As a kid, when my family first moved to Hollywood, I was 13 years old. I decided to get a job to make some money to help out. I began shining shoes down on Hollywood and Vine. I figure, if I'm going to shine shoes, why not do it on the most famous street in the world? Maybe I'll even be discovered! Well, I didn't get discovered, but I shined a lot of moviestars' shoes. Back then, there was a group called "The Hollywood Children's Guild". What a racket that was. You'd pay $20 a month and they'd send you out on auditions. This was 1950 and you didn't have to be a SAG member until you were 13, but you still needed a work permit. My brother Reggie and I signed up with the children's guild and they sent us both out for The Ten Commandments, they were looking for a lot of kid extras. My brother wound up working on that film for twelve weeks. I was jealous and heartbroken. And he didn't really want to be an actor, I did!!

I used to go to the set of The Ten Commandments and watch Cecil B. DeMille direct. One day, he was on a catwalk and there were hundreds of extras around. He began yelling at one person in the wardrobe department, "Hold it! Damn it! I knew you'd never amount to anything, your wardrobe stinks, get off my set!" He really embarrassed the guy in front of everyone. The rumor was that this poor fella was his brother. (Believe it or not!)

One day, I spotted a bike leaning against a soundstage, so I borrowed it. As I rode past several dressing rooms, a huge hand caught me by the throat and yanked me off the bike. I hit the ground hard. "That's my bike you little sh*t", screamed John Derek as he tried to kick me. I rolled out of the way and ran like the wind, scared to death. I never liked him after that.

The shoe shining business was a bit slow, so I changed professions selling newspapers on Hollywood and Vine and for three hours a day, I'd yell, "Extra! Extra! Read all about it!" Some of my customers were Peter Lorre, Larry Fine, Humphrey Bogart, Leo Gorcey and Slapsy "Maxie" Rosenbloom, to name a few. The old Citizen News paper was the first evening paper out. It also had the racing form in it. When I realized most of the Hollywood elite just wanted the racing forms, I would take it out of the paper and give it to my steady customers and sell the rest of the paper to the next guy. At that time, the papers were five cents. Most of the time the "Big Guys" would give me anywhere from a quarter to a dollar. One afternoon it was pouring rain out and a limousine pulled up. The guy in the back rolled down the window and asked for a newspaper. He looked at me soaking wet and asked where I lived. When I told him, he told me to get in the car, he'd give me a ride home. It was Clark Gable. When I got home and ran into the house to tell mom that Clark Gable gave me a ride home, she didn't believe me... never did.

In 1973 I heard George C. Scott was going to star in a movie directed by the great Stanley Kramer, titled "Oklahoma Crude". I called his agent Jane Dacey, and asked her if they could put in a word for me regarding the casting. A call was made, and I met with Mr. Kramer and was hired to cast the film. Several weeks later, Mr. Kramer took me to lunch at the famous Brown Derby on Vine Street, just south of Hollywood Boulevard. About fifteen minutes into our lunch, George C. Scott came in. You could hear a pin drop, as it was a rare sight to see this Academy Award winner in Hollywood. At that time, he was one of the most respected talents in show business, recently winning the Best Actor Award for his portrayal of George Patton in "PATTON", the movie. He did not notice us, and Mr. Kramer, who had never met his "star", asked me if I would introduce him. I got up and headed to Mr. Scott's table. I could feel all eyes on me. I'm sure they were wondering who this young man was sitting with Stanley Kramer and walking towards the direction of George C. Scott. Mr. Scott seemed pleased to see me, and gestured for me to sit down. After some small talk about how our wives were doing, I told him that his director, Stanley Kramer wanted to meet him. He just stared at me, and I knew what that look was. He wanted his director to come to his table. It was the old Hollywood power play. Having built a good relationship with Mr. Scott, I felt I could voice my opinion. I told him he should go to Mr. Kramer's table and say hello, hell, he was paying him a whole lot of money, and besides, it was Mr. Kramer's town. Mr. Scott was from the Big Apple just visiting. "Come on George, put the guy over." He seemed to like the way I put it. We got up, and Mr. Scott followed me, all eyes watching as we got to Mr. Kramer's table. Hand shakes all around, and after some small talk about the rest of the cast, Mr. Scott excused himself. So, there I was, introducing the great Director/Producer Stanley Kramer to the great actor George C. Scott. What makes this incident so amazing is that twenty some years before, I sold newspapers on that most famous corner, Hollywood and Vine, a few feet away.