I've been looking back on my adventure in Hollywood, culling pages from my journal...
As August 1991 drew to a close, things were still tumbling around. My Hollywood connection, Kevin, wanted a progress report on the re-write of “Jingle Bell Blues” (the old title of the now-former Pee-Wee Herman script) as he had a pitch meeting with William Morris coming up. He also wanted to pitch a cable comedy featuring comedy troupes (like Style Without Substance), which came out of that comedy festival he attended with me a year earlier. He wanted me to put together a list of groups for him.
I did the New Haven Weekend to visit the pre-production of our TV pilot, “Where’s the Party.” There I managed to be odd-man out the whole time. The group had been there, working together for a week, rehearsing, writing as a team and bonding. And then I rode into town for the last day of rehearsal. I was only staying one night. Then I was going home. I’m pretty sure I was out of vacation days at work, since it was the end of summer. I’m also sure I was the only one with kids, because no one seemed preoccupied or distracted staying in a hotel in New Haven for a week-plus honing comedy material. I wasn’t even going to be there for the actual taping on Monday and Tuesday. My family only had the one car which meant I had left the family with no transportation. And not only didn’t I see the taping, because it was only broadcast locally to New Haven, I didn’t even get to see the show for weeks afterward (My friend from Long Island tried to tape it, since he could sometimes pick up some Connecticut stations from across the LI sound, but it didn’t pan out).
But to the visit itself; The set was amazing, a swanky penthouse apartment. The actors were glorious. A comment I made at a rehearsal became a joke during the taping. I helped with cue cards. I knew I had one pre-taped bit in one show. Maybe part of another, a “Look at Books” segment. I met professional writer Mark O’Donnell (I mean, technically we were co-workers, me and this legend of comedy). I was even offered the chance to be on screen, like some of the other writers. I had to say no because I was leaving before the taping. It was just so breathtakingly show-busy. I was miserable.
The melancholy was strong that weekend. It just reinforced my underlying doubts: On one hand, yes, I was busy, I was writing. Things seemed to be happening, but…I was always at home. I went to Hollywood to deal with a movie studio for two days. The rest of the drama I was experienced was on the phone in my bedroom while my wife put the kids to bed. I was in New Haven, part of the production of a TV show, and yet, I wasn’t. My day job (and total fear of not having an income or medical coverage) prevented be from being a full partner in the project. I was a man without a country; One foot in and one foot out, belonging to neither. None of this is mentioned in the journal but the feelings and sorrow are vivid, as if it were this morning. I can’t count the number of times these feelings would wash over me through the years.
Meanwhile, my meeting with my friend Glenn was with a guy named Bob Shapiro, some hot-shot writer/producer (of informercials). He wants to buy an old skit of mine, “Cap’n Queeg Cereal” (a mash-up of Cap’n Crunch and “The Caine Mutiny”) which fits right in with his whole movie parody TV-show premise. And by “buy” he meant “option” it (for something) and make up the difference if the pilot sells (spoiler alert: it doesn’t).
As all that wound down, there was some decent press and ratings for “Where’s the Party,” so that was still in play. Or so we thought…
As all that wound down, there was some decent press and ratings for “Where’s the Party,” so that was still in play. Or so we thought…
