ENCOUNTERING RICHARD DONNER

In March of 1974 I was living back in St. Louis, MO working as a salesman at a well known clothing store, Boyd’s, in downtown Clayton. I don’t recall how I found out, but I learned Universal Studios was shooting locations for a television pilot entitled “Lucas Tanner”. It starred David Hartman (later the original host of ANC’s “Good Morning America”).

I called Universal Studios long distance (in those days phone calls to studios weren’t as stringently screened) and under some pretext discovered the cast and crew were staying at the Stouffer’s River Front Inn.  I got up very early and arrived at the hotel about four in the morning and basically “staked out” the lobby.

I ended up sitting with an older gentleman who, it turned out, was a member of the crew.  He started telling me about his career. Turns out, her had worked on “Gone with the Wind”.

“You know the scene of the burning of Atlanta? The scene where Gable and Vivien Leigh are riding through the train yard?”

“Yes,” I replied.

”You know what they burned for that scene?”

“No.”

“That was the wall from King Kong,” he said.

A few moments later I spied David Hartman entering the lobby. I asked the crewman where they were going to be shooting and he said a house out in Webster Groves. He didn’t have the address but suggested I just follow them, which I did.

Webster Groves is an upper-middle class neighborhood south of Clayton that became invaded by the Universal film studio. The house they were using was doubling for David Hartman’s character’s house. The scene involved Hartman and his young neighbor played by child actor Robbie Rist. The man behind the camera was Richard Donner, a veteran television director (Classic series such as WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE starring Steve McQueen, HAVE GUN, WILL TRAVEL starring Richard Boone, and several classic episodes of THE TWILGHT ZONE including “Nightmare at 20,000 Feet” with William Shatner and many more) at that time as well as a few movies under his belt. (X-15 with Charles Bronson and Mary Tyler Moore, SALT AND PEPPER with Sammy Davis, Jr, and LOLA with Charles Bronson, Honor Blackman, and Susan George.

Donner and Hartman had worked together before on several episodes of NBC’s THE BOLD ONES: THE NEW DOCTORS. The process of shooting a television series or a movie was alien to me although I was enraptured with the whole experience. The production trucks crowded the neighborhood streets as did many neighbors, news crews, and by-standers.  I must have asked someone on the crew who various people were and one of them pointed out the writer Jerry McNeely, the writer.

I approached Mr. McNeely and convinced him to let me “interview” him. I put “interview” in quotes for it was more of a long conversation. I remember asking him why he had set the story in Webster Groves. He told me that his wife was from Webster Groves and had been a teacher.

The basic story of the “Lucas Tanner” pilot was that Tanner had been a pitcher for the St. Louis Cardinals and a wild pitch had hit a batter in the head (before batting helmets became a staple of the game) and the batter had died. Tanner quite major league baseball and turned to teaching and coaching high school baseball.  The incident haunts Tanner and the death of a student raises rumors that negligence of a teacher caused the student’s demise. Mr. McNeely was quite patient, kind and generous with me. I questioned him about the writing process.

After spending the morning in Webster Groves the company moves to Busch Stadium.  Dick had been quite kind and generous with me as well, with his booming baritone voice and allowed me to tag along. Soon I found myself standing in right field with Donner, Hartman, Rist, and the ingénue Kathleen Quinlan. She was a stunning (and still is) young woman, very much a free spirit at the time. As we stood there she suddenly took off running/skipping around the bases, then returning to join us.

Finally, Dick’s voice boomed out from the somewhere in the seats and told me, apologetically, that since I wasn’t part of the production, I would have to leave. I thanked him and David Hartman for allowing me to join them, said my good-byes to Robbie Rist and Kathleen Quinlan and crossed the field and left.

As I got outside, I passed (what I would learn many years later was) the grip truck where camera and lighting equipment are stored. As I passed behind it I heard Dick’s voice call out, “If you’re in L.A., look me up. I’m at Universal”. Again I thanked him and drove home.

About six months later, I found myself in Los Angeles with the notion of becoming an actor, living on Sunset Blvd across from the Comedy Store and the Hyatt House Hotel. I went so far as to have headshots and photos taken, which I put in a red plastic three-ring binder (I knew nothing about the proper procedures of getting work as an actor), and had little or no acting resume’ to speak of.

Even with Rick’s open invitation, it took me almost six months for me to get up the nerve to call Universal, figuring he would have long forgotten me. When I finally did call, the switchboard immediately put me through to his office and his assistant listened patiently to my story of our meeting and that I wanted to drop off my photos. She set it up for me to do so and the next day I found myself at “The Tower”, which was the nickname given to high rise executive office building by the main gate.

I was certain there would be no pass for me; so needless to say; I was surprised when I announced myself and the guard handed me my “walk-on” pass and was given directions to Dick’s office. His office was located in the newly constructed, modern office buildings built to the right side of the main gate. (These same buildings were later used in the original “Battlestar Galactica” as Caprica).

I went to his office and presented myself to his assistant and chatted (nervously, I’m sure) for a bit and gave her my photos and prepared to leave. “Dick’s down on stage 23. He’s shooting Kojak. Why don’t you stop by and say hi?” I explained I hardly knew him and didn’t want to intrude or bother him, but she insisted it would be alright. I left the office trying to decide what to do.

When I got outside, I found myself standing across from the Universal commissary. I looked around, certain security would be coming after me to escort me off the lot, but to my surprise, no one was. I looked around again, thought, “Well…as long as I’m here…” and started off down the main road. As I walked I passed Alfred Hitchcock’s office and others. I was in awe.  I passed Stage 28, which had a painting of Lon Chaney, Sr. as the Phantom of the Opera on the side of it.

(This is the same sound stage used for the 1925 silent classic, and best version, of Gaston Leroux’s THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA as well as 1931’s DRACULA with Bela Lugosi, 1935’s BRIDE OF FRANKENSTEIN, and Alfred Hitchcock’s 1960 classic PSYCHO, among others.)

I found Stage 23 and saw the flashing red light going over the stage door.  I knew that when that light was on, you don’t enter. I got this information from watching “Bracken’s World”. There was another man waiting and I joined him and waited. Finally the red light went off and we entered. I was extremely nervous, not knowing if Dick would remember me or if some guard would boot me out.

I stepped into the darkness of the sound stage. The first thing that caught my eye was a Winnebago parked to the right, to the left was a large group of people, like a gallery, sitting and watching what was going on. There was Dick talking with Telly Savalas and another actor (Allan Feinstein) dressed in a fencing instructor’s outfit. I did my best to blend into the shadows as they reset the cameras and Dick called for another take.

As they were shooting the scene I noticed Telly was doing something unusual. He had his right hand cupped and seemed to be glancing occasionally at what he was holding, which I learned later, was his script. (This is called “Cheating a scene” – referring to one’s script when it’s outside the camera’s frame. It’s a technique I’ve used on many an occasion myself. If you’re going to steal, steal from a master). Dick called cut and Telly turned and went over to the people in the “gallery”. (Someone told me they were Telly’s relatives, as to how many were actually related to him is anybody’s guess. Evidently anyone who claimed to be a relative of Telly’s were always welcome to visit the set).

I started to approach Dick when David Hartman, who was shooting Lucas Tanner on the next stage over, came in and started talking with him. I backed away, waiting for a lag in the conversation to say hello to Dick. Finally one came and I approached them. I was surprised when Dick turned and recognized me and greeted me warmly, as did David Hartman. We chatted for a bit and then Dick had to return to work. He invited me to stay but feeling uncomfortable I politely declined.

A few weeks later Dick was directing episodes of a series for CBS entitled SENIOR YEAR, based on the pilot SONS AND DAUGHTERS which Dick directed as well. The show starred Glynis O’Connor, Gary Frank, and Scott Colomby. The interiors were shot off the Universal lot at Las Palmas studios in Hollywood. (This is the same lot where Robert Altman shot that amazing opening sequence for” The Player” and where George Burns had his offices)

I was working at National Screen Service at the time, a company I had worked at in St. Louis. Back in the day, studios outsourced the shipping of publicity materials (movie posters, lobby cards, black-&-white stills, movie trailers, radio spots, newspaper ads) to theaters. I would call Dick’s office at Universal and find out if Dick was working and where he was shooting. His assistant would tell me and when I got off work at 4:30, I’d head for the set.

I also looked up Dick’s films and during my lunch hour I would go into the stacks and look for posters or whatever I could find. I used to wear cowboy boots and if I found anything from any of Dick’s movies I’d hide them in my boots and sneak them out. (Since he’d only done three films at that point in time, which weren’t being played in theaters, I supposed no one would miss them). Anyway, I would drive up to Las Palmas studios, explain to the guard I was a friend of Dick’s and he’d pass me through. After a while, the guard got to know me so well, he’d just wave me onto the lot and tell me where I could park.

So I would go onto the stage and watch Dick work. The center piece of the stage was a full scale set of a 1950’s drive in restaurant. All the other interior sets were built along the perimeter of the stage. I would hang back, stay out of the way and try not to trip over the cables. When there was a break in the action I would say hello to Dick, Glynis, Scott, and the other actors, then step out of the way and continue to watch them work.

When they broke for dinner, I felt that was my cue to leave, but Dick would stop me and invite me to stay, standing behind me in line, in case anyone objected. Basically Universal Studios fed me for about six months.

At some point, I had gotten Dick’s home phone number and called him, telling him I had some posters for him. He said I should bring them up to his house. He lived (and as far as I know, still lives) in a house off Sunset Plaza Drive which is North of Sunset Boulevard facing South. From his front yard, on a clear day, he has a 180 degree, panoramic view of Los Angeles from East L.A. to the ocean.

For those of you who have seen LETHAL WEAPON there is a scene where Mel Gibson and Danny Glover drive up to a gated house looking for a drug dealer. The gate opens and a girl on a moped drives out.  Gibson and Glover proceed to enter the property, get into a gunfight with the drug dealer who falls into the pool getting entangled in the plastic pool cover and drowning. When I saw this sequence in the theater, I started laughing. My roommate wanted to know what I was laughing at. I pointed at the screen and said “That’s Dick’s house”.

I encountered Dick a few other times over the years after.  In June 1976 I was living back in St. Louis.  20^th Century Fox pulled off one of the best sneak preview stunts ever devised. They held a nation-wide sneak preview of “The Omen” on June 6^th at six PM. (666 the number of the beast). Now I was going simply because Dick had directed it. The Warrenburg Theater was packed, sold-out  full house, and again this was before the Internet, blogging, and electronic medium other than radio and television.

The film was made for 2.7 million dollars and grossed a whopping 60 million domestically. October of 1976 I was back in Los Angeles and working for a friend’s production company. We had a suspense-thriller script and we were looking for a director and I suggested Dick. My boss didn’t have a clue who he was so I took him to see “The Omen” which was still in theaters in Los Angeles. The next morning I called Dick at home.

When he answered he seemed agitated and anxious. “I’m on the other pone! I can’t talk right now! My life’s going to hell! Call me later!” I said I would, figuring I’d call him the next day. The following morning the lead item in Army Archerd’s Variety column read “Richard Donner has been hired to direct “SUPERMAN” for Alexander and Illya Salkind for one million dollars.” I thought, well, there goes that idea.

Years later I found myself working security on the Warner Brothers Studio lot. It was a Friday night, six o’clock and I was working relief on the exit side of the Hollywood Way gate. Suddenly, this beat up old GMC pick-up truck pulls up and stops. It was Dick Donner and he recognized me immediately.

‘Hey, man. What’re you doing here?”

I indicated my uniform and replied, “I’m workin’, Dick.”

We chatted for about ten minutes. Meanwhile, there is a line of cars from the gate running all the way back to the Warner Brothers water tower. No one’s honking. No one’s complaining. My co-worker is giving me looks that say “How do you rate a conversation with Dick Donner?” Finally, he said good night and drove off. My co-worker threw me a look and all I said was “I’ll tell you later.”

In 1993, I was no longer working at Warner Brothers but still had friends in security. I got a hold of my friend in security and asked if there was any way I could get onto the Maverick set. We worked it out and I invited a young woman; an actress I was trying to impress; to come with me. We got to the set; most of which was taken up by the poker room river boat set. The chandeliers were rigged to sway, as they would on a real river boat.

Dick was shooting the stateroom scenes with Jody Foster, Mel Gibson, and James Garner. They were resetting the cameras and religting that part of the set and I saw another friend from security, but in plain clothes and went up and hugged him, warding off another lackey who was wondering who I was, and when I hugged my friend I could feel the gun under his sport coat. He had been assigned as Jody Foster’s personal body guard, even though this was more than a decade since the infamous John Hinckley incident, evidently she was still getting strange mail from twisted fans.

I then moved over to where Dick was sitting before two video-assist screens. I stood in the doorway silently, not wanting to interrupt him.  At one point he turned around and saw me, recognized me again.

“Hey, man. How you doing?”

“Fine, Dick. Is it okay if I hang out for a while?”

“Sure.”

And he turned back to his screens. My friend and I watched Jody Foster and Mel Gibson run through a scene a couple of times, then my friend from security took me aside and told me we had to leave. Security was really tight and if his boss came on the set and saw us, he’d be in trouble. I thanked him for letting us hang out and we left.

About the same time I managed to get a script to Dick which I delivered to his office at Warner Brothers. When I stepped into the reception area the first things I noticed were the framed poster from SUPERMAN on the wall behind the receptionist’s desk and the straitjacket from LETHAL WEAPON 2 framed, hanging over the couch.

It brought a smile to my face.  When the receptionist asked why I was smiling I told her I was the one who got Dick started on his movie poster collection.

It has always been a dream of mine to work with Richard Donner someday, but now I know that’s not going to happen, but I appreciate the kindnesses he has given me over the years.