Read an Excerpt
"THERE'S MEL, THERE'S WOODY, and THERE'S YOU"
My Life in the Slow Lane
By Bruce Kimmel AuthorHouse
Copyright © 2010 Bruce Kimmel
All right reserved. ISBN: 978-1-4520-1116-5
Chapter One
"Hi, Bruce, it's Norman Mennes." Norman Mennes had been one of my favorite teachers and directors at LACC.
"Listen," he said, "I'm doing a play by Murray Schisgal called Jimmy Shine."
I'd never heard of it but I was a huge fan of Murray Schisgal from his play Luv and his two one-acts, The Typists and The Tiger. He went on. "It's our first production and there's no one here who can really do the part. The character is never off-stage, he has to sing and play the piano and be funny."
"I can do that," I said, laughing.
"Will you do that is the question," he said. "Would you have time to rehearse and do the show for two weeks?"
It was so out of the blue, but I just instinctively said, "Yeah, I'm not doing anything and it would be great to get back onstage. Yeah, if you want me, I'm yours."
"Great," he said. He told me the dates and when we'd be rehearsing.
When Kathy got home I told her that Mr. Mennes had called and asked me to do the play. I don't think she was too thrilled because it meant her parents would be watching Jenny for a few hours each day, and that she'd have to watch her at night after having worked a long day. But I'd already said yes, so she knew it was a fait accompli.
I picked up the script. I was amazed to find that the show had run during the time I was in New York-it had played 161 performances at the Brooks Atkinson Theater. It had gotten middling reviews but lasted that long solely on the star-power of Dustin Hoffman. I read it in one sitting and I knew it was a fantastic part in a pretty good play. I couldn't wait to start.
The lyrics to some songs were in the script, but Mr. Mennes asked me to write music to them rather than getting the John Sebastian music that had been used in the Broadway production. He told me I could even come up with a song or two of my own. Of course, I said I would. I ended up using only a couple of the song lyrics from the play, and I wrote two or three of my own songs, based on stuff in the script.
It was weird being back at LACC, but I was treated like a real guest star, and that was fun. Mr. Mennes was a fine director and we'd always worked well together. I had a great time rehearsing, he loved the songs I wrote, and it just felt so good to be working, even if it was just a college production.
There was a bit in the show where Mr. Mennes wanted me to throw a knife to the wooden floor and have it stick. I couldn't do it. I'd throw it and the knife would just clang to the floor and lie there. I finally got so annoyed, that I turned to Mr. Mennes and said, "No one could throw this stupid knife and make it stick in the floor!"
He walked over to me, picked up the knife, threw it to the floor, where it promptly stuck. He smiled, turned on his heel, and walked away. I just stood there with my mouth open staring at the knife stuck in the floor. On our next break, I spent the whole time working with the knife and after about ten minutes I had it sticking in the floor. I came back from the break, we got to that part of the scene, and I threw the knife and it stuck. Mr. Mennes applauded and said, "I knew you could follow direction." From that point on, I never missed-the knife always landed and always stuck.
Opening night arrived. We were in the Caminito Theater, the smaller black-box space. The theater held about a hundred people and we were completely sold out. The seating configuration was in a horseshoe, which put all of us very close to the audience.
I was very nervous. I hadn't done a real stage show since Stop The World in New Jersey and that had been over a year ago. I didn't really count singing "Pussy In The Bag" in The Drunkard as doing a show.
The house lights dimmed, and I took my place. The play opened with me in bed, with a hairpiece on my chest. The lights came up, and as soon as the audience saw the hairpiece we got our first laugh, and I was home. The performance went without a hitch, and was filled with big laughs, and the songs got a really good response. For me, there was nothing like getting laughs; I lived for them, and hearing them made me feel on top of the world. And getting them consistently, night after night, and building on them and making the laugh double, well, if that wasn't heaven, I didn't know what was.
The first week's performances were all good and all sold out. Some friends and former classmates came back to see it, including an alumnus named Alex Henteloff, a terrific actor who'd graduated a couple of years before I came to the school. I used to come to shows at LACC when I was in high school, and he was the star of many of them and was always great. He was really positive about my performance (as he always had been all during the time I went to LACC), and it was great to hear that from someone I really respected.
Our second-to-last performance was one of our best. Everything worked and the reaction was amazing. I was in the dressing room after the show, when I was told that someone wanted to meet me. I finished wiping my makeup off, put on a shirt and went to the hallway.
There was a man standing there and he came up to me. He was a little goofy-looking, with crooked teeth. He said his name was Frank Levy and that he was an agent at CMA, which was one of the biggest agencies in town. He told me how impressed he was with my performance but he immediately added that he didn't represent actors and couldn't help me that way.
The reason he'd come backstage was to tell me how much he liked my songs. He was a literary agent just out from New York and starting a musical theater division, and was meeting songwriters and book writers for musicals. He gave me his card and told me to call him in a few weeks so we could talk about my songwriting. I came home and put the card in a safe place.
The next night was our closing performance and it was our absolute best show. After the show, I came out of the dressing room. There were a lot of people in the green room and several congratulated me. Then a woman came up to me. She looked very intense until she suddenly broke into a big, adorable grin. She told me she was an alumnus of the department. She looked slightly familiar to me but I couldn't figure out why.
"I'm Shelley Morrison," she said. "I just wanted to tell you I thought you were great."
I thanked her, but she kept going on about my comedy timing, my subtlety, and my naturalness. I thanked her again. I love compliments, who doesn't, but I'm sometimes a little weird about standing and listening to them. I get very shy and just want to talk about other things.
She asked me if I had an agent, and I said no, I'd never had one.
"Well, you should have one. Why don't I introduce you to mine, he's terrific."
"That would be great," I responded, knowing that I'd probably never meet her agent, because people frequently said things like that in the heat of the moment, and then promptly forgot they ever said it. She asked for my phone number, and I gave it to her, and she gave me hers. I thanked her again, and she hugged me and gave me a kiss on the cheek.
I went up to Mr. Mennes and asked if he knew her and he told me she'd been a stellar actress when at the school and that she'd been a regular on the TV series The Flying Nun. Now I knew why she looked so familiar.
Doing the play had been so good for me in just about every way, despite the occasional friction it caused for Kathy and me because of the schedule. But even she could see that I was a completely different person.
I was a little down now that the play had closed. I spent the next day moping around and lifting Jenny up in the air really high and zooming her down, which was her favorite thing. Kathy's mother made us a nice homecooked meal, and we watched TV and I was back in Sylmar with no laughs, no show, and no prospects.
Monday morning the phone rang. It was Shelley Morrison.
"What's your schedule like for the next few days?" she asked in that wonderful voice of hers.
"Schedule?" I said, laughing. "I have no schedule."
"Well, then tomorrow at noon you'll meet my agent. I just told him all about you. I raved, and he's very interested to meet you. His name is Alex Brewis."
I couldn't believe it. She'd actually done what she said she was going to do. A busy, working actress had taken the time to call her agent and rave about some kid she saw in a show.
"Where do I show up?" I said quickly.
She gave me the address, which she told me was near Sunset and Doheny, and said we should meet there about 11:50. I thanked her profusely. I immediately went and got Jenny out of her playpen and lifted her up and zoomed her down about ten times. "Daddy's going to meet an agent!" She was laughing and her eyes were twinkling and somehow I felt she knew how exciting it was that Daddy was going to meet an agent.
The next day I drove the Nash Rambler down to the address on Sunset. It was quite a trek from Sylmar and took about forty-five minutes. Shelley was waiting for me in front of the office building. I was dressed in nice black pants and a striped shirt. She gave me a hug, told me not to be nervous, and in we went.
She said hi to the receptionist and introduced me. The receptionist opened the door to Alex Brewis' office and announced we were here. Alex waved us in and said he was just finishing up with a client. I followed Shelley into the room and recognized the client instantly. I couldn't believe my eyes. It was the star of Attack Of The Puppet People, a movie I'd loved as a kid and seen many times on TV since. Right there in front of me-the star of Attack Of The Puppet People.
Shelley introduced me to Alex. He was about 5'7" tall, with gray, wiry hair, and was very well dressed. He came around his desk and shook my hand, then said, "It's nice to meet you. Shelley tells me you're a terrific actor."
He then turned to the star of Attack Of The Puppet People and said, "Bruce, this is John Hoyt, John Hoyt this is Bruce Kimmel."
John shook my hand. The star of Attack Of The Puppet People was shaking my hand. What universe was I in? Whatever universe it was, I wanted to live there. I said, "You're one of my favorite actors. I loved you in Attack Of The Puppet People."
"That movie-isn't it funny-that's the one everyone remembers me from."
He gave me a pat on the back, said, "You'll love Alex," and left.
Alex went back to his desk and sat down, and Shelley and I sat in the two chairs in front of his desk. He basically just chatted with me, asked me questions, wanted to know about my background, and what I'd done. Finally, he said, "I trust Shelley. If she thinks you're terrific then I'm sure you're terrific. And I don't have anyone like you or even your age. So, why don't I take you on and let's see what happens."
Had I just heard that right? Had an agent I'd just met and spent five minutes with actually said "So, why don't I take you on and let's see what happens?"
He stood up, shook my hand and said, "Welcome aboard. Now let's see what we can do for you."
And that was the meeting. I had an agent, just like that. And from everything Shelley had told me about him, a damn good agent. I gave the receptionist all my information and Alex told me I'd have to get a headshot, that contracts would be prepared and that he'd be in touch shortly.
As soon as we got out of the office Shelley grabbed me and gave me a bear hug, lifting me right off the ground. "Well, kid, you've got an agent. How about that?"
I gave her a bear hug back. "I can't believe it! I've got an agent. Thanks to you!"
"Nah, he knows a good thing when he sees it."
She told me to keep in touch and I promised I would. I drove back to the Valley and the entire way it felt like the Nash Rambler was floating on a cloud. I got home, told Kathy the thrilling news, which she was amazed to hear, and I went to the bedroom where Jenny was fast asleep in her crib. I bent down and whispered, "Daddy got the agent. I love you."
Two days later Alex called and told me I had an appointment to read for the lead in a pilot for a producer named Danny Arnold. I asked him to repeat what he just said because I was quite sure I'd heard it wrong. But I hadn't. I was to go to Mr. Arnold's office on Thursday at two, where I'd meet and read for Mr. Arnold. I'd be getting the script by messenger.
Holy moley on rye, I was reading for a pilot-not only reading for a pilot, but reading for the lead in a pilot, and a messenger was bringing me the script. It didn't feel real to me, it was just too crazy, and yet, an hour later, a messenger arrived with the script. It was real all right. I called Shelley and told her and she was as excited as I was.
I read the script instantly. I don't remember much about it other than the role was fun and it was definitely the leading role since the character's first name was also the name of the show. I went back and read through the scenes they'd marked, the ones I'd be reading.
I ran the scenes over and over again, trying different approaches to each line, different inflections on words, and trying to make sure I was saying them interestingly and getting the point across easily and clearly. It wasn't Shakespeare, it wasn't O'Neill or Williams or Miller or even Murray Schisgal, but it was a good script and I wanted to do the best job I could.
Kathy was obviously excited that I had a reading for the starring role in a pilot. In fact, neither of us could really believe it. Her parents were excited. Even Jenny seemed excited even though she had no idea what was going on. How many people got to read for the starring role in a pilot? Actually, I had no idea how many people got to read for the starring role in a pilot. I only knew that up until that moment I hadn't been one of them.
Alex called and wished me luck, and so did Shelley. She told me to just be myself in the meeting and to not be nervous. I told her I'd try.
I've always been a prompt person. I hate being late anywhere, and therefore I usually arrive places early, sometimes really early, sometimes really really early, just because I'd rather play it safe. And so, I arrived at Mr. Arnold's office in Burbank at around 1:15 for my 2:00 appointment. His office was located in a building very close to Warner Bros. studio. I found a place to park and sat in my car going over my lines. At 1:45 I went in, told the receptionist I was there to read for Mr. Arnold, and she told me to have a seat and that he'd be with me shortly. I was dressed nicely, in a pair of beige pants and a maroon sweater.
I sat there, my leg going up and down like an oil pump, which is what my leg always does when I get nervous. I went over the scenes again. The door to Mr. Arnold's office opened and a young person my age came out-he was holding the same script I had so I knew he'd just read for the part I was about to read for. I wondered how many others had read and would be reading. I was told to go in.
Once I was in the office, Danny Arnold, a wonderful, affable man, immediately put me at ease and made me feel right at home as if I belonged there. He didn't give me a nasty look when I said I didn't have a picture and resumé but that they'd be done soon, and he just talked to me and asked me questions.
After he sensed I was relaxed, he had me read the scenes. He was complimentary after the first, and then we read the other two or three. He had me read them again, not giving me any direction. I did, and it was better the second time through. He thanked me for coming, and said "Good job."
I left feeling unsure of what I'd done, despite the "Good job." This was new territory for me. It wasn't at all like a theater audition. You just sat in your chair and read the lines and then you left. But for a first time out, I thought I must have been at least okay.
When I got home, Kathy's mother said I'd had a call from my agent. I called Alex back as quickly as I could. He spoke in a very matter-of-fact tone.
"Danny said you did very well. He liked you a lot."
I waited for the "but" that I knew was coming.
"And they want to test you."
That wasn't a "but." That was a "they want to test you." "They want to test me?" I said with a rather incredulous tone, even though I wasn't quite sure what that meant.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from "THERE'S MEL, THERE'S WOODY, and THERE'S YOU" by Bruce Kimmel Copyright © 2010 by Bruce Kimmel. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
