November 2018

November 28, 1995

November 28, 1995

 

The conference call was about "Her Last Chance" - and Patti LuPone said yes.
The conference call was about “Her Last Chance” – and Patti LuPone said yes.

This was an exciting time. I loved the fast and furious pace of television versus the plodding development process in features. Most of my television credits are stand-alone MOWs (Movie of the Week), a 90s network staple. TV movies unfolded in seven acts, to accommodate six commercials. Ideally, all six act breaks were cliff-hangers, to ensure viewers didn’t channel hop when the ads started.

Me with Rita Hayworth
Me with Rita Hayworth

“Malibu Shores” was my only series experience. As co-producer, I worked long office hours with producers John Eisendrath and Joel Feigenbaum. After decades of writing at home on my own timetable, this was a shock to my system.

Malibu Shores

As staff writer-producers, we wielded more power than the directors we hired on a per-episode basis and the actors consulted us when they wanted to change a line.  John and Joel insisted I veto the first request, to experience the thrill of saying “no” to a script change.  That said, we could not say no to Aaron Spelling, broadcast Standards and Practices or the NBC executive in charge of the show.

Malibu Shores 2

In his novel Artistic Differences, Charlie Hauck compared producing a television series to chapter 37 of Moby Dick. I quote him below, slightly abridged. I highly recommend his book to anyone interested in staff writing.

“It’s exactly like chapter 37 of Moby Dick. Captain Ahab finally spots Moby Dick. He has a shot at him. And he gets a boat down in the water, a skiff or whatever. And he’s got these Asian guys rowing the boat. They’re not his regular guys – these are some kind of hotshot whaling experts. Anyhow, all these guys are rowing the boat. They really know what they’re doing…they’re Joe Whaler. And Ahab is standing in the back with this harpoon that he’s been sharpening for three years. And Moby Dick is flopping around, like, two hundred yards away. And all of a sudden, these sharks surround the skiff. They’re everywhere. And the sharks start taking bites out of the paddles of the oars. And the paddles are getting smaller and smaller, and it’s getting harder for the guys in the boat to row, and the whale’s not going to stay there forever, right?

But the thing is, the sharks don’t want the oars. They want the whale, just like Ahab and the Asian guys. But the sharks, who want the whale as much as anybody else, they’re the ones who make getting the whale impossible. You see?

And here’s the analogy. The whale is the television show. The hit series. Like, if it goes into syndication, everybody connected with it makes fifty million dollars. And the people in the boat, they’re the writers and producers. They’re the ones trying to get the whale, who know how to do it. And the sharks, the guys biting the oars, they’re the network guys, and the production company executives and the agents and everybody else who, when they don’t know how to get to the whale, decide, somewhere back in the swamp ova of the human brain, well, Jesus, I should do something, why don’t I try to sink the boat? And that’s exactly what it’s like trying to produce a television show.”

Artistic Differences_edited-1

 

November 26, 2006

November 26, 2006

I’ve got the potential to be a crazy cat lady with a special place in my heart for tuxedo cats – like Henri, the existential cat.

J isn’t a cat person – but even he can’t resist the occasional clumsy cat video.

Common wisdom holds that you can’t “herd cats.” Nobody told whoever trains the stars of Moscow Cats Theatre. Recently, a mother and daughter cat-training team competed on America’s Got Talent. They didn’t win but I was entertained

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VZsVF13anwY

My favorite tuxedo cat, Deeter.

Deeter

My favorite picture of girl-with-cat – Sandra Walker Hegwood.

girl-with-cat

 

November 22, 1970

November 22, 1970

Sharon A

The one-bedroom Sharon and I shared near the VA cemetery was my first apartment but I had years of practice co-existing in small spaces with others. Growing up in a Santa Clara parsonage, then sharing UCLA dorm rooms, taught me a little about compromise but apparently not enough.  Things had been testy between Sharon and me from the start, but it was still devastating when she wanted me gone.


After that, I avoided her on campus. We lost touch after graduation. Decades passed and I still felt badly about how our friendship imploded. I wondered what she did with her life. When the internet arrived, I googled her but “Sharon Richards” produced so many hits it was hopeless– until UCLA published a student directory.

Sharon B

Imagine my surprise to discover Sharon lived less than five miles away – we actually shopped at the same Ralph’s market. It took courage to call her. I’m not sure if I was scared she wouldn’t remember me or that she would. We met for lunch and I apologized for being the roommate from Hell.

She explained that regardless of what she might’ve said (I wrote it down, so I knew), she was in the throes of her own anxieties – what I read as brutal rejection wasn’t much about me at all. As it turns out, very few things actually are “all about me.” This insight was healing and, as a bonus, Sharon and I became better friends than we were before we became roommates.

Sharon C_edited-1

 

November 19, 1968


November 19, 1968

Looking back, the symptoms of clinical depression are in neon lights – but in 1968, I didn’t know what that meant.  If anyone had asked, “Are you okay?” I would’ve said “I’m fine” – the correct Norwegian response to any inquiry about mental or physical health, even on one’s death bed.
KK and depression 1

I felt terrible about disappointing my father but powerless to level up my game.  Was it more important for me to make it to school or look human? They wanted both? I couldn’t do it anymore. Sure, other people managed it without too much difficulty – I did it once myself, but those days were behind me now.

KK depression 2

I saw darkness everywhere, even when babysitting. Two little girls spent hours play-acting “drunken father coming home.” Another couple, who left me with their daughter, urged me to have fun with their cat. The kids appeared in desperate need of affection. They begged to sit on my lap but I was too lost in my malaise to respond with genuine warmth. I felt guiltier for what I couldn’t feel and do than anything that I did – because I couldn’t do much.

KK depression 3

That fall, I had a recurring nightmare, in which I was stalked by an unidentified killer. Just as he was ready to strike, I’d wake up screaming. The trouble was, no one heard me. Surely, someone would have comforted me if they’d heard. If I really screamed out loud.

 

November 16, 1994

November 16,1994

A little worse for the wear in Paris train station
A little worse for the wear in Paris train station

The Sea Cat might’ve been a problem even if I hadn’t forced a healthy breakfast down my family’s throats – but for sure, that decision turned merely disgusting to dire. Like my sister Joyce, I’m neurotically phobic about vomit – I get nauseous if I see or hear it in films and, yes, “Monty Python and the Meaning of Life” is completely out of the question. And that scene in “Bridesmaids” sent me running, too.

CD and myself enjoying a quiet moment in England
CD and myself enjoying a quiet moment in England
Sam and Alex striking a pose on a baggage transporter at the train station
Sam and Alex striking a pose on a baggage transporter at the train station

Consequently, even though a responsible parent and considerate traveler would’ve initiated clean-up, I couldn’t even look. When the kids lost it, one after the other like dominoes falling, I curled into a fetal position. Luckily, J had a stronger stomach and received aid from a compassionate stranger in military uniform. Nobody died. That’s the kindest review I can give our voyage.

John and Alex at Stonehenge when you could still get close to it
John and Alex at Stonehenge when you could still get close to it

Due to the above circumstances, no photos document this segment of our journey so I’m illustrating today’s blog with fun things we did in England before we boarded the Sea Cat.

Alex, Sam and CD enjoying the birds in Trafalgar Square
Alex, Sam and CD enjoying the birds in Trafalgar Square

November 13, 1964

November 13, 1964_edited-1

"Squirmin'" Herman
Squirman Herman

Girls lined up on one side of the hall. Boys barricaded the other. Girls hoped to be asked to dance. (Dancing alone, or with another girl, was not yet a thing.)  The only fate worse than passively waiting to be chosen by a 13-year-old boy with braces was to be that hapless boy, crossing the Sahara of the dance floor to mumble, “Do you wanna dance?” Which is, of course, a freaking joy ride compared to the torturous solo retreat to the boy’s bastion after the girl says she’s “not in the mood.”

Sporting the Bavarian look - with sisters and grandparents
Sporting the Bavarian look – with sisters and grandparents

The month before the mixer, I envisioned my night unfolding much like Maria in “West Side Story”, when Tony glimpsed her across a crowded dance floor. It never happened like that. Why not?  Let me count the ways. I was a seventh-grade giantess trapped in a life-long bad hair day. My mother dressed me like a goat-herding girl in the Austrian Alps and my father was a Lutheran pastor, as terrifying to Protestants as it was to Catholics, Jews and atheists. I wasn’t even a good dancer, due to lack of practice.

Janet and I wear matching home-made dresses.
Janet and I wear matching home-made dresses.

What was right about my life in Jr. High? A mother who loved me enough to sew for me (the results improved). A father who brought me a Squirman Herman caterpillar when he returned from a trip. It was more than enough.

With my family around this time.
With my family around this time.

November 9, 1985

November 9, 1985

Occasionally, my son CD appeared as an extra when his aunt Janet worked as an AD (Assistant Director). She was the 2ndAD on “Rocky IV.”

Janet with the other Assistant Directors from Rocky IV in front of Rocky’s house in Fremont Place. Was actually across the street from Muhammad Ali’s house in that elite enclave of Los Angeles.
Janet with the other Assistant Directors from Rocky IV in front of Rocky’s house in Fremont Place. Was actually across the street from Muhammad Ali’s house in that elite enclave of Los Angeles.
Stallone with 1st Assistant Director, Duncan Henderson
Stallone with 1st Assistant Director, Duncan Henderson

The original idea for the scene CD appeared in was for twelve “extra” kids to surround the two child actors playing Rocky Jr. and his buddy as they all view Rocky’s fight. Due to budget constraints, all the extras except CD were cut. CD got bumped from extra to the day player SAG rate (where you speak) because the scene between the three kids was lifeless until Stallone threw CD some lines. This made CD an “actor” who still gets occasional residuals from “Rocky IV.” Despite the Oscar worthy brilliance of CD’s performance, to this day it remains – sadly – unrecognized by the Academy.

A clip taken from the Rocky IV screenplay
A clip taken from the Rocky IV screenplay

I wasn’t on set that day, J acted as CD’s guardian.   A father and son day.  What could be better?

J and CD between scenes on Rocky IV
J and CD between scenes on Rocky IV – Awesome son, awesome dad – both still are

Although Janet worked with Stallone on several projects, my path never crossed his – a little unusual, since I’ve met more than my share of movie stars – Jack Lemmon, Walter Matthau, Halle Berry, Robert Duvall and George Clooney, among others.  By “met”, I mean I said hello. None of these “meetings” led to soul-searching conversation, a lunch date or an invite to a wild weekend at Hearst Castle. (To be clear – Hearst Castle’s Hollywood heyday ended decades before my birth – but I wish I’d been around. What a blast!)

Stallone directing CD and the other two boys
Stallone directing CD and the other two boys

It always amazes me that at 5’9” in bare feet, I tower above most leading men. Trust me, with notable exceptions (hello Clint Eastwood and Sean Connery), actors are rarely the tallest kids in their class.

The Official Rocky IV Movie Magazine with the boys picture on page 14
The Official Rocky IV Movie Magazine with the boys picture on page 14

My point is, movie stars look so much bigger on screen. Many (hello, Halle Berry) are more beautiful than most of the human race. They’re stars (and I’m not) because the camera loves them – and, yeah, they can act. That said, I take comfort in the miniscule height differential. It reminds me we’re all equal, all mortal, earthbound humans. Their outer golden glow doesn’t mean they’re any happier than the rest of us, deep inside.   But they might be. I don’t know. We never got that tight.

November 7, 1972

November 7, 1972

1972 Campaign Buttons

I’m writing this on November 4, so I don’t know how yesterday’s midterms will end despite dawn-to-dusk polls on cable news.  Forty-six years ago, I was oblivious to any polls regarding the outcome of the ’72 election.  It was widely assumed Nixon would prevail, in part due to the perfectly timed Paris Peace Treaty and the fact many Democrats deemed McGovern too far left.

TIME OCTOBER 2, 1972
TIME OCTOBER 2, 1972

Although our country was polarized (two words – Viet Nam), it was still possible to disagree politically without rupturing relationships irreparably.  I pinballed from Republican to Democrat and back and none of my friendships died over those divides in the 70s, 80s or 90s. In fairness, I wasn’t all that passionate about politics. I liked to argue, play the devil’s advocate. Violence was never threatened. To my knowledge, no one considered me an enemy, let alone an enemy of the people. We could agree to disagree.

1972 election

I don’t consider myself vitriolic, but I can be, when provoked. All my life, I’ve taken things too personally. Now I take politics too personally. In the interest of treating others like I want them to treat me, I try to dial down the judgments I lay on people because of their beliefs. It’s harder than it should be.

All my life I have taken things too personally
All my life I have taken things too personally

My three-year relationship with Luke had crashed months earlier but we weren’t through missing each other so we were trying to figure out how to be “friends.” That election night, we were the only two people in Dickson Hall, the Art building at UCLA (since remodeled).

Trying to put the pieces back together to be friends
Trying to put the pieces back together to be friends

He was a grad student. I was a self-centered 21-year-old who didn’t want to love anyone. I believed the person who loved the most, lost. As if love was a battle and what mattered was winning or losing.

Today, I know things like love and honor are far more important than victory or defeat. To win without honor is to lose everything that matters. To live without love isn’t living at all.  But I’m an aging baby boomer hippie. What do I know?

What do I know?
What do I know?

 

 

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