1967 & THE SUMMER OF STDs, DRUG ADDICTION AND HUBERT HUMPHREY
As much enjoyment as the mishaps with medieval catapults and wild game provided, Lee and I decided on a change of scene.
We left the NYC with the Koch administration still not taking “Lousy” as the response to “How’m I doin’?” and with the incoming imbiber of all things 80 proof, David Dinkins, waiting to take over. We opted out of four more years of mind-numbing incompetence.
Of course, as opposed to heading to southern California, which I’d been told had a reasonably decent film production industry, we chose northern California and its capital, Kooktown, USA.
You know it as San Francisco.
Don’t see how I could have chosen a more poorly administered city after leaving New York, but then again, I’ve never lived in Chicago or Detroit. Lee attended the University of Chicago and the mismanagement perpetrated by The Windy City seemed on par with NYC.
Yet, here I was. In the blissful and bucolic land of aging hippies, scenic vistas, and a work ethic comparable to Barcelona, Spain at siesta time.
In New York, you live to work. In San Francisco, you work to live. Simple as that. It took 35 years to accept that notion, which means for the 30 years I worked in northern California I could look forward to exchanges such as this with perpetual incredulity.
Me: “Hello, my name if George Young. I’m producing a spot for Charles Schwab & Company. You were recommended to me by (fellow producer). Wanted to see if you were available next Monday and Tuesday.”
Potential PA: “Yes, but I have to be finished by 5:00pm on Monday, because I have a hard out, and Tuesday I can’t start early. Also, I’m allergic to shellfish and peanuts.”
Me: “A hard out? What is that?”
Potential PA: “I have to be finished by that time. I have a prior commitment.”
Me: “Then you’re not available.”
Potential PA: “Yes, I am. I just have to be done by 5:00pm.”
Me: “That means, in the production world, that you’re not available.”
I thanked them before they could tell me once again that they were indeed available, but had to leave at their “hard out” of 5:00pm. Moved onto the next self-absorbed Californian on the list.
And so went most of the next 30 years. The constant inconsistencies of the Bay Area workforce and vendor services caused no small amount of agita, but after acquiescing to the insane notion that the people in San Francisco valued their lives more than their jobs, I gave them a grudging respect. It did not mean a lowering of the bar. I just found so few who were up to the challenge of working with me. Not only crew and staff, but vendors, clients and agencies. My forthright, plain-speaking put some on edge.
But I got results. Good ones. As I’ve stated ad nauseam, if anyone else wants to lay claim to Producer of the Year in NorCal from 1988 through 2018, I’d like to know who it is, because it ain’t.
TOMORROW: PART 2. MORE STUPIDITY FROM MOGADISHU-BY-THE-BAY
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