Collections - 16. Chapter 16 -- I'll Spin

"You'll never work in this town again," you've heard movie folks growl, and maybe you've thought, "What town? LA's an enormous city: eight million people, hundreds of square miles." Bradner, Ohio's a town: population--1230; area--"from here to, well, those cows." But the threat-makers weren't talking about the oozing city of Los Angeles; they meant Show Biz--that small, possibly unessential nucleus of this ripe place.

Still, the threat cramps this letter; were its harmless stories accidentally seen by those easily offended, work might be hard for me to find. Even anecdotes are lethal to people so routinely betrayed they now demand instant loyalty.

And the people are something: at best, you want to serve and protect them, learn from them, take them home to share with friends; at worst, you want them dismissed as cartoons. Collected, they're a bomber crew: some came here for wealth, some power, fame, some possibly from having no place else to go. Even those born in L.A. have to claw their way into the industry. Connections can make it easier, but the most powerful friends can't help once you screw up.

What am I doing here? Mainly, looking to Get Out of Jail, Free. I know what I want to do, and where, and they have little in common with palm trees and constant sun. Still, if the price of early retirement's ten years this side of smoggy paradise, who's to complain? I could as easily be stuck in Kansas. (If you actually live in Kansas, don't be offended. The name's generic.)

For those of you who missed earlier episodes: In mid-June I moved west and was quickly lucky enough to find work as set decorator for WHEEL OF FORTUNE. (Stop laughing.) "What's a set decorator do on a game show?" you cleverly ask, as so many have cleverly before you. Well, there are these prizes, see, like trips to unstable tropical monarchies with hard-to-pronounce names. We make them seem inviting with fanciful displays.

A voyage to Curasao? (kyoor-uh-soo) Easy: Stacked vintage luggage garnished with exotic fruit, quivering palms, and a caged Myna bird! Myna birds are Asian? Simple: A plumed parrot!

I also say "Fabulous!" a lot.

(Actually, I've told the Union guys to shoot me if I call anything besides King Arthur "fabulous." They didn't get it.)

I'm not supposed to use my hands in this job; mainly, I tell the Union guys what I'd like, and they scramble...well, shuffle. I don't use my head a lot, either, except to bang against palm trees. (Try getting Union guys to drape.)

Mostly, I execute ideas of the two Art Directors, an extremely talented team who, between them, have been in this business longer than I've been alive. The designs involve more display work than psychology, and everything must be elegant--to fit the producer's Beverly Hills image of the America--but broad--the home audience sees this stuff for only seconds.

There are also things we're not allowed to show, which makes work excitingly difficult. Try hawking Las Vegas without mentioning booze, gambling, or sex.

Then there are the perks: I get to see Vanna. VANNA!!!

Contrary to everything you've seen, read, or secretly want to believe, she's actually very charming, not ditzy or demanding, and is often gently generous. For Christmas, she gave me a gold-plated key chain which I sold to THE NATIONAL ENQUIRER.

I haven't really been introduced to Pat, though he did smile at me once when I told him I was searching for a missing pine tree.

Normally, we tape twenty shows every other week, five a day for four days, working over a month ahead of air dates. This produces a kind of double time warp: Monday and Friday are hours apart; Thanksgiving and Christmas were celebrated within three days of each other, both during the actual week of Halloween. Also, as winners can last up to three shows, a pregnant winner our last day of taping will be back the beginning of next session. On TV this will seem a weekend. Actually, she'll be six weeks closer to giving birth.

In the latest development, unfortunately, daytime WHEEL has been cancelled, cutting almost everyone's work--and salary--in half. (The way I figure it, I'm still in far better shape than Vanna: she loses a million a year; I'm out less than twenty grand.)

Many of you may not have known WHEEL OF FORTUNE was broadcast twice a day, which was exactly the problem. Evening WHEEL's so popular it's syndicated through 1996; current ratings for daytime WHEEL still can't be found.

Even so, the show may yet be moved to another desperate network, or sold directly to cable. If Lifetime picks it up, I may have to convert.

Or I may be entirely out of work. If Pat Sajak would agree to host twice a month, two days each session, a number of people's schedules might not change. But he seems to prefer working just once a month, lucky guy. I hope he recognizes me when I come selling cookies door-to-door.

I can't even be a WHEEL contestant to make up the earnings--because of my connection with the show. Nor can any of you, since you know me. Or any members of your family. Or any of their even barely-remembered friends. Now how many people's fantasies have I just ruined?

Still, I should be fine. One great advantage of this job is it puts me in the film set decorator's union, something other people have waited years to be eligible for. All I have to do is pass their picky little entrance exam. Presently, I'm cramming again on the differences between Sheridan and Hepplewhite, roccoco and ormulu. Just when I thought I was finished with grad. school. If things go smoothly--and once I sell enough cookies to raise the five grand initiation fee--I may again be interestingly employed.

Which leaves me just enough space for a quick Bonus Round. Minus the obligatory A, E, L, O, and T: I'-- --K- - V-W--, P--.

(Five second wave, then long crawl.)