The Columbia 30 - Part 8
One night I was spotted in an outrageous satire show, “Hostages (a.k.a. The Terrorist Zone)”, in a small theater in Universal City by a personal manager, Denny Bond, who was president of Management Three, Jerry Weintraub's company. They managed well known talents like: Bob Dylan, the Beach Boys, top actors, and had also produced hit films like Diner and The Karate Kid. The night Bond spotted me I was performing several roles. After the show I stood with the other actors chatting in front of the theater to wind down. I saw this man eying me staying partly in the doorway not wishing to come out yet. All of a sudden a green Rolls Royce pulled up and the valet jumped out. Bond charged out the door and quickly stepped between me and a couple actors I was talking to. He pushed his card in my palm and said “Call me.” Then he sped off in his Rolls. It was a scene right out of the movies. I did call him and soon came in for an interview. He said he wanted to develop me as an any-man actor “With your look there were so many different roles you could play.” Bond was at the show that night because his wife's dentist was in the play and she'd talked her husband into attending as a favor to the dentist. I sat on the couch in his office. He interviewed me. At one point he brought up how the upper echelon in Warner Brothers were all gay. I responded with a concerned “Really?” At the time I thought no more of it—but in retrospect I think Bond was feeling me out as to my sexual inclination. He looked a bit disappointed at my reaction. It's possible he called me in just to set up a carnal liaison.. I'll never know for sure. Still I think he had some interest in representing me. But timing is everything and in a few weeks Jerry Weintraub folded his company Management Three and became the president of Paramount Pictures. Bond lost his offices, staff, and powerful position. He returned to his private office in Encino. I was S.O.L.
A year later I 'd called Bond on a Saturday an off chance in might be in his office when his secretary wasn't there. He answered the phone. I asked him if we could work together. He set up an interview with a middle level talent agency for me. He attended the first interview with the head of the agency. Then there was a second interview with the other agents. I asked Bond if I should prepare an audition scene for them. He got angry for suggesting his word wasn't enough to get me signed with them saying “They will become enthusiastic about you because I am enthusiastic.” I humbly acquiesced. I went to the second interview, but Bond didn't show up. I was on my own. The agents walked into the conference room wanting to know what this was about. The head of the agency mentioned I was Bond's client and was seeking representation. They said I would have to bring in an audition scene for them to consider me. I reacted by getting angry and thinking: I knew it! And of course I blew it. They saw my reaction. Even when I came in later with a scene and performed it well—they all passed on me. Again I nixed an opportunity. I just wasn't smart enough to keep my reaction to myself and play along. Yes, it was just as I had thought and Bond wasn't what he thought, but I was the one who lost out.
Once I sent a letter and picture-resume to Hogy's show “Days of Our Lives” and the casting director, Doris Sabbagh, called me in for a general interview and a reading. Initially things went great. I read for her and she said “Time for you to start working. I'm going to hunt for a recurring role of a character they may make a regular on the show. I know how to spot them.” This could have been a great break for me, but I had to say too much. I falsely felt that she was someone I could really open up to. She told me I was a good actor and I, believe it or not, was totally honest with her and said “I've been told I was not a good actor.” From that second on her opinion began to rapidly change about me. It was a valuable lesson to learn. NEVER be totally honest in such a fashion in an acting interview. You MUST maintain a certain confidence level or they will cross you off. I was crossed off her list. She cast me to play only small parts that were one offs. What they call in the industry 5 lines or less. I'd ruined another break—yet again.
When I did work the show doing bit parts I'd run into Hogy. It wasn't long before my big mouth got me into more trouble and led to seeing the side of Hogy I had glimpsed back in the Talent Program when we'd first met. He'd come to visit me in the dressing area for us small part players. Hogy told one of his long winded stories where he's center stage and enjoying the attention of the other actors listening. After a while I tried to get in a word, but he kept spooling out his yarn. I finally held up my hands in a time-out signal to get him to stop so I could interject—that was it. He was upset with me for interfering in his tale. I was crossed off another list. One day he calls me at my little apartment in the less fashionable part of town to lord over his success in the business. He was talking loud about how everything was going so well for him. I just listened. All the while I could see that sneering smile. I guess I asked for it.
I also had a stint with a legendary talent agent. A man named Robert Raison who'd discovered many young actors and engineered their path to stardom: Timothy Bottoms, Dennis Hopper. He new many of the rich and powerful in the Industry. At one time he was one of them. When I got involved he was heading into the sunset of his career. I had BS'ed my way into finding him at his former MGM office location through the buildings' reception personnel. He'd moved and was now working out of his high rise apartment in Westwood. When they got him on the phone for me—he saw right through my charade—but was still intrigued by my drive and desperation. He gave me his address and soon I was sitting in front of him being interviewed—sort of. I would eventually see I was not the type he liked. At this stage of life he like rough trade: macho young male actors who'd a tendency to treat him as a doormat. He suggested I work as his paid assistant and he would also submit me for roles. My timing for the latter couldn't have been worse—there was a formidable writer's strike in progress that was paralyzingly the movie business.
Nevertheless, I could see how sharp and knowledgeable he was and decided to give it a try as his assistant. He would train me in the basics of being a talent agent. I would check the Breakdown Service everyday and help submit his actors for parts. Raison was a flamboyantly gay man and his escapades and insights into the workings of show business became part of my Hollywood education. I found out he could also be very abusive. Whenever his mother called he would scream at her on the phone. He was so nasty to her it was terrible to witness. Sexually, he never made a pass at me, he found me too decent and used to joke I was his Gregory Peck actor. He said “You have no sex appeal.” There was an unhealthy element creeping into our daily interactions. A form of psychological abuse. I made many mistakes in the agent training I was undergoing. I wasn't cut out for it, but I tried. Sometimes he would scream at me for something I hadn't done correctly and I started to play the part of a bad little boy. Like he was a domineering parent figure browbeating me. I really came close to a nervous breakdown at one point and had to take a break from him. I sent him a letter explaining my feelings. He contacted me and said he was sorry and wanted me to return to work for him. He was in a better mood for a while and easier to be around, but soon he returned to his previous behavior.
Finally after 6 months of the wild world of Bob Raison I realized he would never work for me like his other clients, whether famous ones like Jane Wyman and Edward Mulhare or newcomers: the thick neck hunks he plotted to get their careers started. After another explosion of his nasty behavior which I'd triggered when asking if his other clients had to perform the extra tasks I did—he began yelling at me in front of a young woman client visiting him that night.“Of course they don't! What an asshole you are! ASSHOLE!” I quietly left his apartment never to return. Another pathetic little story in Tinsel Town.
The next big log to come rumbling down the Hollywood rapids straight at me?—My agent sent me to an audition in the Santa Monica Blvd. small theater district for a play. I ended up being cast in the role. It was a seemingly prestigious stage production written by a USC professor and former Foreign Service Officer to South Korea. It was called “Kwangju” and set to be performed at the Odyssey Theater in West L.A. A well known stage venue run by show business entrepreneur Ron Sossi. Backed by name actors Brendan Dillon, directing, and Manu Tupo, producing. My co-actors included Joan Prather previously on the TV series “Eight is Enough”. I played the lead as a young foreign service officer in the midst of the political war in South Korea. Try as I might I was doomed in this part as well. The good professor had written a play that lead nowhere. The L.A. Times review said it all: in my character's performance I was “helplessly at sea”. It was a flop. I've had a few of those. A tremendous amount of work rehearsing, performing, and trying to get industry people to attend—all to no avail.
There were also starring roles low budget films, like “The Cheshire Cat” about a famous writer that goes into hiding because every woman he gets involved with is brutally murdered. I play a police detective trying to solve these murders. Is it the writer who's killing them or someone else? Try as I might to make the script work—nope. My character was saying some very foolish things about literature, showing he didn't know what he was talking about it. I tried to justify why he would say such things. So I played it like it was an act he would use to unnerve the other character as he probed for clues. I turned in a quirky Columbo-ish performance. The Director Parris Patton hadn't directed actors before so he couldn't spot when things were working and when they weren't. He was also struggling to find a concrete meaning in the story as well. It might have been possible with careful guidance by an experienced film director to help shape my performance and this strange story into something the audience could sit through, but as it was the test screenings told the producer he had a movie no one wanted to watch. I did a few of those.
Occasionally I would run into other actors I'd known from the Columbia Pictures Talent Program years later. In fact I'd seen Jeff Schafrath, my “Picnic” scene partner, at the Kwangju theater audition. We were trying out for the same part. One night I went to a reading at a movie producer's home for character actor friend Roy Stewart. He'd written a play and wanted to hear it read with a full cast. That night two of the Columbia Program's former members were there: Martina Finch (who was married to the producer) and Jessica Nelson, my scene partner from “The Rainmaker.” The one who'd asked Josh if she had to stay in the scene with me in front of the class. You'd think after all this time I wouldn't be upset being sat next to her—nope! I was incensed. I was so upset I couldn't concentrate on the little part I'd been assigned. Actor Bart Braverman was playing the lead in the reading. I kept missing my cues. I acted just like the reject I'd been in the program. To the others they thought I was just a beginner actor with little experience. But to Jessica?—I'm sure she caught the vibe. At half-time we were in the kitchen having refreshments. Bart came up and put his arm around my shoulder in a consolatory gesture. If he had only known what was really going on. When the reading was over and the actors filed out the door saying goodbye, Martina asked Jessica did she remember to say goodbye to me and she answered “Oh yes”—liar. She just wanted to get the hell out of there. She knew I was still upset with her. Memories do come back and haunt us. I'm an expert in that field. The next day Roy, angry, called me wanting to know what happened to me in the reading, why I was so off. I didn't tell him the truth. I decided it was best to not make anything more of it. Jessica was uncomfortable enough and so was I. I told Roy I just wasn't myself at the reading—now I was the liar!
I had other close calls with almost getting my acting career started, but either I blew it by sticking my foot in my mouth again or politics of the moment—the business deal suddenly changed taking the opportunity away. I think the movie gods love to play with me. Get me close enough to taste something—then yank it away. Once Jay Bernstein was looking for two new actors to develop: one boy, one girl. He was a well known personal manager, a career builder. He'd engineered TV star Linda Evans' rise to fame. His people were holding a series of intense theatrical auditions in Beverly Hills. My first one was a piece from Tennessee Williams “27 Wagons Full of Cotton”. Bernstein was there and the scene went well. He stood up after and said “That was very good.” His eyes looked like two hot coals burning through his rose colored glasses. They called me back for the next round. This time it was a scene from Frank Gilroy's “The Trip Back Down.” Bernstein was not there, but his people liked our audition saying they were amazed at all the colors I'd put in—meaning emotional changes in the performance. Then it was announced Bernstein would only be choosing a girl to develop. He decided against the boy idea. He never said why. But his reputation was for discovering women not men. So maybe that was it. Another close call and the movie gods strike again!
All actors have similar stories. I am not alone in this respect. But after 18 years slugging it out in Los Angeles—looking back—I learned that even some very connected industry people were also walking on eggs in their careers and made promises they couldn't keep pretending to be more powerful than they were. The business of show can be just that. Like a bunch of high school kids trying to bluff and impress one another for more credibility. I also realized I'd seen the reality of my situation better than anyone, yet I wasn't wise enough to face it. Instead I believed these industry insiders held the key to getting a start in the business as I bowed down to them. It was only partly true. I should never have put so much faith in them. You have to keep at it yourself day after day. It's up to you more than them. And above all remember—it's a crap shoot. You never know what will happen, when, or how. You have to be ready for anything and go with the flow. How's that for playing the odds? It's led me to one of my favorite sayings: my life is enough of a gamble, I don't need to actually gamble.
These misadventures created my strange biography in which the ghost of my desire to prove myself as an actor always haunted me. I drifted around the country working odd jobs while searching for something that felt right for me to do other than acting. Surely there must be something else. But I could never find it. Eventually I returned to college and completed two technical arts degrees which led to working in the web and digital media field. Certainly more interesting than my previous day jobs, but still, I always kept a hand in acting. Occasionally getting a small part in a local production or doing another play in a little theater. I am now on in years and have retired in Canada. I never thought I'd end up back here, but after my mother passed my father had wanted me to come live with him. When he turned 90 I realized he needed someone to help him. After spending most of my life south of the 49th parallel, I moved north to help look after my dad. We had almost 5 good years together. Then his health took a bad turn and sadly he passed on. I was all alone now. Since I'd already set myself up for retirement in Canada I stayed and I continued pursuing acting as a serious hobby. The amazing thing is after all these years I've developed a love of this art or craft as some like to call it. I've also learned so much that I didn't know before and I wish I'd had these insights back in my L.A. days. Still, better late than never.
Currently I act in student films, which have improved much over the years with advances in technology. Actually there isn't much difference between a full crew student graduation film and a professional shoot. I now have the best demo reel I've ever had. I usually get cast in 4-6 films a year. They're shorts, but often well written compared to my earlier parts in low budget feature films. My agent has not been able to get me in to read for professional roles yet. But at this point I'm starting not to care. I've become more interested in the art of acting than in the professional side. I've even taken an interest in the student filmmakers I work with by sharing my L.A. experiences and trying to inspire them to keep going. I've known successful actors who started out the same time I did, but they were much better at the politics of the business and knew how to play their cards right. It's not my forte. I guess I wasn't destined for fame or greatness. But I was destined for something else. As my mother used to say, “My son, you live such an interesting life.”
The End
