Articles by Gary Shusett
(Edited by Christine Owens)
THE 2010 AWARD SEASON &
THE SECRET GROUP OF 10
WHO EXPERIENCED THE EVENING OF THEIR LIVES
Starring James Cameron, Brad Pitt, Quentin Tarantino,
Kathryn Bigelow, Danny Boyle, Jeremy Renner, Christopher Waltz,
Lee Daniels, Mark Boal, and the Secret 10
In Hollywood, each new award season unfolds in layers not unlike the seasons most exciting and eagerly anticipated salacious novel.
First, before the film even comes out there seems to be a hype regarding its artistic merits. Then, we have the Hollywood premiere and the reported box office and the records it might shatter.
Finally, the first nominations, some are expected, and some are missing in action. This best picture number was twice as large this year and several smaller film entered the running.
As of January of every year, very quickly, nearly all the critical awards are announced. The first grand event is the Golden Globes. Many are called and almost as many are chosen with its oh so numerous categories. Many call it the great predictor of who will win the coveted Oscar. Although this is not always the case, for example, back in 2009, the case of Golden Globe best actor went to Mickey Rouke and then the Oscar went to Sean Penn.
In 2010, there were two side bars of secondary interest. The first is a formerly married couple (James Cameron and Kathryn Bigelow) seem to be vying for best picture and best director. Kathryn Bigelow had worked so very hard for over 20 years toiling away on some amazing films but with exception of Pointe Break, most had received very little attention. While her ex-husband, James Cameron had taken the lead to become the biggest commercial director of all time with his Titanic success. And perhaps the most interesting and un-Hollywood aspect is during the 2010 award season, they actually seem to be rooting for one another and seemed appreciative if the other wins. James Cameron’s Avatar beat every record and again re-affirmed him as the most successful box-office director of all time. And although Mr. Cameron won the Golden Globe for best director, Kathryn Bigelow became the first female ever to win the Oscar for best director and also received the best motion picture of the year for her film, The Hurt Locker.
Then, the most intriguing story is what transpired in the category of best adapted screenplay. This category is about who wrote the best screenplay that was adapted from a book. The two writers who wrote Up in the Air won nearly every award show including one from the Writer’s Guild and the coveted Golden Globe. They were everywhere. It seemed as if they were a “shoe in” to win the Oscar, the ultimate climax for every filmmaker. Yet, instead there was a massive upset when Harvard-educated Geoffrey Fletcher, writer for Precious: Based on the Novel Push by Sapphire won the Academy Award for the best adapted screenplay completely unexpected.
Even Mr. Fletcher seemed shocked, who had mentioned on the red carpet that he had no speech written since he was not expecting to win. His honesty became apparent as he stood nearly speechless after they announced his name as winner of the Academy Award for best adapted screenplay.
Geoffrey Fletcher is an inspiration for screenwriters everywhere. He has spent years toiling behind the scenes, working for such heavyweights as Martin Scorsese and Spike Lee. He also has the prestigious adjunct professor of film at both Columbia University and New York University. So this is a well deserved award for Mr. Fletcher.
Now, the identity of our mystery group will be revealed.
Typically, the stars and celebrities of every award shows are the nominees. Then, there are the powerhouses that include the president of the studios and distribution companies who also attend. The celebrities tend to be guarded by their agent, public relations representative, producer and/or significant other. Seeing them is one thing but talking to them is whole other matter. However, on this particular evening, a small group met and exchanged pleasantries with almost all the nominees and powerhouses including James Cameron, Quentin Tarantino, Danny Boyle, Kathryn Bigelow, Lee Daniels, Mark Boal, Jeremy Renner, and many other celebrities such as award-winner Christopher Waltz, Sam Worthington, Ed Lauter, Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie.
Surely, this group of 10 must have been pretty important. Well, maybe they will be. It happened to be the 10 up and coming Sherwood Oaks writers/filmmakers who shared a table that night. They were fortunate to meet the best in their field. Perhaps in their dreams, each of the ten up and coming filmmakers hopes to stand on the stage one day to win their own coveted film award.
**********************
**********************
“Can You Please Try and Run Things Properly Tonight”
A question offered by a feature film producer and Sherwood Oaks instructor
One of my favorite teachers was producer, James Harris, but I had a great sympathy for him. It seems that often when James came to teach no matter how hard I tried something would be amiss.
For instance, I can still recall a particular evening when James was to teach; it so happened that our technical expert was out sick that day. So I had no choice but to take his place. Most of the evening was not complicated. In the school’s largest room, we had a makeshift PA system. This entailed a system that was part of a “sophisticated” tape recorder; it even had a very special echo knob on it. Before the class began, I peeked into the room and saw it was a packed crowd to a capacity of over 300 enthusiastic writers and filmmakers.
James popped his head behind the curtain, just before the class was to begin and leaned towards me. I was frantically fiddling with the “complicated” systems, but tried to look confident. James whispered desperately, “For goodness sake Gary, I have a very important guest tonight, please keep it together, I don’t want to be embarrassed again.” My reassuring response was “No problem James, it will be fine.” I turned up the volume. Then, I fiddled with each knob for a last minute adjustment hoping that I knew what I was doing.
Shortly, I could her James’ footsteps as he approached the mike and spoke. “Hello I’m producer, James Harris … Harris … Harris.” Oh no, the echo was still on the PA system. “Gary … Gary … Gary, what’s going on … on … on.” He stormed behind the back curtain, “Gary, what are you doing? I warned you.” Eventually, frustrated, I turned the makeshift PA off, it was hard to hear but better than hearing James’ words being repeated. I did give James lozenges after he was done speaking.
Before I knew it, a week passed and James was to teach again, but thank goodness, this week, it was a smaller class. And, Sam, our technical expert, was present to manage the sound system. James gave me a dirty look before the class. He didn’t have to say a word. It was obvious how he felt about me.
I felt fairly relaxed as I introduced his class and spoke about the subjects to be covered during the evening. We were audio taping each class and we felt that it was important every person could be heard clearly. I was carefully watching to make sure that things were running smoothly. Suddenly, I noticed that James’ goose-neck microphone was pointed away from him. I tried to motion him so that he would bend the microphone towards him. He had no idea what I meant and was somewhat annoyed that I was distracted him. Finally, after 15 more minutes passed, I could hardly wait another second. I just had this yearning to fix the problem. I slowly crept up to James’s microphone. I then grabbed the adjustable goose head microphone and bent it towards him. It was very difficult to bend. James made every attempt to wave me away. I knew that I had to make a move immediately. Suddenly and swiftly, I furiously grabbed the microphone and with all my might bent it downwards. It worked but I think that it worked too well. I stepped back to admire my work. I heard repressed laughter from the students in the first row. Upon closer examination, I could see the microphone now pointed directly as James’ crotch. Soon the entire room was full of screaming laughter. I knew that I had reached a new low with James and his face turned bright red.
Twenty years later, thank goodness, James remembers these events with a smile and a shaking of his head.
***********************************************************************
OH NO, I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU’RE STILL DOING THAT SCHOOL
Who’s the most famous actor in the world? Maybe Brad Pitt, Tom Cruise, or Johnny Depp? In 1976, a young actor-writer would who almost instantly rose to worldwide fame was a Sherwood Oaks student. How did this happen and who was that man?
Here’s his story at Sherwood Oaks. I first became aware of him when our scheduled guest for the week was the legendary actor, Steve McQueen. This young student desperately wanted to see McQueen in person because McQueen was his hero. His plea was so passionate that I couldn’t help but let him into a class that was not only sold out but there was standing room only and was concerned about the fire chief coming down on me about the overflowing students.
Several weeks later, the student approached me again and thanked me for the opportunity to meet his hero. Now, he had a new request. Sherwood Oaks was offering a class with “New Successful Screenwriters.” But this time, he wanted to be a guest speaker. We always made an effort to be very careful who would be teachers or guests at school and that they had real success. I needed more information, so I peppered him with a few queries. “So have you ever sold anything you have written?” “Yes”, he shot back. “Do you mind if I ask if anyone has ever made a film from any of your material?” He replied with great pride, as a matter of fact, they are shooting something right now.”“Congratulations, so who is starring in the film?” He hesitated and then sheepishly admitted, “The lead actor would be me.” This hardly seemed like a Sherwood Oaks professional Hollywood guest so I inquired again to make sure that I heard him correctly, “What? Are there any other names in the cast?” Then, he quietly responded, “Not really.” His credibility as a filmmaker was growing weaker by the minute. I was about to pass when he volunteered to bring a clip. Somehow it didn’t seem like he would make such an offer if he didn’t have a clip. After a few moments of contemplation, I tentatively decided to take a chance and let him come and talk.
But the question still remained, was he involved with a professional production and would anyone ever see the film in the theatre. As my mind raced, I asked him the crucial question; “Do you have distribution?” “Yeah, we are hoping that it will be in a number of theatres across the country”, he stated. Even though what he was saying almost seemed iffy at best, there was something very real about him. So I bypassed the facts and went with my gut. I just hoped he wouldn’t embarrass me or the school. He showed up on the night of this class carrying two reels of film.
When I inquired why two reels, he said one was picture and one was sound. With our decrepit and aged equipment, the school would be lucky if we managed to get either picture or sound to work. But the student preserved and proceeded to get the picture reel ready to be screened. It was black and white, and real grainy, all the character mouthed words which the other students couldn’t hear because of an inability to get the separate sound track working properly. It seemed to be a clip of a guy beating up another guy and although there was no sexual content, but frankly it still seemed reminiscent of a porno trailer.
The only reaction he seemed to receive was a muffled sound of embarrassed laughter from most of the audience. I was beginning to have deep regrets from my decision to have him as a speaker. Thankfully, I made the timely decision to have an intermission break just after the “porno-like” clip ended.
I was kind of hoping that some of the students might leave for the evening.
Suddenly, I noticed one of our older students swiftly making his way towards me with a scowl on his face. As he stood in front of me, he blurted with great annoyance, “What a rip off! I came to see a professional tonight, a successful Hollywood writer but instead you guys provided me with a clip of some dork in shorts and with no shirt jumping around waving his arms and even worse, the guy who wrote this is called Baloney. He seems like he is full of baloney. He’s not a professional writer. Hey, maybe I could be a guest next week.” To tell the truth, at that moment, I kind of agreed with him.
At that point, the angry student demanded his money back. I readily agreed as I took him over to a dark corner to pay him in my attempt to avoid anyone else seeing the transaction. I prayed that few would follow his lead.
After the clip ended and the one angry student left, then we began our lecture, the fact was -- that this “new writer” was a very entertaining and compelling speaker. Not one person left after he began speaking.
I felt as if we just barely got by with the evening.
You might ask if the movie ever got released. Yes. It cost $1M to make. The film took in $225M worldwide while winning the Academy Award for best picture and best director. The film was won a total of 3 Oscars and was nominated for 7 more including best actor and best screenplay. And in the wink of an eye, our little known student became the most famous actor in the world. His name is Sylvester Stallone. Sometimes, I wonder what the man must have thought who got his money refunded that night after “Balony” became an international phenomenon.
Naturally, Sherwood Oaks booked Stallone for our next event, which was our yearly screenwriting weekend. When Sherwood Oaks College announced Stallone was participating then attendance skyrocketed. Sherwood Oaks sold out the academy on Melrose which held an impressive one thousand seats. Stallone’s success was truly contagious.
Sylvester Stallone got the studio to let the school obtain a 35 print of the film. The class panel would include Burt Young, Talia Shire, and the man of the hour, our alumnus, Sylvester Stallone. I would be moderating. I was in ecstasy.
Throughout the writing weekend, Sherwood Oaks College had several great panels planned and guests like Robert Towne, writer of Chinatown, but the big draw was Stallone.
Each day, I gleefully counted down to the magic weekend. Then, one day about three days before the big event, Stallone’s agent called. He hit me with the crushing news that Stallone couldn’t make it. I didn’t take it well; I almost lapsed into a coma-like state. I tried my best to reschedule Stallone for another date, but it was no go. He agent said that he was already double-booked.
My thrilling countdown had changed. It was no longer a march to victory. It had now felt more like I was a man who was walking his very last mile.
The weekend class went well. Sunday was the final night of the class and the much anticipated screening of Rocky. Before the screening, I somberly went to the front of the immense crown to give them the bad news. First, in my most upbeat ethos, I welcomed everyone and thanked them for coming. Then, I sighed and then strategically paused before explaining Talia Shire and Burt Young would speak after the film. However, unfortunately, due to unforeseen circumstances that were beyond my control, Sylvester Stallone could not be present. I was lucky no one had any heavy objects, because the boos that emanated from the unruly crowd reminded me of the Roman Kings giving the thumbs down sign as to whether the gladiators should spare a slave’s life. This was a thumbs-down audience.
I tried to speak but again and again I was drowned out by mob-like sounds coming from the hostile audience. Then, one woman shouted the one thing that struck fear into my heart with the use of the word – R E F U N D. “We want our money back!” Much negative cheering and support ensued. I could be in trouble and bankruptcy crowded my thinking.
Then, another lady in a different spot, but obviously a co-hort of the first lady was equally hostile. She repeated the first woman’s exact words. I made an attempt to address the group but the two ladies alone wouldn’t let me. Finally, in the middle of this horrendous situation, fate intervened and the audience abruptly turned against the twin agitators. Someone in the audience began shouting, “Lady, let him speak”. Another person in the crowd stated, “Yeah, I want to hear what he has to say.” Then, a few others yelled, “Let him speak.”
Silence finally covered the audience. Then, I did make sure I firmly placed my large foot deep into the cavity known as my mouth. “Look I’m just as disappointed as you are that Sly can’t be here. But we will fix that. If I can’t arrange for a makeup session with him within four weeks then we will refund everyone’s money.” The complaining ladies tried to stir up things again, but couldn’t. It appeared that I had temporarily won this round. Then, the two accusatory women went into the lobby and were given a full cash refund and had seen the last of them. Next, I had a volunteer proceed to roll the film.
I was brooding in the small front office as the film, Rocky played the house. The cheering sounds from the crowd were quite a contrast to the previous noise that emoted from the audience. As each popular scene of the film hit the screen, I could hear the enthusiastic crowd cheer. To me each moment seemed like an eternity and was a dreadful reminder that I was now forced to moderate a Stalloneless panel following the end of the film.
The clock wore down to less to ten minutes to doom’s day. I could almost hear the ticking of the clock as I bowed my head down in sheer and eminent defeat. Our PR person, Vickki Arthur stood next to me trying to support me in my moments of self pity. Suddenly, the heavy metal door to the lobby seemed to blow open like it had been set off by dynamite. A very large man burst forth. At first, I was quite annoyed. But barely recovering from the jolt, I suddenly recognized the identity of the bold intruder, it was the one and only Rocky, Mr. SYLVESTER STALLONE himself.
I was on an emotional high; I ran up to Sly and jumped into his arms like a child who had longed to see Santa Claus. His appearance at this moment was better than a child meeting Santa Claus for the first time. No words needed to be exchanged. He was like a guarden angel watching out for me. It felt like a 500 pound weight had been lifted from my mind.
I relayed my plan to our PR woman, Vickki. The idea was to underplay our little surprise and then lay it on the audience in anticipation of creating a special moment. I would go down and introduce the panel. Then, I would casually mention something about an additional guest, Vicki would then walk from the back and very slowly escort Stallone down to the front of the packed theatre to make his grand entrance.
Of all the things I have ever done previously, I somehow got it all together for this one amazing session. I went to the front of the theatre. As I stood on stage, I could feel the energy of the audience was still hyper from the screening even with the disappointing knowledge that the star would not be present that evening. Then, I began introducing the panelists. It was rather reminiscent of introductions of the home team at the finals of the NBA championship. At one end of the panel is Pauley, Mr. Bur-r-r-t Young. Much screaming and cheering ensued. Anchoring the other end is ADRIAN… Miss Talia “Rocky” Shire. Everyone went nuts. Finally, I paused. Then I said, “Oh yeah, I think there may be another person who thinks he belongs up front. Vickki, see if he still wants to come up here?”
At first, Sly and Vickki just stood at the very back of the long auditorium and only the back few rows could see the sudden worldwide celebrity. As the two slowly sauntered down to the stage, passing each aisle, each row turned their heads in awe and then exploded in mania as it seemed that each and every person was shrieking at the top of their lungs. Like a mammoth tidal wave of sound sweeping over the theater. Vickki later said it was akin to walking down a theater aisle next to the President of the United States but even more exciting. Stallone walked to the stage, sat down very calmly & smiled.
“So Sly it’s so nice to have on the panel tonight,” as I exuded from the joy of the moment. Stallone modestly stated, “Yeah, I thought I would drop by talk to everyone.” The entire audience broke in laughter as they were totally tuned into one human being and hung on every word he spoke.
The session was outstanding and a great triumph for the school. And I could finally breathe a gigantic sigh of relief. Fortunately, we got it all on tape. Several weeks later a picture of our panel appeared in People magazine
Just a couple of years ago, I saw Stallone after the premiere of the most recent Rocky. I walked over and shook his hand and said, “Hey Sly, I haven’t seen you in years. I see you're still cooking.” His eyes widened as he recognized me, “Yeah, so what are you doing now?” I said, “The same thing when we first met, Sherwood Oaks.” He came back with his quick wit, “Oh no, can’t believe you’re still doing that school.” I took it as a compliment since it has been over 30 years of doing the school.
Our brief encounter brought back wonderful memories.
Although I had no actual part in creating any of his films, I was very proud of what he had accomplished. I somehow felt the school and I had something to do with his amazing career and his lifetime of Hollywood success. I find it very easy to take great pleasure in others triumphs.
And isn’t that what Sherwood Oaks is really about?
   
***************************
Orson Welles
  
Known for his famous radio broadcast and his film Citizen Kane
Three Close Encounters of a Welles Kind
I would now let it be known to all that I spent years as confidant to the brilliant filmmaker Orson Welles. Welles often sought my advice on key projects. Frankly, sometimes he became somewhat of a nuisance and I had no choice but to avoid him.
Yes, I would like to say that and more, but I would be lying if I did. The truth is I barely knew him. But I treasure even my brief encounters with the man. And with your permission, I would like to relive them with you. I promise that I won't be a nuisance. If that worries you, I would advise you to stop reading now. There will other similar even sillier tales later.
Once upon a time when I was younger, unlikely as it seems even to me now, I somehow found myself in the odd position of becoming a principal at a private high school. No that's not a misprint, but perhaps a mistake.
I admit sometimes I come with some rather strange ideas and fantasies. But even odder is the fact I am not against trying to make a sort of reality out of some of them.
I don't even want to tell you how I became a principal. But, around that time I became aware of Orson Welles fake broadcast on Halloween about Martians invading the earth. In my demented mind, it gave the idea of a creating a fake earthquake radio broadcast. I had no idea how to accomplish something like that. Whom could I possibly contact? There was only one person, Orson Welles. Of course, not knowing him, my attempts were minimal and even I considered them -- futile. I left a phone message with someone whom I thought might be his attorney.
Then, one day on a very hot summer day, I was impersonating an all star basketball player utilizing my limited skills and using the unfair advantage of pitting myself against my high school students. It wasn't really working. They were way better than me. They were the ones that seemed like all stars. But fortunately, I was saved from further embarrassment when the secretary shouted that I had a phone call.
I scampered to my office while trying to catch my breath. When I asked who is on the phone, then the secretary mumbled something about Welles. Oh no, it just couldn't be. Oh wait, it's just my friend Neil trying to be funny. So, between deep breaths, I grabbed the phone, still breathing hard, "Okay Neil, very funny, you know you're completely ruining my basketball game.” It wasn't Neil's voice. Suddenly, the deep voice expressed annoyance. That voice, it can only be one person. The man spoke again. Yes, yes, the impossible had come true.
IT WAS ORSON WELLES HIMSELF! But my dilemma was that I was just too exhausted to speak. I could only manage to say just a couple of words at a time between my deep breaths. I could have said it’s an honor to talk to you or you are truly an amazing filmmaker, but to my despair, I couldn’t even form those words. How did I utilize my words in one of the most important conversation of my life, "Basketball, too tired -- Fake earthquake show" The response was instant and devastating. Orson’s disdain for me was only as he could. Then, the phone went suddenly silent. As a male, I tried to avoid even a hint of tears, this time my tears had their own agenda. I felt that I had missed my one opportunity to communicate with greatness. I feared that it would never come again. Who knows what kind of relationship could have come from that one call. Now an opportunity was gone forever. Stay tuned for more.
My passion and interest in playing principal expired. This time the disappointment, it wasn't resulting from me but from a different source. My students simply had no interest in exploring life and learning from the great ones, but instead were more interested in drugs, sex, and the beach. I learned a lesson. I needed some co-operation to create something that could be worthwhile. I was not going to be able to accomplish anything if my students were not willing participants.
Instead, I would start a new school for adults and I hope willing participants. Hence, my newest creation was Sherwood Oaks Experimental College, a film school. Somehow, it made sense to keep the name of the high school in the title or at least it did to me.
And of course one of the first classes that I offered was the Orson Welles film class. I wanted to have the most talented people that had worked with Welles. Naturally, my fondest wish was to have Welles attend, but I knew I lost that possibility. Some wonderful people participated in the Welles’class but of course, no Welles.
Now, we fast forward three or four years. My venture of creating a film school somehow had become a booming success. We had offices of over 10,000 square feet of classrooms on Hollywood Boulevard. Then, one day while frantically making calls to the rich and famous. Someone rushed in from the front office. Then, a staff member stated quite excitedly, “Gary, guess who is at the Chinese restaurant downstairs?" "Okay I'll bite, who" "Orson Welles." Less than 30 seconds later, I found myself standing in the front room of the restaurant.
As I gazed around the room, I could only see two individuals sitting in the back booth. One person was extremely skinny, pale and 18 years old. The other seemed to be a very rotund person dressed in very tattered clothing, apparently a street person. As I sulked temporarily believing that I missed Orson Welles, they both began to exit the eatery. First, the thin guy, then the street person, limping on a cane as he slowly moved past me. But upon closer inspection, I was shocked and sadden to realize that in fact the second gentleman was the overweight and graying, Mr. Orson Welles, himself. Had fate given me one more shot? Maybe. Welles limped to his car, a 1958 Studebaker; I jogged after him, shouting his name. "Please Mr. Welles, we're just across the street. Just a few minutes to talk to the students." Welles responded using no words, just shaking his cane vigorously as only he could clearly recite a negative response without speaking a word. Still begging I noticed my brother Ron Shusett, walking toward the school. A couple of years later, Ron would gain his own notoriety in the film industry by writing and producing Alien, Total Recall and Minority Report. I waved at Ron and got back to the target at hand. Mr. Welles, I've waited for years, you've got to come and speak to the students. But to no avail, they drove away. I stood for there for a moment in dreary silence.
As I caught up to Ron, he inquisitively asked who in the world was that bum. I blurted out, "Ron, that was no bum. That was ORSON WELLES." Ron just shook his head in the manner of conveying don't be ridiculous.
Over the years, I had more futile attempts to reach Welles, but as least, I had risen in status enough to be able to obtain the phone number of his secretary and hence closer to my target. Then, one day out of the clear blue sky, Welles’ secretary called and asked if I still wanted Orson to come and talk. I worked hard just trying to get my lips to form the word that would clearly indicate that would be a resounding yes. She said Welles was taping a pilot tomorrow at Channel 13. She asked could I somehow get 100 students to show up? I told I could get a thousand if that was what was needed. I only had one request. I wanted to Orson Welles to do a short video interview afterwards. She readily agreed.
That evening, Welles show up nattily attired as possible for a rather large man. He was a terrific speaker. It was gratifying for me after all these years. And our students loved his performance. Now for the ultimate climax, we discovered a small equipment room that would be satisfactory for our momentous taping with Welles. Anticipation is one of the finest things in life, and so it was here. As I gleefully got things ready for taping the Welles’ session then the ghost of disappointment of that certain failed phone call from years back was quickly fading.
We both sat on cushions. I didn't fully grasp the full size of the man till we were literally inches apart. It was a little scary. My first query was “how does a new filmmaker get started?” He retorted, "Get a camera and shoot." Yeah, but then I shot back my next question, “what kind of camera: 8mm, 16mm or 35mm?” He bristled at my comment, raised his voice and waived his arms. It looked like he was a little off balance on his cushion. It was truly frightening since a horrific thought stuck in my mind. I imagined the headline in Variety Magazine, "400 HUNDRED POUND ACADEMY AWARD FILMMAKER CRUSHES SCHOOL DIRECTOR TO DEATH.” In the midst of my true glory, I could have been seriously hurt.
Fortunately, the rest of the interview went very well. The ghost of my devastating phone call to Welles years prior was vanquished forever.
Many years later Welles passed on and, of course, I felt a great loss for all of those who experienced his work. As for me, personally, the moment that stuck in mine most when I first saw Welles sit at the Chinese restaurant and tried unsuccessfully to have him talk to the students.
**************************
**************************
Ellen DeGeneres
  
BEFORE THE FAME / NO Mc DONALDS JOB FOR SCHOOL DIRECTOR
Over the years I tried to attend any kind of award show that I thought I
might meet at least a few known professionals. During the eighties I found
myself going to a rather pleasant show called The American Comedy Awards.
At one show, a young woman rushed briskly by me. To this day, I am not quite sure why she
grabbed my attention. She told me that she primarily did standup comedy but hadn’t done
much acting. My feeling was if she could try acting that it could change her life because she had a real gift.
But she really didn’t put much stock in my appraisal of her. I did feel kind of bad, because it was obvious that I had
offended the woman who was called Ellen, the one we all now know as Ellen DeGeneres.
Several years later, Sherwood Oaks came upon an opportunity. Both Dustin Hoffman and
Alec Baldwin agreed to do a class for us. We scheduled it for the day before my birthday on
Saturday, July 18, my birthday being Sunday July 19. Paramount Studios gave us their new 500-seat
theater to use. Dustin would speak for 4 hours then Alec would have the remaining two hours.
Before we knew it, 300 enrolled in the Saturday extravaganza. We were all anxiously looked forward
to a very special day that would be taking place.
I guess that I was feeling pretty confident in the days that followed, anything seemed possible.
The very next time I saw Ellen, I told her that we would be thrilled if she would
come and speak. Of course, I told her who was attending on Saturday. I think my
joy of the coming program somehow moved her and she agreed to participate.
I explained to her that 500 filmmakers and writers would be in attendance.
We had two speakers on Saturday so she committed to attend on Sunday, July 19th.
I could not help but wonder if a birthday present gets any better that this.
Then, eight days prior to the event Dustin’s secretary called with the startling
news that Dustin could not make it as he was taking his kids on a trip across
the United States, and unfortunately soon after Alec also bowed out.
Ellen’s class was to be held at Raleigh Studios, a smaller space because
I surmised since our two big names dropped out, the number of students attending
Ellen’s appearance that would be significantly smaller.
I tried to mention the change to Ellen’s manager but I was not sure if she
ever got the message. I now began to become very nervous about Ellen’s class
Sunday, July 19, my birthday. It didn’t help when my 75 year-old mother phoned
with the frightening news that she was going to be in attendance to see
her “glamorous son’s” appearance with the TV celebrity. At that point I would have
happily traded my stressful job with anyone working behind the counter at any McDonald’s.
As I crept into the theater, Ellen was just arriving with her manager and
her then girlfriend Anne Heche. As they glanced into the theater and noticed
the skimpy crowd, she twisted her face like she was sucking on a lemon.
I tried my best to be cordial and appeasing. Her manager was irate as he
explained Ellen and Anne were most disappointed and feeling they had been
deceived and as a result, would probably leave shortly.
My birthday was turning out to be anything but fun.
Suddenly, her manager and Anne explained Ellen would speak briefly so as not to disappoint
the meager crowd. I felt as though the governor had just spared me from the chair at midnight
and I was more grateful that the three of them then they would ever come to realize. As everyone settled into
their seat, Ellen and Anne sat down. Ellen chose to sit on the other side of Anne to avoid being too close to
. . . . . . . . . me. I felt guilty but tried my best not to show it. My uncomfortable feelings suddenly greatly
expanded when I could hardly ignore the fact that my own mother had now plunked herself down
into a front row seat smack in front of Ellen. It seemed like a formula for real trouble.
As the crowd began to quiet down, my mother raised her hand. What was I to do? I sensed
that I was heading down the road of no return. I had to call on her, she was my mother.
She rose very slowly and I couldn’t tell if it was because of her age or if she was aiming
for a dramatic effect.
She then turned to face the puzzled crowd and with great pride, announced she
was the mother of Gary Shusett. I sunk very low in my chair, and everything began to blur.
Meanwhile the audience was definitely intrigued, I was mortified. It would continue to get worse.
Going forward, she then explained it was her son, Gary’s birthday and everyone
needed to join her in a rousing stanza of the happy birthday song. I looked over
to Ellen, she swiftly shot back a dirty look. This is what was going on and the
class was only three minutes old, and it was not going that well to say the least. I wasn’t
entirely sure that I could endure the entire day. Now I have to admit to being the target of a
number of humiliating experiences in my life as well also on many of my birthdays. But never have had
I experienced such a humiliating birthday. All I could think about was fantasizing about golden
arches and wearing a McDonalds apron. I just wanted to be anywhere but in that theater at that moment.
I tried to settle down as the seminar proceeded. But I do admit that I was
still somewhat flustered from my mother’s leading the group to sing happy birthday
to me. About fifteen minutes passed, and as I looked over to the side,
Ellen’s manager was frantically giving me the wrap up sign. So I leaned over and said “Anne, I guess you and
Ellen may have to leave soon.” She shot back, “not really.” Okay, Ellen continued talking
as I shook my shoulders in pantomime toward her manager’s seat.
He looked anything but happy. We continued on. It almost seemed Ellen
was beginning to find the experience almost worthwhile, if I might go so
far to say enjoyable. I do know that she seemed to have the
the audience of mostly gay woman mesmerized and hanging on her every word.
Another half hour passed. I was handed a note from the manager.
It read, “Haven’t you done enough damage, this is getting completely ridiculous,
you must stop immediately. I beg you to put an end to this travesty by ending the session now!!”
I tried to be co-operative. I turned to Anne. “Well, it’s really been great having
you. I know you’re really pressed for time.” Anne looked and said, “it’s not a problem.”
Ellen continued. I couldn’t help but sneak a look at the manager. He was becoming furious
and almost a shade of red. I wouldn’t have been that
that surprised to see him charging the stage and begin strangling me,
thank godness he didn’t. Soon after, I eased into ending the session and shook hands with both
guests, but not the manager. There was a good hearted and warm wave of applause by the
extremely appreciative audience. As my mother slowly left,
she nodded an appreciative, well done, son glance.
This time she seemed quite sincere, and she made no attempt for even a minor dramatic effect.
I guess I wouldn’t have to wear that McDonald’s cap after all. Although it did
seem quite an attractive arrangement if I could have gotten those burgers at a discount.
A couple of days later. Ellen’s manager called. “So what’s going on over there?”
as he opened our conversation in an accusative manner. Desperately trying
to present a positive face, I said “just offering our worthwhile events
for film professionals.” “Like whom” he shot back in a hostile tone. “Just whom
have you had in the past?” Without pausing for even a second I casually
replied, Clint Eastwood, Robert DeNiro, Matin Scorsese, Paul Newman, Steven Spielberg.
“Yeah, he battered on, but who recently” “Well, Warren Beatty recently spoke and
also James Cameron and Quentin Tarantino.” Rudely interrupting, he whispered in a
intimidating tone, ‘come on, just level with me. Everything you have said is a falsehood.
And in fact, isn’t Ellen the most famous person you have ever met?” “Well that’s one
perspective.” The next day I sent him copies of photos of more than 100 of Hollywood’s most famous
celebrities often with me in the photo and sometimes with the Sherwood Oaks logo behind us.
I never heard from him again. At that time, I was just beginning to write a
book about my experiences at Sherwood Oaks. What a great line he gave me for
the last sentence of my book.
To this day I occasionally see Ellen at award shows. In spite of the awkward experience,
when I see her, she always acknowledges me in a positive fashion. And I maybe perhaps just
imagine this, but by the slightest twinkle in her eye, I get the idea that she knew that I was one of the
first to recognize her outstanding gifts that she had to offer that allowed to connect to so many people.
In addition, her key role in playing such a significant dent in the wall of prejudice that still exists.
You know… I guess that it really wasn’t that bad of a birthday after all.
*****************************************************************
  
HOW ROD SERLING BROUGHT SHERWOOD OAKS INTO THE TWILIGHT ZONE
When I first met him he was 15 years older than I, and spoke
as a king would speak. I, rarely said no more than a couple words at
a time and few paid attention. I never had the slightest notion that
our paths could for any reason cross.
I met him like most had, as he appeared on the TV screen introducing
his magical series, The Twilight Zone. He alone changed the face of
television as well as myself, forever. I learned more from one insightful
episode than I ever did in four years of high school. You wouldn’t be too far
off to say I verged on worshipping him, he was everything that I wasn’t.
But don’t get me wrong this is no love story.
The worst thing that ever happened to me was public school and
I truly abhorred every minute, from kindergarten to college.
I knew that there must be something better out there. It was the early
70’s and I had little money and didn’t know anyone important.
But that didn’t stop me from starting my own film “school.”
It wasn’t much of a school. We didn’t have grades, campus or paid
employees. Just me and my desire to offer something worthwhile.
Then one day a real estate agent showed me
an abandoned second floor space with a broken escalator.
My one volunteer begrungingly tagged along beside me. It hardly
seemed promising. Finally, he managed to pry open the double glass
glass doors at the top of the stairs, and I barely squeezed through the
entrance to the main room. This huge space held at least 300 people.
The place was a 10,000 beautiful square feet of classroom space.
It was everything that I wanted and my future flashed in front of my
eyes. Could this represent the beginning the realization of my personal dreams.
Truthfully, I wasn’t really sure, but I didn’t plan to be left behind.
On the other hand maybe I was just fantasizing. So without even
asking how much and what were the terms, I blurted out “I’ll take it,
where do I sign?” Then I turned to my trusty assistant just as he was
turning as white as a sheet, obviously he had fears that he would be held as
an accomplice in an impending fraud charge. He never returned. That was okay,
I just dismissed him as a non-risk kind of person. Personally, it seemed more
like an opportunity than a risk. And I really hoped that I was correct.
I figured if I borrowed from my family and friends perhaps I could last
at least one or two months, perhaps by then I could figure out something.
So what was next? I decided to contact the most impressive human
being I ever saw, Rod Serling. In my heart, I realized he didn’t know me at all.
And certainly didn’t have time for someone like me and my make-believe
school. I left a message. Three days passed, it seemed more like
three years. Suddenly on the fourth day, the phone went off like a five-star
fire alarm. I calmly grabbed it during the first half ring. Then a voice
began to communicate. It was so modulated it could have been a studio
recording. But it wasn’t, and it wasn’t an assistant, or an answering
machine, just him. I tried to remain low key as I pressed on with
my request for him to teach, but my demeanor was more on the order
of a hysterical 911 caller.
I waited a hundred years for his response and I’ll never forget each moment.
“Look Gary, no matter what you say, with my schedule I cannot possibly offer
more than six weekly sessions.” Was that a yes! First, the fact that my name escaped
directly from his own lips already made it easily the most exciting call of my entire life.
His offer was akin to the famed Pablo Picasso looking into my eyes and stating,
that he could only manage to offer me a measly 6 original paintings, but no more.
I was stupefied. My response was mostly just a series of noises that
sounded like no words in any language known to mankind or animal life.
He was polite and patient, even though he could see that I was having a tough
time communicating at the moment. He thanked me but I could barely hear
through my bouts of heavy breathing. We did manage to agree on
a start date. Afterwards, with simple focus I stepped into our large empty
room and screamed to the top of my lungs. Within a couple of minutes
we got a call from the police. My trembling voice quickly assured them
that everything was fine. I don’t think that they believed me.
By the next day, I was mostly recovered and managed to have a few
barely coherent thoughts. Now Rod’s class (I liked using his name like
we were chums) could be very large. He couldn’t possibly read
very much, if anyone’s material.
We needed an additional instructor to teach on a separate day. This way
the students could be given individual attention to improve their writing habits and
potentially succeed in Hollywood.
Someone suggested that I talk to the editor of a of a production
company called Cinemobile. So I called and asked if the individual
would see me. He seemed puzzled but agreed. After talking to him for
less than 90 seconds, I realized he had an amazing ability to immediately
connect with people. I told him that he was a natural teacher.
That crack was all he needed. He shot back with defiance
saying that was absurd, he had no interest in teaching and
he would appreciate it if I would not bother him anymore.
Of course, I felt for his and my own best interest I could not possibly
abide by his wishes. I politely contacted him several more times.
Although annoyed, he actually finally acquiesced to appear once only
on the first week of Rod’s class. Between you and me, he felt it was
probably the only way to get me off his back was to humor me by
showing up one time and being done with the matter. He came and
frankly he was better than I even thought. But much more important was that he had
substantially more knowledge in this field that he had ever dreamt.
So he returned again and again. Soon every class that he had taught quickly filled.
He eventually quit his job and wrote a book taken from his lectures.
Surprisingly enough, within one year’s time he had became the most
celebrated screenwriting guru in the country. When things work out
well, everybody wins. That man's name is Syd Field.
Days flew by, and the next thing I knew, I was anxiously awaiting that
evening’s opening of Rod’s class. It didn’t disappoint. It was more
exciting than any film premiere that I ever had attended. The man of the
hour entered the bottom floor, and saw the note about our non-working
escalator. He snuffed it off and suddenly stood at the top of the stairs.
He was tanned and athletic looking, slightly bent over as though he
was guarding a basketball player, which I’m sure he could have.
But I thought he could do anything. He smiled and shook my hand, just one
more thrill in a never ending series of events with him. He handed me a reel of film.
When I inquired about it, his response was that it was the original pilot of the Twilight Zone
What! My body immediately stiffened, suddenly I felt saddled with an immense burden.
I could easily drop the prize and it could roll down the dead escalator bouncing on
each individual step along the way and completely ruining the prized film. So I grabbed the treasure
with a resolute iron grip and tried with all might to hold on as if it was the lone urn containing
the ashes of Remises, the Egyptian King. Rod entered the room to thunderous applause of 300 writers.
And I stood next him as both of us smiled and drank in the love from the massive audience. My god!
I guess I really had been become a friend of sorts and I never will forget that moment in time. Who would?
If you asked if he was a good teacher, my response was he was as good
a teacher as he was a phenomenal writer. The only thing that surprised
me was that he kept on referring to himself as a hack writer and commercial salesman.
I thought that he was playing the humble card. He wasn’t. He felt this way that since he
never had reached the same impact in features that he did in television.
And for this reason, astonishingly he felt like he was a failure.
How was this possible especially for a man that accomplished so much?
Rod’s class raised enough funds so that we could stay in business for a while,
actually eight years in all. He had elevated the school to whole new level.
Before I knew it, Lucille Ball, Richard Dreyfuss, and George Carlin
all taught their own eight week classes. And who were guests that came
for just one evening? It’s almost easier to list those who we didn’t have.
Over the coming years, our roster of Sherwood Oaks’ guests included Martin Scorsese,
Robert De Niro, Harrison Ford, George Lucas, Steve Spielberg,
Clint Eastwood, Steve Martin, Paul Newman, Mel Brooks, John Huston,
Orson Wells, and 10,000 other amazing guests. We were talked about us
on the Johnny Carson Show. And at one point I was even in People
magazine, along side DeNiro, Newman and Stallone as the founder of
Sherwood Oaks. Our school had grown to 44 classes a week and an astonishing
enrollment of 1200 students. Shockingly Sherwood Oaks had become the largest
private film school in the entire United States It didn't matter so much anymore
if we had grades, diplomas or cheerleaders. We were something better, we were offbeat
and famous.
Yes, me and my little fantasy film school finally really meant something to a lot of
people, not just me. Even if my own dreams never took me all the way,
. but somehow with the help of a very giving person, I went farther than even I ever expected.
I remember when I first saw the Hollywood Location, I wondered
if it could be my own magic carpet. Well, something magical did happen.
But it took the support and insight of a special human like Rod to make
me realize the potential for magic was always present as part of me.
I’ll always have deep feelings of gratitude for Rod and his enormous generosity.
I only found him to be misguided just once and that was due to his own humility.
. He was hardly a failure of any kind. In fact, he probably affected more writers to be,
than anyone else, in the history of film writing.
Remember when I said that in the beginning of this tale, that it wasn’t a love story.
I was wrong.
*****************************************
PAUL’S LAST CHANCE (about Paul Newman)
After hearing about Paul's passing last Fall, I could not help but be reminded of my last rather odd encounter with this very special human being.
His face was sculpted like a Greek statue, his hypnotic eyes drew you in and wouldn’t let go. But in the end it wasn't Paul Newman’s outside characteristics, it was something deep inside. And that was his desire to bolster the spirits of his fellow man in any way he could. And he accomplished his goal magnificently.
He initially spoke to a Sherwood Oaks writers group in September 1975. And he was everything one could imagine but so much more. Two years later, Paul Newman visited LA from his Connecticut home. He stayed for a weekend, taking a room at the Beverly Wiltshire Hotel. I told myself it was an important obligation to call him and thank him for his kindness. Of course it was a really a very transparent subterfuge to just have one more small connection to him.
I waited for the ringing phone in his room to be answered for what seemed like an eternity, suddenly the unmistakable baritone of the world's sexiest man was speaking to me, he asked who was talking and I told him my name as I readied my little spiel. I was prepared for anything such as “please call me another time, or maybe it would be best to contact me through my agent at William Morris.”
Those comments didn't happen. Instead, Paul stated: “Gary! You old son of a gun, it’s really great to hear your voice again.” I was in trouble. I mumbled some unintelligible sound and attempted to brace myself for whatever was coming. “Hey listen why don't you shoot over to my hotel and we'll down a couple of beers by the pool and catch up on things.” I hadn't the slighted notion of shooting over anywhere and downing anything, nor catching up on nonexistent events that I shared with the media star. I tried to compose myself and explain I couldn't comply with his request. Then I tried to hastily formulate an exit strategy. Perhaps I could suggest to him that I contact his agent. But Paul never gave me chance to exit gracefully. Of course it didn't take long to make me realize that I had rejected a rather kind invitation from one of the most popular people on the planet and that’s he rarely if ever refused. I tried to back peddle. “Paul that's very nice of you but I’m really tied up here. I just can’t make it now, perhaps another time.” But Paul insisted, “What’s so important?” I stated “Well Paul, I have a lot of responsibilities at Sherwood Oaks.”
At that point the other shoe plunged to earth without mercy with final and tragic inevitability. “What's a Sherwood Oaks?” TOO LATE! I mustered: “You know you spoke at our school.” Paul stated: “What did you say your name is?” I quickly replied “Gary Shusett.” Paul stated “Then you’re not Gary Shuster. Why are calling so late?”
And in a millisecond he was gone. The dead silence after the click was even more painful (if that's possible) compared to when the other shoe had figuratively dropped.
Well, that was that. Just maybe I should have accepted his invitation. Will I regret my actions the rest of my life? Maybe, I will never have another chance, or will I?
Perhaps when I finally ascend to the heavenly studio above, just maybe I will find a very fancy hotel among the clouds. And if I am really lucky Paul will be lounging by the pool and invite me to sit down a few beers, and this time I will say yes. We'll share a good laugh about the past incident. Of course Paul still won't remember what a Sherwood Oaks is. But that's okay…
I’ll remember Paul for eternity.
NONE of this text can be used without permission of the author.
|
|
| ****************************** |
| |
|
