The biggest mistake I ever made in my career was leaving that
sitcomical “Shooting Star” of the eighties, The Cosby Show,
after running it for only seven episodes.
Financially.
Creatively, as I have always identified with Bill Cosby’s humane and
observant comedy style and believed – and I still do – that there would never
be a more compatible writer for that series than me. And who-knows-whatilly – meaning, who knows what might have
happened had I remained with that monster success, which is unknowable, because
I did not remain, so that “what”, as
a consequence, did not occur.
I must quickly include this before I drown in the
ignominious sludge of my own ingratitude.
I had a stellar career, the most remunerative component – a multi-year deal
at Universal being the direct result
of my association with The Cosby Show. (Executives appreciate, and regularly
overvalue, pedigree. “Stand-ins” on The Cosby Show enjoyed greater subsequent opportunities, one of
them, I recently learned, being Samuel
L. Jackson. If asked, he would probably
attribute his success to his talent. But
I would not entirely rule out his “stand-in” work on a blockbuster sitcom.)
Since I am, among other
less than admirable attributes, a “Serial Lamenter”, I rarely miss a chance to
insert this seminal regret into the general conversation. I do not “push it”, however. I mean, if the conversation concerns the war
in Afghanistan, I do not go, “I imagine, some day, America will regret going into
Afghanistan… the same way I now regret leaving The Cosby Show – it is not as blatant as that. Though “The Missus”, I
suspect, may be tired of the mention of it at all. The moment I begin cranking up my “Inevitable
Moan”, I can detect, from her direction, an unspoken but subliminal sigh.
Finally, having endured that sad song one too many times,
she inquired, non-judgmentally, like a journalist seeking information for an
article:
“In hindsight, knowing what you know now, how would you have
behaved differently in that situation?”
I thought about that.
“How would I have behaved differently?”
Avoiding “dead air”, I immediately formulated a response, which was
this:
“I’m a good writer.
But it is not in my nature to be the other thing they were asking me to
do.”
In other words, it does not matter “what I know now.” Me being me, I was almost criminally miscast
for the role.
The question frequently arises, amongst “non pros” –
participants in enterprises other than show business – being sensitive to my
abilities and limitations, “Couldn’t you have just stayed a writer?”
The answer to that question is “No.” The situation requires you move up. You’re
a respected TV scriptwriter? The natural
progression is to create a show of your own, or to take charge of a show
created by others.
Besides, who turns down an opportunity to move up? I have often said, maybe even out loud, “It is
better to be a boss than to have a boss.” More authority. Greater independence. A chance to have your creative vision tested
in the marketplace, and, if successful, to get mega-bucksedly remunerated.
So you do it. Even if
it’s not “you.”
And just how “not me” was it?
A single example. Not
from The Cosby Show, but from the
creation of the Best of the West
pilot, three years earlier.
I had pitched a comedy western. A former marshal, returning West after the
Civil War, finds his hometown now riddled with desperados and corruption. ABC
approved my proposal, and I set to work developing the script.
Early in the process – I no longer recall the specifics – I
recruited a friend and spectacular writer named Michael to collaborate on the
project. I was apparently not
sufficiently confident to complete the assignment alone. That’s the problem, I quickly learned about
big-time opportunities – once you get
them, you have to actually do them.
So we’re working away, and suddenly, we discover something jarringly
disturbing.
There is a debilitating flaw in the original concept. And that error is preventing us from
successfully writing the script.
I should really have
spotted this glitch from the get-go, but I was too busy convincing people I
knew what I was doing to actually realize that I didn’t.
It is really quite simple.
The idea of an experienced marshal returning to the West is nowhere nearly as funny as an idealistic Eastern
tenderfoot – the proverbial “fish out of water”, if you will – relocating to the West, where comedic
happenstance turns this “unqualified
innocent” into a marshal.
As they’d say in “Sitcom School”, though there is probably a
new word for this by now…
“Duh!”
Having realized my miscalculation, the next step was to call
the ABC executive in charge of the
project, and get him to sign off on my reconfiguration of the concept. There was little chance he would object. The call was merely a protocolical
formality. It wasn’t like he would hit
the roof and cancel my pet project on the spot.
Though that’s immediately what I was imagining. And it froze me in my tracks.
Sensing my trepidation, and being a good friend, Michael
asked, “Do you want to call him, or
do you want me to call him?”
“You”, I replied, spinelessly.
Michael then called him, and it was fine.
Looking back, I see that as the first – deeply ingrained in
my “Memory Bank” – signal that I was the wrong guy for that job. (Remember “The Peter Principle” – you rise to
the level of your incompetence? I was there.)
It is here that I shall inject an illuminating additional
wrinkle. Though my personal “Character
Template” made me screamingly ill-equipped for the position to which I had
risen, that exact characteristical configuration made me the unique and original writer that I was.
Do you see where I’m going with this? The sensibilities that had earned me a promotion to that level simultaneously disqualified
me from succeeding at that
level.
Tres ironique, n’est
pas?
Oh, well.
It was an interesting journey, don’t you think?
2 comments:
Funnily enough I see Bill Cosby is returning to NBC with a new family sitcom. I bet you would be a perfect writer for that show though I guess Bill will want young "hip" comedy writers to appeal to the cool 18-25 crowd. I predict dog. Can't wait for your review if it ever gets shown.
Always better to know who you are, and accept it.
You may not be alive today if you had gone against your better judgement.
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