In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

18 Fun and Games in TV Land In the spring of 1975, I was eligible for two quarters of sabbatical. By parlaying a spring quarter with the following fall and including the usual summer quarter hiatus, I was able to put together nine months of free time. Along with two other couples, my girlfriend and I booked passage aboard a barge for a cruise through the canals of the south of France. The trip was for only two weeks, but it was to be my first nonworking vacation since I had started working in Hollywood. Freelance hyphenates can’t afford vacations. April is the hiring month as production companies staff up new shows for the coming fall season. Summer is preproduction time, the busiest months of the year. As retail merchants’ years are determined by their Christmas season, hyphenates’ years are often determined by their ability to land a staff job in April. Thereafter they are left to the increasingly chancy and diminishing freelance job market. In calculating the cost of our European barge trip, it was beginning to seem likely that I had underestimated the expense. The answer was, as it had been throughout my career, if I could land one teleplay assignment on a TV series the trip would be paid for. 300 301 Fun and Games in TV Land By chance I had read in the Hollywood Reporter that Universal Studios was starting preproduction on a new Jack Webb series called Mobile One. The veteran actor Jackie Cooper would play the lead. And best of all, the producer of the series was my old friend Bill Bowers. Bowers greeted my call with more enthusiasm than I could have imagined. “By all means, I want you to do a script for our new series, how about coming over to my office this afternoon?” As it turned out Bowers’s new office was on the Universal Studio lot in North Hollywood, the only major studio where my career in Hollywood had not taken me. Universal had constructed a small building for Jack Webb’s Mark VII Productions on the lot. When I entered Bowers’s office, he rushed to the door to greet me warmly. “So glad you called,” he said. “I was just about to call you.” “I want to do a script for your show, pal,” I told him. “Oh, you’re going to, of course, but there’s a little job I want you to do for me first.” I didn’t like his huge grin or the comic tone in his voice. Something was not kosher, but I didn’t have a clue to what was coming. “You see, I sold this series idea to Jack Webb. It’s about this reporter who drives around L.A. in a mobile unit reporting stories for our all-news radio station. Sound familiar? It’s based on that cute gal reporter you’re living with, Joy Nuell, except that I changed her to a guy. Jackie Cooper is going to play the lead, and he’s going to be terri fic. But, there’s just this one teeny problem. Jack loved the idea and sold it to ABC, on condition that I produce the series, but, hell, I don’t know anything about producing television. And that’s how you fit in.” “Oh, no, Bowers,” I hastily cut in, “I’m done with producing television, I only want to sell you a script before Joy and I head off to Europe for the summer.” “No problem,” said Bowers, “part of the deal with ABC was that I would stay on as producer of the series.” “So you’ll agree to a one-script assignment, right?” “Well, yes, and no. Jack and I talked it over, and we came up with the idea that everything would work out just fine if you’d agree to be our story editor. It was Jack’s idea.” “We’re leaving for Europe in June. But I’ve got plenty of time to write a script before I leave.” “Come on, Willie,” he pleaded, “just thirteen weeks. That’s all I’m asking for, just help me get this series started and you’re free to go.” “We’re leaving in June,” I responded. “But you haven’t heard the really good part,” Bowers blithely continued, as though I hadn’t spoken, “$1,500 a week, thirteen weeks, plus $4,500 a teleplay. As a matter of fact, you...

Share