Another thing people always ask me about is Hollywood.
Do I read celebrities, how many do I do, what’s so-and-so really like? They seem to think if a psychic does readings for famous actors that somehow makes them more of a legitimate psychic.
For one thing, as a psychic you aren’t supposed to tell a client what you’ve told other clients. If you do, what’s to stop them from thinking that you’ll tell somebody else what you told them in a reading?
And if you do tell them about so-and-so, that client won’t trust you enough to call you back. You’d basically be cutting your own throat for the sake of gossip.
And really, celebs aren’t the high-water mark for psychics. Making a difference in a person’s life, giving them hope, sparking their energy. That’s the high-water mark.
It is my experience that there is a dark energy and a light energy. The dark side’s job is to stop us, put self-doubt in our minds, put up blocks that make us second guess. It’s not personal, it’s the job of the dark side.
The light side is the faith and trust side, the belief side. If you really want something, if you really believe you deserve what you want, you’ll get it.
So many normal people are stopped by the dark side. They have a dream, they try to pursue it, they hit a snag, they quit. Maybe they try a few times, and if nothing works they just give up and go back to something safe and practical. I see this every day, all day. It’s disheartening, because I know they gave in to the dark side. I know if they just would have kept going they would have achieved their dreams. But they let people or circumstance stop them.
Actors who have made it and producers and writers who are successful don’t listen to the dark side. Most of them are so narcissistic that they have to go forward. So, when I see an opportunity coming for them, I know they are going to take it. That’s not the case with normal people. Normal people will quit.
And the ironic thing is that the dark side only stops the people who are here to make a difference. It doesn’t care about you if you’re not going to affect people with your success. It only seems to try to stop the people who are going to inspire other people.
The bigger the dream, the more the darkness tries to stop you. Because the dark side knows if you succeed like you’re supposed to, your success will inspire others, and that’s the whole point of the darkness—to stop that.
For me, that was the draw to working with people in the business.
I got started when I was a hotshot psychic in Minneapolis. I hung out at the hip places downtown and would set up readings in these places to mingle with the up-and-comers. I liked the vibe in these places, because it felt like hope. Like things were possible. And for a future psychic, that vibe is important. You want to be optimistic about life, otherwise you sound old and crotchety.
I myself wasn’t a hip guy. I didn’t have a nice car, I took the bus a lot (psychics don’t make much dough), I always spilled my coffee or tripped over a chair. But just being around those places made people think better of me, and I really did like the vibes.
One day I was at a place called the New French Café. It wasn’t new, and it didn’t look much like a café, but a lot of the artists, local actors, producers, and the occasional hairdresser hung out there. It was located in what they used to call the Warehouse District, but is now called the North Loop.
I was doing a reading for an up-and-coming producer named Jon. Everybody liked Jon. He was a very handsome, charismatic, cutting edge kind of guy that both men and women seemed to want. And Jon loved everybody, literally everybody—Jon was bi, so when he walked into a room, he wanted everyone.
I had been doing readings for Jon for about six months. He liked me because I was blunt and to the point. I didn’t know enough not to call him on his shit, and he seemed to get a kick out of that. When I would yell at him for being too self-absorbed or selfish he would laugh and ask me if I knew who he was. I would tell him just to shut up and listen, and he would just shake his head and say okay.
On this particular day, when I walked in to meet him, Jon was on the phone. He waved me in and I overheard him say to whomever he was talking to, “This is the guy I was talking about, you’ve got to talk to him,” and then he handed me the phone.
I looked at Jon like “Who the fuck is this?” but he just motioned to talk to the person, so I did.
I said hello and the man on the other end said hello back. He said his name was Bob and that Jon really wanted me to talk to him. Right away I got bugged. I hated when people did this to me. It’s like, “Wind up, monkey psychic, show me what you got” time, and I wasn’t in the mood.
I sarcastically said, “Oh gee, that’s great” and Bob started to laugh. I looked over at Jon and he too was smirking.
I decided not to be an asshole and go with it. I asked Bob how I could help him.
“I don’t know,” Bob said, “I don’t know how this works.”
“Well,” I said, “I’m assuming you don’t want to talk to me because I’m a nice guy, you probably want to ask a psychic question. So just ask me something and we can go from there.” There was a pause and then Bob asked if his show was going to do well or not.
I gathered myself and concentrated on Bob. When I did, a whole new feeling came across me, an excited feeling. I had gotten excited about people in the past, when the information came in really clear or strong, or if I liked the person and what I was getting for them.
But this was different. It wasn’t the information that had me excited, it was about Bob. I got excited about whatever Bob was doing, really excited. It felt like Christmas, that sense of anticipation. “Jesus, Bob,” I said, “you got some seriously fun stuff coming up for you”
Bob laughed again. “Okay,” he said, “what does that mean?”
I was so taken aback by this feeling, I didn’t bother to figure out what it was about. It just felt big. I told him to give me a sec and I tried to ignore my excitement and concentrate on the logistics. All this information started coming like a flood. They talked about women, music, dancing, drugs. All sorts of categories, almost too much information.
“Who is this guy?” I kept asking myself. “What the hell is this feeling?” His initial question was easy—clearly the answer was yes, whatever show he was doing was going to be great—but I didn’t want to let it go at that, I wanted to talk to this guy.
“Okay,” I said, “you got some issues. You might cut things short sooner than you think, because you burn the candle at both ends and the middle. In fact, I’ll be surprised if you make it through this call.”
Bob went silent. I knew I was being dramatic, but as exciting as this guy was, there was also a feeling of danger around him. I could see how he was pushing things in all areas and I truly wasn’t sure his heart was up to the task. But I knew if I said any more it would take the bite out of what I’d just said, so I held my tongue. Like in sales, you present your pitch and then shut up. First one to speak loses.
Finally Bob asked, “Are you being serious?” and I knew I had his attention. “No, Bob,” I said, “I’m sure you’ll make it through the call, but my lord, you’ve got this female spirit yelling at me to tell you to take it easy.”
Again there was a pause and finally he said, “Really? That’s interesting.”
By now Jon was motioning to have the phone back, so I decided to wrap it up. “Okay Bob, let’s review. YES on the show. Fifty-fifty on you being around to enjoy it.”
“Okay,” he said with a slight chuckle. “Nice talking to you, Michael.”
“You too, Bob,” I responded. And with that I handed the phone back to Jon.
I got up from the table to let those two talk without me around. I also needed to air out my head from talking to Bob.
That was amazing. His energy, his power. Whoever he was, I liked him. I could feel he wasn’t a pushy man, but he didn’t take the word no very easily. He knew what he wanted and that confidence, not cockiness, came through clearly.
I thought to myself, how was I going to talk to Jon now? There was such a difference in energy. I used to like to talk to Jon, he was cutting edge. But now it felt like I went from a tricycle to a chopper then back to the tricycle.
I walked back inside and Jon was still on the phone. He looked up and saw me. I heard him say, “Okay, he’s back, I’ll ask him and call you back,” and hang up the phone. I went to the table and sat down. Jon looked happy.
“You made quite the impression on Bob,” he said. “Did you figure out who he was?”
Now I was embarrassed. I didn’t have a clue who this guy was, I just knew he wasn’t your average guy. I suppose if I thought about it and put the pieces together, I might be able to guess in a month, but it wasn’t like they said his name. In fact, they seemed to purposely not go there, like if I knew it might influence what I was getting. But I didn’t want to tell Jon that, because it sounded like an excuse.
There’s always a reason I don’t pick up something about a person, something deeper and big-picture-like. But it always sounds like an excuse when I try to explain it, and the more you try to explain your reasoning, the worse you sound. I can hear the person think to themselves, “This guy is full of shit,” and if I were sitting there listening to me, I’d think the same thing.
I told Jon I had no clue who he was and Jon shook his head “You call yourself a psychic?” he said. “That was Bob Fosse.”
I got goosebumps; now it made sense. That feeling, that power.
I loved Bob Fosse. All That Jazz was one of my favorite movies. At Children’s Theatre, where I briefly went to school, we studied Bob Fosse’s techniques. He was a legend in the dance community. If I told my old instructor I talked to Bob Fosse, he’d pass out.
I tried to play it off like it was no big deal, but my stare suggested I was starstruck.
I asked Jon how he knew Bob Fosse, just to make sure I wasn’t being played. He said they had met in New York some years back and they became friends. He said that Bob was so busy all the time they didn’t talk much, but he called right after the last time Jon and I had chatted and Jon told Bob about the reading. He said Bob was curious, so he wanted to talk to me.
“He liked you,” Jon said.“He liked how blunt you are.”
“Well shit, next time you talk to him tell him I’d love to chat more,” I said, and for the rest of the month I was on cloud nine. I wanted to tell everybody. I had talked to Bob fucking Fosse. Sure, we had only talked maybe a total of three minutes, but in my mind we were best buddies. It felt like I knew him, like really knew him. And how cool was that? I knew Bob Fosse.
I went to my mother’s for dinner and I told her about talking to Bob Fosse. She wasn’t impressed. Bob Hope, maybe! But Bob Fosse didn’t hold any special meaning for her. I told her about All That Jazz and his amazing choreography, but she just kept peeling her potatoes and saying, “Oh that’s nice, honey.” Clearly my mother was crazy.
Finally, she stopped peeling and asked me what about this gentleman I found so interesting. I told her it was his energy, his power. I told her I had never felt that from someone before, and it was exciting. I had given readings to some local celebs and it was fun, but this was a whole new ball game. “Well maybe that’s who you’re supposed to work with honey,” she said and asked me to help with the dinner.
I liked the thought of that. If I could get that vibe every time I did a reading? Hell yeah, I’d do that all day. “But how does one go about being a psychic to the stars?” I asked my mom. “It’s not up to you honey,” she calmly said. “It’s up to Spirit. Just be available when they call and be yourself.”
A week later I got a call from Jon. He wanted to know if I could talk to Bob again. “Of course,” I said, and arrangements were made.
We started talking on a semi-regular basis, but the conversations were short, maybe ten minutes at a time. He would ask just one question at a time, like about his health or women.
He didn’t like to get too deep into anything. If I started to elaborate, he would cut me short and say that’s all he needed. He never paid me, and I never asked. That vibe was payment enough. I know it’s important to get paid, self-worth, bills, and all of that, but sometimes the value is in the reading, and for me, talking to Bob was the value.
He started referring other people in the business to me. And like with Bob, they all brought that different vibration with them, that excitement.
It became harder for me to read “normal” people, and I started to see why the people who made it, made it.
I decided I needed to live in LA. I felt that just being around that energy would bring hope and excitement into my life.
So in 1984 I moved to Los Angeles with my buddy Stu.
We both had high hopes for our time there, new adventures, new opportunities. But the experience was a hard one for both of us. Stu would insist that it was much harder on him than me, but Stu’s a bit off.
LA is a working town, a tough place to be unless you’re employed or soon to be employed. The weather is amazing, the people watching is amazing. The clubs and nightlife were all where I wanted to be. But I couldn’t get a job for the life of me. Stu, at least, got a job, from a guy I introduced him to. Me, I got nothing.
I had to come back with my tail between my legs, and go back to psychic readings. This was as depressing as it got for me. I remember seeing the Minneapolis skyline and thinking what a failure I was to have to come back.
But then, eleven years later, I was going back, and this time LA was asking me to come back. It felt like a second chance.
In 1995, I was approached by two producers from LA about the possibility of doing a movie based on my family and myself. They also asked about a possible television show spin-off.
Prior to this, my family and I had been on several shows, mostly about the novelty of a ghostbusting family and how we went about our daily lives.
One show even called us the world’s most famous psychic family, which I thought was a tad over the top. Edina? Maybe. But the world? I wasn’t sure about that. I know I didn’t feel famous, but if it got the attention of people like Mimi and Diane, the producers who called, maybe I’d just shut my mouth and smile.
Mimi and Diane were both very strong women who came from different sides of the streets in LA. Mimi was all about films, having worked as a producer for several years on several films with A-list directors and actors, and from what I read, doing so very successfully.
Diane was from the television side of things. She had worked on several successful series, and was well-liked and respected. For some reason, I trusted them both.
The two had joined forces. They both worked for other people, but wanted to step out on their own. They had other projects going, but seemed excited to work with me.
The plan was to have me come out to LA, meet with the different studios, meet with writers, come up with a script, and eventually get a movie done.
The pitch was The Wonder Years meets The Addams Family. They were excited, I was excited. I signed the contracts and off I went.
There’s a thing about Hollywood—the community is made up of circles. The outer circle is where the wannabes live. The dreamers waiting to be discovered, the writers just hoping for their first break, the students dying to be seen.
There’s the inner circle. You have to be invited into that circle, welcomed. People in that circle are very protective. They know how hard it is to get into that circle, and they guard it with their lives. You can sometimes be born into that circle, but you still have to perform. If you’re just a sibling, you can stay in the circle, but you have to eat at the kids table.
People in that circle like to keep it small; some people are kicked out.
If you prove yourself worthy, they will ask you back in, but rarely do they ask twice.
And then there’s an even smaller circle that very few people are in. You have to do some serious shit to get in this circle. This circle is where the real movers and shakers are. They get things done at BBQs and AA meetings. It’s all about relationships. Getting an edge, having power.
The one thing that will kill you in Hollywood is desperation. People can smell it, it stinks. And if you’re desperate, you’re not allowed to stay in the inner circle.
When I came back in ’95, I was given a pass to the inner circle. I wasn’t allowed to stay, and chances are I’d be forgotten ten minutes after I left, but while I was relevant, I could hang.
For ten years I got to stay, and I loved almost every minute of it.
One of the first things I noticed was that a lot of what went on in the movies would actually happen in real life. For instance, if a couple were romantically involved in a film, they “practiced” a lot between takes. Even if they were married or engaged or going steady, it was considered work.
Where people would ask for my help was when the filming was over and they wrapped the show. In some cases, the couple never really heard the word “cut.”
Another one I would get a lot of calls about were professional relationships. Would this director work well with this actor? Would this producer get that writer? What person would work better in different situations?
Then there were the constant questions about change—actors wanted to direct, directors wanted to act. Producers wanted showrunners, showrunners wanted that “thing.” And writers just didn’t want to be thrown out with the garbage.
Writers had it tough in Hollywood. In my mind, they brought the most, but were treated the worst. I don’t think ever in the history of Hollywood did a writer write a script and have it stay the same throughout the whole production. Everybody pees on the tree in that town, but it sure kept me working.
Once I got past the fact that I was talking to one of my favorite performers, it was easy work.
But that was another part of that world that was fascinating. Many times, the person I watched on screen was the complete opposite in real life.
The tough guys were the pushovers, the weak ones were the tough guys.
The friendly, happy-go-lucky types in film were complete assholes when the cameras were off and the assholes on film couldn’t be kinder.
It appeared the more successful you were, the less of diva you’d become. The real big dogs were very approachable, once you got through their buffers.
It was the world of make-believe, my favorite place. The creativity, and the belief that what they were doing was more real than real life, made my job fun.
Even the ghosts were easier there.
One of my favorite people in the world is my friend Donna. Mimi introduced us within the first few weeks of me getting to know Mimi. I gave Donna a reading and we became fast friends.
Donna is a former Miss North Carolina, a true beauty queen, but only in appearance. Donna is just as comfortable riding a four-wheeler and tearing up the yard as she is wearing an evening gown and walking the red carpet. She’s tough, smart, and one of the kindest people I know.
She was married to Tony Scott, director of Top Gun, Days of Thunder, Beverly Hills Cop II, Enemy of the State, and so many more. Tony was the kind of guy who made you feel welcome, no matter who you were. He barely knew me, yet he welcomed me into his home and never made me feel unwanted.
When we would go out to eat, actors, producers, and other directors would flock to him in hopes of kissing the ring. A-list actors would get silly talking to him, and he was always gracious. He was a very loved man, even his crew would follow him from film to film.
They lived on the top of Benedict Canyon, high above Beverly Hills, in what was known as the Barrymore Estate.
The Barrymore Estate was called that because the previous owner was John Barrymore. And according to legend, wild parties were the norm back then. So wild, in fact, that there was talk of deadly malfeasance. And because of that, the guest house was haunted.
Besides all the other talents Donna has, she’s also very sensitive to spirits. She asked me if I could get rid of the spirits in her guest house, and of course I agreed to help.
Donna’s house was something right out of central casting. A beautiful Spanish-style home built into the hills, with a waterfall pool, lush lawn, and panoramic view that let you literally see from downtown LA to the ocean and beyond.
The air was thick with the smell of night-blooming jasmine, the century-old trees guarded the grounds and muted the sounds of the city a mile down the hill.
It felt calm and nostalgic. Phone numbers for Charlie Chaplin and Douglas Fairbanks were still on the wall in the phone room. It was like stepping back in time.
The property included the main house—with an office Tony used separate from the house—and a guesthouse, which was also separate.
It was in the two-story, two-bedroom guest house that Donna noticed most of the activity.
I had felt the presence of someone, but that was the extent of it. No real activity, no lights going on and off, no cold air. Just the heaviness of somebody not happy at my being there.
Sometimes spirits don’t like to show themselves to me because they just want me to go away. That’s what this felt like.
But sometimes Spirit will show up for someone not used to dealing with ghosts, someone who might not take the whole subject that seriously. And I had the perfect guy in mind.
One of my best buddies in LA was a guy named Daniel. He lived in Silver Lake, a hip, artistic kind of place, near downtown. Daniel and I hung out a lot on my trips to LA; in fact I stayed with him often when I was out there. He was also a director, having moved to LA from Minneapolis after the success of his first film.
Daniel wasn’t that into the psychic stuff, though he had some experience with it earlier in his life and even knew Birdie. But he was more a “wait and see” kind of guy. Perfect for what I needed on this particular job.
I told Daniel that I was going to do a ghostbusting for Donna.
He liked Donna. I introduced them on one of my trips out west and they both got along. He was also a fan of Tony. It all sounded intriguing, so he agreed to come.
The plan was that Daniel and I would sleep in the guest house. We had checked it out earlier, but so far there had been no activity. We thought if we slept there, we might piss off whoever was haunting the place and we could start the busting, even if it was really late.
We hung out with Donna until about two in the morning. Tony was working so we had the place to ourselves.
On the outside, the guest house had that cozy cabin vibe to it. But it was no cabin. Like everything else on the property, they spared no expense. From the beds to the lighting, it had more of a five-star hotel feel inside. We wouldn’t be slumming it. Daniel took the room upstairs, I took the room downstairs.
I settled in rather nicely. I was a little curious if something was going to happen when I fell asleep, but that bed was so nice that I wasn’t sure I’d care.
Daniel, on the other hand, was having a rougher night. He tried to lay down, but he felt the presence of a female in the room. He went to the bathroom to gather his thoughts and splash some water on his face. When he went to the bathroom, he looked in the mirror and saw a woman in the reflection, looking back at him.
This didn’t exactly settle Daniel down. The next thing I know, Daniel’s waking me up with a “holy shit” look on his face, asking me to move over.
I love Daniel; I’d take a bullet for him, like in the arm or maybe the leg. Not a groin shot, but I’d definitely take a foot shot. But I wasn’t sure I wanted to sleep with him, especially with him sweating the way he was.
I know we agreed that if we saw a spirit we would do the busting, but I was totally not in the mood anymore. I just wanted to go back to sleep. So I suggested he stay there and I would sleep upstairs. He seemed comfortable with that plan, so we switched rooms.
When I went upstairs, besides every light being on, I noticed that there was something different in the room. It didn’t feel scary or threatening, just active.
I turned off the lights and settled in again. I heard some rustling noises in the bathroom, but whatever it was could come to me. I wasn’t going to chase anything, I was tired.
Right when I closed my eyes, I could tell something was in the room. I opened my eyes and sure enough, a woman dressed like a flapper was standing at the foot of my bed.
Maybe it was the setting, maybe it was the night-blooming jasmine, but it just didn’t bother me to see her. She was visibly upset with our presence and she was clear as a bell, which meant she was a strong spirit. But I found myself thinking like a surfer after a couple of Buds. I almost called her dude.
I told her to chill, to relax, but this only made her look more upset. I told her I wasn’t here to upset her, but to see if we could find a way to get her to cross to the other side. She was having none of it.
She said she hated men, especially the one downstairs (Daniel). She said she wanted us both gone, and unless we left, she was going to haunt us.
I couldn’t help but laugh. I had been around mean, evil, rotten, stinking ghosts for most of my life. But when she threatened to haunt us, it struck me as cute, like when your eight-year-old threatens to run away.
My reaction to her threat was the last straw. She left, and with her, that feeling of her presence in the room. Now it felt normal and comfortable again.
I snuggled in and relaxed. I started to doze off, when again I was awoken by a white and sweaty Daniel. “Move over,” he said, “I’m not sleeping alone.”
I asked him what was wrong. He told me he fell asleep, but then something moved his bed. He opened his eyes and the flapper was standing right over him. He said he freaked out and came upstairs.
There was no other room to move to and it was too late to wake up Donna to see if we could sleep in the main house, so I agreed to let him sleep with me and we settled in.
I wasn’t worried about the flapper coming back; she didn’t want a thing to do with me. Now my concern was with Daniel—what if he snored or got the jimmies?
The next day, I told Donna what happened the night before and the issues the spirit had with men. She didn’t flinch. In fact, she seemed relieved. I asked her if she wanted to force the issue and get her to go away permanently, but she seemed okay with having her stay awhile.
That was fine with me. I was still in awe of my surroundings and something about it being so beautiful made getting rid of a ghost feel less urgent.
I found that to be true about all the ghostbusting jobs I did out in LA
The ghosts were just as mean, but when I looked outside and the place was so alive, I couldn’t blame them for wanting to stay. In Minnesota, with our winter weather, cloudy skies, and depressing landscapes, it’s like you’re doing them a favor by escorting them to the other side. Here? Hang ten, dude, ride the wave.
On the negative side of LA is the shallowness. Talent is important and a lot of successful people are there because they worked hard and never quit, but a large part of success is also luck and timing.
Some of the people I worked with got lucky and they became famous quickly, before they could handle it. And in their minds, maybe they didn’t feel like they deserved all the accolades. But instead of just being honest about that, they believed they must be special and they became entitled divas.
Whatever hole they have inside they cover up with how loved they are, how popular they are, how important they are.
I believe we all have holes. I haven’t met a person yet who doesn’t have a hole in their soul, an empty spot. That rush of success in Hollywood that some of those people get covers all of those holes. They forget that fame temporarily covers those holes. When the rush is over, reality comes back.
There’s where all the drugs and alcohol come into play.
When I was young, I was very direct, almost dark at times. In Hollywood, this approach worked the best. I tried to take the high road at times, but most of the time the people I talked too were so used to getting smoke blown up their asses that they didn’t listen to the positive spin.
I did a reading for this actor who had done several films in the ’ 80s and was from a well-known acting family. When I opened up psychically on him, I could tell he needed some hope. His acting career was winding down, he was more interested in directing than acting, and he just felt down.
I decided not to concentrate on the negative. I told him about all the positive things that were coming for him, all the possibilities. He had a really supportive spouse, which wasn’t the case for a lot of people I read. He was very creative and connected. And it just felt like all he needed to do was not give up and he would be okay.
At the end, I asked if any of it made sense. He said it did, but he was disappointed because he felt I was too positive. I was speechless. He continued.
He went on to say that he didn’t want a reading of the possibilities, he wanted a real reading, not fluff.
I wasn’t used to someone accusing me of being fluffy. I was a little put off that he didn’t see the value of what I was trying to tell him.
He started to walk away and I called him back. In my mind, there are many different realities; it’s up to you which one you want. And if this little asshole wanted that reality, I was more than willing to oblige.
I told him I forgot a few things. I told him his life was going to suck, he wasn’t going to get the job he was hoping for, and his money was going to run out. I told him his ego was so large that nobody was going to work with him again. I suggested he move to Europe and start over.
I suggested that even though his wife was supportive now, that she was going to tire of his whiny attitude and leave him.
I smiled and reminded him that the only reason he was even in this business was because his father was a successful actor. And it was my opinion that he didn’t deserve any of the success he’d had.
I asked him if he understood what I said and he looked at me in amazement. “Now that was a reading,” he said and asked if he could call me again. I told him he couldn’t afford me and I walked away. He called me for months afterward. Some people love the dark stuff.
Please don’t get me wrong, I don’t believe people in the entertainment business are better than the people who aren’t. I don’t. There are some real assholes in that business. But there’s a reason I love working with them.
And it’s not just the people in the business that are affected by success, I’ve seen it in psychics out there as well.
I went to a lot of different meetings in LA. I went to pitch meetings. That’s where you pitch your idea for your film or series and hope somebody picks it up. I also went to a lot of meetings where the people at the studios wanted me or someone like me to do a show.
Those meetings were my least favorites, because I was always asked to do readings or show them something that they thought viewers would find interesting. Wind-up monkey kind of thing. I didn’t do well in those type of meetings. I’d snarl and growl.
On one particular trip I had been in LA for about a month. My manager called Sunday night and said he set up a huge meeting at one of the studios for the next day. I was scheduled to go home Tuesday, and I was spent. Life for me in LA was nonstop. I told him I was going to pass. I had packing and goodbyes to do and I really wasn’t in the mood. As managers do, he insisted, telling me this could be the big one and I would kick myself if some other psychic got the job just because I wasn’t in the mood.
He reminded me that if I did get this show, it would help all the other things I was doing. He could sell my movie idea easier if I was on a reality show.
I gave in and the next day we both went to the studio.
I was in Studio City, my manager was in Beverly Hills, and the meeting was in Burbank. I suggested that I could just meet him at the studio, because for me it was just over the hill, but he wanted to go over a few things before we went in. So of course we were late.
When we walked into the room where everyone had gathered, at least a dozen other psychics were all siting at a large table discussing what they could bring to a show, if hired.
Also in the room were the producers, eagerly listening and lapping up all the suggestions that were being made.
Everyone stopped talking when we entered the room. One of the producers said, “Oh good, we’re all here,” and pointed to two empty chairs for us to sit in.
A quick look around the room and I could see it was a pretty eclectic group. There were a couple of old-school psychics, confident, but bored with the proceedings; a few more regular psychics; and of course the newbies, gushing because they got asked to come, doing all the talking because they clearly had more to offer.
Introductions had already been made, so the producer who showed us to our seats asked that we introduce ourselves to the group.
I introduced myself, along with my manager. One of the newbies asked what I had done, and I told her I wasn’t sure what she meant. She asked what kind of shows I had been on.
I instantly hated her.
“Oh,” I said, “let’s see … my first show was, of course, Romper Room. The grab bags were fabulous. I tried to get on Sesame Street, but you know politics.”
My manager, Steve, grabbed my hand and interrupted me. “Michael’s being … nevermind.” Then he went on to do an oral resume of all the things I’d done and the famous people I’d read.
It’s an awkward thing when someone does that while you’re sitting there. It seemed like the norm out there, but I never got used to it.
After he finished, smiles were seen throughout the room. Not “wow, we’re impressed” smiles, but “okay, he’s cool” smiles.
One of the producers caught us up on what they were thinking. He said they were discussing a possible show where a group of us would go around and do readings for people on the spot. They were looking for the right types.
He asked me if I was able to pick up things quickly, like on the spot.
I said, “You mean can I pick up that you’re seeing your best friend’s sister on the side, even though you’re married? That fast?”
Again, Steve grabbed my hand and interrupted. “Yes,” he said with an apologetic smile. “Yes, that’s not an issue.” Then he switched the attention from me and the now-uncomfortable producer, to the others in the group.
“What experience have you guys had?” Now everybody was uncomfortable.
Steve was great.
The newbie who asked who I was spoke first. “Well
I think that’s very inappropriate, I don’t want to be involved with that kind of show.” Another producer started to explain that it wasn’t going to be that kind of show, when one of the older psychics chimed in, “That’s because you’re not ready, dear, you’re just starting out.”
The newbie got upset, and she started listing all the famous people who come to her. She’d have us know she wasn’t just starting out, she had been doing this at least a year and was very gifted.
Another psychic took offense. She suggested that the newbie was edgy because she needed a drink. She did feel like she wanted to get a drink before the leprechauns showed up.
Now everybody was talking. One was trying to convince the producers that she was just as fast as I was, another one agreed with the older one about the newbie needing a drink.
Things really heated up when another psychic suggested that the pay should be based on years of experience and accuracy.
It felt like a street fight between the Jets and the Sharks; the only thing missing was the music.
I kept my mouth shut. It was fun just watching it all play out. Besides, I knew when I walked in that the only thing I was going to get out of this was the free water they gave us when we showed up.
Nothing really came of the hundreds of meetings and hundreds of people I’ve met so far, but now I don’t take as seriously as I did in my twenties.
Between my family and myself, we must have shot a dozen sizzles: ten- to thirteen-minute videos of the wacky, wonderful world of the Bodines.
Producers shop them around and hope a studio will pick it up.
And then there are the producers looking for the novelty approach.
We’ve done Psychics in the Kitchen, where Echo and I did a talk show answering the studio audience’s psychic questions. Street Psychics, where I would go up to people on the street and answer any psychic question they might have.
Shopping with a Psychic, Mowing with a Psychic, Bowling with a Psychic. Anything they could think of that they thought would sell.
Some of the show ideas these people come up with are embarrassing. I had one producer suggest I let my son get possessed so I could show how to do an exorcism.
Another group wanted to set up a psychic competition, like Star Search or The Voice.
At one pitch meeting, I suggested they dress a psychic up in a bacon suit and put them at one end of a cage with a key just a few feet above their heads. On the other end, put a starving, drooling, crazed lion. With each correct psychic question and answer, the key would be lowered closer to the cage. With each incorrect answer, a separator would be removed from the cage.
You could call it Guess What’s for Dinner.
If they’re good, they get to move on; if not, you thin the herd. “Win, win,” I said.
It took them three full minutes to decide it was a bad idea.
I do love that town.