Just Between Us

by Mario Lopez

  We came from different backgrounds, not surprisingly given our diverse casting. Yet I was the only one of the cast members who went to an actual high school that had thousands of students; my castmates either were homeschooled or went to private schools with very small classes. The other kids in the cast weren’t all from rich families necessarily, but I was probably from a much lower income bracket than any of my fellow SBTB crew. None of that mattered, though. We all got along off-screen as much as we did on-screen.

  Let me amend that. Not everyone got along with Screech aka Dustin Diamond. I did, but maybe I was the exception. He was one of those dorky kids who thought it was hilarious to take Polaroids of his genitals and leave the photos all over the set. Annoying as that was, it was in keeping with his TV persona.

  Mark-Paul, on the other hand, was a lot shyer than his more outgoing alter ego, Zack. Behind the scenes, he was nothing like the hot-to-trot Zack and really not yet into the dating, social scene that interested me. After our intensive schedule, on weekends I was gung ho, ready to go out, party, and have some fun.

  After most Friday night tapings, I’d ask Mark-Paul, “Hey, man, wanna hang out?” and invite him to an after-show party with friends of mine and some of the girls in the cast and their friends.

  “Thanks, but . . . that’s not my thing,” he’d answer diplomatically, and then mention that his mom wouldn’t let him. Very protective, she never really let him hang out. He was sheltered that way, though he was a great guy with a lot of talent, and the social thing wasn’t a big deal for him.

  Needless to say, I was still Mario Lopez from Chula Vista, who had grown up with “Mi casa es su casa” and “The more the merrier.” I was still the same high-energy kid who was used to hanging out with cousins and friends, now enjoying the camaraderie of going out and getting together with my SBTB buddies—still instigating whatever fun and action I could. When I was fifteen going on sixteen, girls were high on that list.

  Whether romance flared or not, each of the three female leads on the show was like family to me. Interestingly enough, the role of Lisa Turtle in Good Morning, Miss Bliss was not originally written as African-American, but Lark’s reading for the producers was apparently so good they rewrote the character to fit her background. In the years after SBTB, Lark went on to do soaps and the two of us would both later land on The Bold and the Beautiful, though not at the same time. Still, whenever we see each other, we have that connection from our days at Bayside High.

  Originally, the role of Lisa Turtle was written as half Jewish, but that changed when Lark got the role. In another twist, Jessie’s role wasn’t written as Jewish, even though the producers cast the beautiful, tall, lanky, and Jewish Elizabeth Berkley in the role. Elizabeth and I were buddies from the word go. To this day I’m probably closer to her than anyone else from the cast. Besides being very sexy—as evidenced by her later performance in the movie Showgirls, in which she bared all—Elizabeth is smart, quick, and funny. And we make each other laugh. When I watch reruns of our scenes and running bits where Jessie calls me a chauvinist “pig” and I just flirt with her and call her “Mama,” I can tell how much we inhabited those characters. Even though our Jessie and Slater were hot and heavy for most of the show, we never had a make-out scene, which probably made our friendship easier. Elizabeth and I had a very brother/sister type relationship. And still do.

  Although my heart beat for Elizabeth on-screen, I can tell you now that off-screen I set my sights on Tiffani Thiessen. Now remember—I’m the cool guy and know better than to show my interest right away. Except that I was pretty sure at that first table read when I looked across the room and saw this gorgeous girl glancing up at me under lowered eyelashes that she was almost blushing. Unless I was really mistaken, the attraction was mutual and instantaneous.

  A slow burn of a flirtation began, but not much happened. Then, after shooting a few episodes, Tiffani mentioned that she did have a boyfriend. A much older boyfriend. So that was the end of that.

  Or so I thought until sometime later, a few years into the show’s run, when she mentioned that she and the guy had broken up. Interesting. Not rushing into anything, we just started spending more time together off set. What was dating a costar of a teen series like? We did what teenagers do on dates. We went to movies, went out to eat, hung out at parties, danced together. She was a sweetheart who reminded me of a young Priscilla Presley, and I’ll admit to feeling as cool as Elvis with her on my arm. When the romance later became official, I got a kick out of the fact that she agreed to wear my real-life letterman jacket—awarded for four years of high school wrestling.

  As a high school guy who was known to date around a lot, I thought that being loyal to Tiffani was the right thing to do. But I can’t say that I was capable at that age of following through on my noble intentions. There was so much beauty everywhere and I had so much affection to share. That said, my relationship with Tiffani was off and on, but when we were on I did at least try to limit my free agency, shall we say.

  Now that I think about it, I’m grateful that Facebook, Twitter, and TMZ weren’t around when I was a teen and a twentysomething. Most likely I would not have gotten away with the crazier escapades that played themselves out at different stages and probably would have wound up with a lot more drama and heartache. As it was, though, I had the best of all worlds. Once again, even with lessons still to learn, I lucked out.

  • • •

  One of the happiest days of these years had nothing to do with the popularity surrounding SBTB or with rites of passage of dating girls or at high school. The day I almost cried for joy came when Mom announced to me and Marissa, “Kids, starting on Monday, I am going to be a full-time mother.”

  My sister and I, talking at the same time, asked what had happened.

  Mom went on to say that Dad had found a new position—a real job with benefits that would provide the family the security and financial support that would finally make it possible for her to quit her job at the phone company.

  After we finished hugging and high-fiving, my mom pointed out that it was going to be much easier now to get me back and forth to Hollywood without my having to miss out on all the important parts of going to high school in Chula—to wrestling matches, prom, homecoming, and all the rest of normal life for high school kids.

  And I’m so grateful that my mom was able and willing to help me do that. As my luck would have it, we shot most of our season in the summertime so that during the school year we could maintain the majority of our regular school activities. That was one fantastic shooting schedule. The timing was such that being on SBTB was like an awesome summer job during high school that let me earn and save money that would be there for college and later. Incredibly, even as I began to earn more, my parents never asked me for a cent. I knew kids in the business whose parents spent all their money, because they thought they deserved it. Not my parents. They didn’t want me to go crazy and spend all my money either. When it was time to buy a car, I used some of my earnings to buy a ’65 Mustang, a junker. Dad and I worked together to fix it up, rebuilding the engine, putting in a new interior and dash, and painting it a fire engine red. If I had to do it over again, I would have gone with black, but that red Mustang was still cherry.

  Even as SBTB garnered a bigger and bigger following, Chula kids didn’t treat me that differently. I rarely brought up the Hollywood part of my life.

  If someone said something, I’d say, “Oh, yeah, a kids’ show. Whatever . . .” I did my best to downplay it. Because if I didn’t act like it was no big deal, I probably would have gotten my ass kicked. As a wrestler on a high school team that was gunning to win the state title, being on TV added a challenge to matches—the last thing any wrestling competitor wanted to do was lose against some kid on a Saturday morning sitcom. So my opponents went at me hard. Well, I guess that forced me to go even harder. The state championship loomed large and I wasn’t going
to lose the chance to finish high school with that dream in hand.

  The balancing act was nothing new. I mean, other than dating the girl of every high school guy’s dreams and working on a hit TV show, the years when I was on Saved by the Bell were as close to normal as they could be. But to be honest, there were times when I felt like I was leading a double life. Only my fellow SBTB castmates knew that feeling, one I couldn’t share with my friends at home. But only my Chula Vista friends and family knew the real, down-to-earth me. Both worlds were normal when taken separately, but living in both at the same time could get pretty bizarre.

  • • •

  SBTB was popular immediately but the show didn’t hit its true stride until later, when we went into syndication, with episodes airing continuously for years by stations across the country and around the world. Saved by the Bell was to become a classic.

  We did SBTB for five years and it ran all the way to 1994. The show ran, I ran, we all ran. It was magic. I never got bored. An irony of this show was that our executive producer, Peter Engel, wanted SBTB to be very squeaky clean and idealistic. Real high school is never anything like what you see on TV. What you see on TV is so sterile and safe. That’s why on one of the episodes Artie the chameleon died, rather than a dog or a person. I was supposed to be distraught over a lizard dying? How was I supposed to drum up emotions for a little creature that ate flies and just moved his eyes in opposite directions? Originally, it was supposed to be a puppy that died, but Engel thought the puppy story line would have been too devastating for kids in our audience, so they changed it to a chameleon. Yet even that story line seemed to resonate—don’t ask me why.

  After SBTB ran its course, as the characters grew up, we would eventually do a season of the prime-time version, Saved by the Bell: The College Years. But our super conservative network executives were reluctant to get edgier for prime time, so the show ultimately didn’t work. People couldn’t suspend their disbelief that college life was so squeaky clean—it caused too much dissonance. Especially with our longtime fans.

  In hindsight, I often marvel at how special it was to have an audience that grew up right along with us. I remember the shock of getting out and first meeting fans our age when we used to do live promotions in the early seasons of SBTB. These meet-and-greets were typically held in shopping malls and set up like rock concerts. Thousands of kids would show up to see us. The first time we did one of these, I knew the turnout would be enthusiastic, but nothing had prepared me for the crowds and the volume of the screaming from (mostly) girls when we stepped out onto the makeshift stage in the middle of their local mall.

  That appearance was the first time that the girl fans came so close that they managed to slip me pieces of paper with their phone numbers; before I could react, their mothers did the same, slipping me their phone number with a quick hug and a hand in my pocket. At other mall promotions for the show, girls and/or moms would approach and shake my hand and the phone number would be in their palm, as if I was getting greased with some money. Other times, fans would ask me to sign a picture and as I was signing they would hand me an envelope with their phone number tucked inside. Sometimes girls would follow me around in public, even when I was just walking down the street out on an errand. In these days of twenty-four/seven entertainment news and paparazzi everywhere, that may not sound so crazy, but nothing really prepares you to have total strangers feel like they know you because you visit their living room every Saturday morning on the TV.

  All that girl attention, I should add, was not terrible. I used to ask myself, Who wouldn’t want thousands of girls screaming at you and saying how cute you are? The whole crazed-fan scene can also become commonplace, so that when you don’t have it you begin to wonder whether you’ve lost your mojo. So I tried to enjoy the theatrics, even to the point of being fascinated by how far a girl or a mom would go to be with one of us guys in the cast.

  Then there were the big car show promotions the network also had us doing. Car industrials can be like Las Vegas productions with carmakers bringing in their new cars of the new season or hosting classic car shows. As SBTB became more and more popular, I started getting opportunities to do personal appearances on my own, where they pay you to come hang out, sign autographs, and take pictures with people for a couple of hours. How cool! I could travel, I loved cars, and I was able to bring a friend or two with me. There were also lots of other people I might meet, like WWF wrestlers or soap opera stars.

  Later on, I was fortunate enough to go to Europe for the first time because of the show—to France and England for promotional appearances—and to travel more all over the United States. For a kid from Chula Vista, the world was opening unbelievably wide for me in ways I never would have dreamt. The show was huge in France. To this day, French people will come up to me and say, “Sauvés par le gong.” It was huge in Latin countries too: “Salvados por la campana.” I loved the way they dubbed my voice in French and in Spanish because they gave me a really deep voice. Like Barry White. “Y dónde está Screech?” sounded pretty intense in that voice.

  We were in Europe once for a sitcom awards festival similar to the Cannes Film Festival, also in the south of France. We stayed at the Hôtel Martinez, a fancy hotel that seemed fit for Louis XIV. Everything about that high life was intoxicating, especially the day we went to the beach. Wow, I’ll never forget seeing topless women out on the beach for the first time.

  You would think that my understanding of the opposite sex and of relationships would have been much more sophisticated by the time I was in my late teens and after being exposed to so much attention. Not so. As only the events of my earlier adolescent years reveal, I grew up very much in the throes of fast times at Chula Vista High.

  CHAPTER 4

  MI VIDA LOCA

  Yes, the rumors are true: I love women and have always been fascinated by them, from as far back as I can remember. But I should clarify that I’ve never been the kind of guy who likes to think of himself as a player. That implies that you’re playing a game or that you’re out to trick a girl. That’s never been me. My feeling is that if you are up-front about the attraction and if it’s mutual, it’s honest and sexy at the same time. But, of course, romantic relationships can become much more complicated than that. Why? Well, for starters, as I learned from many mistakes when I was young and, in some cases, at times when I was commitment averse, not everybody is comfortable with the “love the one you’re with” approach. Also—and this is partly what fascinates me about them—most women are complicated.

  If I could sum up everything I know now that I really wish I would have known back when I was young and single, it’s this simple fact: women don’t want you to be a superhero and fix all their problems; they just want you to listen. Younger guys always ask me to dole out secrets to scoring with girls, and, honestly, that’s all I got. But it’s million-dollar advice: just be a good listener.

  It took me a long time to learn that, and much of what I now know about the opposite sex would come later on when, appropriately, I had more serious relationships. But in the meantime, from the moment I hit puberty, I couldn’t wait to get the lowdown, especially because it seemed to be the number one topic of conversation for my older cousins. Some of them, in their midteens when I was turning thirteen, had lost their virginity at fourteen or even younger. So, for me, listening to them recount their conquests convinced me they had to be experts. Or maybe it was just all that sex talk, combined with my newly sprouted hormones, that got me really interested in whatever advice they could offer.

  For example, my cousin Victor once told a story about someone he knew who was in bed with a girl and couldn’t perform. “What was wrong with him?” another cousin asked.

  “Alcohol,” Victor said, explaining that too much booze could hamper performance.

  I knew almost nothing about the mechanics of sex, but that struck a chord with me. Sure enough, I later learned firsthand
that if you plan on being good in bed, don’t drink too much beforehand. Not rocket science, but good to remember.

  My expectations may have been too high on the kind of wisdom they could give me. In hindsight, I realize it was unlikely that I could learn anything valuable about sex and girls from slightly older cousins who were as hormonally crazed as me. This is not to say that my cousins steered me wrong completely. However, none of them were by any means experts in sex education and I had no other sources of reliable information. No nudie magazines left lying around or even boring scientific guides. There was definitely nothing in school early on, like health class in high school would later provide. With my cousins, I did get a lot of slang for sex and heard all kinds of curse words—in English and Spanish—but since I personally was never much of a cursing type, that was just like color commentary about sports. No cautionary tales about things like how to use a condom or anything about birth control at all. Even basic questions I put to the guys, such as, “How do you know if a girl likes you?” were answered with a total lack of expertise.

  In that instance, back when I was about ten years old, one of my cousins said, “Girls like dimples.” In some ways, that was all I needed to know.

  Up until that moment, my dimples had been the butt of constant jokes.

  My adult relatives, like my various tías, were different. “Oh, Mario, where did you get your dimples? They are so adorable!”

  Some of them actually knew the answer, that I inherited dimples from Dad’s side of the family. He has a dimpled chin and one on his left cheek; later on, when Marissa married and had babies, her daughter, my niece Kalia, would have a dimple as well.