SNOW DRIFTS

In the 1980’s I was a manager of, let’s say, celebrities or minor sit com stars.  One of whom, post sitcom, found himself hosting a game show for the Disney Channel which is how I found myself sitting in a tunnel underneath Disney World in Orlando talking to Snow White.

First of all let me say that she was beautiful, perfect really.  Jet black hair with that ribbon, that blue dress with the poofy sleeves covering her toned shoulders, her Snow White shoes… the whole thing was out of a storybook. No detail left undone.

So we are sitting there and she’s on break smoking a camel non filter and one of the dwarves, I don’t know Grumpy or Doc or one of them comes over and says, “Breaks over Snow show time in one minute. And she exhales through her nose, throws the cigarette on the tunnel floor, says, “Shit.” and grinds it out with that perfect perfect shoe. It was and remains one of the greatest things I have ever seen

Doug K

John Belushi, Art Carney, and Ray Walston

When I first moved to Los Angeles in 1981 I found a studio apartment in the Hollywood Hills.  It was typical of the time, a pool; a couple of palm trees and a collection of Show Biz have beens, wannabees, and support players.  

One of my neighbors was the location manager for the show Fame. He would give me odd jobs, such as guarding the sets when they were on location and didn’t want to break the set down for the night. I loved it. Basically there was almost nothing to do but exist. The pay was both over and golden time because the bulk of it took place after midnight. I could clear over $500 in a weekend.  As my rent was in the mid 300’s this was a serious windfall.

One of the gigs Tony got for me early in 1982 was being a runner for Art Carney when he was guest starring on the show. He and Ray Walston were playing janitors at the school who were once song and dance men.  And that’s how I found myself in a set made up to look like an alley with these two great comic actors both sitting on overturned buckets, dressed in dirty pants and wife beaters. 

It was the day John Belushi died. 

The set was pretty bummed out as you can imagine but Art and Ray hadn’t really heard of Belushi so it was up to me to explain to these two legends Belushi’s place in the comedy pantheon.  How do you tell a guy who worked with Gleason about the death of one of the funniest fat guys ever? I talked about the drugs and Art said, “Yeah that’s why my first wife left me.”  And then he went into a pantomime of a life of sex, drugs and alcohol that conveyed in a few hand gestures the whole thing. Sex, drugs, and alcohol. John Belushi was dead. He wasn’t the first. He wouldn’t be the last. 

Then they asked for something to drink and I went to get them Cokes.  

Ed Asner and the Winking Guy

Ed Asner
I got a gig writing the script for the Cable Ace Awards in the early eighties. This was back before it was folded into the Emmys and so it was a fairly big deal for HBO, Showtime, etc.

I was in my early twenties and new to LA. It was the first time I ever wrote something like this. One of the show’s hosts was Ed Asner who, of course, I was a big fan of from the Mary Tyler Moore Show.

So I walk over to him and hand him his script and he starts reading it and begins to fume, “Who wrote this crap! It’s all bullshit. I’m not saying this garbage!” I am, oh I don’t know… mortified.

Then I saw him. Ed Asner’s winking guy.

This guy is standing just behind Ed and just winks at me and mouths, “It’s Ok. (wink) It’s just Ed. (wink) He always does this. (wink) it’ll be fine. And it was. 

A few minutes later I heard Ed over by the coffee, “What kind of shit coffee is this? It’s putrid. Who would drink this crap?” And sure enough, there was his winking guy winking away, “The coffee’s fine. (wink) It’s just Ed. (wink)… And I thought to myself, “I’ve got to get a winking guy.”

Doug K.

Broken Arrow- Cochise

                      Nino Cochise

When I had the underdeveloped brain of a 20 year old, I was inspired by Kerouac’s “On the Road”, Peter Fonda’s “Easy Rider” and general suburban ennui. I had a 60’s respect for Native Americans (still do) so when  I was on my idealistic cross country hitch hiking adventures, I hooked up with my brother and we went to the Cochise Stronghold in Arizona near the Mexican border.  We both read “Broken Arrow” and fantasized about being Tom Jeffords, the cool pale faced Gringo that was friends with the tribe. The Stronghold is this amazing oasis valley surrounded by cliffs of red, back, and ochre stripes that empty into long stretches of deserts; an absolutely perfect fortress.

When we eventually left, we saw a gift shop-museum by the highway so, obviously, we had to go in. There was no one around save an Indian manikin in a roped-off center platform and all kinds of arrow heads and souvenirs. As we wandered around checking out the cool weapons and artifacts of the Indian Wars, the manikin says “Hello. You like what you see?” Obviously stunned, we soon learned that this was a real person dressed in a traditional manner. After a surreal conversation, this finely attired gent identifies himself as the grandson of Cochise, Nino. There was a little sign that had his name printed on it. Nino was about 80 years old. He went on to tell us that he is also the nephew of Geronimo and that he played his Grandfather on the TV show "High Chaparral”. We became increasingly embarrassed that here was this living legend and he’s on display on a roped-off platform. It was one of the coolest celebrity encounters I ever had but one of the most depressing at the same time. Nino Cochise was a very nice guy. I can only assume his grandfather was too.

wes

Burt Reynolds?

Burt Reynolds

I’m just a kid spending the weekend at Napa’s Silverado Country Club when I glance up from collecting lost golf balls when I see this mustached man who recently caused a stir, posing nearly naked in a centerfold. I feel dizzy seeing him in real life. He and his girlfriend, Dinah Shore are chatting with James Brolin about appaloosas when I asked him for his autograph.

I am giddy with excitement when he scribbles his name down for me, but am horrified by what I see! His name isn’t legible at all. The kids in school won’t believe that I actually got his autograph!

In my childhood brilliance, I rewrite his name over and over again until I write the way I imagine his signature to look. I carry his autograph inside a sandwich baggy to protect it on the way to school to show my friends. They stand around the tetherball pole staring at his neat penmanship with envy while his real autograph is wadded up in a heap of rubble inside the garbage can.

Shawn

DON'T LOOK DOWN- CINDY CRAWFORD

Cindy Crawford

My name is Robert Leblanc…up until the time of this encounter, all I ever did was play pool for a living, I was forty years old and had been on the road since I was 15 years old. I came to Hollywood California looking for a change and took my first job delivering for LA Style magazine.

I had been working at the magazine for about six months, and one day I had to deliver an ad to Herb Ritts, the world-famous photographer, so he could approve it before it ran in the magazine. He was at the St. James Club on Sunset Blvd., a beautiful hotel where a lot of the movie stars stayed. I get to the hotel, valet my car, and walk into the most beautiful lobby. I go up to the concierge and ask which room Herb Ritts is in. He said he was up in the penthouse doing a photo shoot. So, I’m excited to see the Penthouse Suite and so I get on the elevator, push “P” and go up to the top floor and knock on the door. This guy comes to the door and I said to him, “ I need to see Mr. Ritts so he can approve his ad for LA Style.” He says, “Come in. He’s outside on the patio.” I go out on the patio, it’s so beautiful outside with the sun shining, and Herb is out there with his camera shooting Cindy Crawford for a Playboy Magazine pictorial, and she doesn’t have a stitch of clothes on, and I’m thinking “man is she hot or what!” I’m standing there trying my best not to stare. I didn't know if I should look up or down, but how could I not? This was a once-in-a-lifetime chance! Like I said, it was a good job; I liked looking at Cindy Crawford naked, so it was a fun day for me.

 www.confessionsofapoolhustler.com by Robert Leblanc

GOOD GRIEF, CHARLES SCHULZ!

Charles Schulz

I adored Charles Schulz. Did you know that precious, unassuming man always had his personal phone number listed in the telephone book?

For five years, I lived in an upstairs apartment drawing every day about my life and feelings and insecurities and daydreaming of becoming a comic strip artist. I would be drawing and then stop and look out my window and send my wishes and hopes and dreams across the park and roof tops. Never knowing, that one of those roof tops I stared at was the roof top of Charles Schulz's art studio!

He and I lived in the same town and it wasn't unusual to see him out and about from time to time. But there was a moment, where our lives crossed and I will never forget it for as long as I live.

I was in a book store flipping through some Calvin and Hobbes comic books, when he gently tapped me on my shoulder and suggested I buy a Peanuts book instead. I looked over at him, gasping, recognized him instantly.. blurting out, "Hi Mr. Browwwn!"

I was wearing a t-shirt with my own comic strip on the front and pointed it out to him, saying he was my inspiration. And being so nervous, I jumbled up my words and expressed I wanted to become a comic stripper because of him.

He smiled and seemed to connect with me and invited me to his studio a few days later.

It was a dream come true.

He gave me a tour and showed me his latest strip he was drawing. He pulled out an unknown, not-yet-published Mutt's comic strip and said, "Patrick McDonnell will have the best strip out there" and I felt warmed that I was seeing all this before it went to print.

He spent a great deal of time looking through my comics and spoke kind and hopeful words to me about them and offered suggestions. Though I arrived there in such a cloak of vulnerability, his kindness wrapped a woolen blanket around me and warmed me to the bone. I believe he recognized parts of me in him and felt a kindred spirit between us.

He personally sent my rough comics out to his syndicate. He even called me a few times. Left messages on my answering machine that I still have on cassette tape. He wrote a couple of notes to me of encouragement. Gave me an autographed book called 40 Years of Life and Art. And, if I wasn't so bashful and if I believed in myself more, who knows what would have happened with my comic career with the help of Charles Schulz? I know he wanted to help me. That's the way he was.

I certainly don't have any regrets today of what happened then, because I'm exactly where I want to be, and I no longer carry the same dream of drawing a comic strip as I once did.

When he died, my heart broke. I went to his Memorial Service and sat up on the left-hand-side of the balcony and cried my eyes out. Santa Rosa felt more empty.

----

About a year after his death, I was showing a friend his studio.
"I don't think this is a good idea, Shawn", she said.

"Oh, c'mon. We'll just peek in the windows."

I pulled into the driveway at One Snoopy Place and the electronic doors swung open and let us through. We parked near the front door and peered into the windows and his studio still looked just like it did when he was alive. I was thrilled!

"Look over there! That's his drawing table!" I shrieked, pecking the window with my finger.

My friend was still nervous, looking around. "Isn't this private property? I think we should leave now..." she said.

And as we got into the car to drive out, the electronic doors didn't open for us.

We were locked inside the gate!

We called Security. They couldn't help us. Their contract ended two weeks earlier and they didn't know who had the code or key to let us out.

It became dark and cold and we sat in my car with my engine and heater on to keep us warm while my friend had that look of "I told you so" on her face.

After a couple of hours, headlights from an oncoming car blinded us for a moment as it drove up through the electronic gates and they opened for us. I darted out as quickly as possible never looking into the oncoming car. I'm sure if I did, I would have seen a face of an angel.

Back at home, she and I talked about our experience of being trapped inside, but it wasn't a scary experience.

We actually felt comforted and safe being there locked inside the gates. Which isn't surprising, really.

Because he was comfortable and safe.

And the world is different without him in it.
-Shawn

TOUCHING BASES WITH EARL WEAVER

Earl Weaver

I’m writing Battle of the Network Stars. Really that line bears repeating, I’m writing Battle of The Network Stars hosted by Dick Van Dyke and I find myself in a conversation with former Baltimore Oriole Manager Earl Weaver.

It was a tough competition. ABC went with a number of fit guys and bubble headed blonds that were dominating the swimming and volleyball events. They also had Tony Danza who almost punched me out. This would be the first of three times I would meet Tony Danza and all three times I think he wanted to punch me out.  CBS has Lorenzo Llamas and little else, but the NBC team was awesome. Guys from Hill Street Blues, St. Elsewhere, basically your Jews, Italians, Black guys. Urban. Gritty.  Awesome . And, they had NFL Hall of Famer Bubba Smith.

The whole contest came down to the tug of war. The whistle blew. Bubba Smith sat down in the sand while holding the rope and that was it. CBS and ABC combined couldn’t move him.  NBC wins! NBC wins!

Later I was sitting in the bar and “Commissioner” Earl Weaver called me over. “Would you like a gin and tonic?” I nodded and he said, “Waiter, three.”   He proceeded to out drink me two to one for the rest of the night. My favorite moment came when, lapsing into what had to be his standard routine, he told me about Pat Kelley an outfielder on the Orioles who is now a minister.  “Doug” he said “Pat Kelly once told me it was great to walk with the Lord and I told him it was better to walk with the bases loaded” If there was anyone on earth who understood loaded it was Earl. 

Doug K

JACK AND BUD GARY BUSEY

Gary Busey

I was watching this cult-Western Movie called Barbarosa with my brother as we ate our traditional Saturday night spaghetti. It stars Willy Nelson and Gary Busey (the movie not the spaghetti). After our dessert of a shot of Jack, we went to the Long Beach Auditorium where a band that my brother was managing at the time was performing. When we got back stage, I headed to the line for free beer. I slowly noticed that the guy in front of me was Gary Busey. I told him that I just saw Barbarosa. He was thrilled or else he was just an exceptionally happy guy. He really impressed me as being a gregarious guy. He introduced me to his wife and said “She’s in crime”. He proceeds to list a series of crimes. I couldn’t help but think what a relaxed confession. His wife is standing there rolling her eyes. Gary sums it up by saying “She’s policewoman”.

wes

THE GREAT GRAPE GRAHAM CRACKER- CHET HELMS, BILL GRAHAM, MOBY GRAPE, AND THE DEAD

Grateful Dead, Moby Grape and Chet Helms

Around 1980 something- something, San Francisco hosted an Anniversary of the Summer of Love. An icon of the 60’s, who was the founder of The Family Dog and an organizer of many events by the name of Chet Helms, was there. His picture appeared in the 80’s on the cover of the Rolling Stone which is normally no big deal but this time it was for me. We looked remarkably alike.

I was working at Winterland around 1988 or so which is owned by Bill Graham, the definitive rock and roll impresario and organizer. Every Christmas, Winterland had these very cool parties. I saw Bill sitting at the bar and thought maybe I could engage this legend in a conversation. He couldn’t have been more open to it and was quite gregarious; asking me how I was and we talked about the goodle days. When I left I thought what a great guy.

A few days later, a friend of mine got married and, of course, after the reception most of us had to go hit a bar to continue our congratulations and best wishes ceremony. The band that was playing was Moby Grape. I remember these guys from the 60’s and in fact, they kept me relatively sane during High School hell. Being a little tipsy, I wanted to check out the band closer so I got near the stage and stood there with a goofy grin. They stopped mid-song and announced that they’re taking a break. The singer, I think his name was Jerry, waved me over and said “Hey, man, come on back stage” I thought well, this is cool. We had a great conversation talking about the 60’s. He listened to everything I said quite intensely. He then said “Hey, I have a poster in my van. Would you mind signing it for me?” Right about then I realized he thinks I’m somebody else. That would also explain my conversation with Mr. Graham. I’m a Chet helms look alike.

About a week later I went to a Grateful Dead movie premier party and many tripped out people wanted to shake my hand and give me a hug. After the hug, I would explain that I’m not Chet Helms but few people believed me. Today, I cut my hair, Chet passed away but I owe him many grateful thanks for introducing me to some really nice people.
-wes

KATHY IRELAND

Here’s a really quick story about what I consider to be the greatest moment in  television history, or at least the greatest moment that I had a hand in. My client, Marc Price (Skippy from Family Ties), got to host one week of a CBS late night six week experiment called the Midnight Hour. They were negotiating with Letterman and they were trying out a bunch of plan B’s. One of the Plan B’s was a Bill Mahr political show. He didn’t get the contract but the seeds of Politically Correct and his current HBO show were right there.

Marc got to host because he was Skippy. BECAUSE HE WAS SKIPPY!  So my writing partner and co-manager Scott and I are Executive Producing that week and one of the guests that we booked was Kathy Ireland (When she was hot. And, she was hot.)

So I asked Marc to ask her the following question…”You were the cover of the Sport Illustrated Swimsuit Issue this year. And that’s the largest selling issue they do all year. They sell millions. So that magazine comes out and a lot of guys buy it and… well they take it home and….and I just want to know can you feel that?”

And she goes, “Well it’s a great honor and… EWWWWWWWW.”

The reason I wanted Marc to ask was I always felt that the girls in high school that I fantasized about well… knew. And I figured if Kathy Ireland didn’t pick up on it on the day the swimsuit issue came out than guys pretty much had carte blanche.

I consider it my greatest gift to mankind.

Doug K.

DRIVING SNAKE PLISSKEN- KURT RUSSELL

Kurt Russell

Back in 1986, I was down in LA visiting my buddy Mike. The Long Beach Grand Prix was going on that week and he managed to get us volunteer gigs. Our job was to drive Race Officials around in golf carts, in the vast paddock area inside the track, so naturally I felt like a big shot. The entire morning I only gave one ride to a race official, he talked on his walkie-talkie the whole time and ignored me...I guess there's a caste system in place among racing big shots. And the ride was an entire 200 yards.
So I just drove around...Soon, up ahead I saw a guy with two little blond kids. He waved at me like he was hailing a taxi, so I pulled up and he looked familiar. "Hey bud, can you give us a ride?"
"Sure, hop in!"
He put the little girl, about 6, in the back seat, which faced toward the back, so she put her knees on the seat and faced forward.
"Hang on, okay?"
"okay"
He got in the front seat with the boy, about 3 or 4, on his lap. That's when I recognized him, oh my god that's Kurt Russell!
"Thanks for the lift, I appreciate it! Can you take us to Danny Sullivan's trailer?"
"Sure, uhh..." I had no idea where his trailer was.
"Oh, it's on the other side of the arena, that way."
So off we went. Since I was in 'bigshot' mode, I wasn't as intimidated as I normally would have been, and he had an easygoing manner, like they say, just a 'regular guy'...so I was bold enough to ask, "are you enjoying the race?"
"Hell yeah! it's one big party! ha!"
Neither of us acknowledged that he was a 'movie star' so I just blurted out, "I enjoy your movies, I'm a big fan!"
"Aww thanks, well it's a livin'"
"Working on anything now?"
"Well there's a script we're looking at, an 'Escape' sequel."
"Oh cool!" I couldn't believe I was talking shop in such a casual way with this guy. And the two kids must have been Goldie Hawn's.
"You played ball didn't you?" which was true, he was a minor league baseball player in the 60's.
"Oh yeahhh well, that didn't last. Tore my shoulder, so that was that."
"Bummer"
We arrived at the trailer area, where driver Danny Sullivan was outside, mingling with fans. "C'mon kids!" they all piled out and headed for the trailer. He turned and waved, "Thanks again eh?"
"Sure!" That's when I got out my camera and snapped a picture, he saw me take it and just smiled and waved again. I thought aww jeez now he thinks I'm just another gawking fan, which I was.
It was only later I realized the little girl grew up to be an actress herself, Kate Hudson.

DANG

BABY SNAKES, YELLOW SHARK, AND FRANK ZAPPA

FZ

I nervously pat my top pocket, instinctively reaching for a comforting Marlboro. Frank grins as he apparently recognizes the move. “You want a cigarette?” “Uh- I can smoke? I thought that…” Frank immediately pulls out a cigarette, turns and lights mine. My hands were shaking. Frank Zappa is lighting my cigarette! When he said:”Do you want a cigarette?” in his distinctive voice, it started sounding like a Zappa song in my head “Do ya wanna cigarette? Do ya wanna smoke? Do ya wanna light one up- do ya wanna toke? (drum roll/ high-pitched chorus).” How the begeezus did this happen? It’s just too surreal.

Around 1987, I met and had the privilege of talking about a project with one of the smartest guys I ever met. I met with Frank Zappa at his house on Mulholland

I’ve been a fan of this guy since “Freak Out” and have read a lot of press about this creative genius and how he is a control freak but a brilliant one ( I later learned that the only truth behind that rumor is that he is brilliant).” I was rather apprehensive at first. I’m too much of a geek to meet this guy. I’d be star-struck and say dumb things…so I did what any wimp would do- ran to a liquor store and bought a tall boy and chugged it with a mouthwash swirl afterwards. Ok, I’m cool. I can deal. I went there with Alicia, a friend of mine at the time and George, the guy who invited us to go. Alicia and I were working at Stanford so George thought we were brainiacs. he was wrong, of course.

We arrive at this surprisingly rustic home.  We get out of the car, obviously, and the sidewalk had several little cameras that rotated and followed as we walked towards the front door. It was decided that I should knock on the door. A little girl, maybe four years old answers. I wasn’t sure what to say “is your-uh –dad home? I mean Frank- er Mr. Zappa?” “Yes, please follow me” she says. She had this sparkle in her eye that betrayed her genius. She started saying things that seemed way beyond her years.  I found out years later that this was his daughter, Diva. I don’t know since what became of her but at the time, I thought she was the smartest little kid I ever saw.

We walked through a living room with stacks and stacks of videos with masking tape labels that read “Baby Snakes”. The general décor was just good ol’ wood, family familiar. I don’t know what I was expecting- maybe some dead raccoons nailed to the wall or something. If this is the  of the Mothers of Invention? Where’s the insanity?

 Diva directs us to a door that led to the basement and says: “Please take a seat downstairs. He will be with you shortly.” We head downstairs into the control booth of a sound studio. On the other side of the window is a purple painted room. Alicia and I sit on a couch while George commanders the captains chair behind the edit bay. It seemed rude to Alicia and I.
I’m scoping out the room. Directly behind me is a mounted platypus head, those odd creatures with a duck bill. It was then that I accepted we are indeed in Frank Zappa’s home. I again notice a few small mounted video cameras. I wave. We sit for about 15 minutes more when a door opens. Immediately he looked like someone I knew. He had a disarming look about him, like he was a kid from my hometown. He asks us into the side room which is an expansive family den. On the wall hangs a yellow surf board with a bite out it; apparently bitten by a shark which was given to him by a friend of his (the surfboard, not the shark).
The project we started to discuss was a pilot TV show “The Frank Zappa Show:. Apparently FOX was interested in a grown-up Pee Wee Herman Show as if Pee Wee was a children’s show. We were talking about the title sequence.
 What was amazing about this “Brain Storm” was contrary to what I had read, what I had feared. He was generous with ideas. He actually listened and didn’t say “oh, that won’t work or here’s a better idea. It just evolved. I learned so much about how to work with others on an idea where there is no sense of ownership. The ideas are in charge not the messengers. The concept was that Frank’s nose would break a TV screen and the camera would zoom into the innards of the set with old vacuum tubes, old sandwiches, wires, computer memory boards, sneakers, flies, etc. It was a fun discussion. At a certain point my “rented” beer built up to where I had to use the rest room. He pointed me to the door. I switch on the light. It was this child’s fantasy rainbow light switch. It cracked me up because it seemed like a subject of a Frank Zappa song. When I returned I had to tell him that. He grinned and said “What would it sound like?” I just mumbled “Uh I don’t know”. In hindsight it was probably the most missed opportunity of my life but I was in the presence of the Maestro and felt I was not worthy to make up something as sacred as a Zappa song like that but who knows, he might have been amused.

The meeting concluded and I was left with an assignment to rough up a TV set that looks like it’s a TV that was made before TV was invented. He sketched out a fast storyboard and I said something stupid like “That’s a cheesy looking storyboard there, Frank”. As we walked out the door I had to ask him if he’d mind signing the storyboard for me. He wrote                          
“Cheesy Storyboard- FZ”

The show never got made. He died a few years later. My storyboard burned up when my apartment burned down in yet another story.

-wes

YA MISSED ME- GENERAL PETRAUS

General Petraus

A dirt bomb smacks the side of the tree I’m standing next to. “Pa-Ching: Ha! Got cha” “No way- you missed” “Uh-uh- I gotcha”

Peaches  dives behind a tree, cocks his Marx 22 caliber, and takes aim and fires. “Pa-chew”.  We called him Peaches because we couldn’t quite pronounce his name. It always sounded like “Peaches”

Some 50 years later, my older brother pointed out that Peaches is now General Petraus, commander of US Middle East forces. He’s my age. We grew up in the same town. When our neighborhood would play guns (toy ones) our neighborhood fought his. He was a cool kid. No one ever wins in war, so we could always fight next Saturday.

-wes

DEKE SLAYTON

I'm just a PR guy.  Not glamorous PR, just industrial and tech stuff, for the most part.  But when the Aluminum Association decided we had a good idea to get an astronaut to talk about technology transfer from the space program to earthly uses (like using more aluminum in cars), I got the thrill of my (Star Trek-based) life.

I went on a media tour with Mercury astronaut Donald K. (Deke) Slayton. 

I grew up on Star Trek.  I followed Mercury... then Gemini... then Apollo.  I remember sitting in the car with my family listening on the radio when Neil and Buzz landed on the moon.  I watched the walk the next day on our B&W Sylvania.  Space was the coolest thing ever. 

When I met Deke, he was in cowboy boots and a cowboy shirt, with a great smile and a real southern twang.  Very down to earth.  A good guy.  We started to talk about the Aluminum Association's messages, for his TV and radio interviews, and I learned a couple of things. 

First, just because you can fly a spacecraft, doesn't mean you can pronounce the word "aluminum."  Apparently, it's a real tongue twister.  We spent quite a bit of time trying to break it down.  "Al-loo-min-um."  "Al-loo-min-ee-um?"  "No. al-loo-min-um."  Eventually, I settled for three out of four.  750 ain't bad. 

Second, just because you can fly a spacecraft, doesn't mean you own anything besides cowboy clothes.  So my boss took Deke to a Manhattan men's shop and they picked up some slacks, dress shirts and a nice blue blazer.  He was interview-ready.

As it turns out, Deke never flew during the Mercury missions.  He was one of the "original seven" Mercury astronauts, but there was some sort of hijinks with a late-appearing heart murmur, and he was scrubbed from Mercury.  He was, as you can imagine, pissed.  He later did fly in the Apollo-Soyuz docking mission in '75.  So he got his shot.  A political flight, but better than nothing.

The best story he told me was hard to believe, but I didn't really figure Deke to make it up.  They were in the USSR training for the Apollo-Soyuz mission.  They had done a stint in Houston with the Russians, and now they were at the Soviet space facility.  Very closed in... very tightly controlled (surprise, surprise).  Basically, nothing to do outside of training.  The Americans were put up in a dorm with a common suite area.  Sitting around one night, they complained to themselves about not having any stoppers for the bathtub.  No chance for a good relaxing bath.  The next day, there were stoppers in the tubs.  Hmmm.  It appeared that the cosmodrome had ears.  So they decided to go long.  A few days later they complained that, while their Soviet hosts were treating them really well, and their program was so very professional, it really was a bit boring in the evening with nothing to do.  Boy, they sure would love to be able to shoot some pool in the evenings.  And it was so.  Yes, they came back to the dorm to find a pool table in the suite.  Detente was a beautiful thing.

Marc K.

SNOW DRIFTS

In the 1980’s I was a manager of, let’s say, celebrities or minor sit com stars.  One of whom, post sitcom, found himself hosting a game show for the Disney Channel which is how I found myself sitting in a tunnel underneath Disney World in Orlando talking to Snow White.

First of all let me say that she was beautiful, perfect really.  Jet black hair with that ribbon, that blue dress with the poofy sleeves covering her toned shoulders, her Snow White shoes… the whole thing was out of a storybook. No detail left undone.

So we are sitting there and she’s on break smoking a camel non filter and one of the dwarves, I don’t know Grumpy or Doc or one of them comes over and says, “Breaks over Snow show time in one minute. And she exhales through her nose, throws the cigarette on the tunnel floor, says, “Shit.” and grinds it out with that perfect perfect shoe. It was and remains one of the greatest things I have ever seen

Doug K

TO LEAVE WHERE NO MAN HAS LEFT BEFORE- WILLIAM SHATNER

William Shatner

Around 1996, I was fortunate enough to be at Buzzby’s Recording Studio on Melrose. I was working on an Interactive project then.  In between sessions, I went into the waiting room to well, wait. There was a tray of cold cuts and salads which I assumed were open for guests. Turns out it wasn’t. It was for Charles Durning and his entourage.

As I was munching away on some deli- turkey and explaining that I thought it was for everybody, William Shatner walks in. Apparently Buzzby’s locks the front door or it was the receptionist lunch or something but Mr. Shatner was trying to figure out how he can get out of here. I had to say “Mr. Shatner, I’m a big fan of your work and I just wanted to thank you.” I shook his hand and he replied “How do I get out of here?” For some lame reason, I said “practice”. He kind of grinned but I realized that it probably wasn’t the best joke I could’ve said at the time. Someone did unlock the door though in case you are worried if he’s still in there.

wes

A SCRIPT IN THE SIDE POCKET- PAUL NEWMAN

PAUL NEWMAN

In 1975, I was 29 years old…I sold my interest in a car-rental business I had for the past ten years, back in Chicago and came out to California to get involved in the movie business.

 In town six months, I met a writer Bob Bonney from Texas, at the Beverly Wilshire Hotel one evening who convinced me that he could write a slick independent film that we could produce on a budget. We became partners and over a six month period, developed a script called “The Texas boys” It was about four rich Texas boys with wealthy powerful fathers, raising hell in a Mexican border town, one last time before going off to college.

A friend, Michael Speed told us of a screening at USC of student films. One of the films called “Fraternity Row” had Paul Newman’s son, Scott Newman in it. Our intention was always to cast our film with the sons and daughters of movie stars like Keith Carradine, we had even considered Dean Martin’s son Dino for Marquee value. “Fraternity Row” stood out at the screening, here was a student film made by privileged kids with heavy duty contacts in the film industry. It looked like they spent upwards of a million dollars, it was slick. It actually was released in theaters in 1977, the cast included Cliff Robertson and Gregory Harrison, both well established stars at the time. A student film indeed…

Michael liked hanging out with us and was always trying figure ways to help facilitate the making of “The Texas Boys”, and hopefully be involved in the making of it. He introduced us to Scott after the screening. We told Scott about our project; Scott said he’d love to read it.

 Scott got back to us quickly. He was very interested in playing Jake, our lead character. He could definitely relate to the strained relationship of powerful father and son. Paul Newman was a screen legend and superstar, he had the most famous blue eyes in the world…how could Scott live up to that? Scott and I started hanging out together, clubbing it a bit.

A little while goes by and Scott calls me, tells me he gave The Texas boys to his dad…Paul Newman. Really?

Paul read it, likes it and is considering directing it.

Really?!

Paul would like to invite me and Bonney up to the house in Hollywood hills off Coldwater Canyon. He’d like to screen the film he directed most recently, “The Effect of Gamma Rays on Man in the Moon Marigold”. I shit you not. That was the name of the picture, came out in 1972…hey, he’s Paul Newman, baby!  

Yeah, we’ll be there. Tell me when.

The big night came and Bob and I drove up to the house in Coldwater canyon. Man, I’m in town now a total of a year, a little guy, out from Chicago and on my way to have Paul Newman and Joann Woodward his wife screen a movie for us in their private screening room…How do I like It!? A year ago, I was back in Chicago, going up to the counter at Holiday Rent-A-Car saying…

Did you want full insurance with the truck, sir?

We arrive and Paul greets us in his Bermuda shorts and a T-shirt, he’s busy popping pop- corn.

Hi I’m Paul; common in…go on upstairs, the Coors’ in the small fridge on the way up. Thanks Paul, nice meeting you.

Upstairs Scott introduces us to his stepmother Joanne Woodward, who is just glowing like the movie star that she is, along with her are neighbors, a doctor and his wife. In a minute Paul bounds up the stairs and announces the movie.

Hope you enjoy it, everybody.

He turns down the lights and up on the screen comes.

The Effect of Gamma Rays on Man in the Moon Marigold

The movie lived up to its title and turned out to be just as soft. It was an American movie bathed in sixties European sensibilities…I really can’t remember what it was about…not sure I ever knew.

After the screening we go downstairs to the living room…it’s just Paul, Scott, Bob and me. We sit across from each other on comfortable couches. Paul tells us how much he likes the script but he feels something missing on a visceral level; it had the action and fun built in but Paul didn’t feel it as emotionally as he’d like too on a gut level.

That was the first time I heard the word visceral. I sat back and listened to Bonney respond. Bob Bonney you must understand did not really think much of actors…in his pompous way he thought they were all big dummies. Didn’t matter whether they were stars or not. Writers were the smart guys; actors should just shut up and play their part. He tells Paul something to the effect…that he appreciates his input, but everything in the story was designed to add up to certain-justified beats and he really wasn’t interested in tearing it apart at this moment but would think about what he’s saying…Paul also suggested a crab like approach to scenes

Come in one way into a scene and go out another, if the scene starts out with the characters crying have them end up laughing.

Bob wanted to talk about the deal, not the story. Bob’s attitude was couched in subtlety for sure, but a discerning person like Mr. Paul Newman is not going to miss the underlying truth that Bonney just condescends to actors and is a pompous asshole. It turns out to be a very short talk; Joanne comes down to say good night to us as Paul escorted us out.

Word came back Paul wasn’t interested, and that we were a couple of hustlers out to make a buck.

“The Texas boys” never got made…Bonney got an assignment the following year to write “The Night the Lights went out in Georgia” starring Dennis Quaid.

25 years later… a film I co-wrote called “Poolhall Junkies” was released in 200 theaters starring Christopher Walken, Chazz Palminteri, Mars Callahan and the late great Rod Steiger.

Chris Corso (a patient man)