John Clark Pro Se Blog Actor, Producer & Writer



British Pathé Opens Its Vaults


I appeared in a few of Pathé Pictorial’s onscreen newsreels, seen before the feature in the old days (with perhaps a cartoon), or to pass the time while waiting for a train. Now we can watch many of these old clips again.

This is great news! With funds from the National Lottery, they have digitized their inventory.

I’m writing a play which includes my childhood actor days back in the forties (I’ve been accused of being Britain’s Justin Bieber back then!)   There’s going to be a reunion in London, and I hope to be at the Cinema Museum to join them. You can skip what follows if you wish, otherwise you might find it of interest:

Three of us young kids were chosen for this newsreel, because we were “making a name for ourselves“.

It’s fun to see, and then go fast forward to our adulthood, and see how it panned out. First there was me, no secrets here. Then there was Peter Katin, a still living and busy concert pianist.

Finally, Victor Feldman, and if you are a jazz enthusiast, you know who he is, or was. Sadly, he died a few years ago. I ran into him at a club in North Hollywood one evening, asked him if he remembered when we last met, and he said he couldn’t remember anything that far back! He was considered the young Gene Krupa on the British scene, but then went on to other instruments. An all around musician.

Here are some others:

This is the only remnant of the radio Will Hay Programme that I can find. That the BBC didn’t preserve those shows for the record is shocking.
My transition from Will Hay to Just William.
Here were the actors of yesterday, now living at Denville Hall, London, followed by the promising stars of tomorrow.

My play will be attempt at an autobiography as told from the stage, hopefully entertaining. I plan to use some frames as stage projections.

And if you got this far, thanks for indulging me.

Just William Society Magazine interview


John, I see you were born in London in 1932 and attended Watford Grammar School. Given that you started working for the BBC in 1944 you must have planned to be an actor from a very early age. Was that always your ambition? Did you have early training?

Three nos. I had no plan to be an actor, no ambition, and no training. When I went to Kings Langley’s Rudolph Steiner school (locally known as the “do as you like” school), at the age of ten, I was cast in the annual school play, Puck in A Midsummer Night’s Dream, performed outdoors in the garden. But that was it, and I hated doing it, it seemed kind of gay; I was not turned on to acting, and had no thoughts along those lines. 

Your first show on BBC radio was The Will Hay Programme in 1944 where you acted as D’Arcy Minor, the swot of St. Michael’s. How did that come about? And was it fun working with Will Hay?

My family lived in Chipperfield, Herts, in those days, and I was coming home on the bus after school one day in August, when a man came up to me who I recognized, for he lived down the road. His name was Alick Hayes, and he asked me if I was a good reader. I told him yes, and he said could I come over later, meet his wife Zillah, have a cup of tea, and read him something out of the Evening Standard, so after supper I did. He tested me for fluency, to see if I could read without stumbling, and he was pleased that I could. He then explained that he was a BBC producer, and was about to start a new BBC radio comedy series, but the young actor he was going to use had just got sick, and he had an emergency, and maybe I could help out.

The show was The Will Hay Programme (The Diary of a Schoolmaster) and the part was that of a very clever young swot who said very long multi-syllabic words instead of shorter ones whenever he answered the schoolmaster’s questions. Mr Hayes wanted me to play it, just the first show, and he said it would save him from having to find another actor quickly from an acting academy. It was going out live in front of an audience from the Paris Cinema, a basement BBC studio off Piccadilly Circus, in just three days’ time.

I raced home, told my parents, said please let me do it, it sounds like fun, and it pays money. So my mother took me up to London next day, and that is where I met Will Hay and the rest of the cast – one schoolmaster and three students, so-called. Smart was the cheeky one (played by the very professional actor Charles Hawtrey), Beckett the dumb one (Billy Nicholls, on his day off from the RAF), and D’Arcy Minor, the studious swot (me). The joke was that I was the only real schoolboy (eleven years old). Will Hay was repeating the same schoolmaster act he had done in several of his films (Good Morning Boys, 1937, etc). It will be remembered that the comedy came out of the fact that he was a hopeless teacher, and the students took over.

That first day I remember well. Continue Reading

33 Years. A Review and a Complaint


June 1st. 2013

I see that my late ex will be having an Off-Broadway theatre named for her at a June 3rd 2013 ceremony in New York. The 45 Bleecker Street Theatre will thereafter be called the Lynn Redgrave Theatre. I am pleased for her. I plan to be there, and to become re-acquainted with my children and old family members and friends.

This has given me occasion to reflect on our life together.

Lynn and I, over the course of a little under 33 years, made a change in the landscape for the life of actors, for the better, I do believe. We never went looking for trouble. It came to us, and instead of burying it, we fought back.


First was a lawsuit against the Gate Theatre in Dublin. We put on a play starring Lynn and Dan O’Herlihy, my first directing job actually. We ran for 3 sold-out weeks (the longest they’d book us), the best box office in their history. Our deal was to split profits, which were excellent. Instead, they took half of our gross receipts. Discovery revealed that the Irish government, the owners, had years before ordered the management to make the theatre available to outside Irish companies for free. We lived locally, hired Irish actors, financed the show, and of course paid all the costs of our production. A 4-wall deal. We lost the case because their manager got me to initial a contract clause over my shoulder while I was directing a scene. The judge held me to it. We left Dublin soon after, leaving an Irish Equity with a smile on its face, for we had broken the Gate’s hold on their previous minimal actor’s salaries. It’s worth mentioning that despite (or because of) using an Irish attorney, brother of a prominent Irish actor, we lost and didn’t get our money back.

Then we headed West, back to my home town of New York, where we were soon greeted with a lawsuit filed against us by U.S. Equity who extorted 5% of my wife’s self-paid salary as dues, from a year’s tour we took across America with our own show, financed by us and directed by me. We had posted Equity bonds at each date, and they refused to return them. Again, we lost. Because of Vanessa’s political views, Lynn was under watch, and the release of her green card was held up. Equity rules defined a green card holder as actually holding it in her hand! The judge said this was a stupid lawsuit, but was forced to rule in their favor.  They returned the bonds less 5%. But, in a form of revenge you might say, we made a complaint with the National Labor Relations Board, who summoned the leaders of all of the performing unions, and found that Equity alone had been breaking the law for years, penalizing foreign stage performers for daring to peddle their art in America. They had constructed a punitive discriminatory dues structure, in order to discourage them. This time we won because they won. Now foreign actors are treated equally, and have a smile on their faces too, because it has led to a relatively free exchange of actors between America and England and elsewhere. Certainly audiences have applauded this development. We however, were deprived of financial satisfaction because we were outside the Statute of Limitations (3 year rule.) Yul Brynner received hundreds of thousands of dollars which nearly broke the union, but he was very nice, he invited me to lunch with him at the Bel Air, and gave me a bunch of daffodils for her, by way of his thanks.

Next came our famous lawsuit against Lew Wasserman and MCA/Universal, when Lynn was fired for wishing to breastfeed our daughter Annabel at work. Our thoroughly compromised WMA agent didn’t help, nor did our attorneys, and UTV’s press department went to work. Our suit was quietly dismissed by a corrupted judge headed for retirement. I wrote about it in the “Housecalls, what really happened” topic on the left. Expensive yeah, and actor mothers and fathers were eternally grateful for causing all Film and TV companies to provide facilities for employees who were new mothers and their babies. That was the only positive to come out of that case. In the event, they were ordered to reimburse our attorneys’ fees. They didn’t. They’d faxed notice of a hearing to our locked office while we were performing Love Letters up in San Francisco, and avoided payment due to our non-appearance, thanks to their famed “I always win” attorney Gale Title. No transcript was made of the proceedings, so Lew kept all of our attorney fees, and we never knew how he managed to make that happen.

Next, Lynn and I were asked to lead the Players, Edwin Booth’s 1888 gift to actors on Gramercy Park, by our close friends Garson Kanin and Ruth Gordon. I’d been a member for many years. The club was in dire straits. No proper books, so we gave them 20 grand to construct a proper set. Then our tough love for them proved to be too much, and we were summarily ejected. They’re still floundering. I see that steps are being taken by insiders for a clean sweep to improve its chances of survival. For my trouble, I’ve been called John Sleeper Clarke.

This gives me pause. The comparisons are striking! Booths = Redgraves! Consider: Separated by about one hundred years, it produces quite startling results. Junius Brutus cf. Sir Michael = Shakespearean actors, patriarchs and family founders, both. John Wilkes cf. Corin and Vanessa = fiery political trouble-makers, both. Asia cf. Lynn = good writers, recorders of their family stories, both. John Clarke cf. John Clark (me), married to those same sisters. We are the link by our same name. We are both lawyerly, both wicked comedians, both into management, and as Asia wrote to her brother Edwin “He lives a free going bachelor life and does what he likes.”  Sorry, no comment from me there, and he’s dead! Enough already.


To bring us up to date, I am here to say that the tradition is still alive, even though Lynn isn’t. I still choose to live dangerously, sui juris, out of some kind of personality defect, contrariness, orneriness, or just some kind of survival instinct from bad ad litem experiences – it’s not for me to say. But today I filed a Complaint with the Los Angeles Better Business Bureau, and the Los Angeles Department of Consumer Affairs against The Breakdown Services, Ltd. This is only a start, but hopefully it will lead to a satisfactory finish. Their stranglehold on the casting process is a scandal. Read it here:

I am a British born professional actor age 80, and have been a union member in England, Canada and America since 1944 (SAG/AFTRA, US Equity, ACTRA, Canadian Equity, British Equity). I am and have been a U.S. citizen since 1965. I do not use a “manager” or an “agent” because of past conflict of interest problems with them, and the experience of a major lawsuit against the William Morris Agency. I get my own acting jobs, but am effectively prevented from doing so.

I need to avail myself of full casting information from the Breakdowns, aka “Breakdown Services” (hereinafter “BS”), which is a monopoly service employed by all big and small movie and TV production and theatre companies. Scripts and story lines are received by BS from these companies, and from them, BS creates a breakdown of story plots and characters. This information is supplied EXCLUSIVELY to agents and/or managers electronically for money and profit, which is their business practice.

Actors, the subject of these notices, are shut out from seeing all, I said all, of them!

The owner/founder of BS, Gary Marsh, told his audience at a seminar he gave the evening of March 20, 2013 at the premises where I live at Oakwood, Barham Blvd. Hollywood, to a group of child actors and their mothers that he has criminal lawsuits pending against actors who have bootlegged his information. I have done this in the past. He told me that I could not buy their services at any price, only managers and agents, and between them they set the rules. I asked him if I could receive this information if I became a manager, and he said I could not qualify because I am an actor, and if I “wear 2 hats”, I would still be denied. There were at least 20 witnesses.

If you think that Mr. Marsh is not serious, look what he did to Mr. Brian Burke. He got himself a judgment of $1.3 million, and put Burke behind bars for 20 days for not obeying his court order! That’s an abuse of power, Mr. Marsh, a terrible abuse of actors who are trying to find available  work which you keep secret except for your paying privileged customers, aka agents and managers. You claim that it is the production companies and casting directors who make your rules. That, Mr. Marsh, is BS! The best of BS!

I believe that all actors are protected from this kind of discriminatory anti-competitive practice by government law, such as The Sherman Act, of July 2, 1890, ch. 647, 26 S 209, 15 U.S.C. §§ 1–7. Permit yourself to read it, Mr. Marsh, assuming you respect the laws of the United States.

Breakdown Services operates and reaches across state lines from coast to coast, and abroad. There is no competitive service anywhere. 

As settlement, I DEMAND

That the Breakdown Services provides this information ONLINE, so that ALL ACTORS across the world have access to it, at NO CHARGE. Any cost or expense should be born by the Breakdown Services, and passed on to the production companies. It is their joint problem. Together, they created it.

This complaint will soon appear online for the inspection and I hope support of actors. No, not their managers, and not their agents, and not the production companies. They’ll hate it. Actors don’t wish to be “protected from themselves” (see Gary Marsh’s Q&A link above) and will care, and, I’m pretty sure, SAG/Aftra and Equity will care too. I hope the brave ones will flock to support the request. This is not to denigrate Breakdown Services, for they do a fine job. We just want them to open up to us, the central sine qua non of their business, and stop insulting our intelligence.

Follow along and let me know you support this complaint, so that regulators are assured that we actors and directors WANT to know what jobs are available, 100% of them, not just for our enablers (managers and agents) to know, if you employ them at all, but ALL of us. Actors have voices off camera too, in our free society. Let them be heard loud and clear.

My Twitter handle is John Clark@johnclarknew. Click on it. I need feedback!

I hope it will not be necessary to file a lawsuit against Breakdown Services, because I don’t like lawyers either. And this would need one. I’m also too old to see it through the byways of the U.S. legal system. Here’s another example of what I’m talking about.



Posted in A SPACE FOR NOSTALGIA, A SPACE FOR REFLECTION, COMMENTARY-Passing parade, Links to medical sites, My FaceBook page

JULY 12, 2013

This is all about the colon. First there were lawyers. Then there were doctors…

Keeping fingers crossed. This ACTORVIST patient ain’t finished yet! Wife nearby.


JULY 16, 2013

Well, I’m still alive. Still in what’s called “recovery”.

Interesting people, doctors. They are pretty well all specialists today. They have their own turfs. And I find they don’t talk to each other a whole lot. I have to think about heart, lung, blood, liver, stroke, atrial fibrillation, and now my gut. I get back a mixture of good news and bad news. I think the key is having a good, open primary physician to be able to talk to. But they’re very very busy these days, there’s not enough of them, and they seem to be very hard to get ahold of. I’ll know more next week, I guess.

Nevertheless, I go home tomorrow.


Christopher Dorner (cont’d)


February 13, 2013

We must assume that Dorner’s life has ended. He left quite a trail, and many loose ends, which we now have to pick up and make sense of. I plan to resurrect the record of his days in court, under the watchful eye of, and rejected by, Judge David Yaffe, who has just resigned, bowing to the pressure of the corruption exposed by 70 year old Richard Fine, whom he consigned to 18 months of solitary confinement in Men’s Jail, and was released last year. In a way, Yaffe started this whole thing.

We owe the following profound description and overview of what went down to Darwin Adikia, who posted it at It is very much worth reading, and shows how we are all involved, like it or not, by what we do, and by what we don’t do.

Continue Reading

The Dorner Manifesto, unedited


February 7, 2013
Reading ex-officer Dorner’s manifesto is a chilling experience. He is obviously sincere, and his points are well taken. Many in society feel just as he does, whether perceived as wronged by co-workers or lawyers or the courts or family or loved ones. They too have seen their efforts to get satisfaction frustrated at every turn. But it is not given to normal and sane people to act out as he is doing. We have psychiatrists to prevent that kind of thing.

Dorner will probably be cornered and shot on sight, as in Bin Laden. He won’t be taken alive to express his truth from the dock, which would be a pity. We could all learn from what he might say. We all have our truths, and we will want to hear his.

Now we read of 2 ladies in a pickup minding their business which was to deliver the L.A. Times along a street in Torrance very early in the morning. They were ambushed by cops, then wildly shot at in a fusillade of bullets, nearly losing their lives. A case of very mistaken identity. The police thought they saw a large black man driving a truck of the wrong make and color.

I may be too late now, but I have a word of advice for what Mr. Dorner should do next. He should hole up in a house somewhere, then call the media, then call the police to come and get him. Then he should emerge with his hands up for all to see, maybe waving a white flag. Then he has a chance to not get shot, appear in the dock and express himself, and possibly get a measure of satisfaction before he’s put away, probably for life, where he might become a very good writer.

I have reproduced his statement here, unedited, but spell checked. He’s an intelligent man, well read, and a liberal! And many many showbiz and other notable people will see that their names are listed, his favorites and his unfavorites, among some shrewd observations.


Feb 4, 2013 9:14:04 AM
From: Christopher Jordan Dorner /7648
To: America
Subj: Last resort

I know most of you who personally know me are in disbelief to hear from media reports that I am suspected of committing such horrendous murders and have taken drastic and shocking actions in the last couple of days. You are saying to yourself that this is completely out of character of the man you knew who always wore a smile wherever he was seen. I know I will be vilified by the LAPD and the media. Unfortunately, this is a necessary evil that I do not enjoy but must partake and complete for substantial change to occur within the LAPD and reclaim my name. The department has not changed since the Rampart and Rodney King days. It has gotten worse. The consent decree should never have been lifted. The only thing that has evolved from the consent decree is those officers involved in the Rampart scandal and Rodney King incidents have since promoted to supervisor, commanders, and command staff, and executive positions.

The question is, what would you do to clear your name?

A word or set of words by which a person, animal, place, or thing is known, addressed, or referred to.

Name Synonyms;
reputation, title, appellation, denomination, repute.

A name is more than just a noun, verb, or adjective. It’s your life, your legacy, your journey, the sacrifices and everything you’ve worked hard for every day of your life as an adolescent, young adult and adult. Don’t let anybody tarnish it when you know you’ve lived up to your own set of ethics and personal ethos.

Continue Reading

MILESTONES! 80 Years ago today . . .

Posted in A SPACE FOR REFLECTION, My Family and Me

I’m 80 today! With a great effort my mother held on and avoided Hallowe’en with its suggestion of a magical witches brew getting into her new baby’s bloodstream, and released me to this world on ALL SAINTS DAY 1932, with the result you all know.

Continue Reading



What do the names Weiner, Spitzer, Edwards, Schwarzenegger, Clinton, Gingrich, Strauss-Kahn, Woods, Boehner, Craig – the list goes on and on – what do they have in common? Why, an inability to keep their trousers zipped. Their stories detail the circumstances where men have lost sexual boundaries to the detriment of assorted reputations, and in some cases jobs and marriages. And to the intense glee of the media and the public in this most hypocritical of all societies.

And all they were doing was displaying an inability to control what Bernard Shaw dubbed the “Life Force”.   Mark Twain  wrote “The very thought of  it excites him; opportunity sets him wild; in this state he will risk life, reputation, everything … to make good that opportunity and ride it to the overwhelming climax.”

Well, I have a solution to this, a solution guaranteed to curb this kind of uncontrolled behavior.

Continue Reading

Funeral questions


I was not invited to my ex-wife’s funeral, not even after 33 years of what I esteem to be a good marriage. She did not want me there, and when I went anyway, my son Ben put me in the hospital with the help of the local Kent, Connecticut guards “obeying orders, mein herr.”  Awaking, relieved to find that I was not dead too, things did work out for the better.  Now I’ve had time to reflect.  Was I right to go, or wrong? I believe the Irish have it right; friends, enemies, everyone’s welcome, and it’s party time!

I asked “Ask Amy”.  She said I was nothing more than a hooligan [maybe I am, but a proud hooligan I hope].  I asked my neighbor, who should know more about these things.  He does, after all, run the local “Hollywood Forever” cemetery.

Continue Reading

Career Overview


When you get to my age, a refresher covering most aspects of an active life in the Showbusiness is always a good idea.  Also, the nature of the current showbiz tends to get away from you.  With that in mind, I noticed a 1 week movie-making course being given just down the road from me, at the premises of Universal Studios (which brought back memories of the House Calls disaster).

Continue Reading

Nightingale. A play and a life revisited


Message to Lynn:

Hey Lynn,

I’ve been reading some of the terrific notices after your opening last night on Broadway.  I saw the play last year in L.A. but now I see that with the aid of your canny director (hi, Joe) you’ve added references to our 32 year marriage which, you now say, was for you filled with loneliness and lovelessness.  Linda Winer of Newsday says your tales of our marriage teeter uncomfortably close to revenge.

Why didn’t you let me know? You misled me all along, it seems. I pulled out a book we put together a few years ago, This Is Living.  I wanted to check the dedication you surprised me with when it went to the publishers. It says "For John.  Who has opened my eyes to myself, has been a part of every good thing that has ever happened to me, and has loved me through fat and through thin."  So you lied? Now I feel uncomfortable, and wish you had saved me from your years of perdition.  I could have gone elsewhere, created my own career, and saved myself from being demonized and alienated by you and our children.

Well, carry on, anything for a successful show, and the critics DID spell my name right. We know that you have the performing talent to make the phone book sound interesting (there’s an idea.) 


Vanity Fair has recorded a clip from your show. Reader fans may want to hear this.

Investigative reporter Lucy Komisar saw it. This is what she has to say about it, click here for her review.

You’ve made everyone aware Nightingale may be your swan song, and I don’t want to rain on your parade (yet. My warehouse, which you stocked, is still full of good family memories, and all I need for my book which keeps me busy. Also my own solo show. which I may call Canary.)

Meanwhile, say hi to my kids for me, wish them a Happy Christmas, and treat yourselves to a read of A Christmas Carol.



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My 9/11 Terrorists, or was it 9/13?


Most of us will remember exactly what we were doing on 9/11/2001. For me, I was safely out of it, living a quiet but lonely life in peaceful Topanga Canyon, California, in the home I created for me and my family 22 years before.  On that fateful morning, I had been watching, as I usually was, CNBC at 5:30 Pacific Coast Time, tuning in for a few hours stock market viewing (maybe as a trader). I was just in time to see the carnage caused by an airplane crashing into the North tower of the World Trade Center.  I switched over to CNN, and watched unbelievably as the second plane crashed into the South tower 15 minutes later.  Confusion reigned. Obviously no accident, but what was this? A few hours later, we had our answer.  Terrorists! Foreign terrorists, of course, from overseas, acting within our own borders.

My 2 sons and 1 daughter were living in New York City, and I hadn’t heard from them for a while, and was worried.  Especially for Benjy. He was a co-pilot for Delta, flying East Coast runs. Was he in the air, about to get involved too?  Were they all OK?

I went to the phone, unable to raise anybody at that point, not even Lynn, by now my ex-wife.  Two days went by before I learned that my children were safe.  Of Lynn, no word, because I knew she was filming in London. 2 days later, I took breakfast at 8am, relieved and happy to hear that all three of my children were safe and sound back in Manhattan. A film crew had arrived that morning, about to film 4 pretty girls playing a doubles match on my tennis court.

They unloaded their gear. I would be paid $500 renting out my facilities for the day. The producer was relieved not to have to secure permits for the shoot.  Also, my home was just outside Los Angeles City limits, helpful for the fact that the girls would be cavorting on the court topless.

My gate phone rang. It was the police! The producer was having a coffee with me, and immediately sprang to her feet, ran outside, and gathered her cast and crew together for a fast scramble and getaway.

After a short pause I let the police in, first making sure that all shooting has ceased on the tennis court. I went outside to greet them, with a smile on my face. A short-lived smile as it turned out, when they informed me that they had come for me, and I had precisely 1 hour to pack my things before being escorted off my premises. Court order of Judge Arnold Gold. Time enough only to hitch my pickup truck to my trailer, charge the battery, and leave for destinations unknown.

Later that day, it was 9/13 remember, I returned to retrieve a few things, and particularly one of my cars (I had several). At my gate, I found out why my ex, Lynn Redgrave, had been unreachable. She was not in London.  She was in my driveway, shouting instructions to several hangers-on who were there to make sure I did not re-enter my premises, guided by phone instructions from her lawyer Emily Edelman. Thank God I had my camera. I would record the events as they happened, because otherwise nobody would believe it. I called the police.  And now, read my pictorial of what happened next in the category to the left entitled "MY EVICTION PICTURES."

Terrorists? Yes. From overseas? No. Just members of my family, supported by judges, lawyers, the press, and court-order enforcers (from the Malibu sheriff’s office).

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Special day today, 3 reasons


Today is April 2, 2007. What is special to me first, is that this is the 40th anniversary of my marriage to Lynn Redgrave in 1967, which she ended in 2000.
The second reason is that this is the date 6 years ago that I met for the first time my wife-to-be stepping off a plane from Tokyo at LAX. To be, that is, if we liked each other. We did.
The third reason is that today I am restarting this blogsite, which has been asleep for 4 1/2 months because 4 1/2 months ago I was racing off to a hospital in an ambulance, with a heart attack. It happened just the day after I received notice of summary dismissal of my suit against Larry King by the Ninth Circuit, on appeal. (I THINK there was a connection!) Anyway, angioplasty surgery seems to have fixed things and given me a new lease on life, and new energy.
I spent part of my recovery time checking out the open encyclopedia Wikipedia in general and my page in particular.
Download file
Now I find that this freely available and free of advertising site is part of my daily life; there is so much to learn, and so much one can contribute by making new entries and editing.
What stays with me is their insistence on the NPOV (Neutral Point Of View). One gets so tired of the unending pitch of ego at all levels, personal and corporate, in all walks of life today. If mankind is to survive, the future of the world lies in this concept of NPOV.
I follow the careers of the Redgrave family with interest, although it’s none of my business any more. I note that Vanessa is the latest toast of Broadway having just opened in Joan Didion’s THE YEAR OF MAGICAL THINKING. I’m about to read the book. I want to find out whether a loss to death for a family or person is worse than a loss, AS IN DEATH, to a family or person when the subject is STILL ALIVE.
Still alive, as in the countless Family Court decisions to carve up families and spouses and children separating loved ones and dooming them to a lifetime of silence, as in death. I think I already know the answer, which is tied up with the idea of lack of closure. More on this later.
So stick around. I’m still here, and won’t go away.

Tom Cruise and Scientology


Never met him, but I find Tom Cruise to be an intriguing personality. Sumner Redstone, not.
He reveals a mind of his own, which the PTB (Powers That Be) don’t allow celebrities to have, unless it’s to do with some acceptable product or charity.
Scientology to me is also intriguing, and judging by the amount of real estate which features the name writ large hereabouts in Hollywood, they could be on to something. Their Celebrity Center is just down the road, and features one of the best French restaurants in town, possibly contributing in no small measure to the severe case of gout I now find myself having to cope with.
I never did get into the science of Scientology, but was introduced to it in the sixties, and read up on its tenets.
At the time, I had a talented wife who spent hours every week on an analyst’s expensive couch, jointly researching her id for clues as to why she was unable to contribute to family survival in the zoo-like life of New York as it was then and still is. As an Englishman, I had the “pull yourself together” approach to all of the ills of the psyche, which didn’t work for her, and sort of did for me.
By the ninth year, I’d had enough. An acquaintance of mine had given me a dog-eared paperback copy of L. Ron Hubbard’s “Dianetics”, and I couldn’t help but admire his all-round showbiz background and original thinking.
What appealed to me about his approach to life’s problems was that it cornered another part of the brain, the ego, through the superego, if you’re still with me.
In other words, it caused you to expect something of yourself, and get up off that couch. No, I didn’t join, I don’t believe in letting others direct my thinking and doing powers while parting with hard-earned cash, not my style. But it did help me to realize that the relationship had to end. The beginning of the end.
I guess we are all hard-wired into slavish devotion to the things we do at an early age, leaving one with little real desire to change. But Scientology seems to get one to become impatient with oneself and concerned about unattained goals.
Anyway, to Cruise, I say “good on you”, he can bounce on a couch instead of lying on it all he wants, and challenge his audience with ideas born of a fertile mind. Unlike many stars, he has found out that there’s more to life than finding your marks and sitting in a makeup chair for hours on end, and in your trailer on the phone, hoping to set a bomb off under your paid alter ego, manager, agent, or lawyer, praying at the same time that you won’t be causing the Sumner Redstones of this world to be upset or inconvenienced. (Of course, it helps if your producing partner is married to your CAA agent.) And with that, there’s the waiting . . . and waiting . . .



I just watched tonight’s show, and thanks to my new TIVO, I can report on this exactly.
Category: Actor Playwrights.
Question: This Englishwoman called her “Shakespeare For My Father” a play about her father (Sir Michael) and her search for him.
Male contestant: Who is Vanessa Redgrave?
No. Anybody?
(Blank stares from the other two contestants, who were women.)
It was Vanessa’s sister Lynn Redgrave.

How soon they forget! “Shakespeare For My Father” we put together for Broadway, and she was nominated for a Tony. You can read about it elsewhere.
Having spent my 32 year partnership with Lynn encouraging her to stand up and be recognized as the OTHER sister with considerably different talents, it now seems to have been a waste of my time, and perhaps, even, a waste of my precious productive life.
I see she has returned to the family fold, and the sisters appear together in a new movie “The White Countess”. Yesterday the L.A. critic somewhat unkindly referred to them as follows:
“The Chekovian sight of so many Richardson-Redgraves lamenting their circumstances in heavily Russian-accented English and pining for Hong Kong, where their former social glory will be restored, makes you wonder if they’d have been better off in a stage production of “Three and a Half Sisters: The Twilight Years.”
This critic isn’t aware that they did indeed appear together in Three Sisters on the West End stage, just prior to Vanessa’s ill-timed speech in Barcelona, denouncing the U.S. offensive in Iraq (the first one, that is), which impacted badly on the Redgrave brand name.
So there were even bigger reasons for Lynn to claim her independence, if only from her sister’s views.
I don’t think any of this matters any more. Corin, the Marxist brother, is silenced through ill-health, Vanessa appears now to be the holder of the franchise, has shut up, and just keeps busy working, and Lynn has returned to her roots, where she must be experiencing deja vu in her supporting niche. I hope she has found true happiness.


Posted in "House Calls"

Here, for the first time, is the true story of the circumstances surrounding Lynn Redgrave’s “breast feeding” firing from her very successful series “House Calls”, in which she starred opposite Wayne Rogers back in 1979, 1980 and 1981. The series was based on the film of the same name, which starred Glenda Jackson and Walter Matthau.
It’s a story of what can go badly wrong in Hollywood; it’s a story of corruption and intimidation, in my opinion, a can of worms which you are about to meet, and I think it is peculiar to the entertainment industry. And it stems from “conflict of interest” issues. Read this, you will see how it started, and how it ended. And you’ll also see how nobody won.
We were living in New York when we got a call from Jerry Davis (well-known producer of “The Odd Couple”) whose project it was – he’d seen Lynn as “Sister Mary Ignatius” on stage in New York, and wanted to cast her. After many years of stage work in the East, it sounded like a good career move, and a chance to make some money, so we said ok, and then got a call from Universal to negotiate. I was told that Alex Rocco was set for the male lead.
I was then handling Lynn’s business affairs in New York, but I had no stomach for West Coast shenanigans, New York and Broadway is much simpler. Besides, we had no associates or contacts to feel comfortable with in Los Angeles, so we decided to bring in an agency, settling on William Morris. They informed me that Alex wasn’t going to happen and the project was going to be doomed, but that one of their clients was going to save it, name of Wayne Rogers. They said they expected that UTV would come up with $15,000 as entry level for a star. I insisted she should get $25,000, and they laughed, and gave the assurance that, if successful, renegotiation was automatic.
It’s important to remember that successful series come along only once in a while. They are very rare and can make you very rich, even though there is the possibility that you may become “typed”, and have difficulty securing more work later. But rich is nice, and meanwhile you belong to the producers, are not free to accept other work, and have to wait for the agonizing annual date of the fate of the show for the following year, which comes around in May, and you have to be available. And you’ll be contractually tied up for 5 maybe even 7 years. The deal was made, and off we went to Los Angeles by train, carrying a bucket of pet fish as a homey touch for our 2 children. We already had a rental, and schools in mind.
The chemistry between Lynn and Wayne worked just fine, the rest of the cast were excellent, and the series took off, becoming at one point number two in the ratings in its third year. And I got to direct a show, which I hoped would set me on the pathway to go the other side of the camera, and let somebody else take care of Lynn’s Hollywood career. But then there was a threatened writer’s strike, and it became necessary to get some fourth season shows in the can. But it was all “family”, or so I thought.
The time had come to renegotiate her contract. By then, she had taken on a personal manager with better connections than I had, Wayne’s manager Arthur Gregory. He’d been very friendly, and it certainly kept it in the family! Conflict #1, as you’ll see.
Jumping ahead in this tale, our third child, Annabel, was on the way, and Lynn, being in her sixth month prior to the summer break, had to do some of her blocking moves behind the furniture. But now it really was negotiating time.
Lynn was now being “handled” I think is the word, by Freddie Westheimer, one of the top agents at the Morris office. Now that 3 years were up, the show was a hit, and Lynn had been raised incrementally by $1,000 each year, she was now getting $18,000 per show. I told Fred that he should go for a favored nations with Wayne (that means stay on the same level). His response was sorry, he was going to fight only in the interest of Wayne, whom he also represented, and she would have to take the services of a different agent at the Morris office (conflict #2). And so a new green young agent was assigned to her.
Wayne, through his firm Rogers & Rousseau, was known to be the investment advisor to all-powerful MCA/Universal chief Lew Wasserman (conflict #3). Wayne was the show’s “muscle” (there’s always a muscle, no matter what the show, and who it is is not always immediately apparent). He had already been able to have Arthur Gregory take over as Executive Producer, giving him control of the show’s budget, ousting Jerry Davis who had hired Lynn (which broke Jerry’s heart.) Then Arthur ominously said he didn’t want to represent Lynn any more.
Things were beginning to look mighty suspicious. A rumor spread that Wayne wanted to recast the show with himself as the central figure, surrounded by sexy girls.
Since we were stymied at the Morris office, we fired them for cause. I took things into my own hands, and became Lynn’s official manager.
I called Universal’s negotiator, and for openers asked for favored nations with Wayne, transportation to and from work, and because our baby was due to arrive before shooting the new season, a nanny, or the cost of a nanny, at the set. Our children had all been breastfed, and certainly she wanted to be able to continue the practice. Lynn could breastfeed our new baby in her dressing-room during her work day, which could be as long as 12 or 14 hours. And, of course, I taped the call.
Next day I got their reply. Increase in pay of a thousand dollars, no transportation, and the cost of a nanny didn’t arise, because Lynn would not be allowed to bring the baby to work with her. Final.
Appalled, we went to CBS, because they had the original casting approval before accepting the show for the network. Bob Daly was in charge then. We played the tape to the assembled heads of CBS. They were believably appalled too, and told us to wait a week while they worked on it.
A week went by, then another, so I called them. Daly said no dice, we won’t help you. I was staggered. (Conflict #4, unknown where, but I suspect they’d given away too much power, and had no say).
So we sent a message to Universal to inform them that Lynn would appear at their gate to start work under the original contract which was still in force, but with baby Annabel in her arms, and a nanny. They said don’t bother, the part is re-cast.
Her role went to Sharon Gless. As I understood it to be, she was the last of the contract players at Universal, and they were looking to put her into one of their in-house shows since they were paying her anyway (conflict #5).
And that led to our lawsuit against MCA/Universal, handled by up-and-coming Gloria Allred looking for media fame, one of her first showbiz cases. I now know that she didn’t ask for a jury trial, and I wonder why, this was a cause that screamed for it. The Universal publicity department went into action, saying that Lynn left due to her huge unacceptable salary demands, and her insistence on “Breastfeeding her baby on the set”, leading to a somewhat startling visual.
It’s true that Lynn did get another series quite quickly, “Teachers Only” for NBC, who went out of their way to give her anything she wanted. It was a flop. But it did lead to something called mitigation of damages, whereby anything you earn after you’ve lost your job has to be deducted from any claimed damages.
Then Gloria lost her appetite for fighting the media giant and Lew Wasserman, and wanted out of the case. Was it her intention to limit herself to on-camera-only appearances as a media personality back then? I think she saw her destiny was to speak up for the poor and afflicted, and I do not know of any instance where she argued a case in front of a judge or jury. In a word, Lynn got dumped by Gloria, I believe resulting in Conflict #6. So we went over to the highly recommended and powerful FINLEY, KUMBLE, WAGNER, HEINE, UNDERBERG, MANLEY, MYERSON & CASEY, fourth largest law firm in the country, internationally renowned, and with a strong Hollywood entertainment division, headed by Mel Brooks’s longtime attorney Alan U. Schwartz. (“Let the Schwartz be with you” he’d joke in his films, a poor one for us…)
We went to their tower office on Wilshire at Doheny, and Alan introduced us to their litigation specialist, Robert Kendrick Wrede. You could almost see his green beret. A deep menacing voice couched in a poker-faced picture of kindness. “Don’t ever question our decisions with respect to your case”, we were told. And we were comforted and left with a feeling of renewed confidence.
We then waited an awfully long five years (no fast-track back then.) There was work, of course, mainly theatre in New York. Her mostly popular stand hung in the air all that time, and at last the day came when we got the call to prepare for trial. We went to the courthouse with Alan, Wrede, and his assistant Paul, they filed something I believe, conferred some, and then we were invited to have lunch with them and a senior partner who joined us at an outside cafeteria. I especially remember Wrede telling the table that he had a daughter who wanted to be an artist, and said he wanted to make as much money as possible, so she wouldn’t have to work or suffer. They picked up the small check. When we got our next bill, I found that they had charged us their hourly rate for the lunchtime chat too, over $700 bucks in all.
A few days later, revving up in expectation for the fight, out of the blue Alan called me to report that Mr. Wasserman’s personal lawyer had called to say we should settle the case, and it was his advice that we should go along with it. I wondered why it had taken them so long, and he said it was a good sign, they obviously thought they had a weak case. I asked if it was an order from on high. (was this conflict #7?) Why was he advising us to go along with a call from Lew Wasserman’s personal lawyer, instead of Universal’s lawyer, Gail Title? O.K. so no harm in finding out. Lynn had to fly in from New York where she was working, and it was interesting that FK didn’t secure her First Class fare reimbursement, which they told us to pay for.
Wrede arranged that Lynn and I would meet with Lew Wasserman and his lieutenant, Sidney Sheinberg, at Robert Evans’s house in Beverly Hills, right by Wasserman’s home. We were to be alone, and their condition was that no lawyers or others were to be present. We’d never met them before, for Mr. Wasserman had a standard rule, the occupants of the black tower should never talk to actors.
It was a strange meeting. Sheinberg, with an actress wife (Lorraine Gary of “Jaws”), suggested to Lynn that he was familiar with actress anxieties, and suggested she was merely behaving like one who is afraid of being out of work. This comment immediately caused Lynn to get up and start to walk out. I got her back in her chair, and we stayed out the meeting. Lynn didn’t want to play, she was still angry, and was impatient to get on with it. I asked Wrede what they came up with, and according to him the offer on the table was $750,000 – to be worked off over time so they’d get their money’s worth. Sort of like a re-invention of a contract player. (7 year service contracts were supposed to be a thing of the past). We said no thank you, we’re going to trial. (Interesting aside here. I’ve noticed that money offers of settlement don’t come out of a general fund, but usually appear in somebody else’s future show budget.)
Some time later Wrede took us again down to the court house to meet with the opposing attorneys, a whole gang was there. They went inside a conference room and we were told to wait outside. After a while they emerged, and right there, standing in front of everybody, with no prior consultation, Wrede announced the terms of a settlement and recommended us to take it. It didn’t involve any damages. Just an apology, along the lines of a standard “regret it happened” announcement in the trades, our attorney fees and an unspecified job of some kind.
She did not like his proposed terms, said so, and demanded that the trial should immediately take place. He said in front of everybody again that the case could go to trial if we insisted, but it would be many more months down the line, he had a vacation and other cases to try first (conflict #8). Lynn burst into tears, and said it looked like she’d never work again. To me it looked like a setup.
On leaving, it happened that we bumped into Raquel Welch and her then husband Andre Weinfeld in the corridor. Raquel was just concluding her case against MGM, for she had been kicked off the movie “Cannery Row” for being late to work as she insisted on doing her make-up at home. That film had David Begelman behind it, he of the forged check scandal that hurt Cliff Robertson’s career. They seemed a bit crestfallen, and we sympathized. Seemed to me that she had a poor case, she’d lose and we’d lose.
Lynn’s fear of not working became a true conflict #9, this time for me to resolve. At home, she voiced her fears, and maybe she, and Sheinberg, were right. I had a marriage to keep happy too. And we were bone weary.
Next day, unbeknownst to her, I placed a call to Universal’s negotiator who brought on their inhouse lawyer, and I said “Look, if you print a real apology in the trades, and pay all of our attorney fees, and it’s put in writing in a form we can agree on, and you give Lynn an acceptable job to show no hard feelings so we can move forward, we’ll end this matter once and for all. Lynn’s career is at stake, and this can’t go on any longer.” I then buzzed Lynn and put her on the line to listen and join in, and of course, I taped that call too. They said they’d think about it.
Imagine my surprise 2 or 3 days later when I heard on the radio that Raquel had just won her case, a cool ten million dollars.
[Read here about Raquel Welch vs. MGM, which was appealed.
Download file]
I immediately called Universal, and told them that there was no deal, we were going to trial.
Next thing, Universal went to court to enforce an “oral settlement agreement” made by me on the telephone. We were back in New York by now. I went through the yellow pages, and found a lawyer who was prepared to take on Finley Kumble for malpractice. There was no time to proceed with that angle however, and not knowing that FK were about to implode and needed the fees, I decided to proceed with the litigation specialist Mr. Wrede, who could put my back out in a second.
So he represented us – I thought we had no choice as he was up to speed – and on the stand under questioning, I waved the tape of the conversation, and said “here’s the deal, some things were not decided, and anyway, it’s dependent on a writing”. Judge Jack Ryburn, close to retirement, denied the use of the tape, since I had recorded it “secretly”. I said who cares, they claim there’s an oral contract on it, let’s hear it, I’m on it, they’re on it, Lynn’s on it, we’re all here, we have a written transcript with us, it will be found that the conversation was conditioned upon a writing, and we’re not talking about any third party.
I had used the term “without prejudice” in the recording. It was claimed that the term had no meaning in the U.S. it’s only used in court proceedings where a suit is dismissed “with” or “without” prejudice. In England, Canada, and other English speaking parts of the world, it is a term used in the course of negotiations to indicate that a particular conversation or letter cannot be used as evidence in court, and the term only has application in a communication when attempting to settle disputes. Check it on Wikipedia. And they knew how I had used it. And their inhouse guy was English and certainly knew what I meant.
But the Judge refused to listen, as did Mr. Wrede. I said that makes about as much sense as being denied access to a written contract, and he said no matter, it’s an oral contract, and you can’t play the tape, we will rely on sworn testimony. This was an abuse of discretion right there under what I now know to be the “best evidence” rule, a card that should have been played, and an appealable issue.
After hearing more from me, and from Lynn, he heard from Wrede, who put himself on the stand. To do this, he hissed at me that we were going to lose, and made me sign a waiver immediately, before he got up and asked to go in the box. And he began to plead that I didn’t know what I was doing, and should be forgiven if I had made a mistake!
Of course, now I know that by doing this, he had not only made sure that the settlement would hold, but he lost our attorney/client privilege with him for ever more. After the experience of his intimidating pressure on Lynn in the courtroom at the settlement conference, he had become less than a trusted attorney, and what followed had put us in this courtroom.
Judge Ryburn had no interest in what really happed, turned a blind eye, and ruled that he was satisfied that there was a “meeting of the minds”, and my telephonic proposal which I’d initiated was an enforceable contract, and should be executed leaving out the job aspect, and we had to come up first with the invoices charged by Finley Kumble before they would have to reimburse us for our fees. And the apology was to be one of those “We regret” types.
We fired Finley Kumble for cause, and hired this other lawyer to initiate a malpractice suit against them, and took an appeal.
The true nature of that disgraceful law firm came to light soon after, when Finley Kumble was sued for malpractice by scores of other unhappy clients, and some of their own junior partners too.
Several books have been written on the subject, among them “Shark Tank: Greed, Politics, And The Collapse Of Finley Kumble, One Of America’s Largest Law Firms” by Kim Isaac Eisler (Paperback – Oct 2004)” and “Conduct Unbecoming: The Rise and Ruin of Finley, Kumble” by one of its founders, Steven Kumble.
The firm’s senior partners’ pocket books were threatened, so the partnership filed for Chapter 7 bankruptcy in New York State court, and their insurance companies got involved.
We could not get the invoices together without the cooperation of their trustee, and what happened next was a true shock.
Lynn and I were performing “Love Letters” up in San Francisco when Universal’s lawyers faxed over notice of an expedited hearing to our locked office at home informing us that their motion was that they should be “forgiven” the settlement deal, as we had not produced the invoices in a timely fashion. We didn’t know about the hearing, I guess they knew we were away, so they went back before Judge Ryburn, and won a victory by default, because we weren’t there. There was no court reporter present, and no record of the proceedings was made. Their attorney was Gail Title, Esq.
We never got our settlement, nor the apology, and Universal never paid us a nickel. They also never employed her again.
But unbelievably, it wasn’t over.
Finley Kumble’s bankruptcy estate trustee in New York sued us for an unpaid fee balance in Federal Bankruptcy Court in New York, together with interest. We’d already parted with several hundred thousand dollars in fees paid to them, and refused to pay their final balance, and besides, we had a mal against them. We felt that they should refund to us what we’d already paid them!
Bankruptcy judges play a very biased and one-sided role (Yes, conflict #10). They are there to help bankrupt estates maximize receivables, and minimize payables. They are also there to dismiss motions such as our malpractice, if at all possible, usually by summary judgment. Presumably, the goal is to assist them to emerge from bankruptcy, and indeed FK’s Ch. 7 was converted to a Ch. 11. (There didn’t used to be bankruptcy judges at all not so long ago. Recognizing a built-in conflict, administration was handled by some other kind of referee, but not any more. As judges, they are all powerful, and can do anything they want, as we found out.)
I won’t easily forget attending the hearing at the old downtown Customs House in Manhattan, where the court was in session far into the night before a traveling judge from Vermont, one Judge Francis Conrad. It was approaching midnight and the Finley Kumble case had been working its way through the hours, and the Pan American Airways Chapter 7 dissolution lawyers were knocking on the door
We’d discovered that our California malpractice attorney was on suspension for some reason, and there was no time to find another (they used to be very hard to find back then), and we were on our own. Just one of dozens of malpractice claimants, all of whom were experienced lawyers!
Lynn’s name was called at last. The judge refused to allow me to speak. I protested that I was a part of it, and was familiar with the facts, and he said if I didn’t sit down he’d have me removed, but I was permitted to whisper reminders in her ear, but not give advice!
Wrede in a surprise move appeared for the trustee and testified against us. I felt sick to my stomach, revealed to be the adversary I always knew him to be. Lynn was completely confused and non-plussed, but made a speech anyway.
Of course, the judge dismissed our malpractice by summary judgment. He also granted their claim for their unpaid final bill, plus interest.
We were very angry and frustrated, and Lynn did not cooperate at her later deposition to reveal information on her assets so they could attach them. Our teenage daughter Kelly attended the meeting to show her support for Mum, and brought a camera, to take pictures of our adversaries and express her feelings for what they were doing.
After we flew home, Conrad ruled that if Lynn did not produce this information immediately so they could be levied against, she would be charged a penalty of $1000 per day for contempt of court until she did.
Two years went by (yes, we Brits are stubborn, and our contempt of just about everybody knew no bounds!), and the judge was about to order her to be fined three quarters of a million dollars, on motion of the trustee, when she, at the urging of her newly hired bankruptcy lawyers in Los Angeles, filed for bankruptcy in California, which caused Judge Conrad to lose jurisdiction, pen in the air ready to sign. Must have been a dramatic moment, must have pissed him off. It cost us another couple of hundred thousand dollars in legal fees for the pleasure.
In preparation for the L.A. hearing, we had subpoenaed their collections lawyer to come to Los Angeles for a deposition, because our bankruptcy lawyers needed to shape a defense to Finley Kumble’s claims, and find out exactly how much they would push for, now that Judge Francis Conrad had been shown the finger, because there was no final order and no exact amount.
We paid his fare from New York, a night or two in Hollywood, and he was quite forthcoming. He stated that we should pay HIM around $750,000, being part of the court’s gentle pressure to reveal our assets. He thus showed how the system works, and I guess he would have discounted it a bit. I was there to learn and listen, and the memory of how it works revolts me even more now, because I understand it a little better.
Since the Vermont traveling judge hadn’t signed a final order, it was all our guys needed to convince the L.A. bankruptcy judge to find in our favor. The judge did, however, suggest that we should pay Finley Kumble their final balance plus interest. In the interest of justice, no, but of closure and moving on, they got paid, and Mr. Wrede, I’m sure, got his due due. He’s still around, and I see he lists our case among his credits.
So, to sum up, we can see how a very successful television series ended through abuse of power, and who exercised that abuse I leave to the reader. To nickel and dime the artists up front and not give them a piece of the pie is poor planning. Universal lost out and so did CBS, because they weren’t watching out for their own back end. Which is where the action is, in syndication. You need something like 40 episodes to be able to syndicate, and they had 57 in the can. One can only speculate why they did not go ahead. Lynn would have got minimum scale residuals, which is next to nothing.
The series left us a lot poorer than when we went in, but we felt proud for taking a stand, and for years after, actors and actresses who were fathers and mothers would come up to Lynn and thank her profusely, because all the networks and movie companies were providing special spaces where actress mothers could bring their babies to work and breastfeed them during breaks. Me, I still get angry thinking about those days, like it happened just yesterday.
Addendum: March, 2007
I just came across this under date February 1, 2005 printed in TV Guide, a fair and accurate depiction of life under the rule of Wayne Rogers. Readers can draw their own conclusions about the dispute.
(by Michael Peck for TV Guide)
“”Wayne Rogers wants to dominate the show,” a studio insider told TV Guide at the time of the dust-up. “The breast-feeding business was just an excuse to get rid of Redgrave.”
Whether that’s true or not, Rogers made no secret of wanting to call the shots — and he called a lot of them. When CBS approached him about doing the show, saying it would definitely make it on the air if he joined the cast, he hesitated. Finally, he agreed after driving a hard bargain. Details were never officially released, but it was said the actor got script and producer approval, plus the right to veto casting changes. He sat in on all the show’s production meetings and story conferences, which, as you might imagine, didn’t always sit well with the scribes. “Sometimes the writers get rather sensitive and I have to discuss things with them,” was how producer Arthur Gregory put it.
Rogers didn’t downplay the friction he created. “Insecure people can be enormously protective and proprietary about their work,” he said. “But when you’re doing a show week after week, you can’t afford that. I say to people, ‘I’m not interested in more exposure for myself. I’m interested in the quality. We’re all trees, and the forest is the important thing.’ ”
And when the trees weren’t to his liking, Rogers had no problem chopping them down. Gregory, who also happened to be Rogers’ personal manager and business partner, came on board after what executive producer Jerome Davis conceded “could be called a palace coup.” Rogers oversaw the whole process and a rule of the show, Gregory said, was that “the first draft of a script is shown to Wayne first and to no one else.” All of which added up to the star being the man at the top. Or, as Davis put it: “I wouldn’t want to get into one of those questions of ‘He goes or I go.’ ”
None of which made being a part of the team an easy experience. “He has this militant, got-to-be-right streak in him, and he can be absolutely dogged about saying, ‘This scene doesn’t work for me,’ ” Gregory admitted. “Wayne can be a tough guy to work with. He really demands perfection, and he sometimes forgets that none of us is perfect.”
All of which made for a tough landing for Sharon Gless (Cagney and Lacey), who stepped in for Redgrave — but only after Rogers approved her hiring, and he didn’t exactly give his approval quickly (“I happen to know that he looked at film of 16 other girls,” she said in 1982.) And her first meeting with her co-star, in a bar near Universal, didn’t go all that smoothly, either.
“He asked how old I was and I told him that’s rude,” Gless recalled. “He said, ‘I think you’re 38,’ and I let him know I don’t tell my age. He just ignored that and told me his manager thinks I’m younger but he figures I’m at least 38. All I could say was: This isn’t going very well…. We sparred some more and I was pretty depressed. Then some guy came barging over and said, ‘Mr. Rogers, we’d like to invite you to our film festival. Wayne never looked up, just snapped, ‘I never attend festivals.’ I turned to the guy, gave him a smile, and told him, ‘But thanks, anyway.’ For some reason Wayne thought that was funny and we began to thaw.”
Perhaps, but not that much, apparently. After moving on and accepting her Cagney role, Gless didn’t pull her punches. [I]f I could get through House Calls,” she said, “this should be a piece of cake.”

After reading this, I’m even more proud that we took a stand. I think it led to changes within the industry.

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Emily Dickinson said it best:
“I’m nobody! Who are you?
Are you nobody, too?
Then there’s a pair of us – don’t tell!
They’d banish us, you know.
How dreary to be somebody!
How public, like a frog
To tell your name the livelong day
To an admiring bog!”
[maybe I should change that last word to “blog”!]



That’s what you have to say these days to any small girl or boy if they hope to succeed. Laws and regs abound everywhere. It’s not that you have to be a lawyer, but if you are not, you will be at a serious disadvantage all your life, at least in America.
But I find little reason for anyone studying for a law degree to want to be a practicing lawyer, especially a trial lawyer, not, that is, if they haven’t already sold their soul to the devil.
The other evening, I met an elderly lawyer at a bar in a restaurant where my wife and I were dining at the counter. He was very drunk. I asked him the big question. He said, if he knew when he passed the bar, what the world of law-courts would turn out to be, he would never have made it the choice of a career. He said he never regretted becoming a lawyer, but he would have used his knowledge and education to do something else, probably along entrepeneurial lines.
He then said he’d have to leave, was needed in court.
At least he’d kept a sense of humor.

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One of his more famous laws is “for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.”
There’s a story that in a small village, with a church and a bank and a supermarket and a doctor and a drugstore, the local council was concerned that they didn’t have a lawyer, with the status that brings. It was pointed out that there were no problems, they all got along just fine. Nevertheless, the mayor brought in an attorney he knew, who set up shop. Nothing. No business at all. He was about to pack his bags in disgust, when it was suggested that perhaps the village should expand its ambition, and bring in a second lawyer. And that’s what happened. And guess what? These two guys were kept busier than ever.
In our society today, I think it is no accident that we see elections where there is no clear-cut winner. Both sides are about equal.
The polarization of America. Thank God we didn’t get to see a vice president, in the latest go-round, whose training was that of a Trial Lawyer. Enough said?



I know a lot about this subject, it’s everywhere these days. Lawyers are responsible for a lot of it, for it helps to feed their families, which I suppose is all very well – for them.
Let’s examine the subject, for most is not good, and some I think is o.k.
Alienation – the bad sort
To most of the problems I see around me today I have a “been there done that” response. My problems, except the very current ones, have matured to a resolution because of the passage of time.
In this subject, peculiar to family relationships, I go back to around 1969 when it happened that my first wife Kay was subjecting our little lad Jonathan to her decision that he should not have anything to do with me. I then lived in London. It meant fighting in the Canadian courts for his right and my right as his father to have a real and proper relationship. My new family was solidly behind me in this endeavor, for which I was always grateful.
Well, I thought I had “won” in the sense that I got access to him if only in Ontario upon the posting of a $10,000 bond to pay her attorney in the event I kidnaped the kid, but at the accession of my fourth judge who loved theatre and Lynn Redgrave (the first three died in office through old age), he did get to meet his grandparents in the United Kingdom. Just once. And we had a ball. But the following year, curiously, he wrote to me himself, said “leave us alone”. I was astonished, for he’d had a great time with us. Then I discovered that the last, old, and sympathetic judge had died too, and it would mean going back to court with a new one against her new attorney. I had no appetite for more of the same, trusting the kid to make the decision he was comfortable with. Perhaps he had no choice. Anyway, I let him go, and didn’t pursue him further. He was then around 12 years old.
About 10 years later, living now in Los Angeles, I dispatched Ben and Kelly to drive to Toronto in my new pickup to track him down. They were successful, and he was thrilled to be able to embrace his siblings. I found he was by now a world traveling young man deep into music, and I was very proud of him. He hopped into the truck with his guitar, and they sang their way back to L.A., leaving the truck a total loss in Denver (my son Benjy thought it was ok to drive it without oil, oh well).
But the point here is, does he now feel that his mother did him a favor back in 1969, when she separated him from his father? I think that now she knows that he feels differently, and is herself separated from him, and, incidentally, her grandchildren.
Alienation, usually parental, is a terrible thing. It can take place at any age. It uses the powerful forces of guilt and emotional debt to force adults to act in strange and unforeseeable ways. It can create liars-in-training children. My policy is do what is always obviously the right thing to do, and let the chips fall where they may. Because then at least there can be no regrets later. The unknown becomes known. Time cannot be recalled.
And while on the subject, I want to say that I had a real success in freeing someone from what I call the “alienation effect”. It was my sister-in-law Vanessa. She was in and out of a long affair with the Italian actor Franco Nero, and they had produced a little baby they named Carlo, whom I got to photograph for his first press appearance.
Franco lived in Rome, and Vanessa lived in London, and kept custody of their little boy. Franco was happy to come visiting often, but one day said to Vanessa, ominously, “I want to bring him to Italy to meet my mother”.
Vanessa thought the worst case scenario, and put her foot down hard. and absolutely refused to allow it. War clouds appeared, so she hired the services of the best lawyer she could find, one who had a seat in the House of Lords, the venerable and elephantine Arnold Goodman.
He, of course, began to set up an expensive attack/defense for her “worst case scenario”. I, for my part, was deep in the middle of perhaps 8 appearances in a Toronto court, trying to get to see my little fellow, who unfortunately had told his mother that he had found a copy of Playboy in my briefcase during a visit.
I sat her down. I said please, please trust me. Let Carlo go to Italy, do nothing to suggest you have concerns. He will be back at the end of the three weeks Franco wants, I know it, and I know you have nothing to fear (and I crossed my fingers behind my back.)
And thank the lord she believed me, because with great trepidation she did exactly that. And guess what, after just 2 weeks Franco called, and in a complaining voice said he could not possibly keep him any longer, please Vanessa, you must understand, I have a film to do, come and get him.
And since that time, Carlo got to be with his father and his mother on a free and easy basis, learned to speak both languages, and is now an up and coming film director, getting help from both of his parents who, I read somewhere, may be back together again after these many years.
We men are usually simple creatures before we get to be angry creatures.
Alienation – the good sort
So when can this be, when is alienation O.K?
I believe it is O.K. when the unknown becomes known, and decisions are made, usually by consenting adults, that there is no common ground to maintain a relationship of any kind.
I don’t see anything wrong with this. I personally have 2 good ones, my one and only sister Sonia, whose style of life is so far removed from mine, and whose regard for me is so low, that I’ve entirely disappeared from her radar. I have now removed her altogether from mine. And with good cause.
It came to a head, rather amusingly in a dark way, when our mother died at a nursing home in England, and she refused to delay the funeral, not even for a few days. She wanted her put in the ground quickly, and refused to wait for the arrival of her brother (me) and her nephew (my son) and even her own son, from America. I wondered if she had switched religions from the C of E to conform to some Eastern burial rite, but no, the reason, she averred, was that the sandwiches had already been ordered and her friends notified and arrangements made.
The upshot was that I had a restraining order put on the body, and the funeral arrangements were delayed by a week. The scene in the chapel was right out of a Joe Orton play. Her crowd on one side of the aisle and mine on the other. And not a word passed between us. And that’s the way it has stayed ever since. I wonder if mother got a chuckle out of it. Sadly, I think not.
No words pass between me and Kay, my first wife, either, for good cause, which I’ve just gone into, and now, it appears, between me and Lynn my second wife, her choice, hire a killer attorney, bring in the courts, get an order, no problem, too bad.
Feuds are a bit different. It takes two to feud, and the participants often sustain each other in the process.
One cannot overlook what might be called the “fun” feuds known to showbiz. The most famous case perhaps being between Olivia de Havilland, and Joan Fontaine. Others come to mind, that other Joan, Collins, with her sister Jackie.
There was indeed a feud between Lynn and her sister Vanessa and brother Corin, Vanessa acting as though unaware of it, with that kind of disassociated grandeur usually claimed by an older sibling. But now I’m glad to see that they are together again, with Lynn once again back to playing the dog. Woof woof! I hope it lasts. At least the work continues to flow for her.



Topanga and its people
I loved Topanga, a little town I found, just 4 miles from the beach.
Well, that is to say, not exactly. I loved the topography, I loved the views, I loved the vast park – I created a home right alongside it – and I loved the ability to be private and oneself. I loved some of its amenities, especially “ELYSIUM”, a now, sadly, defunct affair, a place where I took my children.
Elysium became Topanga in many ways, where people could relax the way they were born, which is to say, naked. I met many wonderful people there, not the least being my friend Noel, a caricaturist, who drew that splendid picture at the top of my site. And by the way, the poor guy just suffered a mild stroke followed by a quadruple heart bypass. He’ll be O.K., he’s getting back to work, and I’d like people to know about it, maybe hire him. Check out “Noel’s Corner” on the left, where you can find his website.
Many actors, producers, lawyers, psychologists, court appointed child evaluators, and, yes, even judges, would hang out there. And no clothes to separate people or put them in their places or identify their ill-gotten societal gains. The vast community hot-tub was the place to be, hair really let down, and everyone completely equal. The soaring discussions could get to be amazing. I think the place is now owned by a hotel mogul, his private sanctuary.
But Topanga’s people. Hmm. First there’s a feel-good publication called The Messenger, owned by an ex friend of mine called Brodie, which steadfastly refuses to get into anything remotely controversial, like me, f’rinstance. Perhaps they’re afraid of making a profit.
Close friends I made there can be counted on the fingers of one hand. The rest are either 60’s dropouts, local blue-collars, rednecks, self-conscious artists, spiritually good people, real estate agents, and trendy professional newcomers who just don’t belong but can’t afford Malibu.
Did you see George Roy Hill’s last film, “Funny Farm” with Chevy Chase? That’s Topanga.

UPDATE, May 1, 2014

Well, I visited quite often, mostly to buy food for my 3 Rottweillers abandoned by my family. They’d been living with, and taken care of by my good neighbor Barbara. I gave her legal ownership, and delivered the food. We were all happy with the arrangement, and the dogs were able to stay in their beloved home, or close to it. Now, unfortunately, they’re all dead. Cost me more than ten grand, but I don’t regret it.

I keep in touch mostly by maintaining a sub with the local rag, The Messenger, delivered to my door every couple of weeks. I scan the real estate columns, to see if my old houses have been sold, and check on the activities of my old Real Estate enemy agents, Melissa Oliver and Jon Saver (mentioned elsewhere.) I see that one has gone, my guest house to the actress Cloris Leachman. My main house has been on and off the market. I think my fellow DGA director Mr. Michael Katleman may have difficulty selling it, for I put a curse on it. It was that, or burning it down upon my eviction. Any new resident will have bad luck.

So, I got thrown out, and many people helped themselves to the goodies at the trough of my leavings, courtesy of my ex-wife and the courts. So, correction to my first sentence.
I hate Topanga.

So what’s new in Topanga? I read the latest Messenger. Page 22, “Ongoing Meetings”. That should tell me something. This is what it says, in its entirety:

12 Noon, every Tuesday, Al-Anon meeting, Inn of the Seventh Ray.
8pm, every Tuesday, Community House, Alcoholics Anonymous meeting.
6-7pm, every Sunday, Topanga Christian Fellowship Church, Alcoholics Anonymous Open Big Book Study.
7:30-8:30pm, every Friday, Topanga Christian Fellowship Church, Alcoholics Anonymous Step-Study meeting.
7-8pm, Tuesdays, Corbin Bowl, Ventura Blvd. Cocaine Anonymous.
7:30-8:30am, Tuesdays, Topanga Christian Fellowship Church, Debtors Anonymous BDA meeting.
7:30-8:30am, Mondays, Topanga Christian Fellowship Church, Under-earners Anonymous UA meeting.
7:30pm. Mondays, Community House, Narcotics Anonymous meeting.
7:30-8:45pm. Mondays, Woodland Hills United Methodist Church, Overeaters Anonymous.

There you have it. 12 years since I moved out. Topanga hasn’t changed one bit.





I’ve always preferred number two. If I rent a car, it’s Avis. My word processing software is WordPerfect. I emigrated from England to the new world – to Canada. I married the number two sister in the Redgrave family. And I was the number two in my family, having an older sister. Perhaps that’s how it got started.
My fantasy as a kid was that I would one day own a car that would look sleazy on the outside, the object of scorn, but under the hood would lurk the most powerful of engines, able to overtake all opposition.
And now I’m thinking about it, I was content to be the number two in my marriage to a famous wife. Perhaps that was my downfall. Eventually, you get to feel like number two.



I’ve noticed that there are 3 levels of communication.
The main level, the obvious one, is where I communicate with you, and you communicate with me.
Then there’s where I communicate with you through a third party, a “spokesperson”, my publicist, for instance, or even maybe my lawyer (perish the thought). And the same goes for you. I have little respect for it.
The third level is silence. Some see this as taking the high road. I see it as the refuge of the cowardly, and maybe even the guilty, and I have no time for it.