In the more rarefied fund-raising circles, a $1,000-a-ticket party isn't anything to sniff at. But it also doesn't exactly entitle one to more than a brief brush with greatness. Or in this case, Bill Clinton.

Every celebrity—even some socialites (the Duke of Windsor, for example, was once rumored to be available to attend your party if you purchased a certain number of Turnbull & Asser shirts)—has a price for appearances and how much he'll invest of himself. With that principle in mind, we learn that $1,000 affords you only a hit-and-run by Bill Clinton at a benefit dinner at venture capitalist turned philanthropist Malini Alles's Los Altos Hills home, while a Hollywood actor (John Cusack) is on hand to mingle with guests, even if somewhat uninterestedly. Both made appearances at Alles's benefit for the Mountain View Women's Shelter on account of their friendships with the bubbly host (she serves on the board of Clinton's foundation and met Cusack through Clinton on a delegation to Saudi Arabia).

But while the cocktail hour promised Clinton, the former president remained camped out in the main house, hidden from the view of partygoers until the end of the cocktail hour. It was there that the Socialist, wandering in search of his seat at the elusive table 20 (you know the one, invariably behind a column), stumbled upon him, with Alles and Mayor Gavin Newsom at the real VIP cocktail hour, which included about a dozen people who ponied up $10,000 to $25,000 for a more intimate affair.

"Mr. Mayor, I see you're off to quite a start," Clinton told Newsom upon their introduction, a sly reference to the national controversy Newsom ignited by allowing gays to marry in City Hall. Clinton then seamlessly moved on to cocktail chatter with an adjoining couple, telling them, "I'm just working on my little book" (a reference to his memoir) and exchanging details of his diet and exercise regimen. "I work out a lot these days," he said. Said Alles of Clinton, "They were all smitten. He's so charismatic, and he makes everybody feel comfortable."

Newsom, for his part, was asked by another guest about his relationship with Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger; the guv had just called a press conference asking for a halt to the gay marriages. "He had to do what he did, but then right after that, he wants me to join him at a press conference having me support his bond measure," Newsom said incredulously.

Meanwhile, it fell upon Cusack, as the resident celebrity—there was also John McGinley from the TV show Scrubs, but the guests apparently don't watch medical spoofs—to work the crowd. The crowd of Silicon Valley players, including Adobe cofounder John Warnock and his wife, Marva, and PayPal cofounder Peter Thiel, and the Indian community's more affluent members were out in full force with their own cameras, swarming around him for their photo ops. Others were content just to have snaps of themselves with a Zelig-like Clinton in the background. After

his dinner speech, a couple of Secret Service agents promptly whisked him into a large SUV and off into the night.

A couple of weeks earlier, John Cleese was the one being feted at a party at Steven and Mary Swig's Victorian mansion on California Street. There to lend support to the Esalen Institute in Big Sur, Cleese, who was in town to do a one-man show, was extremely affable. He actually seemed to enjoy mixing with the guests. Virtually everyone who got a chance to speak to him was charmed by his dry, absurdist wit. Was he even trying? Or did it just come naturally for the Monty Python alum and comic?

After some effortless mingling, Cleese made a little speech. "[Esalen cofounder] Michael Murphy asked me to say a few words tonight. So I've prepared a few words: Lettuce. [Pause] Axe. [Pause] Antidisestablishment. [Pause]" The crowd roared.

Two days after the Swigs' event, artist and director Robert Wilson was the draw at a cocktail reception at Stan and Christine Mattison's Presidio Heights home, in anticipation of the opening of Wilson's production The Black Rider and to generate fund-raising interest in A.C.T. Wilson held a crowd of rapt listeners including John and Frances Bowes and young-uns Robert Mailer Anderson and Nicola Miner, speaking about the origins of his collaboration with Tom Waits on The Black Rider (Waits wrote the music and lyrics) and  his experiences with Allen Ginsberg.

Sometimes, it turns out, you can't pay to play. Grumblings are developing over Trevor Traina's gala for the Art Deco show last month, dubbed "Trevor's private party at the Legion" by the uninvited. The party is being planned by the Fine Arts Museums' "junior committee," a group created specifically for this and future bashes. As word spread that this would be the "it" party of the season among the junior set (the invitation's cochair list reads like a local Who's Who), confusion set in over whether the party was open to the public. There's also talk that some trustees are concerned that the gala looks set to lose money.

But the party's biggest conflict is with the museum's young professionals group. John Ramsbacher, the president of ArtPoint, fielded calls from angry and disappointed members who discovered their money wasn't good enough for Traina's gala. "People felt very slighted," Ramsbacher says. "What message does the museum send when there are two classes of membership—one for the young socialites, and the other for the rest?"

To smooth out the situation, Traina invited Ramsbacher to his home to discuss the matter, but no changes or accommodation were forthcoming. "Our intent is not to be exclusionary," says Traina. "When we put our lists together, we're looking at 750 people. We want to make sure there's space for our friends first." He added that New York has similarly exclusive parties, citing the Frick Collection's Young Fellows benefit. "When I first moved to New York,

I didn't know a lot of people, and I wasn't invited. But you get to know people over time."

Still, the resentments remain. "I know my checkbook won't open up for them next year," Ramsbacher says.