My First True Set P.A. Job and My Encounter with Lurch of General Camera
I followed the increasing decibel level back to the bullpen. Richie sat at his desk with Dexedrine Man behind him, this time discussing interplanetary travel or a timecard screw-up. Couldn’t tell which. The lady in need of a cigarette stared into a pegboard.
A strapping young lad stood next to Richie’s desk. He extended his hand.
Strapping Young Lad: “I’m Paul.”
Me: “George. Looks like we’re halfway there.”
Strapping Young Lad: “To what?”
Me: “Uh.”
Richie: “Give Paul the keys to your van.”
He interrupted my one-man Beatle’s nostalgia tour and handed me another scroll from the Dead Sea.
Richie: “And tell him where it’s parked. He’ll drive it to set tomorrow.”
I thought I’d been canned, but it turned out that would’ve been the better outcome. Paul, who expressed interest in the art department, would drive the van, which held most of the props.
I received a set of keys from Paul for an empty cargo van. I was tasked with picking up the 35mm camera package from General Camera, the Panavision vendor in New York City.
As a courtesy reminder, Levinson, Israelson & Bell sat just off 5th Avenue on 82nd Street. General Camera, where Panavision gear lived, situated itself off 10th Avenue around 30th Street, and the clock screamed rush hour in Manhattan.
Me: “What time do they close?”
Richie: “You’re not going now. You need to get there at six am
tomorrow morning. The only guy who should be there is Manny.
He’ll direct you to the package. Pick it up and leave right away.
You won’t need any paperwork. Here’s a copy of the order.
Leave and check it a few blocks away. If they forgot something,
I’ll deal with it after you get to set. Don’t check it at General. If we need
anything else, we’ll get it during the day.”
Me: “Okay.”
I took the keys from Paul, who seemed to be smiling a little too much for having just met me.
Richie: “One more thing.”
Me: “What’s that?”
Richie: “Hope that Lurch doesn’t come in early.”
Me: “Hope Lurch doesn’t come in early? Who’s Lurch?”
I thought I said to myself while scribbling down notes, but Richie swiveled his chair to look at me.
Richie: “Just be there at six and on set as soon as you can
after you get the camera.”
The next morning I drove the rental van to General Camera. Parked in front of the building. A hysterical looking man I took to be Manny, lit cigarette in his mouth and another in his hand, waved like his toe had hit the third rail, and opened a garage door. I assumed by his continued directions with the one hand not holding a cigarette that he meant for me to pull the vehicle inside.
Manny: “Mack mup! ”
He shouted again after removing the cigarette from his mouth.
Manny: “Back up, you stupid f#$ker!”
Using the cigarettes like airport tarmac lights, he guided me into the confines of one of General Camera’s parking bays.
Manny: “Mopen mup!”
He shouted, cigarette back in his mouth, and about a tenth of a second after I’d pressed on the parking break.
Me: “Yes, I know what mopen mup means!”
I yelled that last comment as I clambered to the back of the empty van and unlocked the double doors. I swung them open and spent the next sixty seconds dodging a barrage of white cases ranging in size from Pinhead’s keepsake to a coffin large enough to fit . . . Lurch from The Addams Family.
The last case shot into the van, but after the first two had contused my shins, I retreated to the safety of the driver’s seat and ducked like the plane was going down. The sound of three, not two, doors slamming shut greeted my ears, though the van had but one set of double doors. I started the van when I noticed the garage door closing in front of me. Unlike Han Solo, I would not make it out before the Death Star exploded.
Manny’s face, sans cigarette appeared at my window.
Me: “Should I mroll down the mwindow?”
Manny: “Shut up smart ass. Lurch is here.”
Me: “I thought Gomez gave him the day off?”
Manny: “You’re not going to last long in this business.”
[HAH!]
Manny: “Sit quietly. With any luck, I can get Lurch upstairs to check union timecards. When you see the garage door open, start the van, and go. Do not hesitate, and most importantly, DO NOT FALL ASLEEP!”
Two hours later, the garage door opened. Despite Richie Zeifman’s request to go directly to set, I opted to hit the first bathroom I could find, which happened to be at General Camera. I moved the van down the street and sprinted back. I walked in, headed straight for the facilities, and raced back out to my van after finishing my business.
But a couple of things happened on the way during my Jesse Owens impersonation.
As I approached the door, a large “Thing” landed on the bottom step of a stairwell that intersected with the hallway just before the exit. I say “Thing” in that it reminded me of the scene where Chewbacca is “taken prisoner” by Han and Luke in the original Star Wars. The two heroes are queried by a very imperious looking officer who asks, “Where you taking this . . . Thing?” just before the dupe is blasted into cosmic dust. While I pondered starting a conversation this way, Thing went first.
Thing: “Who are you?”
Me: “Uh, Han Solo?”
Thing: “What’re you doing here, Ham?”
Me: “Using the bathroom. Needs some more liquid soap by the way.”
Thing: “Who’re you working for?”
Me: “Nobody. I just needed a bathroom. This was the only nearby open business.”
Thing: “Leave a dollar at reception.”
Me: “A dollar?”
Thing: “For the use of the bathroom, and I don’t want to see you in here again.”
Me. “What about the camera?”
I asked this since I really couldn’t help myself. I sprinted out the door. In the rental van I realized I’d just had my first encounter with Lurch, the Teamster with the most seniority at General Camera. This meant his duties entailed slipping extra timecards into the payroll and intimidating inexperienced doofuses such as Yours truly. I’ll assume he was very good at both, especially the latter. If he appeared on an MMA undercard with Bigfoot, I’d wager heavily on Lurch.
And since I couldn’t resist any opportunity to tweak anyone, I spent every day since high school with a target on my back, why should Lurch be any different?
On the bright side though, this particularly unusual skill qualified me to line produce. I just didn’t know it at the time.
I still had to figure out how to get the keys back into Paul’s hands, or some other unsuspecting PA. I had three days to do it, and I did, but it didn’t make for an interesting anecdote since all it took was asking someone to switch duties on the wrap day, and for some reason they figured one return to General Camera beat fifty-seven returns to the various prop houses in Manhattan and Brooklyn.
Of course, I made no mention of Lurch.
Don’t remember ever working with that particular production assistant again.
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