185
Brotherhood of the Rejected Screenplay
(…15 CRAZED years trying to sell ALEC BALDWIN “Providence”)
A True Story
By
Chris Braun
Copyright 2011
cbraun17@gmail.com
Selling a screenplay is as easy as arranging partners at a Middle Eastern Square dance. My dance started in Greenwich Village NYC-1979. I first met Alec Baldwin in September of 1979 on the third floor of Rubin Dormitory, NYU. Alec had a uniform of sorts back then. Gray baggy sweats, a t-shirt, perpetual 5 o’clock shadow along with a distinct raspy voice. He visited the corner of my third floor (across the hall) in pursuit of Debbie Winslow, a diminutive “fire-cracker” of a co-ed from the Boston area.
Baldwin would amble down to the triangular end of Rubin’s third floor systematically, several times a week. I’m not sure if Alec knew of Debbie’s boyfriend near Bean Town, either way, Alec was undeterred. Being a freshman (an 'outsider' if you will) in a predominantly upper class dorm, I did more observing that interacting with my dorm mates.
I felt like a boy among men and women. Everyone else seemed so self assured and opinionated. I was the fly on the wall, still unsure, but enjoying the ride. I didn’t even really shave yet while most of the guys in Rubin, being seniors had that same 5 o’clock shadow and some even blasted perpetual Tanqueray breath. The only thing we really knew about Alec was he was studying at NYU’s Lee Strasburg Institute-the poly sci guy from 'Mass A Peek Qua' wanted to be an actor. Providence had struck Alec and he didn’t even know it.
I was still a no-name freshman at Rubin Dorm-NYU until a Friday night card/drinking game left me in a bad way the following morning. I drank too much beer that night and stupidly drank some Nyquil to fight a bad cold before I went to bed. During the night my roommate, John Cote, a musician from Maine who dressed up like David Bowie periodically, flipped me on my side-saving my life as I created a piece of modern art with my beer/Nyquil barf mix.
John may have saved me from choking on my own barf that night but I did get some notoriety from the 3rd floor for my feat. My failed chemistry experiment kept me from work at Feathers Restaurant on 5th Avenue the next day. Feathers was the first of the many theatrical jobs in NYC during the college years.
A busboy at Feathers Restaurant theatrical? I was the only straight guy working at the restaurant. Almost all the others were actors or singers. It was my first real introduction to the gay world and I found everyone there to no different than any straight group of people I’ve worked with in the past. Except for maybe the theatrics. Everyone had a certain flair to him or her. At first I was targeted as new meat but when I was finally deemed a flaming heterosexual - I became one of the boys. I was straight but fascinated.
Let me take a quick spiritual timeout to address my divine awareness at this time. After growing up as an altar boy, a choirboy, periodic years in Catholic Schools I began my time in NYC in a different place. For me, it was a time to rebel against organized religion. I certainly wasn't an atheist but my daily connection with God, at least at that time, was strained at best. I wanted to insert that in there as a comparative as my awareness to providence grew stronger and stronger in my crazy life/journey.
I had some fun jobs while going to NYU. I worked as a delivery boy at Service Messenger, riding subways to deliver timely envelopes to Broadway Producers (Nederlander) to Law Firms in the Twin Towers. Later I worked at an RV Rental Company to the Movie Production Companies called Superlease. I worked with my brother Bob, who had all the cool stories there.
During our limited time at Superlease Bob, ripped off Woody Allen’s small color TV from his RV. (Woody was Filming “Zelig” back then) My brother Bob always had a way with quality, zero investment acquisitions. I still think back to him walking down E. 3rd Street between Avenue’s A and B with his newly found Hollywood kissed 12” Color TV. That TV later migrated to the roof of our East 3rd Apartment Building as we watched Laker - Celtic NBA Championship Games during an especially humid June. And I just found out recently that he made off with a butt load of Dudley Moore’s sweaters. But, after trying them on - Bob found Dudley was a medium and Bob was a large.
I also got sucked into the Hollywood/Broadway scene as a substitute usher on the White Way. I saw a bunch of shows while handing out programs including Barnum, Sophisticated Ladies, 42nd Street, Cats, Annie, Elephant Man & Nine. I seated Bill Murray, circa 1981-2 with an out of his league date at the play “Pirates of Penzance”. I believe Kevin Kline and Linda Rondstadt were the stars in that production.
While Alec Baldwin was waitering at Studio 54 during NYU, I was a busboy at Xenon- its European flavored Disco competitor. Those were some crazy decadent years as I got to observe up close Christopher Reeves, Tony Curtis, Lindsay Wagner, Steve Garvey & OJ Simpson. I even served Roger Moore a drink in the owners’ private office. I’ll never forget what Mr. Moore said to me when I delivered his Vodka on the rocks. “Thanks chap!” as he checked out my red sweat pants and my torn red t-shirt (we were sooo hip : )
I also attended Brooke Shields 16th Birthday Party and watched John McEnroe rock out for charity. I missed my first slice of fame pie when I didn’t get chosen as an extra for “Nighthawks” a murder, thriller with Rutger Hauer, Billy Dee Williams and Sylvester Stallone. “Nighthawks” shot a 2-minute cat and mouse chase scene with the three actors in Xenons’ inner sanctum.
On some Friday and Saturdays a group of us 'Xenonites' would go out after closing, meaning we left Xenon after working all night to 5 or 6AM and continued our partying ways. The usual destination was a club called Crisco's-a gay disco in the Chelsea area. With its huge Crisco Can on the dance floor and overt snorting of coke, Crisco's was the Emerald City of the decadent disco daze.
As Baldwin was working in the summer after his first year of the Lee Strasburg Institute at Lincoln Center he was discovered and got his first acting job on “The Doctors”. Not for nothing-but that was a raw Alec Baldwin. Give him credit, he worked at it and got much better.
At the same time I was working at Paul Stuart on Madison Avenue still running into stars. Movie reviewer Joel Siegel, Mike Wallace of 60 Minutes and even old blue eyes Frank Sinatra stopped in to check out my second hand St Marks Place Shark Skin suit in the Men’s Shoe Department.
Why all these references to drive by interactions with famous people? I knew in my heart, possibly a voice from God that I was destined to be famous. With purpose, I mean. I would have a calling to teach people something. What-I wasn’t sure, but I would continue to observe what was there, diagnose and explain.
By the time Baldwin got to “Cutter to Houston” and “Knott’s Landing” I was selling high-end clothes and shoes to more of the entertainment industry at Ferragamo’s First NYC Men’s Shop on 5th Avenue. Michael Caine, Stan Getz, Al Jarraeau and Andy Williams bought their shoes and clothes from me. The Stan Getz (wearing a mustard colored leather ensemble) and Michael Caine interaction was fun. Mr. Caine rolled in with his lovely Latin wife and roared out “Well Stanley, good morning to you! What are YOU doing here?”
Both looked like this Saturday Morning Shopping spree might have been an extension of their Friday Night partying. Work hard-play hard they say.
Later on one of Alec’s favorite writers David Mamet (Glengary Glen Ross) bought a sports coat from me, wore it to an event and returned it the next night-smokey. Phucker!
Alec went on to do “Beetlejuice”, “Married to the Mob” (bedding a character played by another NYU ‘friend’-Nancy Travis) but it was the movie “The Hunt for the Red October” that brought Baldwin back into my screenwriting consciousness.
Let me digress again before the “Hunt”. Several years earlier I left NYC to pursue a fantasy of pitching in the Major Leagues. I played some semi-pro ball outside of Los Angeles then talked my way into a tryout with the New York Yankees in Hollywood, Florida. (There’s that Hollywood again.)
I flew back to NYC first then down to Ft. Lauderdale, Florida. The only thing about my flight to NYC from LAX – I didn’t have a dime. My buddy Joe Pieri, the consummate friend, came thru and wired air fair to Western Union in Newark, N. Jersey. The nice people of People’s Express (remember them?) let me fly to Newark without paying. You see I had this way of talking my way out of situations, at least back then. I had to fly next to a flight attendant then was told to wait for everyone to exit.
When everyone departed, a People’s Express Rep. escorted me to an Airport Van and we were on our way to the nearest Western Union to pay the piper…. Trippy!
I was in the NYC area for a heartbeat then down to Florida for my Yankee tryout. I was one of 60 some guys. I remember warming up in the bullpen- I was trying out as a pitcher. The bullpen coach told me to “Let it go man…show me what you got”.
I laughed to myself knowing I already shot my load. On the live mound the jugs gun had me at 80 MPH-a decent semi-pro speed-but not nearly fast enough for the Big Leagues.
I remember the depressed feeling I had after that shot in the dark. No baseball, no real immediate direction and a need to get back to the airport the next day. Too embarrassed to beg for any more money to stay somewhere that night, I slept outside in a commercial area of Hollywood, Florida. It was fairly warm out mind you, but curled up on the grass, next to a concrete building wasn’t exactly The Four Seasons.
I did OK till about 4:30AM when the sprinklers came on. That was kind of a rude awakening - but when you think about it - I got an outdoor room in Hollywood, Florida –starry night for my ceiling and had a wakeup call/shower tossed in as a bonus.
Next dream. Never to give up I went back to NYC to gather my things and I took my NYU Broadcast Journalism Diploma and some bags back out to Southern California to get a job as a bartender and write screenplays.
That dream lasted all of a couple weeks. Ten days sharing an apartment with some newfound friends in Redondo Beach, then four days literally out in the streets led me to take the ASVAB test to join the NAVY. I scored a 99 out of a 100. The Recruiters were salivating at my score, as was I, foodless for a couple days.
Boot camp in Orlando, Florida, Aircrew School in Pensacola, Florida then on to Millington, TN for “A” school. I was learning how to hunt for submarines for the US Navy, which led up to me re-connecting “mystically” with Alec Baldwin as he and Sean Connery were looking for the elusive “Red October” on the Silver Screen.
Backtrack once again. My time in Pensacola left me with an emotional scar that I live with today. So much in fact, it was one of the early scenes I wrote in my Baldwin pitched opus, “Providence”. The character Charlie Fitzgerald was more than loosely based on my troubled self.
INT. PENSACOLA, NAVY POOL — DAY
A NAVY CHIEF listens to the same Sinatra song, sees ten close cropped MEN pound out push-ups on the pools deck straining to sing the National Anthem.
We see “FITZGERALD” stenciled on the back of a white t-shirt struggling in the water. CHARLIE FITZGERALD, 29, a
younger/trimmer version of JAMES is yanked underwater from
behind in a viselike headlock. His eyes scream fear.
ONE OF THE SINGERS
Let him go!
ONE OF THE INSTRUCTORS stands on the diving board, casually
spinning a whistle in his hand. He engages immediately.
INSTRUCTOR
Sing you pussy! Your sister can
fend for herself.
The SINGER halfheartedly rejoins the singing of the National Anthem as his eyes begin to well up.
CHARLIE fights desperately underwater to escape the
hammerlock on his throat. He flails.
Another SWIMMER finds the long rope hanging from the ceiling and latches on/climbs for dear life.
MUSCULAR INSTRUCTOR
Get your ass down now! (To the
other INSTRUCTORS) Get a load of
this one…He thinks he’s a fucking
Monkey.
CLIMBER
(stuttering/shivering)
I’m….not com….coming down. Leave me
alone!
It’s all out wrestling match underwater. CHARLIE escapes
by punching the INSTRUCTOR. CHARLIE is gasping for breath. Another INSTRUCTOR leaps in choking CHARLIE from behind.
The SINGER runs for a large bell at the end of the pool. He
rings the bell before scampering to the locker room.
MUSCULAR INSTRUCTOR
Pussy “DORed”. Figures..Who’s next?
CHARLIE freaks out underwater. HE blacks out sinking to the bottom of the pool as the INSTRUCTOR surfaces.
Several of the PUSH UPPERS gasp as CHARLIE fails to surface.
ANOTHER SINGER hits the bell, as a hyperventilating CHARLIE
is fished out.
The one thing I remember from that experience
was slowly fading out of consciousness and then being
pulled out of the pool by the arms of God.
At least that's what it felt like to me. They later KILLED a guy doing to him what they did to me. A little too
too realistic don’t you think?
Fast forward 3 years to 1990. Baldwin is in “Hunt For
The Red October" matching wits with Sean Connery.
At the same time I’m hunting for the real deal in the Sea of Japan. The movie comes out and a bunch of us “Genuine Red October Hunters” went to check it out while stationed at Moffet Field, CA.
Of course most of them had to listen to my “I used to bullshit with Baldwin in Rubin Dorm” stories. All in all we liked the movie and my screenwriting bug was on fire.
I was at the training squadron VP-31 at Moffet Field, CA (40 miles south of San Francisco, 10 miles north of San Jose) when I met my Chilean wife to be - Elvira. “LV” as I would call her was sweet, pretty and five years my junior. She showed her true stripes dating me as I lived on a Navy base, driving a 1965 Volvo (think Fred Flinstone) and her assuming I had tons of “potential”.
I got out of the Navy in 1991 after serving duty in Northern Japan, the Philippines, Guam, Alaska, South Korea, Australia and Thailand. Generally they were interesting years and gave me some experiences that hopefully flavored my writing.
One of the crazier VP-46 stories involved a “good deal” trip from Kadena Air Base in Okinawa, Japan to Hong Kong to go shopping for a day. It was our crew-plus 9 or 10 other ‘shoppers’ who boarded the plane on a hot, humid August day in 1990.
The weather map didn’t look that promising with thunder boomers all over the place but my hot shot PPC said “let’s go for it.” We flew on a 4 prop P-3C aircraft that was considered the 'bulldog' of Navy planes. Specifically built to hunt submarines, it stayed in the air for long periods of time, was sturdy as a tank and could easily fly for hours on two props.
About half way to Hong Kong my radar screen lit up like an over zealous greeter at Walmart. I told ‘flight’ that it was storming everywhere. They didn’t care. Full engines ahead. Minutes later we got hit by lightning. It was quite a scene. It felt like we hit a mountain. I actually saw the bolt of white light run along the handrail in the P-3 (you go 'Betsy', you go).
They woke up the PPC who was snoozing in the rear of the plane. He wanted to keep going but when the flight engineer advised him that the metal wire from the vertical stabilizer to the nose of the plane had been snapped he decided to turn around. The wire had a very good chance of getting caught up in one of the four engine’s propellers.
When we got back to Kadena Air Base, we found out the radome in the back of the P-3 was totally fried. That would take several million US tax dollars to fix. I had to tell you that story.
We had several other fun trips while in the Navy. Adelaide, Australia was fun- We ‘broke’ our P-3 Orion on purpose in order to spend some quality time with the fine South Australian people. Another training mission from The Philippines to Guam brought on one of our most interesting one day stays as a crew.
We flew from the P.I. to Guam, landing at 9PM at night knowing we had an 8AM pre-flight the next morning to fly a training exercise flight on a U.S. Submarine. That meant the second we landed NO DRINKING at all because we were within our 12 hour ‘No Drinking’ before a flight rule.
Of course the eight unlisted guys on the crew (including me) got cleaned up and got the keys to the duty van-ready to rock. We had transportation to get us outside of base and check out the local sights.
Our Commanding Officer on the flight Ron Evans was the nicest guy going but realize-he was our boss. He told us to get some dinner and get back to base at a decent hour for our flight the next morning. Yes Sir. Please know that Ron Evans was a 1990 version of Barack O’Bama- good looking black man, well spoken with great people skills. We loved him like a brother. (you know what I mean : )
We got out in town and found a nightclub/restaurant and ordered our food. The place had great steaks and seafood and they also had plenty of alcohol. When the beverage order came we all looked to our senior enlisted -one of the Flight Engineers. He ordered a beer. It was on!
A couple drinks into our dinner our beloved Commander Ron Evans walked into the same friggin restaurant (what ARE the odds?) He saw us - the disappointment on his face hurt us more than it hurt him.
Our senior flight engineer took the long walk over to take the beat down. Commander Evans told him to tell us to finish our dinners/drinks and get back to the Guam Airbase ASAP. Evans left with a couple junior officers wagging their fingers/shaking their heads. We all got quiet for a second, then as we were apt to do, we said “Fuck it!” We’re already busted, party on my friends, party on.
We walked across the street to a local dance establishment where clothing apparently was optional. After the fellas got their share of the local Guamese women dancing (Me, I was disgusted by the whole thing : ). We left after an hour.
This is where it got interesting. We all piled in the duty van from the Guam Air Base. It was pretty obvious we weren’t locals. The Guamese even refer to us as Squids or Yankees. We blasted down the main drag of Guam as we saw a motorcycle cop with his lights flashing waving us over.
We thought he wanted us in the next lane. We veered right and carried on with the ‘plan of the day’. He promptly got on his motorcycle and found our tailpipe in a heartbeat. When we saw his flashing lights behind us we let out a collective “Oh shit!”
We pulled over in a desolate parking lot and quickly the cop, veins popping, ripped open the drivers’ door like a wild, crazed animal. He was pissed. Apparently, he wanted us to pull over and not get in the next lane. “This van is mine!” he barked at us. It was getting worse.
Seconds later 4 cop cars pulled up and the 8 cops that piled out looked like Samoan offensive lineman on football team that valued extra girth. These guys were huge! It was at this point we were thinking-“There’s 9 of them and eight of us, they’re huge-they’re going to kill us!”
After about fifteen tense minutes praying to God above, they let us go with only a speeding ticket for the driver, who luckily hadn’t drunk any booze. We were stunned-silent. Guam, you mini Hawaii you, good to see ya, wouldn’t want to be ya.
This happened in the last 6 months of my 5 year tour in the Navy. I knew I was getting out soon but was unsure of what awaited.
I got a job a Heald Business College when I got out of the Navy selling education. A noble job but it bored me to tears. I do remember one situation at the Business College that resonated with me later on in my life.
I was in the process of interviewing a potential student at Heald. He was qualified, seemed eager to start but seemed really jittery. I had to ask him what was up.
He told me that he took medication and had forgotten to take his that morning. I didn’t ask but he volunteered that he took lithium. I remember thinking that he must have some psychological problem and later found out he was bipolar. I still feel bad to this day that I thought of this young man as ‘unfit’ to study at my school. I was ignorant because I didn’t know. No excuse.
Next up, the wonderful world of Telemanagement. Access America was next. I worked with my buddy Joe there and another character Todd Mayo. We had fun but it lasted about 2 ½ years before I went thru my second severe depression in my life.
I lost any interest to do anything. Writing, sex, sports; my relationship with LV-it was all a flat line experience. I still remember Joe coming over to the house to see if I wanted to get outside and play some basketball. I had no interest whatsoever. Joe was confused-Elvi was getting desperate - one of the most helpless feelings in the world. At least when I experienced mania later on it was exhilarating and intoxicating for the most part.
My depression lasted for several months. I finally saw a shrink and he gave me Prozac for my depression. Wrong ‘bat channel’ my friend. The Prozac eventually sent me into a manic episode that went undiagnosed but felt pretty good to me. I went on a writing frenzy. I started writing “The Bamboo Steamer” in 1993 a political satire of a Bill Clintonesque President who got involved in a High Stakes Golf Bet with the President of China during Super Bowl Week outside of Phoenix, AR.
The story centered on three people from the Bay Area-a DJ, a journalist, a shoe salesman & a NYU Professor who witnessed the bet at the supposedly closed off golf course and how the US and Chinese government effected their lives afterward. Unfortunately ‘TBS’ never got the final push to complete it. A short piece from “The Bamboo Steamer”…
The Professor finally made it back to his condo at 63rd & Madison Avenue. It had been a more eventful night than he had planned. He made himself another drink while he tried to figure out if the two ‘pieces of work’ at “Top of the Sixes” were for real.
Conroy picked up his copy of his unread New York Times, Friday March 15, 1996. The ‘Ides of March’ he thought to himself. Conroy skimmed the front page. There had been a big subway accident on the Lexington Line that affected over 100,000 people on their way to work. There was also an article the early spring like weather that had hit NYC.
Buried in the bottom right corner of the front page with a continuation on page 14A was an article about President Cotton continuing talks with Mao Ping, the hard liner Prime Minister and possibly new Paramount Leader of China. Cotton was, as discreetly as he could, setting the stage for his greatest coup of his administration.
It was an election year. What better accomplishment than to gain an exclusive trade agreement with the Chinese, especially on the eve of Hong Kong returning to Chinese sovereignty on July 1, 1997.
Under a unique “One Country, Two Systems” arrangement, the Chinese government promised that Hong Kong’s lifestyle would remain unchanged for fifty years. The arrangement also stipulated that freedoms of speech, press, assembly, association, travel, right to strike and religious belief would be guaranteed by law.
Cotton was hedging a bet however. He felt if he could get in deep with hardliner Prime Minister Mao Ping before anyone else did than he would have the inside track when and if the Chinese showed less restraint in the agreement than they said they would.
The inside track on Hong Kong, the new Chinese Hong Kong, was Cotton’s goal. The Professor put the paper down after finishing the article. He was laughing out loud, apparently more in tune with the situation than the Times.
I wasn’t in “Baldwin mode” yet as I wrote a screenplay titled “The Second Coming” about an advertising copywriter, Adam Wright, that quits his job to become a spiritual muralist. He acquires quite the following and polarizes the world with his work.
EXT. THE HOMELESS SHELTER, TWO WEEKS LATER – DAY
ADAM is up on the scaffold trying to paint. It’s extremely windy. It begins to rain hard as he tries to finish a section of the mural.
He is hidden somewhat from the rain by a huge plastic drop cloth but the wind is shaking the scaffold like a little toy.
The wind is swirling and swinging his scaffold so hard it sounds like it’s screaming out…
WIND SOUND
Stoppppppppppp!
ADAM walks to the other side of the scaffold. As he reaches the end a HUGE GUST OF WIND hits the scaffold and knocks that end free from the rope holding it up.
ADAM scrambles to grab something, he is almost thirty feet off the ground. He grabs onto a piece of rope screaming for help.
ADAM
Somebody help! God! Please
help me!
The SECOND REPORTER who sarcastically quizzed ADAM two weeks ago appears from behind a car across the street.
SECOND REPORTER
I think God took today off
Wright. Too bad for you.
You’ve got people thinking you’re
The Second Coming.
The OTHER REPORTER grabs a camera out of his car.
SECOND REPORTER
Say cheese …This is
front page stuff.
The SECOND REPORTER clicks the picture of ADAM hanging on for dear life. He jumps in his car and zooms off leaving an extremely vulnerable ADAM.
A moment later two men walk around the corner and see ADAM.
ONE OF THE MEN
Jesus Christ, that’s Adam Wright!
Go call the Fire Department! Run!
I’ll see if I can help.
The OTHER MAN runs to the front of the building screaming for help.
ADAM
I don’t know how much longer
I can hang on! My hands are
cramping up.
ONE OF THE MEN
Just hang on Mr. Wright, we’ll
have someone here in a few moments.
The wind kicks up again swinging ADAM around like a rag doll.
A few moments later a fire truck pulls up, blasting its’ siren. They immediately get a ladder up to ADAM, rescue him as he collapses in their arms.
When he gets to the ground ADAM passes out. The firemen hook ADAM up to oxygen and call for an ambulance.
EXT. STREETS OF SAN FRANCISCO – THAT SAME TIME
The ambulance speeds off to the music of Joan Osborne’s
“One of Us.” Life in San Francisco continues unabated, rat race at full force.
Something about manic mode got me into a religious,
spiritual mood. “The Second Coming” was too wordy, like a
lot of my screenplays. I hadn’t found the secret to
stream line my thoughts in the accepted screenplay lingo.
As the boundless energy sent me back to the computer
to write I began work on a spec teleplay titled “One Better
World”. “One Better World” was (what I thought) a more realistic adult version of MTV’s ‘Real World’.
I had four people-a black woman, white man, and Asian man
a Mexican woman answer an ad for a room for rent in a
converted fraternity house near San Jose State. The
difference in this blast of writing energy was that I was
possessed to get it produced.
I searched out a production company in San Jose called
Streetlight Productions-who had some very capable people.
We held auditions for the four main leads at San Jose Live,
a downtown nightclub in San Jose.
We had very qualified people show up for the tryouts.
I even got Tom Tolbert, former NBA player, sports talk
Host to try out…. He sung Chaka Khan’s “I’m Every Woman”.
We filmed in a ratty old fraternity house on
campus. Cameras, makeup people, gaffers, best boys-this was
the real deal. Money went fast, real fast.
I was in my glory-writing, producing & creating. Looking to make something happen. At the same time, I was spending thousands of Elvis’ and my money.
Elvi thought I was losing it. She saw how crazed and
driven I was to get “One Better World” made and hopefully
screened at the Cannes Film Festival. She was right.
I truly was a “Crazy Diamond”.
"Shine on You Crazy Diamond" Pink Floyd
Remember when you were young-you shone like the sun.
Shine on you crazy diamond… there’s a look in your eyes,
like black holes in the sky. Shine on you Crazy Diamond.
You were caught on the crossfire of childhood and stardom,
blown on the steel breeze-Come on you target for faraway
laughter. Come on you stranger, you legend, martyr-shine!
You reached for the secret too soon, you cried 4 the moon.
Shine on you crazy diamond.
Threatened by shadows at night, and exposed in the light.
Shine on you crazy diamond.
Well you wore out your welcome with random precision,
rode on the steel breeze. Come on you raver, you seer of visions, come on you painter, you piper-you prisoner-shine!
Thank you Pink Floyd. Initially about Sid Barret or was it me? During the early 90’s Baldwin made his largest acting
statement to date with his short stint as the prickly
downtown boss in “Glengarry Glen Ross”-written by David Mamet. Mamet was my ex-customer at Ferragamos Men Shop.
Alec showed the acting “stones” many Actors die
to have the chance to show. He ‘owned’ his big scene, dominating the screen and the All Star cast of Jack Lemon, Al Pacino, Ed Harris and Kevin Spacey. This was a 7 minute Baldwin highlight reel.
Politics, power and putang (and I’m not talking China)…it’s all about politics, power and putang. You see Baldwin went to George Washington University in D.C. as a Poly-Sci major in his quest to someday break into politics.
A very intelligent son of a Long Island High School teacher, Alec was driven and popular. Good looking, smart and motivated. Gentlemen, start your engines.
A funny thing happened on the way to the forum and at the end of Alec’s junior year at George Washington University. He got dumped. His girlfriend’s decision sent Baldwin back to Long Island, confused and whirling. Challenged to try out for NYU’s Lee Strasburg’s Acting School, Alec made the grade and entered into my world of observation.
After observing Alec pursue Miss Winslow in the first semester in 1979 I got his attention twice in the 2nd Semester. Rubin Dorm threw a Beach Party in the Dorm cafeteria February of 1980 I believe. They needed a D.J. and somehow me, a freshman, was deemed ready to entertain NYU’s Rubin Dorm’s jaded upperclassmen.
I had just returned from a Winter Break vacation to St. Thomas with my father so I was plenty ready for a beach party with my dark tan and straw fedora hat. D.Jing in my Fedora, bathing suit, sunglasses and bathrobe-I had quite the look and got Baldwin’s attention as he made his way into the dance party.
“Who the fuck is that?” Baldwin quipped, obviously not recognizing me from his 3rd floor trips for tail. I spun records for a couple beats until my buzz from drinking turned me into an unwanted “needle dropper” (the 33 RPM record albums were taking a beating).
Then later, I moved out of my small triple room on the 3rd floor into a double on the dorm’s top floor. I was on the Penthouse floor baby!
The 17th floor was a different vibe. More seniors and more staid. It read like the NY Times. My new roomie Peter Pike was an odd sort, but aren’t we all? He was a nerdy Elvis Costello fan so to break the ice I bought him Costello’s latest album. The greatest coup of living in that room was I was heartbeat from the steps that led to tar beach- Rubin Dorms’ citified tanning zone.
It was there an English/French/Irishman from Massapequa, Long Island and an Irish/German from Buffalo, NY used to bullshit about subjects from tanning secrets (Baldwin used to use the gooey innards of Vitamin E tablets to expedite his bronzing) to politics light.
Tar Beach at Rubin was a unique place. It had steal beams above us to the side that would occasionally become the sight of daredevil moves by bored students. Crazy shit! A misstep would send you to your likely death on 10th Street, 17 flights below.
My couple other memories of the top floor of Rubin Dorm was the dude across the hall who would always have his weight bench in the hall outside his room doing bench presses while he drank his Tanqueray and Tonic. He was some Upper East Side rich kid who wanted to be in the dorm so he could get out his rich dad’s way.
Scents and smells are always the ignition to my most of my strongest memories and his Gin breath while lifting weights will always be imbedded in my sensory organs.
My other memory involved my friends visiting me from Buffalo. They were all good guys but they decided to terrorize my geeky roommate, Peter Pike. They took a bunch of nudie pictures from Playboy and stuffed them in every piece of Pike clothing in the room they could find. I guess it seemed funny at the time.
Then, on the night before I went back with them to Buffalo-for the summer, we decided to play “Death Frisbee” in the hallway at 2AM. We whipped the frisbee back and forth at speed limit breaking velocities. It got pretty noisy and crazy, exit signs damaged, students awakened, new friends WERE NOT made.
And to cap off that visit - on our drive back upstate to Buffalo- we hit a deer. He was already dead when Steve, our duty driver hit it. I’m not sure - but maybe he was putting the exclamation point on the deer’s death. But, I do remember that feeling of hitting the deer “thump” followed by the ski jump feeling we all shared.
The “piece de resistance” was when we got back to West Seneca, our south town suburb of Buffalo. Joes’ dogs greeted the front bumper of Joe’s T-Bird with tongues, tails and appetites wagging. They enjoyed an impromptu venison feast courtesy of Steve, the sleepy driver.
That would ultimately turn out to be my last days at Rubin Dorm at NYU. The 5th Avenue & 10th Street one time home of Mark Twain turned out to be a one year ‘bromance’ for me. If Alec Baldwin was leaving - my work was done there.
Seriously, I did think I was coming back to Rubin for my sophomore year. As I checked into my room, my new roomie-a huge Lou Reed fan-was taking a ‘walk on the wild side’. He sat in a darkened, late afternoon dimly lit room – eyes shooting off into space as he shot heroin into his arm. Homey don’t play those needle games. I was a little creeped out and decided to get an apartment with some friends from NYU-it was located in a seedier, East Side part of Soho. The most dramatic event that happened while we lived there occurred in early December 1980 - we all went up to Rockefeller Center to watch them light up the big Christmas tree by the ice rink. It was good free NYC entertainment. The sadness came when we got home.
As we were taking the RR subway train home from 49th and Broadway-twenty-three blocks south of The Dakota Building- John Lennon was assassinated by Mark David Chapman. When we turned on the TV to watch the news that night - we were crestfallen, speechless-John Lennon dead at 40.
Let’s cut to the chase on my little story here. Speaking of which-The last screenplay I wrote (2009) was done less from the heart and more from the hard on if you will. Here’s a slice of “Cut to the Chase”…a story about two couples chasing unique pennies around the world looking for the last penny every minted. It was a valuable penny - let’s just say that.
EXT. THE GRAND CANYON – DAY
CHARLES and ANGEL are are standing on the tip of Camp Royal at the quiet North Rim of the Grand Canyon. The view is awe inspiring.
ANGEL
So?
CHARLES
Soak
it in babe…you got to
smell the roses ya know.
The serenely quiet morning is jolted by the sounds of “Stairway to Heaven” on the Saxophone. CHARLES looks back at his Range Rover and sees the windows closed. Quiet.
ANGEL starts skipping down a makeshift trail. CHARLES follows from behind. 50 feet below ANGEL skips into JOE PARRY, mid 40’s, beret wearing, jazzy cool, fingering and
blowing on a sax like it’s 1:30AM on Bourbon St.
Off to the side of JOE PARRY is VINCE BOTTY. VINCE is also mid 40’s, John Tuturro looking, massaging an extremely OLD LADY who has lost the battle with sagging gravity.
ANGEL
What the ….?
VINCE
Exactly. You two are late.
CHARLES
I’m a little confused here.
JOE stops blowing for a second.
JOE
We’re the illuminators. Please
pay attention….Vincent?
VINCE
First of all, listen closely.
I don’t suffer fools well, capiche?
JOE
Vince and I are cousins. We share
a great uncle.
ANGEL and CHARLES are taking in the oddity of the moment.
VINCE
Yes, a very great uncle.
OLD LADY
Diarrhea mouth, hit my
can and shut up.
VINCE slaps the OLD LADY on her sagging butt. A sick, loud yelp echoes in the canyon. The OLD LADY seems satisfied.
JOE
Here’s the deal. Our great Uncle was
Charles Barber. Ring a bell?
ANGEL
Nope.
CHARLES
Guys, we have to go. We’re on
a tight schedule. But, thanks
It’s been real.
VINCE
Don’t patronize me or my cousin
slick. We know about the pennies.
JOE
How many you find already.
ANGEL
(sarcastically)
Charles what are they talking
about…I’m scared, hold me.
Charles grabs ANGELS hand and starts walking back up the trail.
VINCE
(shouting)
Just missed you at the Falls
…You two are pretty good.
JOE
The couple in Europe aren’t bad either.
VINCE
Now that girl is hot. What’s
Her name again Joe…Lenny?
JOE
Genny, Genny Creamale.
VINCE
She’s hot and SMART!
ANGEL and CHARLES are almost to the top of trail. Talking quietly. The view behind them is spectacular. JOE and VINCE can’t be seen.
ANGEL
Can you explain ANY of that
Fellini moment?
CHARLES
Obviously, we’re not alone on
this jaunt.
ANGEL
Weren’t we supposed to pick up
something shiny and unique.
CHARLES
I did. Let’s get out of here quick.
CHARLES jumps in the Land Rover. ANGEL is in quickly and they speed off. CHARLES flips a woman’s button down shirt at ANGEL.
The front of the blouse has a JC PENNY label.
CHARLES
Open up the pocket.
ANGEL unsnaps it feverishly. Inside is a shiny red, 2020 penny. ANGEL breaks into a huge smile.
ANGEL
Charles, how the hell….
CHARLES opens up the windows. They can still hear the faint soothing tones of JOE PERRY’S “Stairway to Heaven” echo throughout the GRAND CANYON.
Where was I? Oh yeah, working on “One Better World”, spending Elvis’ money maniacally chasing my life long dream.
So, I decide to take a run down to L.A. and see if I could stir up some interest in either “One Better World” or “Providence”. With “One Better World" - I was running around with my head cut off -blowing cash, shooting on 16mm film (very expensive) and having no idea how I was going to finish.
I remember pitching the idea to Tom McEnery, the ex-Mayor of San Jose and film aficionado. He laughed and a said it sounded like a soap opera. What - “Providence” or my life?
For “Providence” I actually went out and had business cards/stamp made up to get the word out in any scattershot manor I could.
“Providence” - A Reluctant Candidate for Senate, An Unwanted Pregnancy and A Mystical Journey…. Shhh! They’re Listening…Alec Baldwin, Nancy Travis and William Baldwin.
I know, I know…I was really started to extend the boundaries of reality here. In actuality, Alec Baldwin (El Dorado Pictures) was listening, with earmuffs on. I did have one meaningless date with Nancy Travis at NYU (Feast of San Gennaro-1979) & Billy Baldwin reminded me a little of my brother Tom :)
I had submitted “Providence” to El Dorado Pictures after meeting up with Alec’s young college age (University of Wisconsin rings a bell) assistant at The House of Blues on Sunset Blvd. in West Hollywood.
I had set up the ‘meeting’ with this young script reader at that Nightclub as the best way to get a minute or two with this time pressed Baldwin-El Dorado whiz kid. She didn’t know what I looked like, I didn’t know what she looked like but we agreed to meet at the House of Blues. She was there with friends partying. I was looking for my Hollywood break. People tended to dress fairly casual at L.A. Night Clubs so I told her I would wear a blue blazer and tie. I would stand out and she could approach me.
That worked. Right around midnight she came over and asked if I was Chris Braun. I said yes and I gave her my pitch and she took a figurative swing.
“Alec is looking for a great romantic comedy or a movie where he could play the hero.” I was right on it.
“In ‘Providence’ he does play the hero.” The assistant looked at me with some doubt but played along. “Well send it by, I’ll check it out, got to go.” She was off. I had hope.
Several months later I got a call from El Dorado Pictures. I had that immediate feeling of “This could be something.” A different woman that worked for El Dorado had one question for me. I remember it word for word.
“Did you write ‘Providence’ or ‘Outside Providence’?” I said “Providence”. Wrong answer. Alec later went on to play the gruff, rough around the edges father in “Outside Providence”. I saw that movie later and said “HEROES OR ROMANTIC COMEDY”, what? So close - yet so far away.
Back to my trip to Los Angeles to pitch with vigor they say. If you have so much enthusiasm for what you’re doing it can be contagious, people want to believe. I did have that going for me. Confident, delusional or possessed-people noticed and I made sure they listened.
I settled into the Peninsula Hotel in Beverly Hills within ass kissing distance to C.A.A. – The Agency of Agencies in L.A. Creative Artists Agency would hold a lot of their pitch meetings right next door at the Peninsula-I figured I should be nearby.
I checked into to my Suite and felt like a Hollywood Player. I threw my 10-15 Movie magazines from Hollywood Reporter to US Magazines on the table next to my King Size Bed. I called my friend Vince Bottita, a friend from Buffalo who lived in nearby El Segundo.
My office became the cabanas next to the swimming pool upstairs. I still remember how soft and fluffy those Peninsula poolside towels felt on my skin. I made calls to several talent agencies, Baldwin’s El Dorado Pictures and various production companies.
Later on my first day at The Peninsula I was jabbering with someone at the small gym across the hall from the pool. Then Anita Baker got on the stair master next to me and I started talking to her like she was my best friend.
I pitched a role in “Providence” for a nightclub singer – the bad Senator’s girlfriend. Anita was actually giving me the time of day listening, interested. The problem was-I lived in a world of ‘foot in mouth’ disease and I mentioned Sade was on my wish list.
As soon as I asked Anita Baker if she thought Sade might be interested in the role I saw Anita fade quicker than bad paint. She looked at me like I was a dip shit. Hey Anita “I Apologize”:) My intent may have been genuine and noble but the final effect was often not what I thought.
Later that day in my room waiting for something to happen, something did. The porter knocked on my door and told me I had to change rooms. He said the person who ‘lived’ in my room was returning sooner than expected and they’d find me a suitable replacement.
Curious to find out whose bed I was sleeping in I queried the young chap to no avail. It only took my friend ‘Andrew Jackson’ to convince the porter to loosen up his lips.
“You ever hear of Elaine May?” he said. “Sure have, comedy writer, Mike Nichols wife, a legend really in the Hollywood writing community.” I replied. “When’s she due back?” “Early this evening, I’m told. We have to get you out soon.” He quipped as he trailed away down the hallway.
My incessant marketing, producing mind went into over drive. I made sure to leave one of my copies of “Providence” in the night stand- hoping the maid would overlook it and Elaine May would fall in love with my witty prose.
Later that night Vince my Buffalo Boys buddy living in Los Angeles and Joe my buddy living in San Jose made their Peninsula arrival. They both looked at me with slight skepticism but hopeful curiosity to what I was really doing.
We went out to dinner at some Beverly Hills restaurant to be seen and we were seen. Had a great time, people watching as everyone else was listening to me expound my grandiose ideas. We waved at and said hi to Tori Spelling like we knew her. She waved back, probably thinking…. “I don’t think I know these guys but maybe they know my Father.”
We ran around Beverly Hills and Hollywood for a couple days. My experience really didn’t make a dent in my quest to get either “One Better World” or “Providence” seen. But it was fun. I certainly wasn’t heartbroken. My quest got even more single minded and ‘runaway train’ in intensity.