“Diary of a Hollywood Mom — Another Kind of Mom”
Being a Hollywood (or set) mom can quickly escalate from a part-time job to a full-time career, but not a career of glamour or acknowledgement for you. Your place will always be behind the camera where you might sometimes feel like the necessary evil on the set. So, beyond my advice of be sure you really want to do it, and not knowing how other parents did it, this is how I got started.
The idea of having “Hollywood Kids” was my husband’s, but I was assigned the task of finding them an agent. What? You’re kidding of course! This was the early seventies. There was no Google in those days, so it was, get out a phone book and scan the yellow pages. I bought and perused the latest issue of the newsy Hollywood magazine, “Variety” as well, hoping for a clue as to how to begin the process.
Though I was born in Los Angeles, by the time my husband’s declaration of “find the kids an agent” was issued, we didn’t live in or near the magical movie-town, having moved to the country, but I couldn’t let that deter me. My husband had told me to find an agent, therefore, that’s what I would do. I began making calls. I was told by various agencies, send in a picture and a brief description of your child’s abilities. Well, I thought — my children have many abilities! Where do I start?
I knew that these agents must get hundreds (thousands?) of pictures and letters from proud and hopeful parents every day, and our children (or my husband) would be just one more hopeful, but what the heck. I had to start somewhere.
I found appealing photos of each of our children and sent them to some agents. I didn’t know there were different kinds of agents. There are agents that handle only theatrical jobs, and there are those who handle only commercials, one of whom was Ms. Beverly Hecht, the top commercial agent for working Hollywood children, though I didn’t know that at the time. After not hearing from any agent for over three weeks I thought, that’s it, there’s no interest. I think I was relieved about that, but I knew my husband would ask me if I’d followed up on the submissions. I was ready to give him the negative news but instead, when I called Ms. Hecht, she apologized for taking so long to get back to me. She was interested. Wow! I’d struck pay dirt! We set up an appointment for the whole family to meet her at her office on Sunset Boulevard — in Beverly Hills no less.
She was just as I imagined a Hollywood agent to be. The walls of her office were plastered with photos of recognizable children and adults. Her desk was piled with scripts (aka “sides”) and other various papers. We found her to be delightful and charming, and though usually hidden behind a cloud of cigarette smoke, she was very pretty. She enchanted the children with her husky voice, her sparkling eyes and her laughter and jokes. She knew how to draw them out and she did. They responded to her instantly. After all, that was her job and that’s why she was the best commercial agent in Hollywood. She signed all four of our progenies.
Arrangements were made to have professional photos taken. These were to be put on composites, meaning a piece of paper wherein a head shot would be on one side and a composite or series of smaller, character shots on the back, along with the agent’s contact information and credits of any commercials, television series’ and/or movies the child had worked on. These composites would be submitted to the casting director who would then choose the children or child he or she wanted to present to the sponsors or production office for consideration. One big change that has taken place today is that submitting hard copies of composite pictures is pretty much obsolete. Composites are still valid but now (as I’ve heard) they are submitted on-line.
Ms. Hecht used one of her clients as her photographer. Garth Pillsbury had worked some commercials and has appeared in movie and television productions such as “Star Trek (the original series), “Invaders,” and other shows, and he was an excellent photographer who knew how to get commercially appropriate shots. Word is he still practices photography in Los Angeles.
Garth charged up our driveway on his motorcycle and, together with him and my four children in my station wagon, we traveled the town. We did wardrobe changes, went to parks, libraries, schools with jungle gyms and slides, and just had fun. This isn’t so bad, I thought. He was nice — for a Hollywood person. After receiving the pictures, it was evident that my children were very photogenic. They liked the camera, which seemed to like them back.
Our new agent helped us choose the best four or five photos of each child, we ordered the composites, and it was onward from there!
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My husband knew I was unsure (let’s say terrified) of driving the freeways. He also knew they could be treacherous and, up till then, finding my way to local supermarkets, doctor’s offices and schools was pretty much my range of driving.
My head swam with visions of bumper-to-bumper traffic, angry drivers (showing me their middle finger) and exhaust-filled air. To calm my nerves, my husband outfitted the station wagon with new brakes, a new battery, new tires, an oil change, “AAA,” and anything else that might keep us from becoming stranded on a freeway or side street. Then, to acclimate me to freeway driving, he decided we should do test drives. He would pick a destination then draw a map, marking points of interest that I should look for, i.e. gas stations, restaurants, or unusual looking billboards, even parks or groves of trees. I often thought he could get rich just selling his maps to other new Hollywood Moms, as some of those audition offices are harder than hard to find!
Heart pounding, teeth clenched, I began to find my way along the freeways, always armed with an ashtray full of quarters in case I had to call for reinforcements via a gas station phone booth (no cell phones in those days). All the preparations worked! In the following nearly twenty years, the only incident I had was a flat tire while parked in front of a casting office and we knew Judy, the Casting Director, well. A quick call from her office phone and we were soon on our way.
Three pages in my “Thomas Brother’s Guide” map book, the three pages of Hollywood, Los Angeles and Long Beach, were soon dog-eared and tattered (no GPS in those days either), but I had my husband’s funky, hand drawn maps and a crock-pot sitting on my kitchen counter, so the kids and I were set.
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My ten-year-old son became my navigator and therefore rode shotgun. I got tapes (cassettes), snacks, books, games, whatever I could think of to keep the children occupied while I drove. This made our trips fun and educational. We listened (and sang loudly) to The Moody Blues, Neil Young and The Beatles. We also listened to Wayne Dyer, Anthony Robbins, and nearly died laughing while we listened to George Carlin, who we were one day privileged to meet at a party at his house.
Upon arrival home after long afternoons of freeways, side-streets, audition offices, and wardrobe calls, we would find our crock pot patiently waiting to provide us with one of its many delicious dinners. Being greeted by the smell of a simmering roast was glorious. God bless the inventor of the crock pot.
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There were perks to working in Hollywood, of course. The money was good, yes, traveling to the various filming locations was fun, yes, and we were privileged to meet several of the Hollywood greats, whose names will forever live on the roster of famous performers. Henry Fonda, Gregory Peck, Paul Newman, George Burns, Vincent Price, Katherine Hepburn, Bette Davis, etc. Each of them as unique as a fingerprint. All of them deserving of their status as a Hollywood Giant. Just sitting on a set and watching them morph into character was a day of pleasure and enchantment. I remember when I saw the movie, “To Kill a Mockingbird” (one of my favorites) starring Gregory Peck. I thought, what a kind and sincere man he appears to be. And so, he was. I was not disappointed when I shook his hand. He was subdued, seemed almost reticent about meeting new people, especially fans who might approach him with an outstretched autograph book or confront him with a Polaroid camera, but he was never rude, and his polite and decorous manner always shined through.
My son worked with Gregory in the movie, “MacArthur.” He played MacArthur’s son. We worked that film for three months though most of the MacArthur and son scenes ended up on the cutting-room floor, not an uncommon happening. If you’ve seen the movie, or might watch it on the TCM channel, that cute little boy standing next to Gregory Peck (or “MacArthur”) is my son.
Hearing that Gregory was a little shy at meeting people, my son decided to take matters into his own hands and break the proverbial ice. On the second or third day of filming, we arrived early on the set. Gregory was there, his hands in his pockets. My son saw him standing across the sound stage and much to my surprise began running towards him, full speed. When there was no doubt that a collision was about to occur, Gregory opened his arms just as my son leaped, and a full body hug ensued. They were buddies after that.
Another dear man was George Burns. I always loved his comedy show, his dry and timely wit, and I adored his wife, Gracie. George was small of stature, but big on personality and keen with intellectual humor. We were lucky to have met him shortly after he’d celebrated his hundredth birthday. Holding on tightly to his cigar, he would readily offer his advice when asked how he’d managed to live so long. “Just keep breathing,” he would say, his eyes sparkling mischievously behind his round-rimmed glasses. He was a joy to watch and appeared totally unaffected by his position (or his age).
Then there was Paul Newman. Oh my. Meeting him was an extraordinary experience. We met him on Paramount Ranch, where many a western movie was shot, also where the Renaissance Fair was held in Southern California. We were there for an audition that was looking to possibly cast my son in an episode of “Project Blue Book.” My daughter happened to be with us that day and she and I were both treated to a closeup view of Paul’s near penetrating and very magnetic blue, blue eyes. His personage was impressed upon us forever. He was pleasant, genteel and gracious, and was as compelling a man as we’d heard he was. We didn’t know then that his organic food products (I love his licorice) would one day be gracing our tables and pantries.
Sometimes, rarely (it used to be rare), a well-known celebrity might do a commercial. One such happening was when my son did a commercial with Henry Fonda. Though I cannot remember what the commercial was for, I do remember it being an unusual yet rather uneventful day. We shot the commercial on a large sound stage and Mr. Fonda, who did not like socializing (at all), had his dressing-room trailer brought right into the sound stage. His personal attendant hovered around him, checking his hair, straightening his jacket, his buttons, etc., but the moment the director yelled cut! Mr. Fonda would disappear into his dressing room. There was no breaking the ice with this man.
Contrary to days gone by when a “proper” actor would never appear in a TV commercial, many are now pursued and signed to represent a product be it a car, an insurance company or a credit card and most well-known actors of today have at least one or two commercials somewhere in their background. It can be the beginning of polishing their star. Cases in point; John Travolta, Farrah Fawcett, Dakota Fanning, Leonardo DiCaprio, Wesley Snipes, Jodie Foster, Roseanne Barr, etc. A commercial can certainly help pay the bills while you’re trudging from one audition to another waiting for your big break. It can also qualify you to join Screen Actors Guild, otherwise known as SAG, a most enviable union to belong to.
(Tune in for the Next Chapter)
The Rolling Sage ~
