May 26, 1998
There was a period of time when I was relatively new to Los Angeles and was trying to make some headway into the acting business, when I would periodically attend what are politely referred to as "workshops." The basic premise is that a casting director shows up for a meeting with a dozen or so actors. All of them have paid a fee to be there. They each get a chance to do a scene for the casting director and if all goes well, the ultimate goal is for the casting director to then call them in for a real audition for a real role in whatever project he or she might be working on.
Today was different.
For nearly seven years now, I have focused considerable effort on one goal-- getting auditions. Doing the showcases was one way of pursuing it. Trying to get a good agent is ultimately a pursuit for more auditions. Doing plays, sending out postcards, calling up casting friends. It's because each audition is a precious gift full of possibilities, and so 100% of my mental energies has been put to that end. Imagine my delight, then, to be sitting with the development executives for the American Broadcasting Company as they told me they wanted to go to work for me to basically get me some great auditions!
So let's go back to the beginning of this. It starts at the Hanleys Lunch as my agents, Joel and Nina, and I discussed the offer that ABC had put forth to us, that is that they wanted to make an "overall deal" with me. Of course, that phrase meant basically nothing to me, but to have the words ABC, deal, and me in the same sentence sure sounded intriguing. "We'll meet with them and they'll they us what they have in mind for you and we'll see how much they offer and then decide whether it's worth it to take you off the open market." Those are the steps, I guess. Easy as one, two, three. That, however, was a month ago. It's been a long wait for step one to happen. But today it did.
Joel, Nina, and I met for lunch today to lay down our game plan. Or so I thought. We really didn't have a game plan. Today's lunch was mostly to hang out and chat before the meeting. As they had said before, the first move was ABC's. Our mission today was to go into that office, smile, and listen. It was up to ABC to make the pitch.
Yes, it was up to ABC to make the pitch. I have paid money to be one of a dozen actors pitching my little heart out for a chance, slim as it may have been, to possibly read for the one-line assistant D.A. role in the newest Movie-of-the-Week. I have mailed out tens of thousands of postcards in the last six years to pitch whatever equity-waver show Larry Toffler was kind enough to put me in that month, so that maybe one person would come to the show and like me enough so that I could be the student who puts a piece of paper on Jon Lovitz's back. I know pitch-making. I have made the pitch in my day. Today it was up to ABC to make the pitch.
Joel, Nina, and I drove over to ABC Entertainment Plaza together for our 3:30pm appointment. We first sat down with Donna Rosenstein and Eric Mathre, the heads of casting. Eric has been a supporter for a while, having even visited this very website. And Donna, it turns out, is a graduate of SUNY Binghamton, which I guess is some sort of pre-requisite to work in network casting (see also Jeff Meshel meeting). This casual chit-chat came to an abrupt halt, however, when the big guns entered the room, the top brass, the big cahuna -- Suzanne Bukinik, Executive Director of Comedy Programming. She strikes fear in the hearts of all and woe be unto those who stand in her way.
Actually, Suzanne is a friend of mine, but when she arrived with Stephanie Liefer, Director of Drama Programming, that was really when the serious discussions began. The premise is basically this: They liked what I did in The Hanleys. They want me to reproduce that magic in a future ABC production and only an ABC production. They are not going to just drop me into a new show, however. This is not a development deal. It's simply an arrangement where they set me up to audition for the specific writers and producers of their new shows for the next year. In return for them putting me near the top of their respective lists, I agree to stay off any other network's lists. All this applies for a year from the date on which the contract is signed.
And, oh, yes, did I mention there's some money involved here as well? No, ABC won't take a cut of my income in exchange for their services, even though they are acting somewhat like an agent/manager. And no, I don't pay them $25 each time I meet a new casting director, which is the standard "workshop" fee for the privilege of getting in front of someone new. And no, I don't have to put up a fraction of the production costs, or put an ad in the trades, or send out postcards, or beg my friends to come support my show. No, this time they pay me to hang around and be there if they need me. This time is different than anything I have experienced in the last seven years. And it's pretty cool.
The specifics of the deal are the stuff of agents and phone calls and negotiations and such, and none of that was discussed today. But to focus on that would miss the point. In the fall of 1991, I jumped into the sea of people in Los Angeles, almost all of which, it seemed, had a dream of being "an actor." An awesome support system? Occasionally. But more significantly, having so many people chasing such an intangible dream with such a wide range of commitment and attention, turns the word "actor" into a dirty word, a punch line, a sick joke that is most often followed by excuses and explanations, stories of day jobs, and a shared frustration.
But for today, for one day, for one hour-long meeting, at least, the
people in that office took a real interest in what I had to offer as an actor.
They actually sought my services and commitment to them as such. And
it doesn't mean I now have a fabulous career laid out in front of me,
but for one brief, shining moment I didn't have to apologize for what
I do. I didn't have to giggle when I announced my career choice. I
didn't have to explain how I support myself while I pursue my dream.
And as I was leaving, Carolyn Ginsburg, VP of Comedy Programming,
made me ABC's first tangible offer. I didn't check with my agent
because I didn't think it was a binding contract. I simply agreed and
shook hands, and then accepted from her a down-payment on a future of
possibilities: a lollipop.