Saturday, August 1, 2009

Milton Berle

Early in 1983, I received a press release heralding a new show arriving in New York, with an opening set for early March. It was to star none other than Milton Berle -- "Mr. Television", "Uncle Miltie" -- playing a 100 year old man. It was called GOODNIGHT, GRANDPA, written by Walter Landau, and was set to open off-Broadway in the huge Entermedia Theatre on Second Avenue in the East Village, for an open-end run.

As a free-lance theatre journalist, I had written a number of feature articles for AMERICAN WAY MAGAZINE, the in-flight publication of American Airlines. Since Milton Berle, even at age 75, was still a household name, I thought the editor might be interested in an in-depth interview, coinciding with Berle's return to the New York stage. I phoned the Managing Editor, Judy Steinbach to query her -- and got the assignment after only a few minutes' discussion.

The next morning I called the press agent for the show, and he assured me -- although Mr.Berle hadn't made any schedule yet for press interviews -- that there would be no problem.

I spent several mornings that week at the Museum of Broadcasting researching the vast and varied career 70-year long career of the man who made family tv viewing a national pastime in the '50s -- waiting each week for the Texaco Star Theatre. Families all over the country would plan their evening around watching "Uncle Miltie".

When the show was in rehearsal, the press agent contacted me to say that Mr. Berle would be available a week after the opening. On March 2, after 14 previews, the show opened to mostly negative reviews -- although Mr. Berle faired much better than the playwright! It had a brief run -- six performances -- during which Mr. Berle was doing no interviews. Mr. Berle returned to the West Coast immediately.

I disappointedly informed my editor that there would be no interview.

About six weeks later, the press agent called me to tell me that Mr. Berle was ready to do the interview. After expressing my surprise -- and pleasure -- I told him I would have to resuscitate my assignment before proceding. Fortunately, my editor gave me a go-ahead, and I promptly informed the press agent. He told me to call Mr. Berle to set up a time.

My usual practice -- then and now -- is to do a telephone interview whenever possible. I find it more productive not having a press agent lurking nearby, or the distractions in a restaurant or an office. On the phone, it is really one-on-one, where we can concentrate on my questions and the person's responses.

When I phoned Mr. Berle, I discovered that I had reached the Friars Club in Hollywood. But when I explained who I was, Milton Berle quickly got on the phone -- explaining to me that he conducted all his personal business from his regular table at the Club.

I was soon to experience another obstacle to my long prelude in setting up the interview. I explained that I do most of my interviews on the phone, taping our conversation for accuracy, and asked when was the best time for him. He firmly announced, "I don't do phone interviews." I explained that my magazine would not reimburse me for a trip to Los Angeles.

"That's not a problem," he replied. "I will be in New York next month. I always stay at my suite at the Palace." He checked his calendar, and came up with an available day for a 10:00 am meeting. "I can give you half-an-hour." I assured him that would be adequate, since I had done extensive research on his show business career, and already had specific questions formulated.

The next three-plus weeks were a strange experience for me, as he and I developed a telephone relationship of sorts. He would periodically call me -- or my answering machine -- confirming little bits of information about our forthcoming meeting. "Go to the Concierge for the Executive Suites and tell him that I'm expecting you," was one of the first messages. Every few days, he would call to make sure I knew the date or the time or the place, or some other aspect of the meeting.

I was somewhat astonished at his seeming insecurity while being controlling at the same time.

On the morning of our interview, I was at the hotel by 9:45 am for our 10:00 am meeting. I told the concierge that I was early and that I would wait in the lounge near the private bank of elevators. Only moments afterwards, he told me that Mr. Berle wanted me to come right up.

He greeted me as I got out of the elevator, and escorted me into a huge, luxurious living room area. I asked where he would be sitting, and set up my inconspicuous tape recorder between us. A genial host, he asked me if I would like some breakfast or tea or coffee. I thanked him,and suggested we start -- aware of the half-hour limit he had repeatedly told me about. I didn't want to waste any of my allotted time.

It was soon apparent to me that there was a relaxed and unrestricted time element ahead of me. He was gracious and mostly responsive to my very specific questions, even when he skirted around in some of his answers. He seemed pleased that I had done my homework, and knew so much about his professional life -- that I was even aware of his modeling career at age 5.

After a short time, he decided that we should take a break, and he wanted me to meet his wife. I turned off the recorder, while blaming myself for not bringing an extra cassette -- he had been so adamant about giving me a time limit of 30 minutes. He returned with her in a few minutes. After the introductions and social niceties, she left and we resumed our conversation.

I want to emphasize again Mr. Berle's ability to not answer a question without seeming like he was avoiding a straight answer. Not only was he an accomplished performer, he was an experienced interviewee -- he always wanted to be in charge, in control. He would often pose a question himself, and then say, "Say Mr. Berle said.....", and then he would offer an exact quote for the tape recorder.

When we passed the hour-and-a-half mark, I had to resort to taking notes -- which I normally never do, since it not only detracts me from my one-on-one concentration, but it also requires me to paraphrase the answers, being unable to write as fast as a person speaks. After more than two hours, I suggested that I had enough material for an in-depth piece.. Although reluctant to break off a very comfortable and informative discussion, I felt that I had probed more deeply than I could have imagined.

He asked me again if I like some lunch or a drink, but I begged off, telling him I was anxious to have my tape transcribed. I thanked him and told him I would send him copies when the interview appeared. He reminded me of his phone number, in case I thought of some other questions.

When I returned home, my answering machine had two more messages from him that he had probably left while I was en route to his hotel. They both pertained to where and when we were going to meet that morning. Once again he demonstrated his insecurity while being an in-charge person.







I hope you enjoy reading the interview.

Sunday, December 21, 2008

Sir Derek Jacobi

Debbi Wasserman and I were in London for our annual theatre visit, seeing dozens of shows, doing many interviews, and setting up roundtable discussions at the National Theatre with a number of British theatre artists. A British colleague, Michael Billington, suggested that we connect with the Prospect Theatre, a new and exciting classical company that had taken up residence at the Old Vic. Toby Robertson was the Artistic Director.

I contacted the press person for the company in order to set up an interview with Robertson. When he called back, he said that Toby had suggested that we see their current show, HAMLET, and then meet afterwards for the interview. He said that way we would have a point of reference to what the company was about. Despite the fact that we didn't really want to see yet another production of HAMLET, we reluctantly agreed.

On the appointed evening, at the intermission, the press person sought us out to inform us that Toby had been called out of town at the last minute. He said that the actor playing Hamlet, who was also a founding member of the Prospect, would meet with us instead. Although we were impressed with his psychological approach to the role of Hamlet, his name really didn't connect with us. With little choice, if we wanted to find out first hand about the company, we genially said that would be fine.

At the end of the show, we were taken to a pub around the corner from the theatre, to wait for the actor to get out of his costume and make-up. When he arrived, introductions were made, and I placed my tape recorder on the table while we talked. The waitresses kept coming around and fussing over our star, making sure his drinks were replenished, and it was apparent that he was a special VIP, and a regular here after the show each night. We talked about the Prospect Theatre, its actors, history, mission, and plans for the future. It was a very relaxed atmosphere as we discussed all these things --- as though we were all old friends just talking about theatre, our favorite subject.

Then we talked about him, and his plans for upcoming projects. He told us he was coming to New York in two months for a press conference arranged by WNET for the Shakespeare series, which he was part of. He expressed a feeling of anxiety and nervousness about the press event, and said he didn't know anyone in New York. As new 'old friends', we said we would come to the press conference to give him moral support. He seemed obviously pleased by this, especially after we told him that Debbi worked at WNET, and that we were friends of Lynn Redgrave, who was also part of the Shakespeare series, and would presumably be at the conference also. We all parted satisfied with our encounter.

Whenever we were in London, we used a friend's office as our base of operations. The day after our interview, we told our friend how disappointed we were that we weren't able to talk to Toby Robertson, but that we met this very affable and unassuming member of the company. We told her that we had actually made plans to see him in New York in two months. When we said, "His name is Derek Jacobi", she literally jumped to her feet with excitement. She couldn't understand why we weren't excited about meeting him, and couldn't believe how laid-back we were about it all.

She asked if he had told us about his television series. We said he had talked about the Shakespeare series, and that he was also in I CLAUDIUS, which was currently being shown in New York. She wanted to hear our tape, and it was only then that we discovered that he hadn't said he was "in" I CLAUDIUS, but that he was Claudius in I CLAUDIUS!

We then had a good laugh at ourselves --- we had obviously come across to Derek and the press person as the most blase and 'cool' people in the theatre world, because we were hesitant to talk to Derek Jacobi, who at that time was the hottest British actor around! We foolishly didn't associate him with his Claudius character, a stuttering old man, as opposed to the handsome actor we had spent so much time with. We hadn't done our homework in preparation for the interview, but the result was still a resounding success.

Both Debbi and I went on to do other interviews with Derek in the future, including an extensive one Debbi wrote for the American Way Magazine, aptly entitled "I, DEREK".







But for now, here is my piece which appeared in the April, 1978 issue of New York THEATRE Review.