Read Online TALES FROM THE SCRIPT: THE BEHIND-THE-CAMERA ADVENTURES OF A TV COMEDY WRITER by Gene Perret - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Gene Perret
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i paid for lunch. Such records might be useful, i
thought, in submitting my tax deductions.
One of the other writers noticed the figure $8.95 on my desk calendar. He said, “What’d you do, buy a new suit?”
i didn’t mind the kidding so much, but i did feel uneasy at work.
Everyone was kind, generous, and supportive, but i didn’t feel at home
yet. For many years, i did all my writing at the kitchen table. i was
going to make my official logo a gravy stain. My writing was solitary,
lonely, but then it moved into a busy office with veteran writers. Everything i wrote was scrutinized, discussed at meetings, and rewritten. it
became hard for me to write. My fingers froze over the keyboard.
My solution was to fake it. i showed up at the office, but did very
Seven: Engineer in Hollywood
63
little creative, original work there. in the evening after dinner, i did
all my writing lying across my bed in the motel room, which was my
headquarters until i found a permanent home in Southern California.
There, i was alone, away from the wisecracks and the instant critiques. i concentrated on my work. The jokes simmered in my brain
for awhile before they were committed to paper.
Then, the next morning, i took all my notes and jokes to the CBS
offices and typed them out, pretending that i was creating on the spot.
it worked, at least until i became more comfortable with my surroundings and my colleagues. i thought i was a good comedy writer,
but i just had to get used to being part of a comedy writing staff.
Those first several weeks were difficult and frightening. My contract ran for only thirteen shows. After that, if they didn’t pick up my
option, i was to be unemployed and on a whole different coast from
where i could get employment. However, the discomfort i felt and the
hardships i endured were all worth it. i was a comedy writer for television. no one could destroy the thrill of that, but one guy came close.
My family did not make the trip to the west coast with me. My
wife and four kids remained behind to finish the school year; they
wouldn’t join me for several weeks. So, as i mentioned, i booked a
room in a motel across the street from CBS Television City. i did my
shopping in a supermarket a few doors further down the block.
A gentleman seemed to be following me. i saw him on the street
and in the supermarket. He seemed very interested in me. What
frightened me was that he was not very neat or clean-looking. He had
long hair, a scraggly beard, and terrible-looking clothing. i thought
he was a homeless person.
He probably thinks that I’m a celebrity, i thought. in my mind’s eye,
i was because i was writing for television. How much more of a celebrity can one be? He probably also knows I’m rich. Again, in my mind’s
eye, i was. My salary was more than i ever dreamed of, and i could
not see how the stars were making much more than i, nor could i believe that they were. What on earth would they spend it on? i felt he was
either going to rob me or kidnap me for a healthy ransom.
Then, one day in the supermarket, he made his move. He came to
me and said, “You write for television, don’t you?”
i started backing away from him, but said, “Yes, i do.”
He came closer, making up the ground that i had gained in backing off, and said, “You work on one of the shows across the street,
don’t you?”
i said, “Yes.”
He said, “So do i. i’m writing on Glen Campbell’s show.”
i did not know whether to feel good at that news or not. i was
happy that he was not going to do me any harm, but i was unhappy
that such a bizarre-looking creature was in the same profession i was.
i was happy that i was working in television and on a show that the
experts were predicting would be the runaway hit of the new shows
for the upcoming season— The Jim Nabors Hour.
Chapter Eight
The Jim Nabors Hour
Being at the famous CBS studios, entering the building each morning through the “Artist
thought, in submitting my tax deductions.
One of the other writers noticed the figure $8.95 on my desk calendar. He said, “What’d you do, buy a new suit?”
i didn’t mind the kidding so much, but i did feel uneasy at work.
Everyone was kind, generous, and supportive, but i didn’t feel at home
yet. For many years, i did all my writing at the kitchen table. i was
going to make my official logo a gravy stain. My writing was solitary,
lonely, but then it moved into a busy office with veteran writers. Everything i wrote was scrutinized, discussed at meetings, and rewritten. it
became hard for me to write. My fingers froze over the keyboard.
My solution was to fake it. i showed up at the office, but did very
Seven: Engineer in Hollywood
63
little creative, original work there. in the evening after dinner, i did
all my writing lying across my bed in the motel room, which was my
headquarters until i found a permanent home in Southern California.
There, i was alone, away from the wisecracks and the instant critiques. i concentrated on my work. The jokes simmered in my brain
for awhile before they were committed to paper.
Then, the next morning, i took all my notes and jokes to the CBS
offices and typed them out, pretending that i was creating on the spot.
it worked, at least until i became more comfortable with my surroundings and my colleagues. i thought i was a good comedy writer,
but i just had to get used to being part of a comedy writing staff.
Those first several weeks were difficult and frightening. My contract ran for only thirteen shows. After that, if they didn’t pick up my
option, i was to be unemployed and on a whole different coast from
where i could get employment. However, the discomfort i felt and the
hardships i endured were all worth it. i was a comedy writer for television. no one could destroy the thrill of that, but one guy came close.
My family did not make the trip to the west coast with me. My
wife and four kids remained behind to finish the school year; they
wouldn’t join me for several weeks. So, as i mentioned, i booked a
room in a motel across the street from CBS Television City. i did my
shopping in a supermarket a few doors further down the block.
A gentleman seemed to be following me. i saw him on the street
and in the supermarket. He seemed very interested in me. What
frightened me was that he was not very neat or clean-looking. He had
long hair, a scraggly beard, and terrible-looking clothing. i thought
he was a homeless person.
He probably thinks that I’m a celebrity, i thought. in my mind’s eye,
i was because i was writing for television. How much more of a celebrity can one be? He probably also knows I’m rich. Again, in my mind’s
eye, i was. My salary was more than i ever dreamed of, and i could
not see how the stars were making much more than i, nor could i believe that they were. What on earth would they spend it on? i felt he was
either going to rob me or kidnap me for a healthy ransom.
Then, one day in the supermarket, he made his move. He came to
me and said, “You write for television, don’t you?”
i started backing away from him, but said, “Yes, i do.”
He came closer, making up the ground that i had gained in backing off, and said, “You work on one of the shows across the street,
don’t you?”
i said, “Yes.”
He said, “So do i. i’m writing on Glen Campbell’s show.”
i did not know whether to feel good at that news or not. i was
happy that he was not going to do me any harm, but i was unhappy
that such a bizarre-looking creature was in the same profession i was.
i was happy that i was working in television and on a show that the
experts were predicting would be the runaway hit of the new shows
for the upcoming season— The Jim Nabors Hour.
Chapter Eight
The Jim Nabors Hour
Being at the famous CBS studios, entering the building each morning through the “Artist
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