How I Got to Be Whoever It Is I Am by Charles Grodin Page B

notified at the airport that a call had come in from the
Candid Camera
office saying I was fired again. I chose not to go see Allen and remind him I had been against the idea in the first place.
    Years later, after I had directed an Emmy-winning television special, my agent got a call from
Candid Camera
asking if I’d be interested in directing a special they were doing, but I declined. The lesson was, don’t ever accept a job
     from someone who has already fired you twice.

Endings
    T he first Broadway show I acted in was a standing room only hit in the early ’60s called
Tchin-Tchin
. It starred Anthony Quinn and the great English actress Margaret Leighton. I played the supporting part of Margaret Leighton’s
     son. The play had only three speaking roles.
    I got excellent reviews but wasn’t offered another Broadway show for about two years. Part of the reason was that I played
     an unusual character—a mama’s boy—and I evidently did it well enough that people thought I
was
a mama’s-boy type. My take-home pay in the play was $107 a week. I had a wife and baby, and since the play was such a big
     hit and I had gotten rave reviews, I asked the production supervisor if he would ask the general manager if I might have a
     slight raise.
    When I didn’t hear anything for about a month I assumed the answer was no, but the production supervisor said, “He didn’t
     say no.” I said, “Really?” He said, “He didn’t say no. He just laughed.”
    Years later, when I became known and the general manager became a producer, he sent me a play to be in. I chose not to read
     it. What goes around does come around.
    Something really unexpected happened after the opening night performance of
Tchin-Tchin
. I was with Julie and two of our closest friends, a couple we had met in acting class. The woman said to me at one point,
     “You’ve been talking about yourself for twenty minutes.” It
was
opening night of my first Broadway show, and talking about it for twenty minutes in my mind doesn’t exactly qualify as a
     federal offense.
    My friendship with that woman came to a mutual end that evening. It later ended with my male friend as well when they got
     married. I believe if I hadn’t made it to Broadway, as they hadn’t, we’d still be friends.
    In the second Broadway show I did, I became close friends with another actor, who was considerably older than I was. That
     friendship came to an end when he saw an ad for
The Heartbreak Kid
in the paper. I had chosen to not even mention to him that I had starred in a movie, properly guessing it would end that
     friendship.
    Something very uncharacteristic of me happened when I was a commentator for
60 Minutes II
. At the end of my first year, I told the head man, Jeff Fager, who now runs
60 Minutes
, that I wanted to replace my producer. I also said I would only do this if he could be sure she would be placed elsewhere
     at CBS. He said that could be done and then asked me why I wanted to replace the woman he had suggested to me. I said I wanted
     a producer who wasn’t also a second editor.
    Jeff, as well as being a terrific guy, is also obviously an excellent editor and an all-around brilliant producer who’s on
     fire with his work. He’s won more awards than I can count. Once Jeff signs off on a piece, you don’t want further editorial
     notes. No one should have more than one editor.
    I remember more than a few times after Jeff had signed off on a piece, my producer continued to give me further editorial
     notes, even after I asked her not to. I said, “You expect me to go back to Jeff? Thanks, but no thanks.” Producing is a full-time
     job, and one she did very well, and that’s what I needed.
    Two other events caused me to want to make a change. Once I brought in my résumé for her to read so she could see I wasn’t
     exactly someone who’d gone from being a movie actor to a commentator on
60 Minutes II
. It listed five years at CNBC and MSNBC doing