Love Life (22 page)

To prepare for the part, I had to learn to play the saxophone. At that moment in time, my favorite musicians, Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band, were just beginning their legendary Born in the USA Tour. I had recently met them all backstage at a concert in Toronto while making
Youngblood
. I went back a number of times, watched them and spoke to their iconic sax man, the late Clarence Clemons. The Big Man was gracious in sharing tips like what reeds to use in your sax and how to custom-rig the horn so you could throw it over your shoulder to look like a badass. In addition to this exclusive high-end tutorial from the most famous sax god on the planet, I also spent days with a playing coach learning how to properly “finger” the horn. It would take a few months to play with even a rudimental ability and we only had weeks. So the key was to learn to
look
like an expert. By the time we began shooting
St. Elmo’s Fire
in late 1984, I could play some, but I could fake-play
a lot
. And I looked like a pro doing it.

A big reason it all came together for that movie was its music. My friend David Foster had written great songs for Michael Jackson, Earth, Wind & Fire, Chicago, Barbra Streisand and tons of other musical studs. For our movie he wrote “Love Theme from St. Elmo’s Fire,” which went to number fifteen on the charts, and “St. Elmo’s
Fire (Man in Motion),” which was the massive number one hit of that summer. I fake-played my sax in both the film and the MTV music videos.

David became a good friend. He is a musical genius, funny and very brash. A perfect example:
St. Elmo’s
was David’s first crack at writing a major Hollywood movie score. He was, at the time, one of the record industry’s most sought-after producers, working on multiple projects at once. In fact, as the deadline to write the score approached, he was also struggling to write a big charity anthem for a fellow Canadian, a paraplegic who was going to circle the world by wheelchair.

“I don’t know which is harder, writing that kind of inspiration song or one that has to rhyme with the phrase ‘St. Elmo’s Fire,’ ” he told me.

In the end, he did both at the same time. Killing two birds with one stone, he took his song for Rick Hansen’s “Man in Motion” wheelchair tour and merely added the phrase “St. Elmo’s Fire” a few times. No one seemed to care that the film’s number one hit song contained lyrics that had absolutely no connection to the movie whatsoever (“Gonna be your man in motion, all I need is a pair of wheels / Take me where my future’s lyin’, St. Elmo’s Fire!”).

David and I stayed in touch long after I stopped wearing earrings and using hair mousse, often running into each other at some of the high-end charity events that David was involved in. At a fund-raiser for then-president Bill Clinton, David had an idea.

“Since I’m the musical director tonight, I’ll have to play the
St. Elmo’s
love theme,” he said, owing to the fact that, according to ASCAP, for a ten-year period more people were buried and married to his ditty than any other. “What if you played the sax solo like you did in the video?”

“Um, how exactly would that work?” I asked, seeing as how I’d never actually played it.

“I’ll call you up from your table, I’ll have a sax ready and you mime playing while the real sax player hides offstage.”

The idea made me laugh. “Maybe I’ll take a sip of water in the middle of the solo, like the old vaudeville-player piano joke where you ‘mistakenly’ reveal that it’s all fake.”

“Exactly. People will love it!”

I was inclined to agree. Even though the room would be packed with Los Angeles’s A-listers, I figured even that kind of jaded crowd would appreciate the gag.

I told David I was in.

“Great. I will play it as the closing number, right after ‘After the Love Has Gone.’ ”

I told Sheryl our plan. She is my number one sounding board and I always listen to her perspective.

“Don’t do it,” she said.

There is no one in the world who has her feel for the realities of life. Few have her keen business mind, facility for numbers or ability to connect with people. But she absolutely never wants to see me at risk, particularly when it comes to comedy, where the risk/reward ratio is higher than in any other genre. The very fact that Sheryl was uncomfortable with my doing the gag, to me, meant I had to do it. My only real hesitation was whether or not I still knew the solo well enough to sell it.

By the time David played his Earth, Wind & Fire hit, everyone was into it. At the next table, I could see President Clinton smiling and bobbing his head.

“I think my pal Rob Lowe is in the house,” David said as he finished. “You out there, man?”

I raised my hand.

“I just had an idea! I don’t mean to put you on the spot, but do you still know the solo from ‘St. Elmo’s Fire’?” he asked.

Before I could attempt to answer, people were clapping and egging me on.

Like those Academy Award winners who’ve won every single award leading up to the Oscars, I did my best “Well, I’m
shocke
d
! I’m just
so overwhelmed
! I’m
so surprised
to find myself in this situation!” act.

I demurely made my way to the stage, passing movie stars, national political figures and famous musicians. I passed Quincy Jones, who gave me a “good luck” wink. President Clinton looked on eagerly.

“There’s no turning back now,” I thought. I hoped I could still nail the song, but if I couldn’t I’d just cut right to the joke of not really playing. I grabbed the shiny Selmer tenor sax waiting “conveniently” on a stand next to David’s piano.

“I hope you don’t fuck up!” he said. I looked out to Clinton, who laughed. David started to play.

It truly is a gorgeous song. I remember first hearing it in the editing room of the movie and tearing up. I watched David play and was swept up in memories that seemed from another lifetime. I snapped out of it as the big solo approached.

In a performance, it’s the little details that bring authenticity. Knowing how many files a lawyer would carry into a closing argument is almost as important as delivering a good one. Adjusting your mouthpiece and wetting your reed with your tongue sells musicianship as much as anything else. So, I prepared my horn and walked downstage front for the solo.

The battle would be won or lost with the first note. When I took the big breath and blew, no sound would come out, as I’d moved the reed down in the mouthpiece. It would look great with my neck veins
popping, but unless the man behind the curtain blew at
exactly
the same time, the jig would be up.

We hit the note in perfect time. Now we just had to do it with each note throughout. I also had to remember when to breathe in the right spots, but apparently it had become muscle memory, because my phrasing was spot-on. People were jumping to their feet and cheering. I was shocked that no one could tell that no sound was coming out as I blew like a hurricane.

I saw the president pumping his fist. From his seat just feet away from my silent horn, Quincy Jones was yelling, “Yeah, baby!” The thing was going down like a house on fire. I looked at Sheryl, who had her head in her hands.

It’s at this point, with LA’s glitterati going wild before me, that I lost the plot completely. I decided not to show that it was a joke. This thing was killing; people who I thought would’ve known better were
so
into it that I didn’t dare pull the rug out from under them.

Even David was into it like we were live at Budokan. Every time I thought about taking my fingers off the horn and revealing the real player behind me, I just couldn’t. I was as swept up as everyone else.

We finished to a huge ovation. You could see the shock on everyone’s face that I could just get up from my table and put a beat-down on a song like that. I was in a daze as well as I made my way through the crowd.

“I had no
idea
you were a player!” said Quincy, grabbing me for a hug.

Back at my table, Sheryl shook her head sort of like my mom used to do after I pulled some stunt on one of my brothers.

I looked up and caught President Clinton’s eye. He was grinning from ear to ear and doing the
Wayne’s World
“We’re not worthy!” gesture.

Driving home, I was feeling both elated and a little guilty. I was
happy that I’d been able to give a surprising bit of entertainment to such a tough crowd. On the other hand, I felt a little bit like I’d unintentionally pulled a fast one on some people you don’t really want to fool around with. Like the leader of the free world. But I told myself that all that mattered was that my bit with David went over huge and it would all be forgotten tomorrow anyway.

I was wrong. Two weeks later I received a handwritten note, on White House stationery, from President Clinton. It was a characteristically gracious thank-you for coming to his fund-raiser and an invitation to play a duet with him on the sax next time I was in DC. His note was so effusive about my phony-baloney sax skills that I felt a surge of Episcopalian guilt all over again.

“Rob. Get over it,” I told myself. “What the president of the United States doesn’t know won’t hurt him!”

A few days later I got around to telling David Foster about my letter from Clinton. David was understandably thrilled.

“But I feel a little bad that he thinks I can actually play. I hope he never finds out that we were just fooling around.”

“He already has,” said David.

“Whaaat?”

“Yeah, he knows you were faking it.”

“What? How . . . how did he find out? Did you tell him?”

“No, of course not!” replied David.

“Who did?!”

“Barbra Streisand.”

“Barbra Streisand? But . . . But . . . How would
she
know? She wasn’t even
there
!”

“I told her.”

“You
what
?!”

“Well, we were in the studio together a few days ago and I told
her about it. Apparently, she then called the president to tell him you were faking it.”

If you’ve ever wondered what the correct definition of “first-world problems” is, wonder no more. I was now in a full shame spiral involving Barbra Streisand and the president of the United States.

Meanwhile, in reality, Sheryl was of little comfort. “I
told
you it was a bad idea!” she said.

Being nothing if not practical, and also having no patience for my grandiosity, she then gave me very sound advice:

“Rob, honey, I don’t think the president of the United States is spending a lot of time thinking about you or your sax playing.”

This is why I love my wife. She always calls it like it is; she is never afraid to tell me what I need to hear.

“Seriously, babe. Just let it go.”

But I couldn’t. Part of me was certain that Clinton would be burning up the phone lines to Streisand.

“You know, Barbra, I just can’t get over this Rob Lowe hoodwinking!”

“I understand, Mr. President. I myself was disappointed to find he is one of Hollywood’s leading assholes.”

“Yes. How true. And what of that David Foster?”

“Oh, sir, David’s a saint. I loved the song he wrote about that poor boy in the wheelchair. Anyway, I’m sure the whole thing was Rob Lowe’s idea.”

After more obsessing, I decided I had no choice but to try to explain myself to the president. So I wrote him a note.

In it, I basically said how much I appreciated his note to me and that it had come to my knowledge that perhaps there was a “misunderstanding” about my saxophone abilities.

“In the cold light of day, perhaps my playing is not what it would
appear. That said, I would still love to duet with you. We just need a third player behind a curtain!” it read. One of the gifts of
The West Wing
’s legacy is having a few back channels directly to the Oval Office. I gave the note to a trusted emissary, longtime California congressman David Dreier, who was seeing the president the following week.

Congressman Dreier delivered my note. I didn’t expect a reply and got none. Happily, I’ve seen the president since and all seems well. I’m now certain that Sheryl was right as usual and Clinton had a laugh about it with Streisand and moved on to things of slightly more importance, like Iranian nukes. But that evening was a good lesson that performances on a big stage can quickly go awry and that there is sometimes no true way to quantify how far an actor will go to win over a crowd.

It’s also a happy reminder that if you are lucky, over many years as a performer you will have developed many abilities and wonderful tools to use at your pleasure, as an actor prepares.

My rogues gallery. Over a two-year period, some very diverse characters.