(Disclaimer: Regarding what I am about to relate to you, you simply must take me at my word, or we have nothing. I am not trying to perpetrate a hoax, or propagate a joke narrative. There is no punchline.
The following bit of strangeness actually happened, and I have no logical explanation for it. What I do know, is that it is all true — in granite. I make nothing up here. The events in my life connected to this weird twist were so monumental, so etched in my mind, so visible at the time, and memorable of the time, that there is simply NO WAY I've "misremembered it." It signaled an indelible change in my life, it began for me a proverbial 'dark night of the soul' and I recall every moment. I can only say that there is no way I can make you believe it the way that I believe it — I can only ask that you hear me out.
If you find it merely amusing, that's fine. If you think it all a crock of balder-dash… there is nothing I can add for you, other than my shrugging shoulders and a question mark floating above my head. Ready? Here it is.)
In the early Spring of 2002, I was finally following a certain dream, unfettered by family-spun doubt. My mother — the west coast leader of self-doubt and self-defeat — had passed away from a terrifying struggle with lung cancer. After the initial mourning, the family house in a 'middle of nowhere' — literally a town and a street on the edge of vast wilderness — had been sold, and I possessed half of the earnings, sharing with my sister. I waited a tad too long before finally venturing forth, but I made the commitment to relocate to Hollywood, California — doing the usual "take the movie capitol by storm" thing. With 15 years of theatre under my belt, and no real contacts of which everyone says one needs to do so, I was somehow succeeding to get an actual Hollywood apartment, and hitting the audition trail. I am also a writer, and trolled those various circles as well. I was befriended by a certain local Movie Business/Screenwriting Maven, whose friendship I still hold precious and important, and took part in weekly acting improv & writing brainstorming meetings she held. Her universe was a center for creatives, including an annual dinner party — that was a gathering of various industry types; not a drink-off with wildly loud music sending the neighbors into fits, but a meet-and-network event, free of high pressure dealmaking — in a casual, intimidation-free setting.
In many ways it was a unique, pleasant situation to be in, right in the heart of Movieland — talking legitimate turkey with real, actual movers and shakers, who in turn, got to see one at his/her most natural. Most newbies cannot even imagine such a set-up, but for a time, it existed. And I was a part of it. I had moved to Hollywood at a perfect time to do so — chalk it up to timing, and dumb luck.
Needless to say, my audition ratio also got a surprise boost. In my first year alone, I'd been on over a hundred auditions, had a legitimate agent, and had conversed with high-end professionals, and even a few talent managers — agents on a whole other level, who did a lot of the hard legwork for you. I did not procure one of those "super agents," but was able to get a lot of insider info that sometimes takes years to accumulate. All without even having a SAG Card!
As equally surprising, my actual agent was an old hand — he knew the lay of the land, and worked with a number of important names. His name was Dale Garrick… and he treated me the way I'd hoped to be treated, like a fellow professional, rather than another newbie with puppy dog eyes and an empty hand out.
His agency still exists, though he himself passed away at 88, in November of 2009 — a few years after I'd amicably left his representation. His obit was in The Hollywood Reporter. That is a small element of the weirdness, in its way — keep a note of that date.
During our involvement together, as Agent and Client, Dale had managed to procure for me a possibly career-making audition! It was at either NBC or CBS, and for a major co-starring role in a new sitcom, being developed for the then-hottest comedian working, a New York attorney turned stand-up comic, Greg Giraldo. Beginning to sound familiar?
The producers saw Giraldo as the second coming of Jerry Seinfeld. A prime-time sitcom was immediately put into the works, called at the time, The Greg Giraldo Show. It was an actual weekly sitcom in the initial stages of production, not the one-time special he later filmed, by the same title — but I'm jumping ahead of myself. The part I was auditioning for, was his equivalent of a George Costanza or a Kramer character. The character's working name was "Big Gary," and the name changed a number of times over a few months as it was revised and rethought.
Now, before I continue, ask yourself — if you remember following Giraldo's career, is that it's all starting to ring somewhat familiar but yet 'not exactly right'? You're about to hear the why of how it doesn't seem quite correct. It's the strangeness for which I have no explanation — but I pledge to you that I am relating an absolute truthful account of my experience. Now, onward…
That first audition was a congregating of mammoth-sized hopefuls, who weighed in, on average, at about 350 lbs. each. At 6' 4" and a mere 260 lbs. myself, it was one of the first times I'd ever been among the smallest in the room. I was overwhelmed at how many gargantuan actors there were out among the Hollywood arsenal of potential players. I and one other actor, about my own size, had been the first of the field to arrive. All the rest, about a couple of hundred in total, were still waddling in from the parking lot!
To some agents, the name "Big Gary" was taken literally — to mean a 'big' actor who may or may not have been about to drop dead of a fatty heart attack. I decided to somehow use that one (minor) difference to my benefit, somehow. Here's how it went down…
That other actor my size was called into the inner sanctum first, for his audition. I was second in line, of the entire event. When I was called in, it was into a conference room, at which my chair was at the end of the table, with the rest in the room focused on me. I remember the name 'Quinn' spoken, and my memory used to know each name present. But those, in which to research, have mysteriously even vanished online, some twenty years later!
Giraldo himself was not present. I'd be auditioning line-readings, with a stand-in reading Greg's lines. It was not that unusual a situation — the 'stars' have schedules to keep. Auditioning newbies is not high on their to-do lists. OK, good enough, I thought to myself — it's workable, if it's all I get.
I read scenes from the pilot script with the stand-in. It drew smiles and chuckles from various members of the group. I was thanked, but before I was dismissed, one of the crew added, "It seems you have something to add — have we overlooked anything in your opinion?"
"Well, yes," I said. "The name 'Big Gary' — the 'big' seems to indicate that you want something physical from him, not just a lot of verbal humor and set-ups for Greg's lines." I elaborated further, rising from the chair. "You've got an entire waiting room out there full of giant men — most of them 'big' by virtue of being overweight. Talented guys, I'm sure, but each one is a heart attack waiting to happen."
I then did something quite brazen. I plopped back into my chair, tipped it over and rolled backward, winding up on the floor, propped up against the wall — a comic pratfall. "I'm the guy who can do stuff like that for you, without needing a medic, or an emergency trip to the E.R. Much less all the insurance hassle."
I was pulling this instant demo-stunt out of my ass, but I had their attention. "Most of them can't touch their toes… some of them can't SEE their toes… much less provide slapstick, and a 'big' character practically is a walking source of implied slapstick. He gets in his own way — comedically — giving fodder for Greg's cynical commentary, and providing all the belly-laughs that are in the script."
I was told my perception was accurate — they had just never considered that the actor playing 'Big Gary' would necessitate a certain sense of physical durability! I had shown them this aspect, in full, to their own faces. I was again thanked, and credited with 'giving them something to think about.' I left unsure if I'd captured the part, but assured that I had impressed them with an important contribution nonetheless.
I left, saying "Say hi to Greg for me!" I and Greg Giraldo had never met, but just the implication that we might be pals, and familiar with each other, gave an impression that I was worth remembering; everything one can do for oneself at these things is a plus.
The callback came a week later. It was Dale. "They talked about you all night," he said. "Whatever you did, they want more of it! They want to see you back!" The 'callback' is where the producers have narrowed the field from the hundreds, down to a handful they want to fine-tune their options with. It's a good thing — it means they liked you well enough to be torn between you and some other choice. Now is the time to bring one's A-Game and nail it!
The day before that secondary audition, my world crumbled, with but another single phone call. It wasn't Dale, but one of Dale's office assistants. She simply told me, "Giraldo's sitcom has been cancelled… there's no next audition now." And then she said what makes this entire tale a leap into the surreal. When you hear it, and are perhaps aware of the "reality" involved, you will immediately understand why. Her next statement was, "They found Giraldo dead, from a drug overdose."
Greg Giraldo had partied too hard, took too much of his party substance of choice, and dropped dead.
This was 2002. You see why this is weird as hell yet?
If you look up Greg Giraldo online, you'll see he went on appearing in shows and working on sitcoms, well past 2002, until his death by overdose at 44… in 2010. Whatever actually happened, it seems like a time-blip (something out of a science fiction) in my very real life. Something gave Greg a second chance, unkilled him, and let him live a surplus eight years, until he (again) killed himself via drug overdose years later.
For that eight years, I had regaled friends with my story of my oh-so-near chance at stardom — costarring on The Greg Giraldo Show along-side the late Greg Giraldo, and more yet — had looked up the producers online, in which they recounted the doomed sitcom after its star's DEATH in web-published interviews and reports. All until I tried looking it all up again, just a couple of years ago and found it had all… changed.
To this.
Greg Giraldo was suddenly, mysteriously, BACK alive — with no recollections that he HAD DIED in 2002 — making TV appearances, working at night clubs, and even performing in a one-time special called (gulp) The Greg Giraldo Show… until RE-DYING of yet another overdose… in 2010. Well, for what ever voodoo doctor, wizard or Dr. Frankenstein that revived him, he fell back into his destructive ways and managed the exact same fatal screw-up, eight years later.
The screw-up I had been told of, directly, over the phone, in 2002, that had ENDED my auditioning career. I'd become disgusted and depressed, and my downward spiral began. That's HUGE… not something that someone just one day "remembers differently", much less "all wrong." I have been forever puzzled by this strange event.
I swear, on a stack of Bibles before a Federal Judge… that I was informed of Greg Giraldo's death — had read its obit online days later, and proceeded with life fully aware of Giraldo's demise… in 2002. But if one looks it up today, it doesn't officially happen until 2010. And everyone connected to him and it now corroborates the 2010 — not the 2002 — event. But my own life still doesn't reflect any such altered state!
The phrase "WTF" isn't even big enough for Big Gary.
All "logical explanations" fail. What happened in my life in 2002 was NOT a figment of my imagination. I was there. It had all really happened. Exactly the way I just recounted it.
That is my personal Twilight Zone. That was my Glitch in the Matrix — my 'Mandela Phenomenon.' If you think you have it figured out, good for you, but nothing that can be said (and a lot has been said) can erase from my memory the knowledge of it being real. Again, I am not trying to fool you, to drop a hoax or a joke.
I am currently working on a novel in which I fictionalize the account as an episode in the story — the promotion of that book is not a part of this blogpost, nor vice-a-versa. This is not a plug. I'm trying to map out my thoughts, only. And finally, getting it all said, using the actual facts of the case, as they currently exist in my head, twenty fuzzy years later. It's something the book will NOT do, but just clear my slate of brooding over it in secret. And I know, I should have written this all out years ago, when it was fresh, and I could document all the names involved, for some online posterity.
With that, in closing I can only say, thank you for listening… even if you find it unbelievable yourself. Thanks, really.
