Lorne Michaels brought me to Los Angeles for my first
Hollywood writing assignment, a Lily Tomlin special which Lorne was
producing. I then wrote on another Lily
Tomlin special, a Flip Wilson special – with guest participants Lily Tomlin,
Richard Pryor and Peter Sellers, which spectacularly spruces up the “Flip
Wilson” credit – and a mercifully forgotten variety special (although iconic
comedian Groucho Marx stood up and waved on it) hosted by singer John Davidson,
who delivered a monologue (written by yours truly) while being drowned out by
an up-tempo orchestration of
“That’s Entertainment.” (A
relief, because the monologue was awful.)
For my entire first eight months in Hollywood, all of my
employment opportunities – four assignments in total – emanated from the
munificence, generosity and innate trust in my ability of Lorne Michaels. Then one day, Lorne called and informed me
that he was relocating to New York, to produce a late-night sketch comedy
series to replace Johnny Carson reruns on Saturday night. Lorne invited me to go with him.
I immediately said no.
When I tell people I turned down working on Saturday Night Live, a substantial
number of them react as if I rejected an invitation to hook up with the Beatles, turning my back a skyrocket to
immortality.
I, not surprisingly, do not see it that way.
And never did. Well
maybe a couple of times when they were on the covers of national magazines, but
that’s it. Why didn’t that – to others –
questionable career move upset me?
Partly, because I did okay staying where I was. If I had ended up failing in California and
returned to Toronto, signing up at the Ontario College of Education and going
on to a Third Grade assignment teaching long division and “cursive”, I might well
have felt differently. Not to disparage
Third Grade teachers, but how many of them are drinking tea in the Teachers’
Lounge saying, “It was Saturday Night
Live or this. And look where I am.”
Why didn’t I take the job?
Lots of reasons, the bulk of which will remain between me and a not
insubstantial series of mental health professionals. For these
purposes, I shall mention only the fact that I had recently uprooted myself
from the comfort and familiarity of Toronto and I was little disposed to repeat
the procedure a seconde tahm.
Regular readers can most likely infer that I do not come
easily to change. I have recently spent
six months agonizing over changing dentists.
So changing coasts… especially from a warm and balmy one to… “This feels
a lot like Toronto.”…
Thanks, but I am not into it, okay?
Before moving in a direction I forgivingly call forward, let
me dwell just a moment on the implications of my behavior. When I recently revealed to a visitor that,
with one uncharacteristic exception, Lorne Michaels has not spoken to me in thirty-five years, the visitor opined, “Because you betrayed him.” A rather stinging assessment, especially
considering that he and his family were at the time staying gratis in my house.
And yet, his astute observation could very well have been on
the money. I recall, on an early visit
to Saturday Night Live, meeting the
then twenty-four year-old Al Franken, who, upon our being introduced, replied,
“Oh, you’re the guy who won’t work for us.”
So I guess the word had gotten around. And it wasn’t, “I admire a man who sticks to
his guns.”
Thoughts on this seminal career move – or in this case non-move – return to my mind as I am
reading (on my Sony Discman) Martin
Short’s entertaining memoir I Must Say,
having arrived at the point early in “Disc 4” where Marty chronicles his
tumultuous single season writing and performing on Saturday Night Live.
Wow, I am reminded, though not for the first time, did I
ever dodge a gigantic bullet!
It is imaginable that some people would thrive on the
intensity, urgency and competitiveness involved in churning out such a
frightening amount of usable comedy material on a weekly basis. All of it written in one day!
You pitch the idea on Monday; you write it on Tuesday. Wednesday at one, you read that week’s
script. No second drafts. No second thoughts. You write it, and you ship it. I cannot believe, working at this pace, that typewriters
– and later computers – did not burst spontaneously into flame.
They worked exceptionally fast. Is what I’m saying.
Which is definitively not my style. I like to think about things. (Which I changed from “I like to consider
things.”) Write them down. Rework certain parts. (Which was once “Rethink certain
parts.”) Look for constant improvements.
(Formerly, “Look for improvements.”)
Accommodating my process in one day? For me, that would be an extremely long
day. A day other people – say, like my bosses on the show – might, more
accurately, refer to as a week!
And even then, it might not be any good! (Or at least not to the taste of my
employers. Or the mercurial whim of that
week’s guest host.)
I could never have worked successfully on Saturday Night Live. I am simply too deliberate.
(Another example. I originally wrote “I am simply too slow.”
On SNL, I would never have had
the time to worry over every word. I can
imagine myself watching a performance of my material from the wings, realizing,
“Not ‘slow’ – ‘deliberate!’” and feeling somebody
suddenly clamping their hand over my mouth because I had registered my now-too-late
revision out loud.)
But I was not thinking about that at that time. My immediate concerns ran to: “Suppose I relocate to New York and the
series is summarily cancelled?” Or as I
explained to Lorne Michaels in the one letter I wrote him requesting assistance
for a project he elected not to assist me with:
“The main reason I did not work on the show is that I was
not certain it was going to last.”
Wrong reason. But
still the right decision.
I guess that’s the way it works sometimes.
Or is it “That’s how
it works sometimes.”
3 comments:
"The way it works" is more alliterative and has a nicer rhythm, I think.
wg
Saturday Night Live could sure use you as a writer now as it's dead boring!
After reading the history of SNL (on Wiki), it sounds as if their entire run has been one cluster truck after another. You probably would've been gone before Michael's first departure (1980, I think). I used to think that I really liked the original cast, that they were easily the best, but it turns out, I used to be much younger!
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