EPISODE 12: I’D DANCE ON A BOX FIRST
Sunday, November 4, 2001
I worked in the newsroom tonight for the Emmys. Like last time, my biggest contribution was ordering food, for 15 people this time. After the Emmys, when I was off, I was asked I could stay until 11 p.m. to help with the editorial phones. That turned into midnight. By 12:30 I told one of the key editors still there that I was leaving.
“You could have left a while ago. You were featherbedding,” he said serenely, flanked by two innocent copydesk bystanders.
I looked at him and didn’t speak. What the fuck is featherbedding? And he better not mean I was padding my check when I’m salary and there’s no overtime. My response was more of a blank stare and two words: “See ya.”
I’d have gladly come home at 10:30 p.m. if I could. Instead, it’s 3:45 a.m. and I still have to speed watch the Emmys to know tomorrow’s news.
One of the copy desk editors made two pies – one was peanut butter and the other was key lime. An editor came up to me, looked over at the pies, and said, “I’ll have a piece of pie, Karl.”
“The knives and forks are right there,” I said and pointed to them. He played it off, but I was trippin’ that he would actually have had me serve him pie. Another editor called in all night from the Emmys with a curt, “May I speak to the editor?” Sits right next to me all the time but not even so much as a hello. It was something. I came home and paid the rent and I’m alive, Baby.
I was reading an interview done for a different outlet by Tim Robbins where he defined theater as: “a dangerous and risk-filled place where it is essential to approach themes that are controversial and socially relevant.” Right on, Baby! He was talking about coming back to the Actor’s Gang as artistic director, which has had its own hints of controversy since he resigned in 1996. My take on it is: they rented out their space for 10 months last year without him. Now, he’s invested over $200,000 of his own money and they’re running two shows: ‘The Seagull’ and ‘Mephisto.’ “The Seagull is having the harder time, playing to 50% capacity. It ends December 16th. The top ticket is $20. I have to support it, the stills alone are great.
Monday, November 5, 2001
Worked today with the temp helping fill in for my predecessor who left nearly 2 months ago, Roxanne. I love working with her. She’s glad for the work and came over to my desk for a friendly hug, she’s a working actor herself, and I should have hugged her but I was still in a fog between Stone losing his job and I also felt vaguely disrespected by some of the editors yesterday over paying the impatient delivery man, assuming I have a company credit card when I don’t, the pie incident, the featherbedding idiocy, and the curt commands from the Emmys. I didn’t want to hug Roxanne and seem cold, so I’ll be more friendly tomorrow. My stance today is that I’m taking all comers. No one is trying me today and thankfully God was and is stronger than my petty concerns and caused several things to happen in a nice way.
My supervisor said I should have taken a cab home last night at nearly 1 in the morning. I told her I had. She said to get a receipt next time, but that she’d see I was reimbursed, and so that money came right back to Poppa. That was kind of her. She looked out for me. That was so cool, nobody had hipped me to that. I was glad to pay for it myself.
The music editor came over to my desk and said, “You have fans!” I said, “Fans?” She said he callers have said, “I like that guy!” She always tells them, “I do, too!” She patted my back and gave my shoulders a squeeze. Another editor came over and said my boss, the editor in chief, has okayed a project for us to work on. I have to verify and find birthdates for over 75 celebrities from Britney Spears to Bono and Cameron Diaz. “There’s no rush,” he said, like it was an arranged marriage I’d warm up to.
A publicist was annoying one of the reporters working on breaking news. I told the reporter that the publicist was waiting. “Oh, this is the worst possible time for her to call. (paused) You know what? Tell her to fuck off. That’s it! Fuck off!”
I lied and took a message. The publicist was doing her due diligence and the reporter who made the outburst isn’t stupid.
Another editor who heard me end the call said, “Oh, I wanted to hear you tell her to fuck off!” Two more reporters echoed the sentiment. As if I would have.
Then I get a message about The Hollywood Reporter’s Next Generation gala that THR is sponsoring tomorrow at the Max Factor Building in Hollywood for it’s grand opening. I’d asked about attending since I’m on staff now and I was told, to my face, “Well, you may be able to volunteer.”
I replied, “I’d dance on a box first.” The TV editor said, “Karl, we’d pay to see you dance on a box.”
THR’s publicity head and my supervisor ended up getting me a ticket, no volunteering required. The Next Generation party is for a signature annual THR feature that celebrates up and coming Industry leaders who are 35 and under.
I overheard one of the female editors tell an exec, “Karl’s the sweetest assistant we’ve ever had – and he’s cute too!”
Tuesday, November 6, 2001
I went to The Hollywood Reporter’s Next Generation gala last night and it was a BLAST! My first true Hollywood party – Industry party – as part of the brand and I think I did great! It started of with waiting on the red carpet, some pictures, and then taking a tour through the Max Factor makeup studios which had been preserved. He had rooms designed “For Blondes Only,’ ‘For Brunettes Only,” and “For Brownettes Only,” for people like Judy Garland whose hair was neither red, blonde or dark.
Lucille Balls dressing room vanity was there – her makeup mirror, her foundation darkened on a big sponge. There was a bartender in the freight elevator that took guests to the third floor and offered apple martinis or beer.
From there, we were taken on a tour of costumes worn by Susan Hayward, Lena Horne, and Judy Garland (all unbelievably thin for actual people), as well as Rita Hayworth and Lana Turner, who had the cutest shape. Elizabeth Taylor’s ‘Cleopatra’ stills weren’t flattering and showed her looking less than together, but she’s redeemed by the photos in the ‘Brunettes Only’ room in her beautiful way. Elizabeth Taylor is still pretty and she has been an icon for decades. She could be doing notable renaissance stuff like Sophia Loren does, but Elizabeth doesn’t care. Elizabeth Taylor did her thing, does her thing, and doesn’t give a hooey.
The party was on the 4th floor with a live neo-soul band whose female lead vocalist also plays keyboards. She smiled at me and I smiled back. The lighting was way up in the high ceilings and food and drinks were plentiful. I ate no food, but did have Vodka and Red Bulls.
When I got there, there were maybe 20 people at the party. There were reprints of the some of the Next Generation class of 2001. I was struck by how many of these 30-ish guys ny age got to be agents and division heads just from cold calls to A-list suits who were from their hometowns or went directly to their current jobs from being mailroom workers or assistants. Only 2 of the 37 Next Gen inductees were Black and they were both men.
I started seeing people from the THR newsroom and art department. One of them congratulated me on being hired and said it’s been a long time, save for the editorial assistant I filled in for this summer who is coming back, since there was somebody really good at the job. Some told me that the newsroom has become “more corporate” and use to be more whacked-out and silly, like mass-singing in the office and so on.
I saw a blonde woman in a dark velvet strapless dress holding court at one of the 4 tables. She tore a piece of kabab off her skewer and was talking to three people, two of who were suits. She glanced at me and I did the same, but was careful not to be too conspicuous since she looked familiar. She is pretty but there was a definite steeliness to her. She made a funny comment to the table about something and widened her eyes for comic effect and that’s when it occurred to me that it was Jenilee Harrrison of Three’s Company! She played Cindy Snow after Suzanne Somers was fired. I always liked her. I was allowed to stay up past my bedtime to watch the show once she joined the cast. She got a raw deal on that gig and was only 21 at the time. 20 years later and she’s still here!
I walked over to her and tapped her lightly on the arm and introduced myself. I told her I was an actor before THR and that I’ve had to replace an actor on a show before and I know how hard and thankless it can be. I told her I thought she’s done great to keep working.
She stood up out of her chair. She faced me and asked me about the project. I told her it was a play and that it was rough, but nothing like the much bigger scale she had to deal with. “I was 22 at the time and they just throw you to the wolves. You’ve kept working and I admire that.”
“What is your name?” she asked.
“Karl.”
“I’m Jenilee,” she smiled and offered her hand. I shook her hand, and she said, “Well, you know, the way I look at it, this Business is a bitch, but….,” and she spoke about staying strong and soldiering on.
I told her. “I remember you doing a talk show appearance on ‘Hour Magazine’ and Gary Collins asked you how you felt about your career, and you just told him, ‘I’ve done it. I’ve done two Top 10 shows (Dallas and Three’s Company), I’ve done a miniseries (North and South), I’ve done every format, I’ve been a professional, and done it well.’
She was listening to me and her eyes welled with a mist of recognition and emotion and she reached out with both hands, grabbed my face and kissed me on the cheek. “You are so sweet!” she said as I thought ‘Jenilee Harrison just kissed me!’
One of the men in her party happened to pass by and she told him. “This gentleman is a young actor who also had to replace another actor and he has made my night for me.” He said hello and asked if I would take a picture with her. I was stunned that it even came up – starstruck – so I spaced for a second and then said “Sure!” We stood together, arms across each other and the flash popped. They asked if they could email it to me, but I didn’t have a pen. I found a bartender who has one and wrote my work e-mail on a napkin – I don’t have business cards – and said thanks to Jenilee and we grasped hands. That was a great highlight. She was real.