The Mailroom: Hollywood History from the Bottom Up by David Rensin Page B

knows. “Oh, Bernie Brillstein’s here. Shit, I’ve got to spend an hour and a half with him.”
    But sometimes it works out. One day in January 1956 Harry Kalcheim said, “Saturday night Elvis Presley is doing Stage Show . Would you go and take care of him?”
    Stage Show, featuring Tommy and Jimmy Dorsey, was a short-lived TV variety show produced by Jackie Gleason as a lead-in for The Honeymooners. I’d met Elvis earlier when he came in for his signing picture, but I still didn’t know much about him. This was before the Ed Sullivan appearance, so he was still well below the pop-culture radar. In fact, Stage Show was his first TV appearance: Saturday, January 28, 1956.
    I got to the rehearsal at the CBS Fifty-third Street Theater and found Elvis talking to a reporter from Pageant magazine. After a while I introduced myself.
    “Hello, Elvis. Bernie Brillstein from William Morris.”
    “Hello, sir,” he said. Sir? I was only a few years older, but the legend is true—Elvis was very polite, and he seemed to genuinely welcome my presence.
    It was cold backstage, and as we talked I could see Elvis shivering. After a few minutes I excused myself and ran across the street to a haberdashery and bought him a sweater. I gave it to Elvis and he loved it. A photographer from Pageant magazine took a few pictures of him holding my gift. I still have that photo on my office wall.

     
FLOATING
     
    SHAPIRO: When we were asked to cover temporarily for an agent’s secretary, we called it “floating.” You could end up in any department, and it gave you the opportunity to find out where you thought you’d best fit in later on.
    BRILLSTEIN: You also got a shot at displaying a second of smarts or personality so someone might notice you.
    SHAPIRO: Once, I temped for Marty Jurow, who handled Edward G. Robinson. His secretary, Florence Gaines, was on a call when Robinson phoned. She put him on hold, turned to me, and said, “Edward G. Robinson is on three. Pick him up; he wants to leave a message.”
    There was no mistaking the voice. “This is Edward G. Robinson. I have to dictate some things to you regarding my settlement with my wife. We’re getting divorced. I want you to take all this down. Give it to Mr. Jurow.”
    Robinson started talking about money, about paintings, about the artists, then stocks and bonds. I wrote frantically, but my shorthand was no good. Florence left for lunch, and when she came back, I was still on the phone. When we finally hung up, I had twenty pages of dictation and the absolute certainty that I should have taken speed writing instead. I typed up my notes and gave them all to Florence. It wasn’t perfect, but I only cared that it was done, and never thought about it again until eight months later when I was in the Television Department at a meeting. Someone mentioned that Edward G. Robinson’s divorce settlement had gotten all fucked up. There were all kinds of inaccuracies. I slowly put my hand in front of my face and began to sweat. I knew it was my fault, and I was sure someone would remember. But no one seemed to notice, and I got away with it.

     
ASS KISSING 101
     
    BRILLSTEIN: You don’t earn anyone’s respect by staying in the mailroom. You’re just another office boy who jumps when someone says, “Go get me lunch.” Unfortunately, getting out is not as easy as taking a test, getting an A, and being promoted. You need to attract the attention of a higher-up who can help. That’s why people who want the jobs get the jobs. They’re never content to sit and wait to be noticed. Any schmuck can do that, and lots of schmucks have.
    I did a few things to set myself apart from the crowd.
    I kissed ass. But not the big executives. I didn’t want to reach too far too soon.
    I showed up early for work. Our office didn’t open until 9:00 A.M., but I got in every day at 8:00 because I knew that Nat Kalcheim walked in at 8:15 or 8:20. I made it my business to stroll through the halls so