Tales From the Front: Pt. 1 of a Possible Series

Some of The Blog's friends...

(Several being the same friends that suggested that the The Blog should start blogging this blog...)

Have suggested that, because I have had a 30+ year career in television, film and print media...

Or, as we in the industry call it...

"The Industry"

...I should tell some stories about the experiences that I have experienced.

Not a bad idea.

But, I am hesitant.

Two of The PC's favorite bloggers are, themselves, retired (or maybe just "aged out,") television writers...

Ken Levine

and...

Earl Pomerantz.

They both tell great stories about working in Hollywood. You should go check them out.

The problem for your Uncle PC is this...

A whole lot of stories that I could tell fall into two categories...

Stories that I am, legally and contractually, forbidden from telling...

and...

Stories that I would consider "Tales Out of School." Stuff that falls under an implicit, even though not legally binding, client/ make-up artist agreement of confidentiality.

Because make-up artists are sort of like doctors, lawyers and bartenders.

But, there may be a few stories that can be told.

We, in "The Industry" call them, "War Stories."

Thus, the title of this post.

I have a few that I can tell and still work in the future.

Let's give it a try.

Here we go...
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A little over a decade ago, I was working on a popular "episodic" (that's the "Industry" word for "hour long, shot on film" television show,) action/ comedy series.

We were "on location" at Cabrillo Beach in San Pedro, CA.

Cabrillo Beach and Aquarium is a very popular place for elementary school field trips in the L.A. area.

Mrs. Blog takes her class there, every year.

Jerry Springer was making a cameo appearance, playing himself.

(Because, who else would he play?)

Jerry and I were being transported via golf cart from the "base camp" to the set.

A flock of kindergardeners spotted Jerry.

Picture it.

Some 60, five-year-old, kids began chanting...

"JERRY! JERRY! JERRY!"

 Jerry gave a polite smile and wave to the crowd of ankle-biters.

Then, he shook his head, turned to me and said, 

"May I present, the future of America. God help us."

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So, what do you think?

Did you like that story?

I've got a million of them.

Well, maybe, ten.

Let me know in the comments section.