It's So Hard To Type With A Gun In My Mouth (19 page)

As with all my celebrity friends our friendship dwindled. I don't think I ever saw him again after that day. I never blamed him for the country club incident nor did I ever mention it. We just drifted apart as people who work together do. Frank's musical conductor stayed in contact with me for about 15 years until one day... no Christmas Card. That's just how it goes I guess... life, not show biz. People come into your life for a bit and then pass through. It used to upset me, now; as I grow older, I understand it. 

OH! Just in case you think I only think nice things about people. I did know some prick headliners... real assholes. They were dyed in the wool bastards with an ego the size of a Humvee. But those stories, along with the one about who's hung like a moose, I just don't feel comfortable telling.

JULY 6, 2006 -
ALBERT HAMMOND

If you've been following along with my insane life you'll remember I had an apartment in Hollywood with a central pool and communal living. That first apartment was the foundation for so much of my life in California. For instance, the day I'm moving into my new place, my neighbor Michelle pops over. She's blonde, perky, and beautiful. She had this airhead quality that instantly endeared you to her, yet she was no dope. This building wasn't like New York where no one spoke to you, in this place everyone just came in, introduced himself or herself  and  plopped down on your sofa. So on move in day Michelle plops herself down on my sofa and wants to know all about me. We're talking and I ask her if she's going to lie out by the pool. She says, "No, this is my year for no sun." And she explains that she only sits in the sun every other year. For some reason I think this is the most brilliant idea I have ever heard and immediately take this as gospel in my life. By the way... not a line in my face, thank you very much, Michelle.

So this apartment building was filled with all kinds of characters. When I first moved in, there were no comedians there, not a one. But there WERE show business people. After all, it was Hollywood.  Dave Madden of the Partridge family had the unit right over the pool. Len Wayland, the actor, was right below me to the right; Sandy Shire was directly below me. Sandy was David Shire's brother who was married to Talia Shire from Rocky. (See how small the business is... six degrees of separation) And there were two songwriters from England. Mike Hazelwood and Albert Hammond. They had been brought over by an American producer because they were hot  songwriters at the time.

We were a tight little family, this insane group at the building. And I'm forever grateful to them for getting me into show business. Here's how it happened. Gail Lerher, a top fashion model, was living there as well. Gail was fun and perky and Israeli.  There was no nonsense with her; she told it like it is.  At the time I was working at the May Company and hated it. Gail said, "Here's what you do. You get yourself fired and collect unemployment. Then you'll have your days free to go to break into the business." I was appalled. Can you imagine doing such a thing? How horrible. I would never collect unemployment. NEVER. Gail was on me to get my nose fixed too. She was insane! I'd never get my nose fixed.

In the beginning I was very shy. Still am to an extent, I just hide it well. But there was a lot of pot smoking going on in those days and put a joint in me and I'm hysterical. We were sitting around the pool one day and I'm making everyone laugh. Dave Madden says to me, "Steve, you're funny. There is no doubt about it. You could be a comedian. There's a new place that just opened up on The Strip called The Comedy Store. You should go in there and try stand up."  I thought he was insane, however, Albert Hammond is sitting there as well and agrees with him. And this starts me thinking but I soon put those thoughts out of my head. How could I leave a good job at The May Comp?

Sometime later I'm in Albert's apartment. He's pushing the idea of me becoming a comedian. And I say to him, "But what if I don't make it."  Even back then I had these fears of not being enough and of being judged and failing. This shit never leaves you; you just learn how to deal with it. (Direct quote from my shrink)  Albert says, "Steve you can make a living in show business...if you only try." And he tells me he'll go to The Comedy Store with me the next night.  The next night, he does. I watch the comedians on stage and think to myself, "I could do that." And the seed has been planted. However, I am not leaving my job at the May Company. No way.

God has a strange way of making things happen. Must have been two weeks after my first trip to The Comedy Store when I'm called up to personnel at the May Company. I was flat out fired. Why? My boss felt my heart wasn't in the job and she needed someone with more fire. I had now been fired twice in four years, once from United Artists (office job) and now The May Company (office Job) it was like God was saying "This ain't for you, boy."  Gail's words came back to haunt me. "Collect unemployment so you can break into the business."  This option was starting to look very good.

I got back home that day and everyone was around the pool; Gail, Michael, Albert, Len, Michelle... everyone. I announce to the group that I had been fired and a huge round of applause came up. They threw an instant party. Albert says, "Now you can do what you were meant to do." Dave is pushing me to go back to The Comedy Store and Gail is making plans to bring me to unemployment. My head is spinning.

I made the transition very easily. I guess I had always wanted to do comedy but never had the nerve to try. My mother was, shall we say, less than supportive and remains that way thirty years later.  In any case, all the ducks were in a row. I got the unemployment, I got into a class and I started hanging out at The Comedy Store. The very first time I got on stage I got laughs. When I got off stage Sammy Shore, the club owner at that time came up to me. "You come back, kid, I'll put you on.  You've got the sound." I didn't know what he meant but I do now. There is a sound a performer has, an ease on stage, a naturalness that makes them set apart from an accountant who stands on the stage...and I had it. Those few words of encouragement were all I needed. If Sammy hadn't said them to me I would have walked out of the club and probably gotten another job in retailing.

OK, so now here's where it gets good. A couple of months go by and I'm doing my best to break in to the business. It was January and we have horrible rains in January in California. Horrible. I'm sitting in Albert's apartment and he's looking at the rain telling me it reminds him of the weather in England. And I say, "It never rains in California but when it does, it pours."  The next day Albert plays me 'IT NEVER RAINS IN CALIFORNIA".  He had just gotten a record deal and was recording his new album and   decided to include that song in his first American release. He asked me if I wanted to go to the recording session. And I did.

I'm sitting in a chair at the studio and Albert is in the booth. He's singing the words to it never rains in California and when it comes to the part where he sings... "Don't tell the folks back home I never made it."  He points to me. He was singing about my fears of failure... I was over the moon that I had been the inspiration for that song. Can you imagine what I felt like when it became a hit?

Soon after, Albert and Michael moved out. I saw Albert once, ten years later and we talked about the building and my being a
comedian and naturally, the song. But that was the last time I saw him. I never saw Mike again. It's been 34 years. (After 38 years Albert and I have been reunited. Michael has passed away. But Albert had gone on to be a huge recording star and was entered into the songwriter’s hall of fame, he’s also earned an Emmy… when I told him the NEVER RAINS story he said, “Steve, it couldn’t have happened that way. I wrote that song in London.”  But it’s how I remember it and I’m sticking to my version.)

The building would change tenants several times. Since I was now entrenched at the Comedy Store as a regular and a member of the Comedy Store Players, comedians were hanging out in my apartment.  Soon comedians were taking apartments as they became available: Freddie Prince, Liz Torres, Johnny Dark, Bo Kaprall and The Burksy's,  Helen, Herman and Allan. Allan was the youngest comedian to ever do the Tonight Show at that time. His mother was like the mother of all comedians and could tell you who was on the road, what joke was written by what comedian, who was making what deal and how much they were getting paid. But more importantly, the Bursky's were the hub of comedy at that time. The Bursky's home was the hang out.  Herman passed away about ten years ago, Allan is now an agent but does stand up sometimes and Helen... Helen is exactly the same. I spoke to her yesterday and my love for her is as great today as it was 30 years ago.

The other tenants all passed through my life like I've learned people do . I ran into Gail about fifteen years ago in the lobby of my plastic surgeon... on the day I was having my nose fixed. She was laughing hysterically because I always swore I would not have it done and there I was "Going Hollywood".  Michelle got married and moved to Pasadena. Maybe twelve years later I learned that her kids were going to school with my best friend's kids, The Churukians and I reconnected with Michelle.  Michelle turned into a wonderful mother and had a terrific husband. They left California for Vermont and that is where they live today.

Man I haven't thought about those people in years. Now I'll be depressed all day. I hate the memories.  I hate change. I want it to always be as it was... but as I'm reminded time and time again... that's just not how life is.   And all I want to ask is, "why?"

POST SCRIPT

On the day I got fired from the May Company I sat in my office totally crushed. My assistant came in , let's call him Hal. Hal wanted to know what I was going to do and I declared to him that I was going to be a comedian.  I said, "If I don't try I'll spend the rest of my life wondering if I could have made it." It was my declaration of independence.  He wished me well and told me he would look for me in Vegas.

Flash cut Twenty-five years later. I had been fighting with the idea of getting off the road and doing what had become my love, writing. I had done the stand up thing for years and was making quite a bit of money but it wasn't creatively fulfilling to me any more. I had been booked for six months of gigs and I told my agents not to book me anymore. I was done with the road. They were not happy. I was not happy either. I wasn't sure I was doing the right thing. I kept looking for a sign of divine guidance.

My very last official gig was in Hawaii at the Hawaiian Comedy Club on Oahu. When I arrived the owner of the club asked me if I would like to do a private gig, a thousand dollars for one show. One show! I never do private gigs. I hate them but a grand for one show, how could I turn it down. The show was the Christmas Party for a local department store.

The night of my Department Store gig I'm sitting in the room they had provided me and a woman approaches. "Steve, our store manager would like to say hello. Can I bring him in?" "Sure."  She opens the door and standing there is Hal, my assistant from the May Company.... And there was my divine guidance." I absolutely freaked out. My career had come full circle.  "Did you know this is my last show? Did you? You were there in the beginning and now you're there in the end." I blabber on. "Wow" was all he could say and he tells me he's followed my career and how he tells everyone about that day in the office when I declared I was going to be a comedian.

I didn't do stand up again for about five years.  And I don't do it very often any more. Writing, that is my love. To sit alone in my office and create words that inspire and make readers laugh. That's what I love.

JULY 9, 2006 -
THE OLD MAN IN THE MOUNTAIN

I think it was right after the divorce when my father wanted to take me on a trip through New England. We were going to see the White Mountains and stay in a Motel and see the Old Man in the Mountain. What's the old man in the mountain? It was a famous rock formation, which created a profile that looked like an old man. It was famous in New England, like a personality and everyone either talked about it or went to see. I was finally going to see it.

However, like everything with my parents nothing came easily. She didn't want me to go. There were rules and times and distance restrictions. She would drill me on what it was going to be like, "You'll be alone a car with him for hours. Do you want that??"   I had witnessed horrible acts of violence by that man. He was a monster or maybe I should say he was driven to be a monster. As an adult I know the frustration that is my mother.  But, as a child, being around him made me uncomfortable. I loved him and yet I kept him an arms length away, not allowing him to get too close to me. I was simply too afraid.

They finally came to some kind of agreement. Most kids just went out with their fathers, with me it took a NATO Treaty. My father would be picking me up at 9:00 a.m. At 8:45 I was on the porch waiting for come. "Come inside." My mother would scream. "I don't want him to see you waiting for him."  This was a ritual that went on every time my father would come to get me. I would be on the porch and she would scream at me for anticipating his visit. She hated him so much she wouldn't even give him THAT. And, as always, I suffered the consequences of her wrath. I was not allowed to express to my father the little love that was left in me. He did finally arrive and we were on our way but not before she had her dramatic good-bye scene. It's always about her. Always.