May 5, 1992
"Where are you from?" was actually one of the first few questions he asked me over the phone. And so me and Ithaca-native, Gerry Gordon, met a few days later at his house. We talked of rolling hills and changing leaves and all the splendor of New York State's Southern Tier.
He didn't want to call. He's very, very busy. But his secretary liked my face, so call he did. And as we discuss the wonders of Route 81, it seems like fate of some sort. (Although as I write this, I'm starting to piece it together. Phil Jordan mentioned that I would get career help from a "Gerald R." Obviously, they are old high-school chums, and Phil got Gerald to call me just to make his prediction come true! Very clever.)
"What do you want me to do for you as your manager?" was the most-important, toughest question, because I honestly don't know. How am I supposed to know what a manager does? I should have said that. I should have said, "I don't know. What can you do?" But I didn't.
So, no decision was made. He kept reiterating how busy he is, and still hinted that he would like to represent me. He has me going for a "test" interview over at L.A. Talent to get some feedback on me.
One possible snag: He does teach his own acting class, and at one
point remarked off-handedly, "I've never represented anybody I
didn't work with." Help. That's the oldest scam in the book, or
in these books I've been keeping anyway. I have been invited to
return to his house on the 14th to witness the upcoming showcase for
his kids. That I shall do. So, for now, we're on hold.