Apparently There Were Complaints: A Memoir

by Sharon Gless Narrated by Sharon Gless

Overview

Emmy Award-winning actress Sharon Gless tells all in this laugh-out-loud, juicy, “unforgettably memorable” (Lily Tomlin) memoir about her five decades in Hollywood, where she took on some of the most groundbreaking roles of her time.

Anyone who has seen Sharon Gless act in Cagney & Lacey, Queer as Folk, Burn Notice, and countless other shows and movies, knows that she's someone who gives every role her all. She holds nothing back in Apparently There Were Complaints, a hilarious, deeply personal memoir that spills all about Gless's five decades in Hollywood.

A fifth-generation Californian, Sharon Gless knew from a young age that she wanted to be an actress. After some rocky teenage years that included Sharon's parents' divorce and some minor (and not-so-minor) rebellion, Gless landed a coveted spot as an exclusive contract player for Universal Studios. In 1982, she stepped into the role of New York Police Detective Christine Cagney for the series Cagney & Lacey, which eventually reached an audience of 30 million weekly viewers and garnered Gless with two Emmy Awards. The show made history as the first hour-long drama to feature two women in the leading roles.

Gless continued to make history long after Cagney & Lacey was over. In 2000, she took on the role of outrageous Debbie Novotny in Queer as Folk. Her portrayal of a devoted mother to a gay son and confidant to his gay friends touched countless hearts and changed the definition of family for millions of viewers.

Apparently There Were Complaints delves into Gless's remarkable career and explores Gless's complicated family, her struggles with alcoholism, and her fear of romantic commitment as well as her encounters with some of Hollywood's biggest names. Brutally honest and incredibly relatable, Gless puts it all out on the page in the same way she has lived-never with moderation.

Editorial Reviews

DECEMBER 2021 - AudioFile

Actor Sharon Gless's animated yet intimate tone, gentle pacing, and husky timbre will keep listeners glued to her fascinating memoir. Gless holds little back as she exposes her flaws and vulnerabilities. Listeners learn of her privileged but unsettled childhood in California, her struggles with weight and alcohol, and her unconventional romantic life, including her lengthy relationship with producer Barney Rosenzweig. And, of course, there is an extensive behind-the-scenes look at her film, theater, and television career, including her Emmy-winning role as Christine Cagney in the 1980s hit TV show CAGNEY & LACEY and her memorable performance as Debbie Novotny in Showtime's groundbreaking series QUEER AS FOLK. Listeners will enjoy spending time with the fiercely independent, frank, and appealing Gless. M.J. Winner of AudioFile Earphones Award, 2023 Audies Finalist © AudioFile 2021, Portland, Maine

Publishers Weekly

09/20/2021

Emmy Award–winning actor Gless debuts with a no-holds-barred look at her long and storied career. One of Universal’s last contract players, signed in 1972, Gless made guest appearances on TV dramas including Emergency and Ironside before catapulting to international fame as NYPD Det. Christine Cagney on the popular ’80s series Cagney and Lacey (a role she was offered three times and declined twice). She followed that up with star turns as diverse as the brash Debbie Novotny on 2000’s Queer as Folk and Burn Notice’s fiery Madeline Westen. As she reflects on her ascendance through Hollywood, her signature wit and bold personality take the stage in entertaining stories such as going on a date with Steven Spielberg (“I had no idea who was”), sharing a flight with Betty White, and most poignantly, being one of the first female actors to address alcoholism on prime-time TV—a reality Gless was wrestling with off camera, and about which she is bluntly candid. Written by a masterful storyteller, this smart account boldly reveals both the grit and the glamour of Gless’s life, candidly contending with her substance abuse, various affairs, and the fact that writing her memoir took almost seven years. Fans will be delighted. (Dec.)

From the Publisher

"Written by a masterful storyteller, this smart account boldly reveals both the grit and the glamour of Gless’s life, candidly contending with her substance abuse, various affairs, and the fact that writing her memoir took almost seven years. Fans will be delighted."—Publishers Weekly

"A good Hollywood memoir is a little bit dishy, a little bit honest, and a lot like sitting down for a candid conversation with an old friend, and Gless shares all the dirty details of her unlikely journey to stardom with a wry chuckle.... Celebrity memoir fans will find lots to enjoy here, as well as anyone with fond memories of Cagney & Lacey or Queer as Folk. Discussions of mental health, alcoholism, and relationships, and a connected Hollywood family bring strong comparisons to Carrie Fisher's Wishful Drinking (2008). A perfect book to get lost in this winter."—Booklist, (starred review)

“Sharon is so authentically herself. Every word is completely believable, except her being “happy” that Tyne Daly won the Emmy for the first three seasons of Cagney & Lacey.”—Tyne Daly

“Sharon finally gives me credit for saving her floundering career! —Robert Wagner

“Sharon’s book is proof that you can take the girl out of Hollywood, but only to a private island off the coast of Miami.”— Rosie O’Donnell

“Sharon has played so many memorable roles. And, if you’ve forgotten them, she certainly hammers it back into your head in Apparently There Were Complaints. Seriously, I found her book to be unforgettably memorable. Of course, this morning, I couldn’t find my keys.”—Lily Tomlin

"Sharon and I have been close friends forever. Her book reminds me that I really liked her better when she was drinking."—Renée Taylor

“Sharon wrote a book?”—Jane Lynch

Library Journal - Audio

03/01/2022

Emmy Award—winning actress Gless recounts her life in this hilarious, laugh-out-loud memoir. She grew up in California, with an idyllic upbringing (her grandfather was a prominent Los Angeles attorney who represented such clients as Howard Hughes and Katharine Hepburn). Her childhood was privileged but shadowed by her parents' divorce and her struggles with weight. She entered the acting profession in her late twenties and was one of the last contract players signed by Universal Studios in the early 1970s. She appeared in many television series and films before landing a major hit with Cagney & Lacey, which ran for seven seasons in the 1980s. She later made a notable impression with her portrayal of Debbie Novotny on the groundbreaking series Queer as Folk. Here Gless discusses her struggles with addiction, her affair with married producer Barney Rosenzweig (whom she later married), and her experiences dealing with sexist producers. There is also a generous bit of name-dropping, as Gless shares entertaining stories about her encounters with major Hollywood players. VERDICT This honest, humorous memoir will be an enjoyable listening experience for fans of Gless and her work.—Phillip Oliver

Library Journal

11/01/2021

Fans of the 1980s TV show Cagney & Lacey who have wondered about the lives of its stars before and after the hit police procedural will be pleased by Gless's moving memoir. Gless was the Cagney to Tyne Daly's Lacey and often played the straight woman (quieter, more reserved) of the duo. But here Gless takes center stage, starting with her childhood growing up as a fifth-generation Angeleno in the shadow of celebrity (her grandfather was an attorney for the rich and famous). Readers may assume that was an automatic entrée to show business, but not so. Gless describes toiling away at unrelated jobs until she took acting lessons; she eventually got a contract at Universal and played various small TV roles until finally finding her place on Cagney and Lacey, which broke ground as a program centering on two strong women. Gless won two Emmys for her work on the program and also struggled with alcohol addiction. She continued to act when Cagney and Lacey ended in 1988, though she never enjoyed quite the same success. But this is not a sad story—at 78, Gless writes that she is grateful for her life and hangs tough, just like the detective she's most famous for portraying. VERDICT Cagney and Lacey fans and celebrity memoir mavens alike will enjoy Gless's candid and heartfelt book, which is full of insider tidbits about the famous.—Rosellen Brewer, Sno-Isle Libs., Marysville, WA

DECEMBER 2021 - AudioFile

Actor Sharon Gless's animated yet intimate tone, gentle pacing, and husky timbre will keep listeners glued to her fascinating memoir. Gless holds little back as she exposes her flaws and vulnerabilities. Listeners learn of her privileged but unsettled childhood in California, her struggles with weight and alcohol, and her unconventional romantic life, including her lengthy relationship with producer Barney Rosenzweig. And, of course, there is an extensive behind-the-scenes look at her film, theater, and television career, including her Emmy-winning role as Christine Cagney in the 1980s hit TV show CAGNEY & LACEY and her memorable performance as Debbie Novotny in Showtime's groundbreaking series QUEER AS FOLK. Listeners will enjoy spending time with the fiercely independent, frank, and appealing Gless. M.J. Winner of AudioFile Earphones Award, 2023 Audies Finalist © AudioFile 2021, Portland, Maine

Product Details

BN ID:	2940172873164
Publisher:	Simon & Schuster
Publication date:	12/07/2021
Edition description:	Unabridged

Read an Excerpt

Chapter One: Bubbles One Bubbles
“If you ever have another drink again, don’t call me. I don’t do suicides.”

Jesus.

The hotshot Miami doctor’s tone was dismissive. He closed my file. He had better things to do.

I was seventy years old and had come to see this big-deal gastroenterologist for my debilitating stomach pain. After spending the previous week in the hospital, I had been advised to stay completely away from alcohol. I did. For about thirty-six hours.

I blamed a bag of crispy chocolate chip cookies for the first bout of major stomach pain that sent me to the emergency room. I had been watching late-night TV and eating cookies in bed, chewing quietly so as not to wake my husband. Barney can’t bear crumbs in the sheets. An hour later, my stomach began to hurt.

I waited for the pain to go away. It didn’t. I considered my options. Going to the emergency room would involve me getting up and putting on clothing. That seemed like way too much effort for 1:30 a.m. I decided to ignore the sharp stabbing in my stomach. My attempt only lasted the length of a MyPillow commercial. The pain was undeniably getting much worse. I hid the empty cookie bag and woke up Barney. He drove me to the emergency room.

The pain spread rapidly to my back. After multiple tests, the ER doctors were still stumped about the cause. My regular internist was called in. He couldn’t figure it out either.

I begged him, “Please! Just give me morphine. Anything to stop this pain!”

My internist thought I might need surgery for gallstones. Pain drugs were out of the question until they knew the exact cause.

After five hours of MRIs, scopes, and blood tests, they had a diagnosis. Acute pancreatitis. They had figured out the culprit. It was martinis.

Martinis?!? Well, that had to be wrong!

I did look forward to a Hendrick’s martini or two. Sometimes three. Every night. Starting at 5 p.m., the respectable happy hour. They made me feel happy.

I thought, “Why couldn’t the pain have been caused by something that I would never miss, like exercise? Couldn’t it have been a bad reaction to the lap pool? Perhaps it’s a transdermal overdose of chlorine.”

The only treatment for pancreatitis was to stay in the hospital, be medicated, and wait it out. I spent the next five days there on really good pain meds. I don’t remember a thing about those days.

I was released, feeling fine, free to go home with my printed-out instructions on how to prevent another attack. At the top of the list was “No alcoholic beverages.”

Right.

I’m not great with instructions. I don’t have the patience for them. If the remote doesn’t make my TV turn on when I press the green button, I call someone to come over to fix it.

The next evening, while at a restaurant with a friend, I decided to test the waters and ordered one of those pink, fizzy cocktails that comes with a paper parasol.

I never go for those sissy drinks, but I thought it seemed safe enough. It wasn’t a martini, after all. An hour later, I was doubled over in pain. Pastel-colored fruity libations are not to be trusted.

Dr. Gastroenterologist concluded I must have a death wish. He had nothing else to say to me. My bottom lip started quivering. My eyes filled with tears.

He barked, “You’re not gonna get all weepy on me now, are ya? I thought you were the tough one.”

He was referring to my portrayal of police detective Christine Cagney in my TV show from the 1980s, Cagney & Lacey.

How dare he speak to me that way! I defended myself. “They paid me to be tough. You’re not paying me.”

The doctor stood over me. He was physically imposing, a retired general in the army. I wasn’t sure if I was angry or developing a bit of a crush.

Either way, I followed his orders. I haven’t had a drink since May 8, 2015. And I miss my Hendrick’s dry martini, stirred not shaken. Every single night. Still.

I spent the first six weeks of my life in a hospital. I was born premature.

On May 28, my mother went into labor. I was supposed to be an end-of-June baby. After my mother had been in labor for seventy-four hours, the doctor said, “This baby wants to be born today.” It was May 31, 1943.

They wheeled my mother into surgery, knocked her out, and performed a C-section. She was sent to recovery, and I was rushed into an incubator in the nursery, weighing less than three pounds.

After spending a week in a different ward of the hospital, unable to see or hold me, my mother scored a wheelchair from the hallway and managed to roll through the corridors to the nursery. She was certain she would be told that I had died.

But when she made her way over to the incubator, she saw I was alive. Though, according to her, I looked like a pound of butter, like she could hold me in the palm of her hand.

The nurse unwrapped the blanket to show her my tiny body, which my mother also described as “just perfect.”

The next day, my mother was sent home from the hospital for a month of bed rest. She had no choice but to leave me behind, unnamed.

One of the nurses began to call me Bubbles.

My father would stop in to see me on his way home from work. He placed a tiny bottle of holy water, blessed by the pope, in the corner of the incubator.

My mother did not return. She was physically fragile and probably petrified of the possibility of losing another daughter.

Four years earlier, the year before my older brother, Michael, was born, my mother gave birth to a girl she named for her mother, Marguerite. The nuns at the hospital baptized the curly-haired baby when, after twenty-four hours, it became obvious she wasn’t going to make it. Little Marguerite was laid to rest in an infant-size coffin before my mother was even released from the hospital.

No doctor ever gave my mother a reason for Marguerite’s death. In the 1930s and ’40s, the medical community never connected the ways smoking and drinking could affect a fetus. My mother started smoking cigarettes at age sixteen and enjoyed daily libations once she was an adult. Pregnancy pamphlets from that era encouraged women to not give up smoking or social drinking, as it kept “the expectant mother’s nerves calm.”

After a normal pregnancy and delivery of Michael, my mother felt a renewed sense of optimism while expecting me.

There was one other aspect that made this pregnancy different. A tea-leaf reader named me.

In the 1940s, my mother did a lot of volunteer work with the Assistance League of Los Angeles, a charitable organization of “society” women. After their events, the women would go to the adjoining Attic Tea Room, where a tea-leaf reader was often on hand to read fortunes as entertainment for the diners.

The fortune-teller looked into the bottom of my mother’s cup and said, “Your life is going to change.”

“Well, I am pregnant,” my mother admitted.

After studying the pattern of the tea leaves once more, the fortune-teller said, “It will be a very special child.” (I love that part of the story!) “May I name this baby?”

My mother was caught off guard by the request, but, as conservative as she was, she took the fortune-teller’s phone number and agreed to call her after I was born.

In my baby book is an envelope that my mother had used to write down the fortune-teller’s suggestions. Karen, Hillary, and Sharon were the three choices. Sharon had been circled in pencil. And so, five weeks after I was born, I became Sharon Marguerite Gless.

Good thing. I don’t think “Bubbles Gless” would have worked in the Cagney & Lacey credits.

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