The "spit take" has been a part of TV comedy for years. It involves one person making some shocking remark to another person while they're drinking, making them explosively spit out the drink. It always guarantees laughs.
But in my case, I didn't spit out the drink, just swallowed it hard and coughed like crazy while trying to make sense of what Mike Schneider had just said;
"We want you to be the new head of Artists Unlimited."
"W-w-why me?" I somehow said between coughs, my eyes watering.
"Hear us out on this," Jeff started "You don't have the kind of baggage Chuck's got, the guys in New York just know you from your work and what everyone else has said about you, all good by the way."
"Chuck hasn't always played nice, you know." Mike added
"You got the wrong guy!" I said "I'd never even seen the New York office until the merger talks."
"And that works in your favor!" Mike said
"How?"
"Your focus has always been on the work, the clients, that looks good to them."
"Yeah, well, so does experience...which I don't have!"
"Look, Jim...if Scott takes over, then it's all over for us!" Jeff said sternly.
"What do you mean?"
Jeff looked at Mike, who nodded.
"When Dad died, he was beginning the proceedings to take the company public."
"Public? As in publicly traded? Stock exchange?"
"Exactly."
"This hasn't happened since the 80's or 90's, we finally have a chance at real power." Jeff said while looking straight at me "If Scott wins, he'll either move everything to New York or clean house here."
"He might even do both." Mike quietly added "And if he did...guess who'd be gone first?"
Mike was right. My last encounter with Scott ended with me pulling off his hair piece and having a battle royal wrestling match with him before escaping into the night with Laura Austin and a couple of her friends before a dozen of the LAPD's finest raided the house and had their own match with him. I was sure someone like him wasn't going to kiss and make up if we met again.
"Look, uh, I'm no CEO...I see your point and all, but...why me?" I repeated.
"Why not?" said Jeff
Before I could answer, Mike jumped in.
"What about this?" he started "If I'm correct, as CEO you'd have the power to appoint whomever you want..."
"Or fire whomever you want." Jeff added
"Suppose, just suppose, you took over...you could name Chuck chairman of the board, stay out here and never set foot in the boardroom."
"Hell, you could even give me the job." Jeff nervously laughed.
We all sat in silence.
My head was practically swirling at this moment. The last time I could recall this feeling might've been when told of Chris' death, or maybe when I nearly died at the hands of Marty O'Brien. But still I wondered, how had all this happened? And why was I suddenly forced into a corner, having to make a life-altering decision like this? My eyes drifted across the room and stopped on a framed photo of me with a pretty brunette girl, dressed in retro-sixties garb and leaning against a vintage Porsche Speedster, the picture cleverly aged to look like it was taken in 1960-something.
"Lea..." I said with a small smile as I thought back to a meeting at the Polo Lounge.
Artists Unlimited was already known as a diverse entertainment enterprise, we handled the careers of numerous people in the business and our fingers were in the pies of projects in the film, TV and music world. And under the steady leadership of Chuck Tyler, it had been quietly getting into partnerships with established studios and exploring film projects with him as a producer. He'd seen his colleague's crash and burn with supposedly can't miss projects in the past so he knew not to jump into something big without knowing everything there was to know. I think he might've seen what happened to Marty O'Brien and used him as a cautionary tale of what not to do.
As Chuck explained it to me, the script for "Spotlight" had been languishing in development hell for some time. He read it once and knew it could be a hit, but only if in the right hands. So when the rights to it expired, he bought it for (if you'll excuse the pun) a song. But he could see the challenges with this film, so he waited until the time was right to really put all his energies into it.
The trade papers quietly announced plans for the film and soon after, the casting of Lea Michelle in the lead role of Julie the aspiring singing ingenue. The other roles were filled by up and coming actors I knew little about.
Set at a resort modeled on the famous/infamous Cal Neva Lodge, the film followed a trio of nightclub performers; a young lounge singer, an aspiring comedian and a band musician all working a season at a mountaintop resort.
But Chuck found that doing a film was harder than he thought. First, the current owners of the resort refused his request to film there. So rather than waste time negotiating, he had me dig through the agency's photo archives for any photos taken there, I found several good ones that the studio's CGI department was able to work with. But as good as these were, I felt there were better photos out there.
"These are good...real good." Chuck said as he looked over a selection of photos from the resort's glory days of the sixties "Can you get any more like this?"
I took a deep breath.
"I could try but our best bet would be to contact some outside agencies."
"OK, do it." Chuck immediately replied "who'd you have in mind?"
Hesitantly, I replied.
"Well, there's really only one I can think of..."
Chuck's smile suddenly turned into a look of dread when he realized the "outside source" I'd have to contact.
"Well, well, well, mister Hollywood is calling me."
The voice on the phone belonged to Mitch Harrigan.
Mitch ran The Vision Agency, a competitor that Chuck had tried to buy long ago. But the deal had fallen through because Mitch was, let's say, somewhat difficult to deal with. Chuck found that out the hard way, he figured he could just throw money at this little photo archiving firm and they do whatever he pleased. Mitch finally had had enough of Chuck's condescending attitude and cut off negotiations. He'd originally been the photographer handling the Demi Lovato shoot in Vegas that I took over. Chuck knew he was good but always said he'd never work with the guy again, then inevitably was forced to if I was busy and the cycle started all over again. There was a famous studio executive who once said of a particular actor; "I'll never hire him again unless I need to." That summed up Chuck's feelings perfectly. I think Mitch felt the same way, in my case though he somehow believed I'd stolen a prime business opportunity from him. Now I was the one in the position of dealing with him because he had access to one of the largest entertainment photo archives outside of a studio and I was the one who had to kiss ass.
I reluctantly called him and after explaining what we were looking for, the real fun began;
"Mitch, hear me out..." I started "I know you and Chuck have some baggage but you're dealing with me on this, not him." I said diplomatically
"And the difference there is...?"
"I know you're talented and just want to use some of your expertise. I'm not looking for any kind of turf war."
There was a long pause on his end.
"Besides, when have I ever said anything bad about you?"
Another long pause.
"What's in it for me?"
I was afraid he'd say that.
"You know I can't make any guarantees about that. You'll have to take that up with Chuck...but I'll be on your side and owe you a favor and I like to think I come through on those."
Another long pause.
"Be here at 9 tomorrow morning."
Mitch was a man of his word and he presented me with a flash drive of photos that were even better than I expected.
"Awesome, Hollywood!" Chuck said excitedly over the phone the next day "Meet me at the Polo Lounge, we can have a look at them."
Try as I might, the idea of going to the Polo Lounge still turned me into a star struck fan because I never knew what (or whom) to expect there. And when I parked my SLK I had to look around to see if a certain vintage Corvette was parked nearby.
This time though, it was nowhere to be found.
"She's probably on a beach in Bora Bora with some CEO..." I mumbled to myself.
