During the early 1990's, I had an agent for work in film and television. One night, she called me with a proposal. There was a film that was being planned for Charleston and Savannah. I asked her what the film was called, and she said "something Gump". I asked who had been cast for the film, and she told me that Sally Field had. The part that was being offered to me was of a man sitting on a park bench next to the male lead. At that time, the male lead had not been cast. I asked my agent what the film was about, and she said that it was about the South in the 50's and 60's. So, Sally Field was in it. I had worked with Burt Reynolds in "Semi-Tough" and had not had a favorable impression of him. Sally Field had done the "Smokey and the Bandit" films with him. I just thought this "Gump" movie would be a redneck movie about the South, so I turned it down. I asked my agent what else she had, and she said there was a movie being filmed in Columbia called "The Program". I asked her what that was about, and she said college football and steroids. That sounded more interesting, and I wouldn't have to travel, so I took that. By the way, every actor has a story like that where they passed on a project that would later turn out to be a hit and instead took a job where the film was not as good.
My friend Del and I were cast as football fans. The job was kind of like the one I had in "Semi-Tough", where they moved us around the stadium, depending on the game. It was November and very cold.
One of the stars of the film was Halle Berry. It was one of her first roles. She played a college student tutoring Omar Epps. At the time, she was married to David Justice who played baseball for the Atlanta Braves. He came over from Atlanta one day to visit her. During a break in the filming, I went over to David and we talked about baseball. All of a sudden, Halle Berry came over to where we were and pulled him away. She was mad and told him that he should be talking with her. He said he was just talking with me about baseball, but she said she didn't care and that I was nobody. It was obvious who wore the pants in that marriage. They got divorced a few years later. We were to shoot a scene that afternoon, where Halle would introduce Omar to the actor playing her father. All she had to say was "This is my father". 22 takes later, we lost the sunlight and had to come back the next day for her to get it right.
After seeing the film in the theater, there were huge continuity problems. The biggest was one of the games. They wanted to film an actual game during the football season to get the flavor of excited fans. The game they chose was a South Carolina-Tennessee game. The game was in September, and the fans were in short sleeves. By the time they filmed us in November, it was cold and people had on winter coats. So, one side of the stadium had summer clothing, and the other side had winter clothing. It was as if there was a 50 degree change from one side to the other. Also, those fans were wearing garnet or orange. Neither team on the field wore those colors. It was as if those fans showed up at the wrong game. There were other errors, but that was the worst.
James Caan was also in the movie, but he came in for a week of filming after most everyone else had left. So, I didn't get to work with him.
As for my agent, she left town with money from her clients including me. I guess that was for the best.
Friday, October 26, 2018
Monday, October 15, 2018
Ginger
In 1991, I sent a letter to an actress named Ginger Lynn Allen. It was mostly a letter to sign up for her fan club. She had been an adult film actress, and had done some mainstream roles too. She responded to my letter, and I was put on her mailing list.
As time went on, we became friends, more than just a fan to her. She had recorded a 12" dance single, which was never released. She sent me three of the records. I gave two of them as Christmas presents. I kept the third, which was autographed to me. A few years later, a record producer in California contacted me about letting him borrow the record. It seems that he had heard about Ginger's record and had contacted her about releasing it on a compilation cd. She told him that I was the only one that she knew that had a copy of it. So, I asked her permission and sent it to the producer. He released the cd, and I got a credit on the booklet.
I got Christmas presents from her each year, including a teddy bear one year. It sits in my living room today. I told her early on that I would not judge her for her work. I knew that was just her job, and she was not like that in real life. After a few years, I shared the gospel with her, and she accepted it. I also helped her with a charity close to her heart--cystic fibrosis.
She also was engaged to Charlie Sheen. I knew that was not the best relationship to have, but sometimes love is blind. After they broke up, and he married Denise Richards, Ginger was going through her attic and came upon some of Charlie's clothes. She asked me what she should do about the clothes. I told her not to give them back to him, but rather sell them to make money for her charity. She did just that.
When I moved into my apartment in 1994, Ginger was one of the first people to call and congratulate me on my new digs. We didn't talk long, but it was great to hear from her. In 2009-10, I was homeless. I will talk about that more in depth later, but Ginger was very helpful in keeping my head in the game. Her support helped me in not giving up on myself. And, I supported her when she contracted cancer. We are a mutual support bond.
Even though we are 3000 miles away, we still have a bond. Friendship is something between two people. I am glad I can call her my friend.
As time went on, we became friends, more than just a fan to her. She had recorded a 12" dance single, which was never released. She sent me three of the records. I gave two of them as Christmas presents. I kept the third, which was autographed to me. A few years later, a record producer in California contacted me about letting him borrow the record. It seems that he had heard about Ginger's record and had contacted her about releasing it on a compilation cd. She told him that I was the only one that she knew that had a copy of it. So, I asked her permission and sent it to the producer. He released the cd, and I got a credit on the booklet.
I got Christmas presents from her each year, including a teddy bear one year. It sits in my living room today. I told her early on that I would not judge her for her work. I knew that was just her job, and she was not like that in real life. After a few years, I shared the gospel with her, and she accepted it. I also helped her with a charity close to her heart--cystic fibrosis.
She also was engaged to Charlie Sheen. I knew that was not the best relationship to have, but sometimes love is blind. After they broke up, and he married Denise Richards, Ginger was going through her attic and came upon some of Charlie's clothes. She asked me what she should do about the clothes. I told her not to give them back to him, but rather sell them to make money for her charity. She did just that.
When I moved into my apartment in 1994, Ginger was one of the first people to call and congratulate me on my new digs. We didn't talk long, but it was great to hear from her. In 2009-10, I was homeless. I will talk about that more in depth later, but Ginger was very helpful in keeping my head in the game. Her support helped me in not giving up on myself. And, I supported her when she contracted cancer. We are a mutual support bond.
Even though we are 3000 miles away, we still have a bond. Friendship is something between two people. I am glad I can call her my friend.
Thursday, October 4, 2018
Martha Franks
It was 1994. Taking care of my parents was taking its toll. Every time the phone would ring at work, my first thought was something had happened to Mother or Daddy. Most of the time, it was something else. Daddy was becoming increasingly forgetful. He would go visit someone at the hospital and forget where he parked in the garage. He would go to the wrong level and then think his car had been stolen. He became a regular with hospital security. They would take him up the levels until they found his car. He was also getting into minor fender-benders. Mother was getting around better from her stroke, but she had to use a walker. My brother and I decided that we had to take the car keys away from Daddy. He cried a lot about that. I had to do the grocery shopping, because we just couldn't let him drive.
An option came our way. Since Daddy was a Baptist minister, they could get into Martha Franks Retirement Center in Laurens, SC. It was run by the SC Baptist Convention. In order to get money for their move, we had to sell the house, their two cars, and most of their stuff. We got an auctioneer to come and sell the stuff in an Estate Sale. On the day of the sale, I went around to prospective buyers and told them the history of the pieces. The prices they paid got to be a little bit more with my stories. Yes, I could sell. After all, I was in retail.
My brother and I drove our parents to Laurens, which was about 70 miles away. I drove Mother, and my brother drove Daddy. Mother was resigned to the move. She knew she could no longer stay in the house. Daddy cried all the way there, because he was going to miss his friends. He cried for 3 months after moving in but got more used to it, because he had friends there too. Later on, he found to love Martha Franks as did Mother.
I had to find an apartment to live in, since the house was being sold. I found one at Ravenwood Apts. in Forest Acres, about 10 minutes from work. It was a two-bedroom which worked well, because I had so much memorabilia and records. My last day in the house was my birthday. June 17th. It is kind of funny how one can equate a date with something else. I was in the den, lying on the floor, watching my 13" TV. All of the networks were showing one thing--the low-speed chase of the police and OJ Simpson.
I was not part of the sale of our house. I left that up to my brother and the real estate company, so I didn't know who bought it other than it was a couple from Charlotte. A couple of years later, I was working in the TV Department at Rich's. One Saturday, a woman came in to buy a TV. As I was putting her information into our computer, I asked her for her address for delivery. She said: "1810 Belmont Drive". I added before she could say: "29206". She was surprised I knew where her house was, and I explained that was my parents' house where I grew up. She proceeded to tell me about all the stuff that was wrong with the house that she and her husband had not been told about. Things like the den's toilet overflowing due to roots in the line; the crack down the wall of my old bedroom because of the weight of my records that messed up the foundation; and the drain in the patio outside that floods the den when it rains. I just said I was sorry.
An option came our way. Since Daddy was a Baptist minister, they could get into Martha Franks Retirement Center in Laurens, SC. It was run by the SC Baptist Convention. In order to get money for their move, we had to sell the house, their two cars, and most of their stuff. We got an auctioneer to come and sell the stuff in an Estate Sale. On the day of the sale, I went around to prospective buyers and told them the history of the pieces. The prices they paid got to be a little bit more with my stories. Yes, I could sell. After all, I was in retail.
My brother and I drove our parents to Laurens, which was about 70 miles away. I drove Mother, and my brother drove Daddy. Mother was resigned to the move. She knew she could no longer stay in the house. Daddy cried all the way there, because he was going to miss his friends. He cried for 3 months after moving in but got more used to it, because he had friends there too. Later on, he found to love Martha Franks as did Mother.
I had to find an apartment to live in, since the house was being sold. I found one at Ravenwood Apts. in Forest Acres, about 10 minutes from work. It was a two-bedroom which worked well, because I had so much memorabilia and records. My last day in the house was my birthday. June 17th. It is kind of funny how one can equate a date with something else. I was in the den, lying on the floor, watching my 13" TV. All of the networks were showing one thing--the low-speed chase of the police and OJ Simpson.
I was not part of the sale of our house. I left that up to my brother and the real estate company, so I didn't know who bought it other than it was a couple from Charlotte. A couple of years later, I was working in the TV Department at Rich's. One Saturday, a woman came in to buy a TV. As I was putting her information into our computer, I asked her for her address for delivery. She said: "1810 Belmont Drive". I added before she could say: "29206". She was surprised I knew where her house was, and I explained that was my parents' house where I grew up. She proceeded to tell me about all the stuff that was wrong with the house that she and her husband had not been told about. Things like the den's toilet overflowing due to roots in the line; the crack down the wall of my old bedroom because of the weight of my records that messed up the foundation; and the drain in the patio outside that floods the den when it rains. I just said I was sorry.
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