L.A. 2001: Journals: Post # 26: Year's End

December 14, 2001: Reading Andy Warhol. New York and L.A. seem to be exactly the same in regard to exclusivity (A-list caste) and social desperation based on what I’m reading. Warhol knew the hysterical underside and mania of the every day in those realms.

Went to THR today and got a gift bag from DreamWorks, sent by one of the staff there who I talk to a lot covering the film-beat phones. It was a sweet gesture. Two years ago I couldn’t get an interview for Minority Report and today I get a holiday gift. Those kinds of ironies and changes in relationships are continuously amazing and I appreciate that. I do my job, I’m not a **** and I have a proper perspective on the business. I’m working, like the cute lumberjack. My manager saw my gift bag and was shocked I’d gotten one. It was hilarious how she was so shocked that I could actually get something. She’s not underhanded and I like her but she can’t help it.

December 16, 2001: It’s a hustle. Hollywood is a hustle. I haven’t even started my hustle. I’ve reached a point where I’m having to learn something else and this is the greatest opportunity I’ve had to branch out from. Right now it’s like learning tech on a show and how things really run on an intricate level. The entire experience and hard work can be parlayed into something artistic later. I’m writing more on my own time too.

December 25, 2001: 20 centuries and one year since Christ was born.

Worked Christmas Eve at THR. Presents from family at the post office. I bought myself books for Christmas. Bebbles cooking when I got home and we got to talk and chill. Blessed, tired, working hard and it will all get easier.

December 27, 2001: It’s awful to kiss your lover in the morning and come home in a bad mood.

December 30, 2001: 4:17 a.m. this morning: Bebbles and I lay, talking about this last year, in bed under an overcast sky made silver and blue by a near-full moon. You could feel God’s presence in that beauty.

L.A. 2001: Journals: Post # 25: Aerial Views

November 19, 2001: The computer servers were draggin’ camel ass in the newsroom while we were all on deadline. I'm working on the 2002 Event Calendar: ten single-spaced pages. I was assigned the calendar, covered 30 phone lines and started on the Oscar Screening Guide.

My phone rings and it’s someone sounding like a Monster truck driver, “Hey! How do you spell ‘joie de vivre’?!” ....except it was ‘jwah de vee,’ like he was being yanked by the hair. It was a hoot and he didn’t doubt I knew how to spell it, which was refreshing.

November 25, 2001: Two huge projects that must be fed: the editorial calendar and the Oscar Screening Guide. I paced myself and learned how to edit, by necessity, and did solid work. I’m going to start scheduling my days in advance. I wrote up the birth/wedding announcements I do for the magazine, answered messages and e-mails. I got a polite letter from a reporter in England at the Sun.

November 27, 2001: Finished the first part of the Oscar Screening Guide that the magazine runs daily: that gig deserves a byline for anyone who does it. If you printed it out it would be 31 feet of typed copy. Harley Lond has been my editor on it. He’s old school and can see I’m thorough about us not having mistakes. The magazine runs all of the awards screenings in L.A., N.Y., San Francisco, Aspen, Maui and London. What has to be entered are: the movie title, the studio, the theater, the time it’s showing, and the RSVP number for all Oscar hopefuls.

Worked with a temp today, a nice guy who really did his best. I made sure to give feedback for the agency with ‘excellent’ checked all through with some great comments on his work. He saw the comments and visibly appreciated it; for me it was a way to use my teaspoon of clout to help a temp out, seeing as I was a temp myself recently. It’s a tough market right now and strong evaluations keep you working. I spared him some heavy-lifting and he kept the phones from swallowing me whole. He was a cool kid, said he didn’t want to be in the Industry at all.

November 28, 2001: Another busy day. Hollywood: people making so much money it’s like ‘Monopoly’ money everywhere you look. It’s interesting in the cases where manners and class are lacking; you’d think that’d be included there with the money. It’s amazing. God bless the real service men who protect the rights of everyone to pursue whatever they want. The rest of us are all civilians.
I was on standby at deadline tonight in case the deputy editor had to dictate a story for me to type. I waited to see if I was needed while the servers were fixed and cleaned up my own copy. The computer servers came through.

December 3, 2001: The Screening Guide is going well. Variety’s edition mixed up Miramax and New Line, which triggered a memo from the publicists to the trades. My editor showed me the memo and said, “Keep it as proof of your efficiency.”

December 6, 2001: My first voice mail this morning was from an irate, snarling Australian. The transcript:

“Yeah, g’day Karl. I was having lunch in Hollywood today and I saw Nicole Kidman get kicked out of a restaurant. I’m visiting from Australia and I was absolutely DISGUSTED. Nicole was told to leave her table. I don’t know why. Mate, I’m on my way back to Australia and I’ll be telling the Aussie press that you guys are a bunch of LOSERS over here. You should treat the stars- especially from Australia- with a little more RESPECT. You might want to call her publicist and APOLOGIZE on behalf of Americans for the way you treat Australian film stars.”

It was nothing the magazine would pursue, much less print, still we had a few laughs playing that message on speakerphone- the caller’s voice was dripping with such disdain. As a water cooler discussion, none of us believed the message or that any restaurant personnel in their right mind would put Nicole Kidman out like some pariah. One of the Australian sales reps came in and she said, “I also don’t think it’s true because Nicole doesn’t drink. I’ve met her many times and she’s really a shy girl. She’s not a person that makes a big deal out of presenting herself.” She went on to say that she’s proud of the way Nicole has handled the divorce.People have their opinions about the Kidman-Cruise split and the ‘tip’ was probably just an attempt to stir the debate up again.

This n' That: March 1, 2010

1)The Irish Times' Kevin Courtney explains The National Enquirer's two Pulitzer Prize nominations.

2) Al Sharpton and Tavis Smiley got into it for about 13 minutes last week on the radio. I am Team Tavis for his love of news--I can quote verbatim his post-NPR mission about being invigorated by the process of gathering news and I have worked with him peripherally at The Hollywood Reporter. I couldn't get congrats to him quick enough when the PBS show came. Sharpton says he's 'keeping it real - lovingly' and Smiley says he loves Sharpton. At http://www.tavistalks.com/ the thought for the week is: "Love as though you have never been hurt before." True- and worth it.

3) While we're still on that note of the Smiley-Sharpton exchange, the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette's Tony Norman explores the mixed

message 'I love you' sends when spoken between high-profile adversaries/frienemies in the media space.

4) CarltonJordan.com has the 'SNL' parody of the 'We Are The World' reboot.

This n' That: February 25, 2010

1) This 2007 New York magazine piece by Jeff Coplon on the New York Times' late Gerald Boyd is still stark and unsettling reading. I read it late in the evening over the weekend and it had the power of a ghost story.

2) The 2nd annual Oscar Micheaux Film Festival is still underway at Temple University in Philadelphia. Melvin Van Peebles will appear on March 3 at the closing ceremony.

3) Sade and Wanda Sykes do a bit for Wanda Sykes' show. - via WTLC F.M.'s site in Indianapolis

4) The Urban Daily site has a cool post on Blaxploitation films, complete with trailers.

L.A. 2001: Journals: Post # 24: Next Gen 2001

November 6, 2001: The Next Generation:2001 event was a blast. It was the first industry party I’ve been to in L.A. - besides cast/wrap parties - where I was also a representative for the brand.

The party was at the Max Factor Museum. A momentary wait on the red carpet before being taken in to lobby tables covered with apple martinis. Guests were taken on a tour through the Max Factor studios, where Max had rooms designed For Blondes Only, For Brunettes Only and For Brownettes Only. Our guide said ‘brownettes’ were actresses like Judy Garland, people whose hair color wasn’t red, blonde or dark. Lucille Ball’s make-up mirror was preserved there, her foundation darkened over decades on a big sponge wedge.

We boarded a freight elevator staffed with a bartender and were taken to the 3rd floor for a tour of costumes worn by Susan Hayward, Judy Garland, Lena Horne, Rita Hayworth and Lana Turner. The outfits for Garland, and Lena Horne showed them to be very thin. Lana Turner’s shape was very sexy. They had some stills of Elizabeth Taylor from Cleopatra that I’d never seen, showing her quite heavy. They also have photos of her in the ‘Brunettes’ room on the first floor. She’s beautiful in those lobby photos and still a pretty woman but Elizabeth has been an icon for decades and could still be doing the notable beauty a la Sophia Loren but she doesn’t care. Elizabeth Taylor did her thing, still does her thing and doesn’t give a hooey.

The party started after the tour, on the 4th floor. There was a live neo-soul band with a female R&B vocalist who also played keyboards. She was great. We smiled at each other and the party opened into elaborate lighting, drinks and food. We’d been at work all day, those of us from the magazine, and I alternated Red Bulls with drinks.

Tara Reid was milling about. She’s prettier than she registers onscreen. She wasn’t a spaz and looked polished for her age. I mentioned Josie & The Pussycats to her and she gave me a look like she didn’t know if I was making fun or telling the truth. I wasn’t making fun and I said, “We love Melody!” and mimed the head- tilting drum playing that was in the cartoon version. Julie Cypher was there and has a very warm smile. Jason Biggs was talking to some agency people, I'd put him at around 5'7 or so. He looked like an adored, pampered nephew.

There were big reprints all over the room of the 2001 Next Generation picks. I was struck by how many of these 34-year old guys got to be agents and division heads, by their own admission, from cold-calling (!) A-list suits who hailed from their hometowns. Then there were some who came up from the mailroom or being assistants themselves, which is more realistic. Of the 37 Next Gen selections, two were Black, both males. There are unique obstacles in this Industry.

Two editors from The Reporter came over to me and said hello. They congratulated me on getting the job and said that the newsroom used to be more whacked out and silly, like mass-singing in the office, etc. The corporate realities of the business are becoming more and more noticeable to people. This is what my generation knows more of in the changing workplace, regardless of industry. We didn’t see those fun, zany years.

I saw a blonde woman in a dark velvet strapless dress holding court at one of the few tables talking to her friends. She looked familiar, especially the way her eyes opened when she was making a point. It was Jenilee Harrison from Three’s Company, among other shows. She played Cindy Snow and I always liked her. Now that the ‘Three’s Company’ behind-the-scenes has come to light people are seeing she was only 22 at the time. 20 years later, she’s still here. I admire her for soldiering on and being strong. I introduced myself and got to talk to her about the business. She’s kept working and it’s true she’s moved on and that longevity is key for actors. I remembered some of her past interviews and her positive attitude. She introduced me to her party and she gave me a kiss on the cheek. That was a great highlight. She was real.

Elsewhere, a lot of different ways of handling social niceties on display: the mild narcissism of not breaking your stride to say hello to others while smiling warmly. I saw one woman with a perpetual frown yet she'd smile through introductions with effort. She was with her boyfriend when a female co-worker of his came over and introduced herself with, “I’m the one who steals your boyfriend on Friday nights!” and giggled.

The girlfriend folded her hands in front of her with an appraising look, shook her flat-ironed hair, smiled and said, “You’re welcome to him!” with a straight face. I believed her, as did everyone else who witnessed it and that was the end of any further catty asides to The Girlfriend. I was proud of her.. One of our editors who saw it said, “Rudeness is an occupational hazard of this business.” Spouses or significant others who aren’t in the business can sometimes catch some catty inconsideration or testing. This girl tonight aced the test by not even playing the game. I talked to her after it happened to ease any tensions and affirm that some of us are nice and have social skills. I liked her.

There were about 350 people at the THR event and the fire marshal was there but not threatening to close it down. The fire escape outside was a peninsula of painted white steel with a staircase on the side with no walkway. Except for the steps, there were railings on all sides so that 8 or 9 of us could all be out there and not risk falling. I went out there with Zorianna Kit, her husband Bo Zenga, and some others we’d met-- we were a crew of reporters, producers, agents, worker bees. The neon signage of Mel’s restaurant blinked reflectively on us with 97% humidity blowing over us in a Gothic fog.

One dark haired girl, an out of work writer from New York, folded her arms and leaned against the wall and said, “I came to L.A., like, two days before 9/11 and I can’t get a gig.” She likes L.A. I didn't tell her how long you can really go without work. I just offered that she stay proactive and committed.

The fog was getting more dense; I looked onto Sunset Blvd. and saw the old building where I worked for 3 years. I felt at ease looking at it, knowing what it meant and what was at stake. I’ve paid some dues and know, privately, that I’ve earned my place. There were times...some Hollywood underground lore. Four years ago I was on location in the City of Industry playing a disco rodeo cowboy for a Japanese TV commercial wearing tight Persian jeans. From cowboy hat to apple hats.

The cast of characters kept revolving on the fire escape. Some of the guys hadn’t been in L.A. long and would raise their hand to say they’re from the Midwest, the South, etc., which had a quaint effect. Some people were vocally nervous about the business and some were saying the industry is in a slump and closing ranks. The indoor smoking ban came up, how smoking sections are now de facto party spots, and not by design --people still seem to gravitate there, even though it’s a separate area. None of us specifically talked about our jobs because we’re grateful for them. We talked about the business as far as frustration when it’s backwards and the edicts that people never say to you yet you must learn.

As we started to leave, I got a gift bag from one of the marketing guys at THR and I gave an abandoned gift bag to the unemployed writer girl. She thanked me, said she was too tired to get it herself. I complimented the band and the folks there who’d come to support the lead singer. We talked for a while about the business and said friendly goodbyes. Walked out onto Hollywood Blvd. and hailed a cab home.

L.A. 2001: Journals: Post # 23: Emmys in November

November 4, 2001: It's Emmy night. Updates coming here in the newsroom via reporters phoning in from the venue. We’re also transcribing news and speech excerpts, checking the news wire. The writers are trying to glean good quotes, the more poignant the better. General or boring quotes won’t stand much chance. Walter Cronkite, Allison Janey and Jean Smart have already made the magazine for tomorrow. I’m taping the show at home and Bebbles’ expression at that news was a grim face since The Practice will not be on the queue tonight. Bryan Cranston also just made the quote list ('The Malcolm dad- gotta have him.').

I ordered food for the staff. I got two compliments on that tonight, which was kind but odd. Props for ordering food? When one of the crew met the delivery man, I asked him if he was handling the food. “Handling…the….food?” he asked, as if reciting a new language he was trying to grasp the meaning of. I said, “Do you have have the credit card for the food or are you using your own? Poor choice of words.”

Later during a lull, I mused over the irony that as an editorial assistant, based on insurance and salary, I’m worth early six figures- on paper in the corporate world- but my last contract as an actor doesn’t come close to that. I think the divide is ridiculous but it’s good to have those bases covered.

Rapper-actor Treach is doing porn now? It looks like it but he may be doing a Snoop Dogg and just introducing xxx-videos and b-roll stuff with others doing the actual do.

It’s almost 1 a.m. One of the copy desk workers made two pies, one key lime and a peanut butter pie. A staff guy came over to me with a plate in his hand and said, “I’ll have a piece of pie, Karl.”
I said, “The knives and forks are right there,” and pointed to a wealth of utensils. He played it off but I was mind-blown that he’d actually have had me serve him pie. It was something.

November 5, 2001: Susanne was nice enough to get me reimbursed for my expenses last night. I hadn’t brought my receipts because I didn't know I could but she looked out for me. That was nice of her.

At a press junket today a prominent publicist was bombarding a popular female reporter with calls. The reporter was trying to meet deadline and, finally exasperated, said to the assistant, “Oh, this is the worst possible time for her to call! You know what? Fuck her. Tell her to fuck off. That’s it: Fuck off!” The assistant lied and took a message instead. Reporters like her are the prototype of the Privileged Big Sister, telling support staff to repeat what can't be said. Any assistant who repeated that to a high level publicist would find their career under the Hollywood sign.

Later at the bureau, I got a project to vet and find birthdays for about 75 people, from Britney Spears and Bono to Cameron Diaz. The Reporter is hosting the in-house Next Generation event tomorrow night at the Max Factor Building’s grand opening on Hollywood and Highland. It’s a celebration of 35 industry people who are under the age of 35. Some staff were sending in RSVPs for the company event. I asked Susanne if I’d be able to go, now that I’m in the masthead. She said, “You may be able to volunteer!”
I said, “I’d dance on a box first.” The deputy editor overheard me and said, “Karl, we’d pay to see you dance on a box!” Susanne pulled some strings and I got approved for a ticket.

L.A. 2001: Journals: Post # 22: Getting The Gig

October 22, 2001: I was officially hired at The Hollywood Reporter. Susanne, my manager, called me into Howard's office and all but jumped up at the news. “Isn’t that great?” she asked, motioning for a hug. She’s very nice to me and was overjoyed. Later, Howard said, “You feel better now? I got on New York and told them ‘I’ve got the best guy ever, ever that’s been in that position and I don’t want to lose him.’”

I thanked Howard, told him I appreciated it. He said, “Karl, there’s people you don’t even know in this business who are talking about you and saying good things about how professional you are. I just wanted you to know that.” That meant the most to me because I really do know this industry and to hear it confirmed by the editor of a $45 million-grossing trade magazine was something I’ll remember.

October 25, 2001: It's a Friday night, which is always great. Bebbles and I were chilling on the balcony last night and talking. I interrupted Bebs' account of running into an ex at the Pantages Theater. The ex is now married and was en route to ‘Lion King’.I was interested in the reunion but sidetracked Bebbles from delving into it. It was harmless but Bebbles got a little salty.

Listened to CDs we bought and relaxed. Bebbles has saved my stamina many times when I thought I’d plummet into being completely overwhelmed. I quit my job in May and had 78 cents or something like that and I turned it into $7 grand in less than 5 months.

October 28, 2001: I’m ensconced in the newsroom and publishing. It's a daily publication. I also haven’t submitted for any acting jobs since late April. I had no time for the luxury of waiting for an audition. The only ones that ever come are usually for plays, which I love but would be a big time commitment right now. I'm keeping the careers wholly separate. I haven't talked to my reps since spring.

Career-wise, the only drawback is my work hours taking away precious time from Bebbles and I. I’m working six days straight as I write. Yesterday, here at home, we hollered at each other like lions, dropping F-bombs like confetti. It was a long argument and it was the both of us, arguing like we were in Georgia somewhere. Calmer heads prevailed today and my viewpoint to Bebbles was, “Think like a married person.” You know? It was messed up and we blew it- the one day that we could have had an extra hour together.

At work I had a reporter apologize to me for using rude hand signals to ask me to get their second line. It was a repeated, frantic hand signal you’d use for a dog. I let the phone calls wrap up and then said I don’t understand bizarre gesticulations in place of words. Apology accepted.

L.A. 2001: Journals: Post # 22: Character Studies

October 15, 2001: Anthrax fears are reigning over everyone’s consciousness. An ABC staffer’s 7-month old baby tested positive for anthrax. One of our mailroom guys had to leave today to be tested for anthrax after handling, but not opening, a package with “a suspicious tear in it.” LAPD was called and when they arrived said they couldn’t do anything. These things specifically require a postal inspector. It’s fucked up. The only thing I can do is bandage a paper cut I have and open mail with legit return addresses. Paranoia is too high to forward bullshit mail and I'm sticking to that; only important or newsworthy correspondence is being handled. I’m using every precaution and there’s only so much you can worry about. I’m working with another temp and told her she didn’t have to open anything she didn’t feel comfortable with.

October 16, 2001: Bebbles has the car and I took the train this morning. I missed the first one at Sunset and Vermont and sat on the farthest bench from the escalator and read a book. I heard someone sit by me and put a bag down but I didn’t look up. When I did, I saw the owner, a White, short-haired redhead with flushed skin, forearms as big as calves from wrist to elbow, Docker shorts and sandals strapped over athletic socks. He was trying to be a bad-ass but looked like a big, fat strapping kid. He had a goatee and tattoos everywhere.

“Do you drink?" he asked. " I got liquor. You know, tequila...that good Mexican stuff. It’s called Tequila Salza and that stuff’s like $17.99, $18.99 a bottle. I got it for a good price.”

The book I was reading is Mexico by James Michener and the protagonist is talking about Mexican cactus and Indian maguey. I responded by ending the redhead's sales pitch. These paranoid times will not make it easy for anyone to sell hooch on the subway.

I was chewing gum, he asked me if he could have a stick. I gave him my last one oout of my vest and he lifted his shirt to fan himself. ‘Venice’ was tattooed in caps across his gut. I saw what looked like a knife wound, red and healing, near his hip. He walked to the other side of the platform, lifted up his shirt over his head to wipe his face. He had more tattoos on his back and up each arm. He’d left his jacket on the bench and came back for it.

“You think I’d go to jail if I walked straight down there?” he asked, pointing at the rails.

“If you walked down the track?” I asked.

“Yeah. You could probably go to jail, yeah.”

“Probably. You’d also get electrocuted.” I said.

“No shit? How?”

“The third rail. It’s electric.”

“I didn’t know that,” he said, sitting down. “Where do you work?”

“I’m a customer service rep at a bank,” I lied. Long space. He stood up and I asked about his arm.

“I got this tattoo in the joint. It goes all the way up,” he said and showed me his other arm. “I got this in jail from 1986 to 1991. Got the rest when I went back from ’92 to ’94, then again from ’96 to ninety…?...I forgot. I been to jail three times.” He lifted his shirt to show a naked woman on his left stomach. “This one hurt the most because it had the most detail. A Mexican guy in the joint did it, all the shading. His name was Player. Then, I finally get my wife’s name put on my neck here [Camille] and she leaves me. Ain’t that a bitch? Oh well…Take care.” He caught his train.

He was a great character study. You just don’t see many balls-out, hard- headed dudes around L.A. anymore. Most guys like him are worrying about carbs and as tough as kindling wood. I had to give him credit for being his belly-out self. He’d have made a great military point man. Guys like that survive somehow.

Got to work and mentioned to my manager as I was getting my desk ready, “Out of 90,000 people in a Netscape poll, 87% said they’re not afraid to open their mail.” She did a classic Scandinavian, head-lowered double-take and said, “And they also don’t work in the media, do they? They don’t know of these things. Of course they aren’t scared.” That was a hoot. I knew that’d get her started. Yesterday she called out sick, sure it was the early stages of anthrax and debated getting tested.

*Plush McGirth*, the elder multi-faceted wunderkind, had a special profile recently in a magazine. He’s short and getting very heavy but he’s also older and was a very handsome younger man. Photos of Plush, artfully draped in shapeless shirts didn’t make me feel sympathetic. My bartender buddy said he didn’t even tip one dollar bill when he hosted McGirth’s entire party. Aerial views and up-close views are very different. Read the profile, thought good for him and tossed the magazine.

L.A. 2001: Journals: Post # 21

September 22, 2001: I went to a memorial program for Mr. Edmund James Cambridge. He was, is and will remain a theater legend. He was in the business for 55 years and was a robust man who died at 81 in Harlem on August 18. I believe he directed ‘Harvest the Frost’ at ETA in Chicago in '93 or ’94. My six degrees of separation with Mr. Cambridge is that I worked In Chicago with ‘227’ creator Christine Houston and Ed directed the stage version of ‘227’ that led to the series. I came up with a lot of black legends in Chicago: Catherine Slade, Paul Carter Harrison and I was aware of Cambridge’s N.Y. theater legacy.

The Celebration of Life for Mr. Cambridge was at the Los Angeles Theater Company. Edmund’s peers from as far back as the 1950s spoke lovingly of him. Della Reese’s choir and reverend sang two of his favorite songs. Lincoln and Helena Kilpatrick were the hosts and friends of his for 40-plus years.

The reception was okay. Some of the older crowd were cold and snotty, stepping on my shoes, bumping into you or reaching across your face while you’re trying to pass and not saying a word about it. The only person who spoke with me was Robert Hooks, a survivor and a legend himself. It was very generous of him. Margaret Avery was there and looks years younger and natural; she has Invis-align braces. I later heard of an indignity Edmund faced when he was auditioning at 79 or 80 years old and it was very startling. He was a stage pioneer. Talking about it later, a production assistant told me, “Hollywood is messed up.” Edmund really did it his way and was remembered as such.

September 25, 2001: My contract still hasn't been bought out at work. There’s some wrangling, I was told, behind the scenes, about the contract fee vs. classified ad costs to advertise the position I’m up for. Classified ads, basic ones in the L.A. Times, still cost in the four figures. My agency told me not to worry about it and today I’m not. I’m on the editorial list at the magazine and I took a photo ID today, too- the latest precautionary measure since the FBI confirmed bomb threats to the studios last Thursday and the Wilshire Building has a heli-pad and open terrace.

October 1, 2001: No contract buy-out yet. My manager at the magazine says it’s New York that’s now taking their time but “they’ll have to pay it. They don’t have a choice- or we’ll all walk out. We need you!”

October 6, 2001: The Emmys are tomorrow and I’ll be working from the newsroom until 10 p.m.

October 7, 2001: The Emmys were canceled. The U.S. bombed Kabul this morning. I didn’t know and got to work none the wiser. I don’t watch TV before I go to work and it wasn’t in the papers, so I didn’t know. I did my job well, covered all of the lines and ordered food for 19 people. The editor called me into his office and said if I'm not hired soon he’ll go to the publisher, Bob Dowling, and get results. He said, “I know you’re in a tenuous position and I want you here.” It’s been almost a month since Vince resigned.


Work is going well.The trades are straight facts, no real editorializing, at least not here. I love my job and those in power like and trust me implicitly. I’m one of the nicer people in the profession. The trajectory for this job usually is you work as an assistant for 2-3 years and then to go into marketing or PR. Ultimately, I’d produce or executive produce in television.

L.A. 2001: Journals: Post # 20

September 17, 2001: Howard Burns, former deputy editor, was given the Editor postion at noon today by publisher Bob Dowling, with all staff in attendance. It’s been about 4 ½ months since Anita Busch resigned. The cohesive effort of the coverage and work done on the 9/11 issue, under Howard’s direction, is what sealed it. My own job with the magazine was being worked on today. I have the knowledge for this job. As an actor, I had to know the names of the people I’m paid to know of now.

I had some strong coffee from What’s Brewing? on Wilshire and Highland, it’s high-octane coffee called ‘Wired on Wilshire’ and that’s exactly what I am from one cup. 2 bags of Baked Lays, a non-caffeinated soda and doing pull-ups on a tree outside the bureau has helped calm me down some.

September 18, 2001: Depressed all day thinking of those victims at the World Trade Center, the Pentagon, Pennsylvania and the hijacked passengers and crew. It’s too much horror to take in. It’s a sad time for the world and America is going to change. 9/11 is a horrible remnant of mankind.

September 20, 2001: I am 32 years old. The biggest lesson? You cannot control anything or anyone. I cannot control Bebbles, my salary negotiations, my career, my family, my income. I can only control myself.

The world is so bonded by human grief right now that it’s palpable and in the atmosphere. You feel so numb to have witnessed the murder of thousands who were only doing their jobs. It’s too much to take in long doses, but it’s there.... you have to visit the depth of your fears many times a day. Today the FBI called me in the newsroom and then confirmed with one of our writers that there were verifiable bomb threats for some of the studios depending on what actions the U.S. makes. It was a fucking zoo. Long day, tired.

L.A. 2001: Journals: Post # 19: The World Will Never Be The Same Again

September 3, 2001: It’s Labor Day and I’m working a 6-hour shift at the magazine.This week could be the week my contract negotiations are finalized for the job. My manager here assured me that “it will happen. We need you and we just want to get the price right.”

I saw my guy at the agency, Dale Guy Madison, and he congratulated me. He said I “changed the image of Thomas Staffing” and that I was his first interview. He said I always did great, noticeable work and there’s a post-it in the office that says ‘Karl to be hired.’ It was exciting and welcome news. Vince leaves the editorial assistant job September 12.

The news editor asked me today, “So have you put in for the job?” I said yes and he told me, “We were taking bets last week on whether you would or not and we all agreed you’d make an excellent choice.” I thanked him. I’ll be a member of this Hollywood trade. These have been heady days with a lot going on but God has me. It was almost 4 months ago that I quit my job. I worked all summer and here I am. I’m fortunate.

September 4, 2001: At work: took a call from Paramount, a female friend of the actor Troy Donahue. He died over the weekend of a heart attack and his friend wanted to know about his funeral arrangements. He was 65. I called her back to tell her the arrangements are still pending. She said, “Oh, thank you. I didn’t want to call the house.” She lamented his passing and said, “He was so healthy. I’m just shocked. Sixty-five is so young.” There’s something you don’t hear too often in these circles. I listened to her.

September 9, 2001: Amazing that I started this journal for my observations on the Industry and my experiences in it and now I am now poised to work at The Hollywood Reporter as a full-time employee. God guided me to all the right points that led to this opportunity. I’m learning mostly by doing. It was a fast summer season; I gave my personal and professional best and I’m not going to lose my cool now. Bebbles and I are getting set in our professions and we’ll have more fun. I’m interested and focused on a life not so mired in the petty and greedy parts of L.A.

We saw The Others last night at Los Feliz 3. Excellent film. I was completely floored by the originality of the ending and the acting work by Nicole Kidman and the child actors. Spooky, well made film. I loved it.

September 11, 2001: The Twin Towers of the World Trade Center in New York City disintegrated down to the ground today when terrorists hijacked two commercial airplanes and flew right into each tower. The Pentagon was hit. Another hijacked airplane crashed in Pennsylvania. Mom called me from Washington, D.C. this morning at 7:48 a.m. on her way home from work in Virginia. Elana is home safe in Maryland. My brother is in the D.C. area and normally drives fuel trucks. He says he's done for the time being, the fuel trucks would be like bombs on wheels if there's any other madness. There's just carnage and almost surreal disbelief. It's horrible. Destruction and hatred . has culminated in this unimaginable loss. This day is going to reverberate and affect everyone for the future.

It's a very sad, stunned and jarring day; occasionally I just want to cry. We've got TVs all over the newsroom to monitor developments, besides our own calls and news coming in. We occasionally mute the TV when it's momentarily too much. We've watched the towers fall countless times and some reporters are openly crying at their keyboards. Lunch was called in and no one is to leave the bureau until the end of shift. Everyone eating, smoking and stressing a little more than usual.

One major East Coast production company head, with a lot of hit shows, screamed at his secretary, "Who gives a shit about this? It didn't happen to us!" She called me seething through tears, saying she'd sue him if she could. She knew we couldn't report on his mad indifference but she said she had to vent and let someone on the outside know "he's an asshole and I hate him." He wants it to be business as usual.

Only one or two people have actually called in to the bureau with ratings news and that doesn't last once they here the are-you-serious? pause and they're informed that we're not reporting on regular Hollywood news tomorrow. The Reporter is doing an issue devoted strictly to today's attacks. Our New York bureau on Broadway was incommunicado because the phones were out and we didn't know where our staff was or if they were safe until later, when we could get through to their cells. The hatred of these attacks today and the toll of human life is so heinous and huge. Who would ever have seen this coming? It's a combination of shock and sadness.

I'll be here until 8 p.m. just in case any new developments break. The plane that crashed in Pennsylvania wasn't on it's route -someone must have fought the hijackers. The sympathy and empathy of the world is with the victims, rescuers and people who are volunteering their blood, time and expertise.

L.A. 2001: Journals: Post # 18: Telephone Screamers

August 31, 2001: *KiKi Denver*, the head of an upcoming, newer awards-show, threw a fit with me today on the phone because the magazine hadn’t yet run the details even though his show is months away. “If the L.A. Times could list the awards then why not The Hollywood Reporter?! You have no problem running items about the Emmys, Grammys and other awards but then you ignore this one that focuses on ethnic talent!” I tried to explain that the Times is a newspaper and THR is a trade magazine with different lead times when KiKi all but called me a sell-out and said I was “sarcastic.”

I told KiKi he was wrong on both counts and that he was misreading my explanation as sarcasm, which isn’t the case. I’ve got 34 phone lines going off around me like air-traffic control and all KiKi asked me for initially was a fax number before jumping all over me. I said, “There are 50 people, minimum, at any given moment who have current things happening and want mentions- some are A-list and some are for a good awareness like yours- and even they have to go through the editorial process- that’s Hollywood.”

It ended up calming him down and I was pretty angry having some diva read me like I'm the sell-out. I didn’t say anything, but there are people with way more clout and income than I have who’ve given me their backside view for the past 4 years in this business. At least 6 executives and members of KiKi’s committee have faded me in the past and now I’m responsible for how the trade press handles their shit? Never. I'd never bring that into play but that's the reality. Overnight, I'm the one keeping them out of the press? No way.

I’d never go into my professional/personal history with the people I was accused of being a sell-out to by KiKi but there was also no way I was going to be on the receiving end of fiery rhetoric that has nothing to do with me. I handled KiKi with logic and marked the difference between his emotional tirade and my calm protocol. The magazine is going to run his awards show listing when it’s closer to the actual date, not months in advance. KiKi ended up thanking me and if I’m going to be permanent here then we need an understanding.

We hung up and I was proud of myself even though I felt stung. The newsroom heard it all and thought I did great. One of the reporters said, ‘He’s getting the hang of it! Karl, you’re getting the hang of this place.”

I appreciated it but I’ve had the hang of this place and this town....that’s what will make me do a terrific job here.

L.A. 2001: Journals: Post # 17

August 28. 2001: At THR, heading for lunch, I saw Sally Kirkland, a friendly, sweet woman. She was coming out of a side office with the stage actress Nancy Anderson. You can’t miss Sally Kirkland because she has this look: teased, side swept blond hair; the body-hugging black velvet top and pants in addition to an inquisitive, open face. We met in the elevator bank.
“Hi! I’m Sally! What’s your name?”
“Karl.”
“Hi Karl! This in Nancy Anderson, she’s in Kiss Me Kate.”
“Oh really?”
“Yeah! I’m in it,” Nancy said, a wisp of a girl with tight, short blond hair. She seemed very down to earth and fine with being swept into things via Sally’s force of personality.
I told Sally I’d seen her in Anna. “You saw Anna! Oh, thank you," Sally said. "Tell Nancy to see it!”
“I am going to see it,” Nancy said. I told Nancy it was very good.
“Come see Kiss Me Kate- Nancy plays Bianca and stops the show two or three times,” Sally said, very high on Ms. Anderson.
“Where is it being done?” I asked.
“The Shubert!” the two women said in cheerful unison. I said I’d try and Sally said, “Thank you for seeing Anna.” We liked each other.

August 29, 2001: Vince, the other editorial assistant who trained me and helped me get this assignment, is leaving September 12th. He got a director of communications job with the Democratic Party and is resigning from the magazine. He gave his resignation letter to the deputy editor, Howard Burns, and said he’s going to personally endorse me to replace him. Would I love the job? Yes! It's not anything I can get excited about because I don’t know the tenor of management. I only know about other aspects of the industry, which can be myopic and behind the rest of society as far as hiring, despite seeming most progressive. I’m not worried about it. It’s all in God’s beautiful hands.

August 30, 2001: Walking a straight line here at The Reporter, between management considering hiring me and also trying to make sure everything is above-board with my agency. I do believe that THR would hire me. I know, by name, virtually everyone that calls into the newsroom each day, by the hundreds. I was an actor here in L.A. for almost 5 years before this and I read the Reporter and Variety for years. I know the cast of characters.

I’ve made my agency a lot of money and only not worked about 3 days out of the entire time I’ve been with them. I talked to my agency director yesterday, a former actress as well, Wendy Metz, and told her that there are hiring overtures and I’d be open to it. She told me, “We’ve got your back, don’t worry about it. If they want to talk, go ahead and talk. They have a contract with us. If it’s a fit, it’s a fit.”

L.A. 2001: Journals, Post # 16: THR- Origins

August 11, 2001: I worked in The Hollywood Reporter newsroom yesterday and I’m there this coming Monday. I’m working the news desk phones, 52 extensions, smack-dab in the middle of a newsroom with not even 5 minutes to my own. The office manager, Susanne Wigforss, requested me twice and I like keeping my rep with the reporters. With my acting background, working in a newsroom is seeing how it all really comes together in the Industry-at-large. A couple of people at the marketing firm asked me last week about Man On The Moon but I don’t care for my acting to enter the picture. It’s not like I want to network on that level.

The Hollywood Reporter is a hectic place and pretty homogenous but the reporters are polite and earthy. Writers are on the clock like anybody else. I take the incoming calls, route them and instant message the reporters the encapsulated gist of each call. Earlier, the deputy editor couldn’t take an inter-office call and told me to put the call on hold. He never picked it up, for over 3 minutes. Moments later, the caller who'd been left on hold clomped up to my manager’s desk, furious with me for being on hold that long although I had nothing to do with it. I told the guy who was training me, “If this is going to turn into blame- the- temp then maybe you should order someone else for this job.” A reporter, Cynthia Littleton, overheard me and said, “It’s us. We’re crazy. It’s nothing you’re doing, you’re fine.” The rest of the day was great.

August 15, 2001: The Reporter assignment that was supposed to be for one day turned into 4 days and I just finished it. They asked if I’d be open to coming back and I said sure.

But then the marketing firm called in later that evening to my agency and asked me to come back for a 4th stint. I’m working on a Unocal/Tosco/’76’(gas stations) promotion. My specialty is working with the oil men. These oil men, a lot of them Southern, are focused like klieg lights: everything relates to their business and products. One of my oil guys said to me today that he was going to 'de-brand' and mix it up in different areas. I like that. I thought about it and I have to do that too: de-brand from the marketing aspects and pursue more of the media-related assignments I’m getting asked for.

Right after that conversation, The Hollywood Reporter called my agency. They want me in the mailroom for 2 weeks. I said yes. Proximity and learning are right there.

August 21, 2001: I got switched from the mailroom and back to the newsroom after just one day. It was a group decision between human resources, the guy who trained me, Vince Roncone, and a brother, Wesley Hubbard, who also works there. It’s a better job in editorial but there is no room to slip. You have to be on it. I won’t be home before 8 p.m. for the rest of the month but it’s all good.

August 23, 2001: My THR assignment has been extended for 2 months. Being a temporary editorial assistant is just like being a traffic cop or director of traffic: keep everything smooth and coming down the pike. Everyone is an adult about it and no one is disrespectful but you can definitely see that I’m the Only Black Guy In The Office. My being here is definitely like running with a baton and at least I’m representing.

August 27, 2001: Aaliyah, the R&B/pop singer and rising film star, died in a plane crash on Saturday in the Bahamas. It was tragic, depressing and struck everyone familiar with her work numb. Her latest CD is only 5 weeks out. She had a pretty, sweet voice and was on the film community's radar with her role as Akasha wrapped for Queen of the Damned. She was also due to work on the 'Matrix' sequels. She was 23.

Tragic loss of her and 8 others in a Cessna 402...those little charter planes. The reports were the plane crashed 200 feet from the airstrip and had barely risen above the trees before it crashed, sending some of the passengers into the surrounding foliage. They say she was killed instantly. She sang like an angel and now she is one. It's just so sad, the kind of event that makes you realize that however life is treating you, you have it good because you're alive. On the billboard for her new album across the street from the job here, someone wrote 'We Will Miss You' and painted a big heart. I think that says it best.

L.A. 2001: Journals, Post # 15: So It Begins...

July 28, 2001: MGM, Inc. had second quarter losses of $61.3 million, according to Meg James in the L.A. Times. The studio cited the performances of What’s The Worst That Could Happen and Josie and the Pussycats (co-produced w/Universal) as the reason. I submitted for both of those films and didn't get seen for either of them. Everything works out for a reason.

Finished my UCLA job. It went nearly 3 weeks over the original planned 8 days. I got offered two days as a proofreader but I’m taking a quick and needed out-of-state vacation. I’ve been tracing writing tests for nearly a month straight.

August 2, 2001: In the hotel, on vacation. I miss Bebbles something fierce. We’ve been through a lot and are strong. We love each other and we’ll prevail.

The marketing firm wants me back next week. I helped on the Texaco campaign there. I think this next campaign is for Burger King because of the problem they had with Pokemon kids’ meal toys that were a choking hazard (the ball that holds each character).

August 4, 2001: Enjoyed coming home to Bebbles and some down-time. The dishwasher had busted and the shower was leaking. Welcome home! We have to move soon; we’ve taken a bath on this place. Most of my business is in L.A. south of the Hollywood Hills; most of Bebbles’ business is in the Valley. I might know three streets in the Valley: Magnolia, Lankershim and Radford. We’ll need another car if we move to the Valley but I don’t have any arguments about moving there if that's what happens.

Bebbles annoyed with me this morning when I turned on the light to read the trades that have stacked up over the last 3 days. Bebbles was watching TV and Bebbles loves television. I got pissed and lit a huge baroque candle to read by instead. Wouldn’t want to ruin the ambience of the Cartoon Network!

August 13, 2001: Here on a temp assignment in the editorial dept. at The Hollywood Reporter. I took it on the fly, a one-day assignment.

L.A. 2001: Journals, Post # 14 : 21st Century Hollywood: The New Reality

July 13, 2001: Bought Billboard and Variety today, hadn't read the trades in a while. The WGA and SAG both averted work strikes but no one will dispute that there’s a lot of stockpiled product. The industry is dead for the working-class actor right now. A casting director told one of my co-workers that he left his casting office recently to spend a year in Florida because the only thing he could hear on the phone "were crickets."

I'm temping at UCLA now in Westwood, working QA with California's required writing tests for middle school kids. We're working on the finished tests. It can be shocking work, seeing that there are 16-year old sixth graders who can't read. What are some of these kids going to do for work? In Los Angeles, at that?! Some of them figure they'll be famous or work some glamour job in Hollywood but that will not happen for plenty. It's fascinating yet startling work to witness. Some of the kids, you can see the struggle, the unsure handwriting and what they're trying to express in their writing. I want to go through the pages and help them myself. It can break your heart well before lunch.

The teachers I'm working with on these exam results feel the same way. It's just banker's box after banker's box of hard truths. You notice that those students who do well across the board have the same teacher. The kids who do poorly also will have a (separate) teacher in common, which makes me shudder to think what happens when you have a teacher who is clearly over it. Most teachers are passionate, underpaid miracle workers, but there are some who need to retire to a semi-arid locale right away because something's getting lost in translation.

Temping is going well and I'm doing great, working all the time but if you’re just now trying to enter the temp market, it’s pretty much closed. My timing was good. Some of the temps I see who are out of work in the entertainment industry are desperate, by their standards. I can tell you from the front lines that a lot of them are pitiful: they hate that they have to temp yet they’re like upstream salmon trying to land gigs they can’t handle: they don’t have basic clerical skills or they don't listen or follow instructions because they’re too myopic to know the whole game.

And what is the game? The current game is: Hollywood is becoming - is - the most corporate and conservative it has been in decades. The present landscape means that to survive this shit as well as maintain your presence and place on the game board you have to watch, do and learn.

You need to know the corporate workplace and observe these CEOs and how they operate. Legal departments and human resources are the gatekeepers now and you need to know how that audience works because they’re not paying to see you. You have to go and work what you know and stay on top of everything, whether you’re in your ideal gig or not.

Being a temp or having to work something else not your passion is a drag sometimes but it’s not like you’re a hooker. A lot of industry people navigating this reality right now need to grow up and face the reality of the business because it is coming. Trust me. It’s cyclical. Hollywood is never the same for more than three years. The exec rosters and every other roster has turnover. Who wouldn’t rather be on a set, you at a clip, you know?

I’m on these assignments and I’m watching. I see management styles, politics (hiring their own race or sex, mostly), how they stock supplies, what they’re listening to and watching in the media. I filter all that stuff. I’m very aware that I’ve had to start over and that it’s hard getting sixty cents out the Industry. It’s ironic, whereas you can’t get a seat at the Hollywood table, you can get thousand$ from the corporate sector and learn. They’re not scared to offer work and I’m no wallflower or docile man. I just watch, work, make money and get my network, contacts and access on. I will be back!

L.A. 2001: Journals, Post # 13 : Some Rain Must Fall

June 29, 2001: My temp assignment concludes in a few hours after a 13-day completed assignment. I’m working on a consumer product recall and legally I’m the only one who can answer those specific calls. It’s like being an extra in a holding room. The company is paying me for all of the lunch hours I can’t take & told me to bring a book for the slow times. It's the first time I've finished a James Michener book in one week. I read The Covenant. My Icelandic grandmother gave it to me; said it changed the entire way she saw South Africa. She’s traveled to Africa and really took to it. She gave me some amazing carvings from her last trip.

Bebbles used a mild triple-sec buzz on Friday night during after-work drinks to launch into a litany of complaints, rattling them off like we’re serfs. Bebbles wants to work a 2nd job and said the reason is that I’m not a working actor right now and we need more revenue streams. It wasn’t said in a hostile or cutting way but it still bothered me. I’ve done the work of two Karl’s and have worked every day, save for two days, as a temp all over the place. Bebbles is upset that all we pay is bills (“I want a house!”).

I related and understood but I asked Bebs why we couldn’t just hang in there and have a 'peaceful summer in the apartment?' (Bebbles: “Be-cause….it's more for us!”) We’re working so hard, easier times can’t help but come. We know we can do it but Bebbles wants it right now. I told B.B. I’ll break up if they get a 2nd job. B.B. said it’s a risk they’ll take. I said I didn’t care what Bebs does because if I can’t chill then I’m going to leave. It was a long, disorderly and emotionally angry argument, but nothing was said below the belt.

My stance at the end of it was to-thine-own-self-be-true. I was very calm and I’ve been calm ever since, even though it was depressing and demoralizing, our vicious circle with this topic. I think Bebbles can’t see things as temporary or a means to a better end. I always tell B.B. 'I love you' and remind that we used to have such fun and that can’t be an oversight. Bebbles has fun and spontaneity in spades and I need that.

July 11, 2001: Bebbles’ birthday recently. I popped off at the mouth with bad timing and metaphorically popped one of Bebbles’ birthday balloons. A Friends episode we weren’t watching was blaring in the living room, it was a muggy, hot day and I was tired. I was trying to use reverse psychology to make a point but I fucked up my timing and messed it up. Bebbles left the room for a minute like a sitcom exit but Bebbles was still lovely and we went for birthday drinks.

This n' That: February 11, 2010

1) Last week I heard John Mayer's speaking voice for the first time ever and was surprised how deep it was. Based on photos, he's always struck me as having an emo-voice/rushing whilst disheveled from Quiznos. His voice definitely carries in the new Playboy interview and if it helps Playboy magazine stay viable and a separate brand from PJs and triplets, then the readers win.

When interviews go beyond PR talking points like this, it's a window into something, even if it's vain absurdity. I've witnessed interviews where a personality self-enchants to their own voice as their gaze trails and fixes somewhere off-center, like when people stare at nothing while eating cereal or soup. Yahoo has his Nashville mea culpa today and I predict no shortage of mercy-spoons and work-week ice breakers. Somewhere Jessica Simpson is doing

a dance and saying above the din, 'I tried to tell y'all!'

2) Lottery results for any city, worldwide, via Lottery Post. A nice link to have when your state lottery site - like California's - gets slow or overloaded.

3) The Runaways trailer looks good. If you're a Runaways fan and want the definitive documentary on the group, check out Vicki Blue's Edgeplay film. It's riveting stuff and further proof of the surreal 70s.

4) Aardvark.com snapped up for $50 million. I need to check them out again. Digital Media Wire has the news.

L.A. 2001: Journals, Post # 12 : A Midsummer's Sex Comedy Pilot

June 24, 2001: My audition for the pilot was yesterday at Gardiner Stages in West Hollywood. It wasn’t a pleasant experience, mostly because of the stress involved and my doubts with the material.

Gave myself plenty of time to get ready…stepped in a huge wad of cinnamon gum that, in 90 degree weather, blew webs of melted gum all over my (new) black pants. Tried to get the wad off of my right boot heel…gum got on my fingers, couldn’t wash my hands.

I saw Ramona at the sign-in desk. She smiled and read the breakdown for my character of Hampton, who is described as innocent-looking and a master seducer with wicked intentions. The pilot is called *Metro Life, Sex & Action*. I got my sides and was asked to wait in the alley walkway while they set up to film it inside. Sunlight streamed onto the white pages and I read them until I was called.

Went into the dark theater space and I was so sunblind it was unreal. I made sure to say as much to the few production people in the little rehearsal space. An assistant with a video camera was in the corner hub of the stage.

The director stood against the wall downstage left, in the dark. The director wanted to read with me and play the other character in the scene, *Craig*. I saw my two marks on the stage but the director was still against the wall. I figured he knew the blocking and that we can’t be in the scene in the dark. I knew I'd have no choice but to step off of my mark and go get him or play the scene like a mime in darkness. I didn’t care about vanity because these taped auditions can come back to haunt you-- the less salable the better in this case.The scene called for Hampton to be in seduction mode and teasing Craig. We got ready.

The set-up was: Hampton (me) and Craig (the director) are in Palm Springs. Hampton wakes up and goes into the kitchen for a drink. Hampton is naked and has to reach over a sleepping Craig to get a drink. Things are tense because Craig wants Hampton’s ex...Hampton doesn’t care because he’s sleeping with Craig’s boss, another soap opera actress. Got all that?

Craig is White and Hampton is Black. The scene is written so that Hampton seizes on Craig’s WASP- prudence and asks him colour-entendre questions like,“So, do you want to play? And I’m not talking about backgammon.” .....Craig says he hasn’t seen a black penis like Hampton’s “since I was in South Africa in the Peace Corps!”.... Hampton tells Craig, “Let me hit that [a$$] for a little while.” It’s all supposed to be 'hot' and about dick jokes. The script says Hampton opens the refrigerator door and the door blocks his manhood while Craig reminisces about South Africa. Yaaaaawn.

They've been trying to cast the Hampton role for 3 weeks. I was the only Black actor there with a group of other actors trying out for various roles in the pilot. The show is being marketed to premium cable. ‘Queer as Folk’ has definitely showed some actors the profitability of playing gay, so the aesthetics of the actors looks were a lot looser from what I saw. All of the 'American Pie’-types have bangs now and the skinny jeans; they’re all ready to play gay now. It’s a revisionist -‘70s porn look. The ripped-jean cliché look of the early ‘90s is finally releasing its grip on these guys.

My reaction, unstated, to the material was true disappointment, reading for a role requiring frontal nudity and yet another black-man-seduces-a-repressed-white-guy role. I’ve been in this business since I was 15, reading for adult roles since I was 20. The dialogue was nothing a handier porn actor couldn’t handle and ad-lib. There's no challenge or interesting way to portray a superficial, look-how-big-it-is! Interracial relationship. There’s no heat or cleverness in the scene. The only interesting thing about the character is that he’s a rich, black soap opera star.

I did the scene the first time and the director, reading with me, stayed against the wall. I’m supposed to tease and grab him. The director didn’t move so I stepped from my mark, walked up to him and grabbed him by the shirt with three stage pulls and started fiddling with his shirt buttons. He got flustered and uttered a stream of shocked moans to where it was obvious it wasn’t planned. The crew and the production people in the audience all started laughing and that was the moment I played. He wanted the conquering attitude to his comic befuddlement and that’s just what he got. It played well and is probably what I’ll be remembered most for in that audition.

When we were done the director mentioned that I’d stepped from my light. I cheerfully reminded him that I'd said I was sunblind from outside. He knew I'd stepped off if my mark to bring him to me. I don’t think a few steps made any difference and if you can’t see me and remember what I did then I don’t get the part is all. Frontal nudity isn’t going to happen with me anyway.

Callbacks are next week and shooting would start in early September. The next scene, where Hampton apologizes for the Palm Springs incident, went fine and they thanked me. I said a little to Ramona on my way out and went home feeling I’d wasted my time. 31 years old in the 21st Century and I can’t get past poorly written sex comedies? Honestly. I tried to picture Sidney Poitier doing this if he were time traveling into the 2000's as a young man. I couldn't see it.

[2010 note: The pilot never made it to production. I didn't get a callback. It all worked out!]

L.A. 2001: Journals, Post # 11

June 2, 2001: On a break at the marketing agency....some of the temps were talking about the similarities between the O.J. trial and the latest tacky murder case re: Robert Blake’s wife. One of the temps, a model, said O.J. used to come into the clothing store where she worked. Orenthal needed a stool to sit and shop on because of his arthritis and he'd request her help by asking her co-workers,“Where’s that slim-hipped gal?”

My temp agency left a message that my assignment has been extended and I’m doing a great job. I accepted the extension. Bebbles got a gig with a medical company.

June 10, 2001: Finished my assignment where I represented Texaco as part of a national campaign. I handled over 1,000 pieces of mail for the campaign and 400 accounts in 6 days.

June 14, 2001: On a temp job at Midway Hospital working for the CEO and COO. My manager here is a nice woman who has been doing this for a while. She’s getting her degree online and is very helpful. She told me to slow down my work pace with, “Slow down. I want to keep you for a couple of days. Stretch it out!” She’s cheerful and we get along.

June 16, 2001: Bebbles and I saw Tomb Raider, which nearly put me to sleep although Angelina Jolie has presence that impresses and it's her showcase. The only Black actor in it is a late 30-ish/early 40-ish dude… maybe that’s why I couldn’t get an interview for that one. My Midway job got extended by 7 days. I don’t begrudge having to temp. I’m where I’m supposed to be and I’m getting the opportunities. By the fall I’ll be doing what I want to do.

June 21, 2001: My next temp gig is already set: back to the marketing firm. Six days.They’re giving me my own office, three phones and a computer.

June 22, 2001: A production coordinator I met at the CBS-Radford lot during the Columbia College opening called me today. Her name is *Ramona* and I know her from our radio associations in Chicago with WGCI-FM. She was a prolific producer there for disc jockeys Tom Joyner and Doug Banks.

Ramona said she's working on a pilot here in L.A. that they want to shop to pay cable and "there really is a part you’d be great for." The pilot commitment is for 3 episodes; the show is like a multi-sexual Sex & the City. Ramona said, "You’d read for the character of *Hampton*: he’s the Hot one, nice physique, very handsome. Hampron is a bisexual soap opera star who has been with women and men but really just wants someone to love!” Ramona spoke to the director already and he’ll see me for an audition tomorrow at Gardiner Studios.

L.A. 2001: Journals, Post #10: Crewbies on San Vicente

June 1, 2001: I’m on my 2nd temp assignment and doing great. I didn’t get the job at D.D.T., but I’m with Thomas Staffing now and doing well on my assignments. I’m at a marketing firm on San Vincente this week.

I’m on an extended break in a conference room with the other temps. We’re waiting for some Fed-Ex paperwork until we can start on our next round of work. One of the temps, *Suzzy*, has done a lot of past film work and keeps saying to any of us, ‘I need a break. I really need a break.” Her major credits are close to 20 years old: the original Quest for Fire and The Hotel New Hampshire. She knows she has to start over since it's been so long; she parrots what everyone in our group says and if she does this all the time then it’s no surprise that she can’t get work. The industry thrives on information, leads and directives – if you can’t retain it and get things accomplished because you’re stuck begging the same points, then you get left behind.

Suzzy worked on a lot of David Croenberg films, like Rabid, The Brood, Scanners and Videodrome. She worked with Marilyn Chambers on Rabid and says Marilyn “was weird and kept taking off her clothes. She was very sexual, not vis-à-vis with me, but in general.” She said she’d go to tell Marilyn something in her trailer and Marilyn would be holding her leg up, shaving from calf to pubis, listening professionally and cheerfully.

Suzzy tells us that Deborah Harry was “great” to work with on Videodrome and that “James Woods was great…very to himself, a loner. He’s a Method Actor, baby!” Suzzy also liked Samantha Eggar from The Brood, says she was a nice person.

On our breaks here, we temps talk about the bottom line of trying to make a mark in the Industry and how that is done: networking, following your leads, staying on top of things, and sticking it out. Suzzy has worked in Canada the most, has a Masters from a California university and yet she told one of the guys here that she doesn’t know how to drop off a resume with a production company. It’s amazing that she’s been picking this boy’s head for 70-plus minutes – all to find out how to get a resume somewhere. It boggles the mind.

Another temp has come in to work with us. She’s *Tina*, a bold assistant director who entered talking. She’s been out of work for 5 days. She’s talking to Suzzy and the other crew-bies. Tina announces, “It’s all about money, people, connections, presence- and it is tough.”

Her listeners agree and Tina adds, “book-knowledge will get you nowhere in the movie business, in and of itself.” The other non-industry temps are laughing because they’ve heard every word of this 105-minute conversation. Suzzy is their comic relief because she keeps repeating questions. One of the temps says, “Suzzy should be a reporter, she keeps asking all the questions.”

The conversation is now about the Directors Guild of America. You need 600 days on-set and have to pay $5000 in dues to become a union A.D., according to Tina. It sounds convoluted to many and is a passionate topic for them. The crewbies are so loud but to their credit they are sharing a lot of information.

Tina says that one of her first jobs on a movie set called for her to go get the lead actor, a beloved ethnic actor-dancer-singer, from the honey wagon trailer. She knocked on the door and didn’t get a response. She opened the door and he was having sex with one of the female crew members on the sink. Tina closed the door, kept it to herself and said she was traumatized to have her first encounter with Icon Man happen in such a crazy way. Tina says to us that she didn’t know what was worse, that he was cheating on his wife or that he was tacky enough to have sex with a woman in a bathroom trailer. The Iconic Triple Threat never mentioned the snafu and she was relieved. One of the temps asks Tina the race of the crew member; Tina tells her, punctuated with a grim-faced gravitas, as one does when relaying unpleasant news.

One of the marketing managers comes into the conference room apologizes to us for the wait and buys us lunch. Tina begs him for a Scooby Doo stuffed animal – she was up for the crew on that shoot. He gives it to her and she clutches it as if Scooby is real. Tina puts Scooby in his own ergonomic chair and is back to set stories, singling out a blonde actor, the son of a media mogul, with: “Nepotism is insane! The son is so ugly! The camera so hates him!”

Lunch arrives and another temp says she is an actress, writer and SAG-eligible thanks to recent extra work. “I’m also AFTRA from being a TV reporter in San Diego. I got fired,” she says sweetly. She seems very professional and solid which makes her firing seem, on the surface, like it wasn't for how she reported the news. The Crewbies tell her that they think it costs $5000 to join SAG, which isn’t true. It’s funny how little the separate functions know of other unions. I’m the quiet one here, writing in my journal. I’m the reporter here today, for myself, and we’re all in the same boat: in transition.

L.A. 2001: Journals, Post #9

May 18, 2001: The Beverly Hills gig was a false start but I have interviews lined up. First one is in the Valley with *D.D.T.*, a porn-studio rival of Vivid Video. They need a PR person. I know no one in my family over 49 yrs. old would like it but why not work in PR where I have experience and know the industry also? I did a major college paper on the porn industry and I temped at a porn studio a few years ago.

The classified ad was legit and they can more than match what I was making. The average adult entertainment company, office-wise, wants a violence-free environment and serious guys who aren't there expressly to get laid or wasted. I'm strong, stable and know the corporate aspects of the business. Everything I learned was learned behind the scenes, the ideal way to learn anything. If it's not in the cards for me to get this PR gig then that will conclude my adult industry experience.

The ad was in the L.A. Daily News, a paper I never read but bought the other day for the classifieds. Once I got the D.D.T. interview I got an Adult Film Guide for $9.95 and educated myself about D.D.T. and learned their key components. Drafted and faxed the cover letter and I got my chance.

My second interview is with Thomas Staffing, a temp agency. They bought out London Temps, where I used to be registered.

May 24, 2001: My interview with the adult video company was two days ago. I did fine. I interviewed with *Howdy Patterson*, a pale, burly Joe Eszterhas type with a feathered brush-cut. He looked like what he is: a financially secure porn producer in the Valley. His office was painted and lit like a stoner's room. I sat on a leather sofa opposite the desk.

Howdy said "I was impressed right away with your cover letter.Your resume doesn't refer to your adult entertainment work." How could it? I ran it down and made him laugh more than several times. He saw that I knew what I was talking about and am progressive.

He said he needs help with handling the media calls and dealing with their press releases and roster biographies. "I may ask you to write me a 2500-word history on our film releases," he mentioned. We talked more about the job. I knew before he said it that D.D.T. is known for their strong directors [former '70s and '80s xxx-actors], strong distribution, mail order division and profits ---especially after the $3 general cost of a video before pricing.

Howdy was surprised I remembered the FCC rulings in 1985 and he smiled ruefully with aggressive nodding when recalling it. The job pays about $1600 for the first month and then there's a raise commensurate with experience and progress. There's two other people he needs to see. I did my best and it's up to their choice. You chop the trail as you go.