OK, I just have to add my two "sightings" and one encounter. First, the encounter.
Huey Lewis showed up, on a binge drink-o-thon, at the Radio City in SLC one afternoon (1980). The RC was/is a dive and at 4:00 PM it was basically empty. No one, including me, paid much attention to or recognized him. He had his pockets stuffed with mini bottles of scotch. He slugged down a mini (2.5 ounces) then sucked enough air out of the bottle that it hung from the tip of his tongue. He thought this was terribly funny. He was dressed in a gray business suit, white dress shirt, and neck tie spilling out of one pocket. He was feeling no pain. He also appeared very haggered and old. It finally dawned on me who he was when he grinned. I asked him what else he could suck. He grabbed my knee, leaned into me and said "You don't want to know." He steadied himself against me as he stood up, slipping his hand up into my crotch. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I figured that was a come-on. He walked off to the mens room, looking back and grinned at me as he went in. Of course I followed. He had a decent-handful-sized dick. Basically the same thickness at the head as it was at the base. Uncut. We both leaned forward over the trough urinal and enjoyed watching each other piss. He was VERY relaxed and playful. He showed plenty of interest in watching me hold my tool with both hands. When he finished draining his dick he played with himself enough that it grew which I decided was enough of an invitation for me to play with it too. Yes, I went down on him (Huey, you reading this?). I can easily take in an oversized 7+ inches in my experienced mouth and his semi-hard cock (or semi-soft) comfortably plugged up my pie hole. Unfortunately, we were interrupted by a couple of cackling scag drag queens (cross dressers with beards) intent on fucking up any action in the mens toilet. They scared him off before I could really go to work on him. But he may have been too drunk to have ever got it completely up. I tried following him, but he'd made a very quick exit from the bar onto State Street. Just as well. The overwhelming stench on him of alcohol toxicity coming through the pores of his skin and on his clothes was rather disenchanting.
Had the odd experience of sitting in a hot tub, family-style (mixed company), with Robert Redford at his ski resort up Provo Canyon. I'm old, but ordinary Bob was a lot older (still is). He also has ordinary equipment. I was able to check him out in the master bath of that private lodge. It hung loose, but not too much and among his gray and faded red pubes it was possible to see the freckles on his dick. Now that I think about it, he's probably got good girth, though.
In the mens changing room at the old Bel Aire Country Club I got a good look at David Letterman's equipment. It was the early 1970's and he was still in his early 30's. I was sitting on a vinyl padded bench. I didn't have to peek. He just stripped in front of me, dangling impressively as he put away his clothes. He wrapped a towel around himself and headed for the showers. I got a good, close, eye-level view. Even with a limp dick he was impressive. I have no idea how big it might get (or ever got) but he definitely was in the Milton Berle Club.