Dena Robbins found the perfect pad for - well, she can't really say, you understand, but a star, a BIG star, acting in a major motion picture production shooting in Philly.
Jack Nicholson, perhaps? Reese Witherspoon? Owen Wilson? Maybe Dev Patel? They're all involved in movie shoots this summer, right?
She's not telling. "It can't come from the film office," she says as she visits luxury hotels and a house that might work for an art director.
The 70-year-old Robbins is the Diva of Domiciles at the 10-person Greater Philadelphia Film Office, a role that requires exemplary discretion. She's as hush-hush as the Secret Service, or the staff at the Four Seasons.
Officially director of resources, she's the go-to gal to find the perfect Main Line manse or Center City condo for that demanding A-list actor or that "above-the-line" (read: important) director who must have a gourmet kitchen.
"They have definite fuss points," Robbins allows.
Without naming names, of course, she offers tidbits: One actor took a condo in Center City because it was a walk to the grocery store. He wanted to cook his own meals and connect with fans.
Others have preferred the secluded mansion on 25 acres. Views matter. Many require connecting suites for security. Some just want fresh air.
"You'd be surprised," Robbins says. "A number of people will not stay in a hotel where the windows don't open."
When asked about over-the-top requests, she first shrugs off the question. "After doing this so long, I don't find any of the requests over the top," she says.
There must be something, Dena. Details!
Well, she had one client who wanted a house with an elevator, a gym, and a brand-new kitchen. Another wanted an indoor swimming pool.
No matter. Robbins can deliver all through a deeply cultivated network of friends and associates that keeps her in the know: who's away, who's on the market, who's interested, and therefore what's available.
Her part-time gig goes into overdrive when a major movie, or several, are due to arrive, as in the last several weeks. (The Last Airbender, The Best and the Brightest, and Stringbean & Marcus have been shooting, and an untitled James L. Brooks project arrives this week.) Then she spends all of her time ("I've worked 10 days in a row") scouting accommodations for everyone from the stars to grips.
"What I do is so much about relationships," she says.
Philadelphia is one of only a few U.S. film offices to have staff dedicated to housing for cast and crew, movie sources say. Neither New York nor Miami, both film meccas, has such a position.
"When productions come in and I tell them we have a housing person, they say, 'What?' " says local Jason Pinardo, line producer for The Best and the Brightest.
"It's an absolute asset," he says. "You have talent and producers used to a very specific standard of living, one not easy to come by in the short term. They have to be made comfortable."
Robbins' gift is access, Pinardo says. When Nicolas Cage (National Treasure) needed a place to crash, Pinardo said, "Every penthouse in the city, the doors were thrown wide open. It had nothing to do with me. It had very little to do with Nicolas Cage. It had to do with Dena. People like doing business with her."
As the city's silver-screen industry has flourished, Robbins has had to work the phones from her winter retreat in Florida. She recently got an assistant, daughter-in-law Skosh Robbins, who scours the far suburbs.
"The privacy thing is huge for so many of these people," Dena Robbins says. "Not just the stars or the cast people or crew, but also for some of the homeowners. Some of them don't want anybody to know they're renting."
That's because of the gawkers, of course.
Renters of Main Line houses can typically get $6,000 to $15,000 a month, she says. Having a star take up residence may seem glamorous, but homeowners only occasionally meet an Owen Wilson or Jennifer Aniston. (Rumor has it at least one star from Marley & Me took up residence on the Main Line last year.) Plus, there are inconveniences: Homeowners have to stay somewhere else (though most have second homes), empty out closets, and move valuables and personal papers.
On this day, friend Doug Mellor, a professional photographer who often travels, shows Robbins around his million-dollar-plus Center City rowhouse, which has housed top crew in the past. It's now for sale. Houses on the market are often available for short-term leases, and Robbins' pitch emphasizes that the fact a star slept there can help move the property.
"They've all been wonderful, very respectful," Mellor says of his Hollywood tenants. He also has a home in Bryn Mawr that has seen a well-known actor or two.
In all the nearly 18 years Robbins has been doing this, there was only one instance of bad behavior: A director for a low-budget movie had several raucous parties.
"I rent my friends' places, and I wouldn't do that if I didn't feel comfortable. The movie people go away, but the others stay. I want to keep my friends and my reputation."
The mother of three, grandmother of seven, and wife of Jerry Robbins of Robbins Diamonds lives in Society Hill. She doesn't really have to work, though she says, "If I didn't work, what would I do? I'd just be this giant pain in the ass to my kids, you know? I'm a pain in the ass anyway."
The film job is the longest Robbins has stayed at one place. None in a string of sales posts over two decades (Norelco rep, real estate, etc.) lasted more than a couple of years. Even entrepreneurial success (she was half of the Galloping Grandmothers, a personal concierge service) occupied only five years.
"I don't like being bored," she says. So far, the film office has not disappointed.
Model tall at 5-foot-9, with a striking figure and curly red hair, Robbins can play the no-nonsense businesswoman or sophisticated charmer. More often, the housing wizard's approach stays down to earth. She calls folks "honey," wisecracks often, and at times peppers anecdotes with the kind of sailor talk that entertains.
"She understands our crazy world," says Grant Grabowski, travel coordinator for the Brooks movie. Robbins, he says, provided relief from the legwork of identifying dozens of accommodations for cast and crew. (No names proffered, but the movie's out-of-town stars include Witherspoon and Nicholson.)
"This is really just a matter of sales," says Sharon Pinkenson, the film office's executive director. "She's a spectacular salesperson."
Robbins, who grew up in Yeadon, studied business education at Temple University but left without a degree to get married. She raised her family before she plunged into sales. Why sales? "Because I have a big mouth," she jokes.
After the Galloping Grandmothers and the creation of a wedding planning book for the jewelry store, she was at a loss until Jerry Robbins asked her to describe her dream job. She said, "Make movies." Out went her resume. Pinkenson hired her into the expanding film office to sell ads for its guide, the bible for the local film industry. That morphed into locating accommodations.
At AKA Rittenhouse Square, which offers luxury short-term leases, Robbins tours the penthouse, a posh, modern design that goes for $10,000 a month.
She opens closet doors, checks views, eyes bathroom counter space.
"Does the fireplace work?" she asks general manager Evan O'Donnell.
"It's decorative," he replies.
"That means it doesn't work," says Robbins, who prefers it straight. "You can say no."
She laughs her loud, infectious roar. Then she's off to inspect the fitness facilities.
Contact Lini S. Kadaba at 215-854-5606 or Lkadaba@phillynews.com.
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