The book of mine that is most often referred to was my first. It Would Be So Nice If You Weren’t Here: My Journey Through Show Business was about what to do if they keep telling you to get lost. Well, if not “Get lost,” certainly almost never “Come here.”
In hindsight I should have said I had a consistent number of what would be called minor successes along the way. In other words, to eventually succeed, more than one person has to notice you can be good, and it can’t be family members. In 1953, the head of the department of drama at the University of Miami, Lee Strasberg six years later, and, in between, a lot of people of so-called lesser stature took note of me.
If about 5 percent or less of us entering show business make a living, think hard about whether you can be in that 5 percent. If you think so, then try. But don’t grow old trying! People who know more about this than I do estimate that 1 or 2 percent out of millions achieve significant success.
That’s a message I wish I’d made clearer in my first book, because I’m afraid I might have encouraged people to stick with it who possibly would have been better served not doing that after a period of time. Again, you don’t want to grow old trying.
If it hadn’t been for Mike Nichols, would Dustin Hoffman have had the career he’s had? If it hadn’t been for Mel Brooks, would Gene Wilder have had the career he’s had? If it hadn’t been for Elaine May, would I have had the career I’ve had? As I’ve already said, you can be really good at what you do and not make a living in show business.
Have more than one field if you can. Being in show business really allows that because so few people work but so many are really good. It can be a heartbreaking profession.
Another regret I have, I wish I had realized earlier that if a friend wants to borrow money, if you can afford to, give it rather than loan it. Unless the friend absolutely insists it has to be a loan, which only one friend of mine did, make it a gift.
It is not that unusual for friendships to end because the person who has borrowed the money and can’t repay it disappears from your life out of embarrassment. This happened to me with a woman friend who wanted to borrow some money to videotape her father in his later years. I lent it to her and never heard from her again.
I was at a dinner party at a restaurant where the host and everyone went someplace afterward to hear one of the guests speak about the state of the world. I’m not really interested in going out to hear anyone speak on the state of the world, especially after being out for a couple of hours at dinner, and I know I offended the speaker by not joining the group to hear him. Most likely he wouldn’t have believed the truth, so I should have said on arriving that I had to leave after dinner. Maybe I could have said I was going to perform a tonsillectomy or have one performed on me—something.
Many years ago I had two women friends. We were as close as anyone could be. Eleni Kiamos, the friend who did so much for me in the early part of my career, died of colon cancer in her fifties. I first saw Eleni excel as an actress on a live one-hour television show, while I was still at the Pittsburgh Playhouse. Eleni believed in putting her faith in the Lord. She contracted colon cancer. When she told me her symptoms, I persuaded her to see a doctor, but it was too late.
I met Luanna Anders a decade later. Luanna once came to visit me when I was making a movie in Mexico. We were in the swimming pool one night, and she said she was taking a writing class and had a new boyfriend. Since Luanna and I were never romantic, I asked what she was doing in Mexico with me. She said simply, “You asked me to come, Chuck.” Luanna put our long-term friendship ahead of her writing class and new boyfriend.
She developed breast cancer, and just as Eleni had, she chose not to see a doctor but to put her faith in her religion. By the time she saw a doctor it was too late.
There’s no solace for me in that story except to say that the man who was Luanna’s new boyfriend in 1978 remains one of my closest friends to this day. My wife and I are guardians to his and his wife’s children.
I miss Eleni and Luanna so much that even though they’ve been gone for decades I remember their phone numbers without needing to look them up. As I’ve said, I deeply regret I wasn’t sufficiently aware of Herb Gardner’s smoking. It’s less odd that I knew nothing of my female friends’ health issues, but I so wish I had.