her groundbreaking role as Mary Richards, who embodied the notion that single women in their 30s could combine ambition, spunk and cuteness to make it after all.

But my favorite memory of the late superstar is the time she introduced me to a president.

In 1994, I was covering the Video Software Dealers Association Convention, an only-in-Vegas assortment of celebrities signing boxes and posters for rental-shop owners in a then-booming business.

There, among action figure Steven Seagal, former porn star Marilyn Chambers and Barney the Dinosaur, sat Moore, peddling a pair of fitness videos and an almost believable smile.

We were wrapping up an interview in the convention center hallway when the crowd around us dispersed, suddenly replaced by burly men in dark suits and an enthusiastic fan briskly heading our way to pay his respects.

"Gooda seeya, Mare!" said former commander-in-chief George H.W. Bush.

Moore could have shooed me away. Instead, she graciously allowed me to stick around, if only for a few jaw-dropping minutes while the two chatted about their families, summer homes and other matters that powerful people consider small talk.

When I chatted with her again in 2000, she was trying to muster enthusiasm for the sequel "Mary and Rhoda," in which the two gal pals try to get a second wind in New York City.

"I don't want to do it again," Moore finally said after I pressed her about the possibility of making the movie into a series. "There were too many problems that arose during filming that I don't want to deal with. I'm lucky enough to be in a situation where I don't have to work if I don't want to, so when I work, it's going to have to make me happy on a lot of levels, not just the working level."

Co-star Valerie Harper told me years later that Moore had been frustrated by network interference.

She was more of a team player during the 2002 unveiling of her statue on the Nicollet Mall. But I've seen stars more excited about securing a great table at a red-hot restaurant.

Perhaps my interpretation was clouded by "Ordinary People." To certain generations, Moore will always be Richards or Laura Petrie, both big-hearted people-pleasers. But to me, her portrayal of Beth, a shellshocked mother in the Oscar-winning film, was her crowning achievement. I recognized the character from the passive-aggressive, socially insecure grown-ups in my own Midwestern upbringing. I also recognized her in Moore.

"You were the queen," Leachman told her. "You were way higher."

"Well," Moore said, "in the sense that it was called 'The Mary Tyler Moore Show.' But I don't think I ever succeeded in your eyes."

"You were already there," Leachman said.

"Well, it was good to talk to you," said Moore. "I'm going to go back and rewrite all my memories."

Some memories still hold up.

What really struck me was Moore's versatility, and depth. Her silent exasperation after Richards learns she makes $50 a week less than her predecessor, or her wordless reconstruction of a suitor's blunt request to spend the night, should be taught at mime school. And when she blew, as she did after Ted Baxter kept interrupting her during an on-air editorial, it's jarring.