How I Got to Be Whoever It Is I Am

by Charles Grodin

  I thought I could get it in within ten tries. It took me fifteen. Naturally, I thought with practice I’d do better on the second try, but the second time it took me sixteen tries. The third time I was sure I could do it in ten tries, but it took me thirty-five throws to get it in.

  I told this story to a friend of mine who was thinking of quitting her pursuit to be a nurse because of… something. She said that because of that story, which some would say was about failure but I would say was about perseverance, she decided to continue on her difficult journey to be a nurse.

  By the way, when my wife and son got home, I tried it again in my study, and on my fourth try I went from thirty-five attempts to get the bottle in to twenty.

  The lesson? Perseverance is a necessity whatever the goal.

  A postscript. About six months later, I tried throwing the bottle in the basket again—in my study, of course. I got it in on the second try.

  I like to listen to music on the radio, and maybe it’s just me, but lately there seem to be more and more songs abut someone who can’t go on without someone else: “When you came into my life, I knew you’d be my wife. Without you, I can’t go on.” “There’ll never be another one like you. What am I going to do? I can’t go on.”

  Now, it’s nice to be with someone you can’t go on without, but if you actually expect to feel that way most of the time, you have unrealistic expectations, which lead to broken relationships, divorces, and a lot of other bad stuff.

  This is a lyric I heard in a song I was listening to recently: “If you’d stay, I’d subtract twenty years from my life. I’d fall down on my knees, kiss the ground that you walk on, if only I could hold you again.” Now that’s what you call being attracted to someone! Even more extreme is this lyric from Kiss Me, Kate: “So taunt me and hurt me, Deceive me, desert me, I’m yours till I die…” Desert me? I’m yours till I die?!

  In the movies the young guy and the young girl are cute and charming even when things are tough between them. Try to compete with that in real life. In real life? The young guy and the young girl couldn’t.

  You’re not always going to look up and see an adoring gaze from the other person. You’re just not. You might even catch your partner in a “I can’t believe I’m sitting here with this person” look. “I can’t go on without you? You are my reason for living?” It’s an interesting thought. Maybe we can all experience it from time to time, but personally I like this one: “Keep smiling. Keep shining. Knowing you can always count on me, for sure. That’s what friends are for.”

  My wife saw me tell a story on the Johnny Carson show years ago and thought to herself, I’m going to marry him. She had gone to Dartmouth and had reviewed books and films for the Times of London. Elissa is an inveterate viewer of English mysteries. I’m just glad that before she met me, she hadn’t met Alfred Hitchcock. She got an assignment from American Film Magazine to interview me and called. I accepted the invitation. She was totally professional and quite reserved, and yet one hour into the interview the tape recorder was shut off when I asked, “Who are you?” We discussed getting married within ninety minutes of meeting. I told my son about how his mother saw me tell a story on the Tonight Show and thought to herself, “I’m going to marry him.” My son said, “She just didn’t know you were never going to stop telling them.” Since so many marriages don’t last, we could all say making a marriage last may be the most daunting challenge. Any two people who spend a lot of time together will find endless things to disagree about.

  In my experience most men feel women are too critical, and most women feel that men lack sensitivity. I’m sure some would say men are too critical, and women lack sensitivity. It’s all true on any given day.

  I heard one of my favorite comedy lines from the comedian Mal Z. Lawrence. A man gets up in the morning, crosses around the foot of the bed, his wife lifts her sleep mask and looks at him. The man says, “Good morning, dear, have I offended you in any way?”

  However, in my personal experience, I know way more offensive men than women, but since I’ve never gotten out and around that much, who knows?

  I do know this. The one essential ingredient a marriage must have is the knowledge you can count on the other person, no matter what. Other elements of a relationship may vary, but if you aren’t sure you can count on your partner, and by that I also mean trust, your marriage most likely won’t last. “Count on” to me means trust and goodwill always. I have that in my marriage, and I feel blessed. At this writing we’ve been married for twenty-five years.

  Actually, I feel blessed in many ways. However, unfortunately or maybe in a larger sense fortunately, I am also on a daily basis agitated by knowing there are thousands of people among our 2.3 million prison population who absolutely should not be in prison at all! I’ve talked about them earlier in this book, but it’s something I just can’t drop. My intention is to make people as aware of this as I can, because when this fact becomes better known, this grave injustice and others could be made right. That’s my biggest goal for the rest of my life.

  The Diary

  I recently came across a diary that I kept for one year in the early 1990s. For the most part, it expresses what I feel today. Here are some random excerpts, in the order in which they appeared.

  • Extraordinarily rare sleepless night.

  • Screw people who don’t care about others.

  • Startling how quickly I get bored. I was having a conversation with a perfectly good guy. It’s me.

  • Writing enormously gratifying.

  • On work overload—watch out for compulsive.

  • Going to try to slow down, not work nonstop.

  • I’m going to keep doing what I’m doing—but at a slower tempo.

  • It’s all about effort.

  • Saw Jeffrey Lyons at museum. He said, because I do many things, I seem like more than one person. I wonder if people resent that.

  • Love Carol Burnett.

  • Happy time with Carol Burnett.

  • Nicky’s birthday party wonderful. Elissa did a superb job.

  • Great talk with Jack on phone. Absolutely no competitiveness. I’m so lucky to have him as a brother.

  • Ran into Schwarzenegger. I asked him if he worked out. He wasn’t amused.

  • All in all it’s a wonderful time.

  • The filming is going well. Between doing the movie and writing the book, every free moment I’m really engaged which, of course, is the key.

  • All is well. I’ll take this kind of life anytime.

  • Try to get company to be considerate of sick actors. SAG needs deputies.

  • An excellent period.

  • Some people don’t get it. Respect, not aggression, is appropriate toward all.

  • Life is excellent. It was a very good year.

  What has changed as much as anything in my life is my former naively optimistic point of view. It’s sad for me to finally realize how few people care about others, how many people don’t mean what they say, and how many don’t do what they say they will do: “When we say we’re going to make your movie, that doesn’t mean we’re going to make your movie.”

  It’s very important to me to do exactly what I say I’ll do, and for people to know they can count on that. My favorite review came from what the editors of my high school yearbook wrote about me: “Chuck’s a boy we all can trust. As class president he’s a must.” I’ve always tried to live up to that. It’s a way better review than “If you want to know what it feels like to die sitting upright in your theater seat—go see this movie.”

  As far as how I spend my time now is concerned, the major difference in my life today is my involvement with prisoners’ issues. My mind keeps going back to my grandfather sitting on my brother’s bed all those years ago, telling me to better serve my father, because “his head is mmmmmmm.” That’s the way my head feels today—for different reasons—but agitation is agitation. Still, as I’ve said, working on behalf of peopl
e in prison who shouldn’t be there is the most gratifying thing I do. I consider myself one of the lucky ones to be given this opportunity to help.

  Epilogue

  So, I’ve been told in print in the early seventies, “It would be sad to think an acting career lay ahead.”

  Even though my cable show on CNBC was the highest-rated program in its time slot before or since, and the only show on the network to be nominated as best talk show every year there were awards, it was canceled.

  On the other hand, once in the greenroom of a talk show I was spotted by Ringo Starr, whom I’d never met. He walked across the room and gave me a big, long hug. Neither of us spoke.

  A silent hug from a Beatle can really bolster you, and that’s what we all need to try to do for each other.

  Acknowledgments

  I want to thank my editor, Karen Murgolo, who is a most cheerful friend as well as a bright, gracious, and kind editor. I want to thank Karen’s assistant, the up-and-coming Tom Hardej, for his excellent assistance. He, too, is extremely gracious and kind.

  I want to acknowledge two people who have been in my life on a daily basis for several years: Jim Griffin and Rose Snyder, my agent and my assistant. They are excellent at their work, but most important, they are friends as well, which, of course, makes them the best kind of agent and assistant you can have. They are also gracious and kind.

  About the Author

  CHARLES GRODIN is a recipient of the William Kunstler Award for Racial Justice. He gained clemency for four women imprisoned under New York’s Rockefeller Drug Laws and was cited by Governor George Pataki for helping get those laws changed. He is also the recipient of the HELP Hero Award for his humanitarian efforts on behalf of the homeless. He is best known for his starring film roles in The Heartbreak Kid, Midnight Run, the Beethoven films, and dozens of others. He has written six books, including the bestseller It Would Be So Nice If You Weren’t Here and compiled If I Only Knew Then… learning from Our Mistakes.Mr. Grodin was a commentator for 60 Minutes II and is currently a commentator for CBS News. He also writes a weekly column for the New York Daily NewsWeb site.

  One hundred percent of Mr. Grodin’s proceeds from this book will be donated to Mentoring USA, where he has been a longtime board member. Mr. Grodin is also a mentor.

  Grammar school basketball team. I’m standing on the right. Are we serious enough? (Author’s Collection)

  My grandmother and me in Pittsburgh in the early fifties. (Author’s Collection)

  My family. My dad is standing on the far right. My mother is sitting on the far right. My grandfather has the beard, and my grandmother is to his left. I’m standing behind my grandfather—always a good place to stand. (Author’s Collection)

  Entering the University of Miami, after my dad died. (Author’s Collection)

  My daughter, Marion, contemplating going into show business. (Author’s Collection)

  My daughter, Marion, who’s a headlining stand-up comedienne in New York. (Author’s Collection)

  By this time in the sixties, I had a window. (Author’s Collection)

  My one indiscretion. She was irresistible. (Author’s Collection)

  My mother, who radiated love toward me. (Author’s Collection)

  Roger Ailes, who now runs the Fox Cable Network, produced this special when he ran CNBC. From left to right, Phil Donahue, Bob Berkowitz, Sheila Stainback, Vladimir Pozner, Cal Thomas, me, Dick Cavett, Al Roker, Mary Matalin, Tim Russert, and Geraldo Rivera. (Author’s Collection)

  It’s so sad that Johnny Carson, who brought joy to so many, didn’t experience more of it in his own life. (Author’s Collection)

  David Letterman at least knows I’m kidding. (Author’s Collection)

  Roger Ailes and me. (Photo by Steve Friedman)

  Democratic Senator Edward Kennedy and Republican Senator Orrin Hatch. I hosted a benefit at Ethel Kennedy’s home at Hickory Hill. Senator Kennedy and Senator Hatch sang the song “Together” from Gypsy. It was the hit of the evening. (Author’s Collection)

  I so admired all of them. From left to right, me, Bob Simon, Vicki Mabrey, Dan Rather, Scott Pelley, and Charlie Rose. (Photo by Larry Busacca and John Filo/CBS)

  Joy and Regis Philbin, and me. I told Regis I had in my possession a photo of Joy that would get her movie stardom, but I wanted a percentage before I’d hand it over. We’re negotiating. (Author’s Collection)

  From left to right, Elizabeth Wilson, me, Paul Newman, Joanne Woodward, Eli Wallach, Anne Jackson. (Photo by Kathleen O’Rourke)

  Bob Ellis, Eli Wallach, me, and Jack Klugman. (Photo by Steve and Anita Shevett)

  Brandon Hein. He was taken into custody when he was eighteen, and he was sentenced to life with no chance of parole. He’s now thirty-one. He didn’t kill anyone or steal anything. That’s America’s disgrace: the felony murder rule. (Author’s Collection)

  Arlene Oberg comes out of prison with her arm around her daughter Lisa. Arlene died of a heart attack in her thirties. (Author’s Collection)

  Elaine Bartlett embracing her oldest son, Apache, as she’s released from prison. It was Elaine’s case that provoked New York legislators to reform the Rockefeller drug laws, gaining an early release for approximately 1,000 people. (Author’s Collection)

  Elaine Bartlett, Jan Warren, Arlene Oberg. (Author’s Collection)

  Randy Credico and me. Randy leads me to victims of our system. He is my hero. (Author’s Collection)