Kevin and the Peacock – Part Six

Believe it or not, until this installment, I had yet to receive a paycheck from the National Broadcasting Company. I interned for CNBC, thus receiving no paycheck. As a page, my check was cut by Kelly staffing, and then there was the time I worked for Dick. It was late 1999. After years of waiting, I finally found myself employed by NBC. Brief… but memorable.

Late Night with Conan O’Brien

One thing that you have to get accustomed to in Hollywood is the overabundance of cell phone use. I finally entered the mobile age about halfway through Your Big Break. For some people, a cell phone is a luxury item. Others see a cell phone as little more than a nuisance. But in the business we call show, a cell phone is a necessity. If someone wants to hire you, and you don’t answer the phone, very often that someone will just phone a different number out of their Rolodex.

Case in point: Tom Patino tipped me to the fact Late Night with Conan O’Brien would be taping out of Burbank during the November sweeps (once again, in Carson’s former studio). I had called the NYC production office for the show and offered my services. So did a billion other people. But they got a hold of me. They hired me.

Ah, network.

My "Late Night" studio pass/credential now holds a place of honor on my camera case, alongside all the other security credentials I acquired over the years

Ah, network. It’s a statement worth repeating. Until Late Night, I’d fallen into a rut of syndicated and cable shows. Network shows are a different breed of animal. I’m not talking about UPN. I’m talking about NBC… a real network. And the one thing real networks have is money. Even a show that airs in most cities at 12:35 a.m., if at all, has a bigger budget than the average syndicated series.

I pulled my 1996 Geo Tracker into the driveway of the Wyndom Bel Age Hotel in Hollywood, one block away from Sunset Strip. Of course it was valet parking; it was Hollywood. I loved the classist duality of valet parking a 1996 Geo Tracker.

I entered the elegant, old growth wood and marble laden lobby and met assistant to the production coordinator Jason and wardrobe stylist Tina. Naturally, I dazzled them both with my keen knowledge of the area and of the business. By the end of the day I had met Mike Sweeney, one of the writers (presently the head writer) and Geoff, the brilliantly insightful fool who hired me (not Jeff from Howie/Dreammaker, nor Geoff the Toys ‘r’ Us giraffe).

We all headed into a large suite of rooms where I was introduced around. It was late in the day and the sun was setting, making the room a noir-esque combination of light and shadow. After several minutes, a man I had been standing next to rose from his seat, looked at me and said, “We haven’t met yet; I’m Conan O’Brien.” I think he liked the fact that I didn’t forcibly introduce myself. Most celebrities prefer to approach people on their own terms. Truth be told, I would have introduced myself earlier, but the lack of light in the room masked his identity.

The following day began in Aaron Spelling’s office. Spelling agreed to do a cameo in a pretaped bit for the show. The segment, which the producers and writers secretly dubbed “LA Assholes,” featured Conan and his sidekick Andy Richter living large in the city of angels.

Our second stop of the day was lunch at Roscoe’s, a hole in the wall near the Sunset-Gower Studios. Roscoe’s bill of fare was simple and decidedly unique: chicken and waffles. Always served together, each entree was a literal heart stopper. Between bites, Conan told us this was where he had his first business lunch. He was hired as a writer for HBO’s Not Necessarily The News in 1985, just after graduating college. Since the show taped across the street at Sunset-Gower Studios, he dined at Roscoe’s on occasion. ‘The News lead to SNL, then the Simpsons and ultimately his own late night talk show, all in under 15 years.

After lunch a series of location shoots followed, including Groman’s Chinese Theater. As nearby tourists recognized the Late Night host, autograph and photo seekers descended like vultures. An elderly woman turned to me while Conan was signing her autograph book and said how he appeared much taller in person than on TV. Conan and I replied in unison, “You need a bigger TV.” He then looked at me and said, “That was weird.”

The bulk of the next morning was spent at the Santa Monica pier. The heat wave that had thus far prevented the fall season from surfacing in the southland had temporarily lifted, making it a cold morning with a thick marine layer masking the sun. My job, find sunscreen for my distant, fair-skinned cousin Conan.

From Santa Monica it was back to Hollywood and lunch at the In & Out Burger on Sunset. Most of the New Yorkers feared the burger’s secret sauce (secret’s out: it’s thousand island dressing). After lunch, we were off to an apartment on Fairfax. While taping a bit on the sidewalk, a black BMW pulled to the curb, Conan peeked inside and said “Hi George” and George “Norm” Wendt greeted him in return. I’ve wandered around Hollywood countless times, yet no celebrity has ever pulled over and said hello to me.

I spent two days in the Late Night production office located next to studio nine on the NBC lot. Studio nine was the former home of “must see TV” shows like Saved By The Bell and The Fresh Prince of Bel Air. I asked a few folks why we weren’t given the offices normally allocated to folks who use studio one, but never really got an answer. Studio nine and studio one, where the show was taped, were about as far apart as they could possibly be while still keeping within the confines of NBC’s Burbank facilities. This made something as simple as delivering bottles of water into a time consuming task; one I didn’t exactly envision myself spending an entire week doing. I heard writer Mike mention a remote shoot featuring Triumph, the insult comic dog (a character created and voiced by well known comic writer Robert Smiegel). I drafted myself into service.

Me (on the far left) included as an extra on the Hollywood tour with Triumph (lower right)

Triumph was to give a tour of Hollywood as only he could. A cheap and hopelessly inarticulate hand puppet, Triumph, a camera crew and about 25 tourists were stationed atop a decades old, London-style, double decker bus. From said heights, he proceeded to scream obscenities through a megaphone in an attempt to lure various celebrities out of their homes. “Come on out Streisand, you bitch,” is a prime example. In point of clarification, Streisand did not emerge, but several of her unamused neighbors did.

We also were given unbridled access, something the manager would later regret, to the Hollywood Wax Museum. Triumph spent most of his time humping the legs of the assorted wax replicated stars. They wanted to include animals in the bit, but the only animal in the building was Toto. Smiegel dispatched the Late Night prop department to a nearby business that could really only prosper in a town as freaky as Hollywood. They returned with a series of taxidermised (is that a word?) cats and dogs… including Buck.

Seeing someone or something you know long after they are dead is unnatural and spooky to say the least. I watched Married With Children from the very beginning, and perhaps my favorite character, next to the blond in the skimpy outfits, was Buck the dog. Well, sitting beside me on the lower level of the bus was Buck, dead, stuffed and equipped with an adjustable, posable head. It was disturbing, almost sickening. The other animals didn’t bother me, but sitting next to the corpse of a television personality left me sick to my stomach (it reminded me of the time I met Jerry Springer).

In the center... John Tesh: too cool for a Geo Tracker

We ultimately found a celebrity willing to be heckled by Triumph: John Tesh. Tesh actually boarded the bus and rode around Mulholland Drive with us for awhile. Afterward, one of the producers offered him a ride back to his house in my car. John Tesh took one look at my Geo Tracker and decided he’d rather walk.

We spent three days taping what would eventually be edited down to a seven and a half minute package for the show. Let me repeat that, three days for seven and half minutes. That, my friends, is network! My biggest contribution was the background music for the piece. They decided they wanted a song by the Monkees and something from the Baywatch soundtrack and were worried they would not be able to locate them in time. When I informed them I owned both CDs, they were worried for an altogether different reason.

It was a bizarre, half-crazed, seat-of-your-pants experience. In other words, it was a world of fun. I actually made more money during the few weeks I spent working on Late Night with Conan O’Brien than in any month I had worked until that point. Pretty sad, I know. While I often wondered why I had chosen that profession, during those few weeks I most certainly didn’t.