Evening, gang.
Welcome to the Tuesday before Thanksgiving and our Day 26.
As for 26, yeah, I was actually that age once. And sure, it’s a long time ago, but some things just stay with you.
As I’ve mentioned in the past, I worked in the film business for several years, pretty much doing every job under the sun – driver, personal assistant, on-set production work and, believe it or not, even a little acting and voice-over work.
And after having worn so many hats and having been on so many different sets, you’d think there wouldn’t be too many surprises. Funny thing about life, though, surprises are just part of it – both good and bad.
I was awakened by a phone call early one January morning, and even though I was dog tired, the call quickly perked me up. The voice on the other end had just offered me a job.
If you have worked in film and TV or if you have friends who have, you know there’s one universal truth: You don’t turn down work.
It’s weird, but working in that arena can often be the ultimate paradox . The better you do and the more work you get, the higher the level of fear that your next job might be your last.
I was thinking just that as I ran south on Columbus Avenue later that afternoon, eventually meeting the small film crew at Columbus Circle (59th Street and 7th Avenue, New York City).
It’s 35+ years ago now, but I remember it very clearly.
NOTE: Those who know me best would probably agree that I have a pretty solid memory, but as for some of the following dialogue, please consider it an overall paraphrasing of those long-ago events. (Hey, I’m good, but I don’t think Marilu Henner has anything to worry about!)
So, as I was saying/writing…
“Are you Fischer?” the voice said. A tall, slender guy named Mark looked at me and then immediately looked back down at his clipboard.
I nodded, acknowledging who I was, just in time for him to look back up from the clipboard. “You’ve got the snow-making unit, man.”
It was early February, and we’d had a pretty cold winter to that point, but it hadn’t snowed very much. (Actually, as I remember, it had barely snowed
at all.)
Before I could ask anything about what I was going to be doing, Mark gave me the quick 411. “Since ‘it’s barely snowed, man, we brought in a snow-making machine to start putting snow in Central Park. I need you to quarterback it, man. Cool?”
Before I could answer, he added “It’ll be great, man. We’ll put you up in a room at the Plaza Hotel.”
Just as I was thinking that this guy had yet to form a single sentence without the word “man” in it, I remember thinking to myself, “Hmm…The Plaza Hotel…that does sound pretty cool. Huh, man?”
How things sound, though, and how they actually are, can often be miles apart.
It was just starting to get dark when I met the small crew of guys who would actually be making the snow. Since they had come in from Vermont, the primary film crew had taken to calling the two bosses “Ben & Jerry.”
When I arrived, they were already firing up the snow machines, chomping at the bit to get started. One of them (real name Stu) told me what to expect.
The rest of the guys, though, who I soon learned were going to be “my guys,” were all huddled together in a makeshift warming hut. There were four of them, probably in their twenties like I was back then, one more hulking then the next.
They were all just standing there (yes, each of them seemingly freezing his ass off), waiting for me to say something.
Before I got a chance, though, one of the guys spoke up. “What’s ‘ya name?” he said in a heavy, but extremely soft-spoken New York accent. I told him who I was to which he responded “I’m Deville.”
He wore patially paint-splatterd khaki pants, a light blue snorkle jacket, a woolen cap that looked like it was straight out of a Jacques Cousteau documentary and had an eye patch over his left eye.
I guess people say this sort of thing all too frequently, but I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a tougher-looking guy. But the more he spoke, the more I realized that his largess, though impressive, wasn’t his most intriguing feature. As strange as it seems, he had a speaking voice that seemed best suited for a radio ad for sleep aids. I remember thinking about how damn tired I felt already that cold night, not banking on the fact that a member of my makeshift snow-keeping crew had a voice that made Karen Carpenter sound like the next coming of George Thorogood.
Like I said, no surprises, right? Bullshit.
Once I had introduced myself to the rest of the small crew, I asked the Teamster Captain to provide me with a vehicle. As the temperature continued to drop, and with the man-made snow suddenly flying in every direction, I knew that little warming hut would soon be next to useless.
One of the teamsters eventually came rolling up with an old van that didn’t look like it could make it from one side of Central Park to the other, but it had a working heater. I took what I could get, and my troops seemed grateful.
We all climbed in, and I went through our plan to handle the next few days. It wasn’t particularly complicated: Once the snow had been created, our main objective was to keep people from walking on it. Seems reasonable, right? Five guys to patrol one of the largest city parks in the entire U.S. Hey, nothing to it.
As for me, my plan was to get the guys situated for the night and then grab a few hours of sleep in my hotel room. As the Unit Coordinator of the small crew, that was going to be my big perk, a few hours of catching zees in a famous New York City hotel.
When I got to the front desk, though, I soon learned that my luxury accomodations were anything but. The room they had given me was being used as a set for the film. There was equipment strewn everywhere, including a small dolly with a track, equipment used to keep the camera steady while it’s moving. The dolly and the small piece of track had been placed in the bathtub.
And just for good measure, the bathroom windows had essentially been nailed open, so that the power cables could be reattached first thing in the morning.
That’s when I knew I’d made it.
Eat your heart out, Eloise…
OK, gang. Looking forward to sharing Part II of the adventure with you tomorrow.
Stay warm and sleep tight, my friends.
JFish
@Copyright 2025 by John L. Fischer