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Where's Regis running to?

It started out innocently enough.

On a late July day, Nathan Lane was on daytime talk show Live with Regis & Kelly. During the interview, Regis Philbin let it slip that he was selling his house in Greenwich. At that point Lane, a skilled comedian and actor and longtime Broadway performer (he was also the voice of meerkat Timon in The Lion King), went into a whole routine about how Regis doesn't actually want to live in Connecticut anymore. He even threw in a faux WASP accent to complete the stereotypical package. Regis squirmed.

And yes, I laughed.

But then a sort of horror set in. Even though he had mentioned it on Live before, usually in the casual conversation with co-host Kelly Ripa that begins each show, Nathan Lane's joke somehow made it real. Regis Philbin was leaving Greenwich, and I was upset.

Why? Well, you see, Regis Philbin is something of a personal hero of mine. Growing up, watching Live was a summertime treat. When Kathie Lee was his co-host, I loved the way Regis could rebuff even the most piercingly annoying anecdote about her children that she would throw at him.

Once Kelly Ripa took over in 2001, a whole new dynamic was developed: Young, perky Kelly would tease him about his age, telling him about new technology like you'd explain cellphones to a caveman. I loved the way he reacted, the way his voice would sudden spike, after minutes of low-wattage simmering, into a sharp, exclamatory yelp, like a Nine Inch Nails song. And I love the way he goes through the daily papers, never letting on any partisanship, simply reading the headlines and giving the same bemused look, as he tosses them aside, adding a twirl to them in midair.

But the thing I'm most impressed by is the way he knows everyone. His stories of going out to dinner the night before with his wife Joy have me particularly enraptured. If he sees other celebrities, he says hello or maybe dines with them—always getting the best table, always having the best time. He also talked about owning an apartment in a skyrise uptown somewhere, with a Godlike view of Yankee Stadium. It's like he's a high-powered gangster, with all the swagger and connections, except I'm pretty sure Regis never beat anybody to death with an aluminum bat.

At 76, he not only still has his daytime gig but also hosts a primetime game show on CBS, Million Dollar Password, an update of 1960s staple Password, and always hosts the holiday parades from the Walt Disney theme parks. In 2004 he set the Guinness World Record for "Most Hours on Camera" (at the time it was 15,188) and has a garbage bag full of Emmys. He works very hard and gets paid very well. It's the model I want to live by.

So the prospect of a Regis-less Fairfield County was something I couldn't wrap my mind around. Was he "done with Greenwich" (to paraphrase a quote Martha Stewart delivered to the New York Times Magazine about Westport)? Did Greenwich no longer "work" for him, as Westport no longer "worked" for her?

Last June, Bankrate.com asked Regis what the most "decadent thing" he's ever bought was. He named his home in Greenwich, formerly owned by CBS sportscaster Warner Wolf. "It's probably the most extravagant thing I ever did," he said.

Extravagant, but maybe not "decadent." According to Architectural Digest, which got in the front door in 2002, Wolf's former house is in "prime John Cheever country—dignified with faint Norman manorisms, including quoins, dormers and a ruddy brick façade. It's as unshowy as the neighboring piles are eye-popping." It does have a tennis court.

Does all this mean no stories about pastoral Connecticut life on the morning talk show? No more Regis signings at the Fairfield Borders? If Regis left Greenwich, there would be definitely be a psychic toll.

And if he is leaving Greenwich, where is he going?

Now would be a good time to point out Regis Philbin has a whole host of people working for him, and getting a straight, definitive answer out of anyone about their beloved client can prove quite difficult.

So I went looking for myself.

The first place I went was Valbella!! (exclamation points theirs), an Italian restaurant in Old Greenwich that Regis frequents, according to online reports. I introduced myself to a very nice, very Italian maître d' who said, "Oh, of course, Regis," almost immediately. When I asked him if he had said anything about where he was moving, he answered me in a more roundabout way.

"Well, I know he sold his house, but maybe he sold his house and bought a new one in the same place?"

Hmmm, mysterious, intriguing.

At that point, I asked for his name, and he became skittish. Then he referred me to his manager (a man named Tony), who was on the phone and too busy for my questions.

The hunt continued, and me stalking around downtown Greenwich didn't get me any more answers. The possibility began to form that maybe he was just moving within Greenwich, or maybe he was still going to live in Fairfield County, or better yet, maybe he was using his vast fortunes to recreate the fictional, idyllic Connecticut town of Star's Hollow from Gilmore Girls.

Well, someone from the show called me back. I got to talk to the very nice Barbara Warren, publicist for Live with Regis and Kelly. (I got her number from Jim Giffin, his agent—see what I mean?) She confirmed that yes, Regis has actually sold his house in Greenwich, which was something I didn't actually know. On the show he makes it seem like he is about to sell it, or maybe just in the process of moving, without having the details sorted out.

She also said that he's bought another house in Connecticut, but not in Greenwich.

"But where?" I asked. No answer. I persisted. "I mean, this is for the Fairfield County Weekly, so it'd be really helpful if you told me whether or not he was moving within Fairfield County."

She still wouldn't tell me. In fact, she tried to encourage me to "minimize" the story, if not cancel it altogether, although she did think it sounded "cute." She kept saying that the details of someone's move, in particular the buying and selling of a house, are an extremely personal matter. He does talk about this stuff on the show, though, to a daily audience of almost four million. It's where the idea for this article came from.

So, where he's moving is still a question mark, but at least he's staying in Connecticut. The only way to really tell if he's moved out of the area is to more finely attune yourself to the psychic wavelengths of the area. Sit very still and see if you can detect if the best tables are being given to nobodies, sensing if the swingin'-est 76-year-old in America is here or elsewhere.

That, or you could probably just watch the show, and see if he spills the beans, his voice raising again in agitated Bronx-bred excitement.