Adventures in Fandom

174

Regarding a conversation I had with Paul Michael Glaser in 2013.

 

Originally published in the SHareCon 2016 zine.

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It’s only recently that fans have been lucky enough to meet Paul and David in person. I had several opportunities: at the Hollywood Show in 2012, the first SurCon in 2013, and the second in 2014. But for reasons I can’t explain, I found it impossible to write about it. Yeah, I can go on and on about the fantastic sexual escapades of two other guys, but my real life experiences with the men who created them elude me. So I’ll start small.

I’d like to relate a conversation I had with Paul at the first SurCon. I was sitting at his table and there was only one other person between us. The large round banquet table had at least ten fans sitting with Paul. Once confronted by the actual man, some of the fans were unable to say much to him. I had already spoken to him during the cocktail hour, so that helped me act more like a normal adult. Trust me, it was an act!

At some point in the stilted conversation, one of the women complained about the lack of continuity in the show. It startled me. I remember thinking, you’re sitting next to Paul Michael Glaser and all you can do is gripe about the quality of a show he had no control over? Who knew about that better than the one of the actors who fought—to no avail—for better scripts, and who tried to get out of his contract because he was so unhappy with the show’s quality?

Fortunately, the question drew him out and his explanation was not just interesting but revealing. He told us that back then, shows were produced very differently. He said today, when you work on a TV show, you’re given a large Bible that is filled with specific details. Characters, relationships, family ties, and back story are all laid out, so much so that writers and actors have little room to add things creatively. Most shows today have teams of writers who are knowledgeable on the show’s parameters and can maintain a tight level of consistency and continuity.

However, shows in the Starsky and Hutch era were nothing like that. Scripts were pre-written so generically they could be used for any show and were frequently recycled among different programs. Paul said they’d have a stack of scripts and they’d choose one at random and do minor re-writes to gear it to their particular show. They not only didn’t care about continuity, it was considered an impediment because it would limit what scripts could be used.

Previously, at the Hollywood Show, during a question and answer session with Paul, David, Antonio, and Joe Narr, one fan asked how much of their characterization had been pre-written and how much did they create. Paul tried to dismiss the question by saying off-handedly, “Oh, it was all written down.” But David stared at him and said, “Oh, come on. They gave us nothing. We had to create those guys from scratch.” Paul smiled sheepishly, and the place erupted in applause. We all knew it, anyway.

So, at SurCon, what Paul was saying confirmed that. That’s why episodes like The Fix would be replayed on Charlie’s Angels almost scene for scene, and even across shows under other producers, like I Spy.

Paul talking about this sparked memories for him and he continued, telling us about the episode he hated the most. He said at the start of the season, they’d be given a stack of scripts to read so they’d have some idea what work was coming up. And one of the scripts was so bad, it infuriated him. The plot was terrible, the dialog awful, there wasn’t a redeeming moment in the whole thing. It pissed him off so much, he took the script and went to the producers, threw it on the table and said he wouldn’t work on it. He refused to film it. He told them to find another script.

They just shrugged and said, fine, you don’t want to work on it, that’s okay. We’ll just shut down production, and everyone on the crew will lose a week’s pay because you don’t want to work on this script. They didn’t care that the script was crap; they only cared that it got done on time. It was the same attitude he’d been dealing with since the show began.

Of course, he wasn’t about to put all these people out of work. He had no choice but to do the script. As the season’s work started, he forgot about it during the daily grind of producing the show.

So, a few weeks later, when he’d forgotten all about it, he received a notice that the next day they’d be filming on location, and to arrive on time at the costume truck at a certain address. Typical instructions for a location shoot. When he arrived, the trucks were parked near this really big downtown hotel.

The minute he said that, I knew it could only be one episode. He was talking about filming at the Bonaventure, an all glass, 35-story hotel in downtown LA. At the time, the hotel was brand new, which may be why they chose it for a location shoot. (You can see it and find out more about it on Wikipedia.) Unlike other locations such as certain streets in Venice, they only used the Bonaventure once.

“You’re talking about the episode, Dandruff!” I said.

He shrugged. “I don’t remember what they called it, and sometimes the title on the script would change after release anyway.”

He said when he got to the location, he went into the costume trailer to select his clothes. The day’s pages—what they’d actually be shooting at that location that day—would be in the trailer so he could look them over and pick out an appropriate wardrobe. The minute he looked at the pages, he realized what script it was. And he got furious all over again. He decided that since they were forcing him to do this ridiculous script, he was going to be as difficult as he could be. He selected his outfit—the pale pants, vest, scarf, hat—because he knew the director would question it.

When David came in and saw what he was wearing, he asked what was going on. Paul told him, “It’s that damn script. The one I told you about. The really bad one. We’re doing it today, here.”

David said, “Well, if you’re going to dress like that, I’m going to pick something outrageous too.” That’s when he selected the curly wig, the transparent orange top, and so on.

The director took one look at them and said, “What’s going on?”

Paul said, “It’s part of my character.” And David said the same. The director wasn’t happy, but he wasn’t about to get into a fight with them about it (which would slow down production, and filming on location was always more expensive), so he let it go.

As they were moving toward the scene location, Paul passed a short ladder. On impulse, he grabbed it and started carrying it. When he positioned himself for the scene, the director said, “What’s with the ladder?”

“It’s part of my character,” Paul insisted. He said the same thing when asked about the Inspector Clouseau accent. David was saying the same thing about his fey hairdresser routine. By this time, the director was completely exasperated, but there wasn’t anything he could do with the two of them backing each other up.

I stopped him, asking, “Wait, the ladder? That was just an impulse? I always thought you did that as an homage to the Marx Brothers. I knew you were a big Marx Brothers fan, and in one of their films, Harpo—with the curly hair—carries a huge ladder everywhere and causes chaos. That had nothing to do with it?”

He shook his head. “Spur of the moment. Never even thought about that connection. I did it as a protest because I was so incredibly angry. And we got crazier and crazier as the shooting progressed. It was one of my worst moments working on the show.”

Even though my pet theory had been shot to hell, I still loved hearing him talk about the origins of Dandruff. It was especially significant for me because when I first got interested in Starsky and Hutch, it was through song vids and fiction, not the show itself. Back then, it was playing on TNT for the first time in years. Better yet, it had been remastered. The Torino was once again red, not orange, and the fourth season, when they’d changed film stock, was no longer in shades of blue, because that stock had faded so quickly. After reading some wonderful fic from Suzan Lovett, A Fine Storm, specifically and getting totally sucked into the life of these characters, I finally started watching the show on the TNT broadcasts.

My first episode was Dandruff. Without any context, without seeing any other episode, I watched it in dismay. I thought I’d fallen down a rabbit hole. I thought Suzan Lovett had to be a genius to get drama and pathos out of this ridiculous program. I decided it had to be anomaly. The next day my second episode was The Groupie. Not much better. Between Jack Ives and Starsky’s crazy photographer, I was nearly done with them. Where were the gorgeous guys with the great bodies and cerulean blue eyes I kept reading about in all that fic? I remember looking at the TV screen and saying, “You guys get one more chance. Another episode like these, and I’m outta here!”

The next day’s episode was Ballad for a Blue Lady. And everything clicked. Okay, this was the kind of drama that you could build a universe on. Still one of my favorite eps and one of the major reasons why, twenty years later, I’m still in this fandom.

But I learned to love Dandruff even before Paul talked about. It is ridiculous, but it’s fun to see how far they could push the envelope. Much more fun than Golden Angel, which has almost no redeeming qualities. And there are scenes in Dandruff that are significant in a slashy way. Like when Hutch, in the hairdressing salon, almost drowns his client while Starsky leans against him to share a confidence. Or the scene where Starsky, Hutch, and Dobey are walking down a hallway toward the camera and Paul’s sporting half a boner. Who could forget such moments?

I have fan friends who refuse to watch Dandruff, and I understand their feelings. But for me, it will always be my “first.” And you always remember your first!

Having dinner with Paul Michael Glaser and casual conversation with David Soul was something I never expected to happen in my wildest imagination. And my imagination is pretty wild. I treasure each of those wonderful experiences. Yet, this is the first time I’ve been able to write about any of them. It feels good, like opening a door.

The guys were charming, handsome, so much larger than life. Their interactions with each other were spontaneous and so reminiscent of the natural way Starsky and Hutch behaved. We were, all of us, male and female, giddy with joy and struggling to maintain our adult decorum. Being able to share those moments with so many of my fan friends who were there made it all the more special. Those memories bring a lot of joy and, like most of us, I can use all the joy I can get. With a little luck, I’ll have more success sharing them in the future.