Odyssey and The Idiocy

Candace Hilligoss-Coster

Description

I once was told there are three kinds of men I should never marry. Working actors. Non-working actors. Between jobs actors. That describes my husband to a T. For twenty years, I hung in with this guy. Supported him, massaged his ego, responded to his every whim, cried with him, rejoiced with him, and had his children. And, all the while, gave up my career in theater and film so I could stand by him until at last he knew success. And with his success came adulation, and with adulation, came sexual affairs, and with sexual affairs came divorce. If the marriage was hell, divorce proceedings were Armageddon. He did everything to intimidate me, belittle me and frighten me. Do I regret that I never married the boy back home? Absolutely not. If had stayed in Huron, South Dakota, I would have missed the experiences with: Marilyn Monroe, Mel Brooks, Vivian Blaine, Hume Cronyn, Jessica Tandy, Daniel Mann, Jacqueline Onassis, Roy Scheider, Kurt Vonnegut and a summer living with Veronica Lake. Movie fans asked me to tell what happened behind the scenes in Carnival of Souls, a movie that became a cult classic and a success twenty years after it was made. Carnival of Souls is shown once a year in London as part of The British Film Society's repertoire that considers it as one of the 100 most important films of all times. My odyssey began when I attended the University of Iowa, Iowa City then, a year after graduating from The American Theatre Wing, I danced at NYC's Copacabana before gangsters and celebrities as one of the "World Famous Copa Girls." At the same time, I was accepted into Lee Strasberg's acting classes. It was there I met my charming future husband. How could I ever have guessed that years later, he would file for a divorce during the longest Screen Actors Guild strike in the union's history. And that is just ACT ONE

Sujets

• Popular culture

Informations

• Publié par: First Edition Design Publishing
• Date de parution: 15 janvier 2017
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781506901169
• Langue: English

Extrait

The Odyssey and the Idiocy
Marriage to an Actor

A Memoir

CandaceHilligoss

First Edition Design Publishing
The Odyssey and the Idiocy Marriage to an Actor
Copyright ©2016 Candace Hilligoss

ISBN 978-1506-901-17-6 PRINT
ISBN 978-1506-901-16-9 EBOOK

LCCN 2015959748

September 2016

Published and Distributed by
First Edition Design Publishing, Inc.
P.O. Box 20217, Sarasota, FL 34276-3217
www.firsteditiondesignpublishing.com



ALL R I G H T S R E S E R V E D. No p a r t o f t h i s b oo k pub li ca t i o n m a y b e r e p r o du ce d, s t o r e d i n a r e t r i e v a l s y s t e m , o r t r a n s mit t e d i n a ny f o r m o r by a ny m e a ns ─ e l e c t r o n i c , m e c h a n i c a l , p h o t o - c o p y , r ec o r d i n g, or a ny o t h e r ─ e x ce pt b r i e f qu ot a t i o n i n r e v i e w s , w i t h o ut t h e p r i o r p e r mi ss i on o f t h e a u t h o r orpublisher .

(Anyresemblance to persons living or dead is purely intentional.)
The greatest tragedyis not in death, but to lose one’s life while living–never to reclaim or to establishour identity within ourselves. To arrive at the end of life’s odyssey andrealize that we cannot redeem it, any more than we have a chance to live it allover again.
Amen,
Candace Hilligoss
In blessed memory of
MichelleCousin
Adjunct Associate Professor of television and film writing at NewYork University.
She was my first writing teacher.
and for
PaulGillette
Novelist, Producer, Adjunct Professor in the professional writingprogram and the School of Cinema and TV at the University of SouthernCalifornia. As a mentor, he inspired and kept me writing at a time when my lifeseemed to be a running sea of despair and darkness from which there was noescape.

and for
RichardL. Coe
Theater Critic and Columnist for The Washington Post. He insistedI must tell the story with my usual sense of humor about marriage to thatactor.
Acknowledgments
I am deeply grateful to Ken Rotcop for his unfailing support thatencouraged me to write this memoir. Without him and his Hollywood Workshop,this book might not have existed. Once a week for a few years, we met in thecommunity room of the famous Farmer’s Market in West Hollywood. He created anurturing and inspiring atmosphere for writers that is rare in a tinsel townlike Hollywood.
How thankful I am for Tom Weaver and his editorial guidance. Hewas willing to read 400 bulky pages and to give notes. It was because of himthat I made appearances at film conventions, and that an abridged part of mychapter about the cult classic movie “Carnival of Souls” was publishedin the magazine “Monsters From The Vault.”
I am indebted to my dear friend, Valedia Sullivan, who generously readan early draft of the memoir, even though for years she has listened to all mystories. Her suggestions were invaluable.
The six illustrations were done by four-time Oscar nominee,Garrett Lewis. He earned accolades as a set decorator for movies such as: Bram Stoker’s Dracula directed by Francis Ford Coppola, StevenSpielberg’s Hook , and Edward Zwick’s Glory among 39 otherfilms. Had he not passed away, it was his intention to illustrate each chapter.When I was nineteen, I met him for the first time in NY’s LaGuardia Airport. Ihad just arrived from South Dakota. We stayed close friends for many years.When I moved to Beverly Hills, he decorated my apartment with furniture fromthe movie set of California Suite . He made my new home so gorgeous.
And, he was, too.

Garrett Lewis
Prologue

"There’sno mother-fucking way, I’m going to pay alimony to a healthy woman. Tell her toget a job!" Richard Forest yelled this at my attorney and me from across aconference table.
IrvingButer, his attorney, put a restraining arm on Richard and barked, "Shutup, big mouth."
Buter(rhymes with cuter) was already annoyed at his client’s previous refusal totake his advice. So was my attorney, Gary Zimmerman. The four of us weresweating it out, literally, in a small windowless room off the hall of theSuperior Courthouse in downtown Los Angeles on Hill Street.
SouthernCalifornia was in the midst of an August heat wave that brought the Santanas"Devil" winds. These were desert winds, warned the newscasters, thatcaused garbage cans to roll down the alleys of Palm Drive in Beverly Hills, thecity where I lived.
Throughoutsix months of negotiations, Buter had assured my attorney Zimmerman that wewould settle out of court. "My clients do exactly what I tell them todo," he said.
Zimmermanhad told me that our case did not warrant a trial. I was not exactly divorcingan actor in the same league as Kirk Douglas or Clint Eastwood. In fact, therewas very little community property to divide as Richard and I had spent most ofour marriage renting an apartment in New York.
Theonly thing to share was Richard’s ability to make money as an actor. In thepast four years, his earnings from his television appearances had been in thesix figures. But right now in the summer of 1980, the Screen Actors Guild wasinto its third month of strike. The SAG board promised that it would notcapitulate to the producers’ demands. Richard was now an out-of-work actor whoclaimed he probably would never work again. His leading man days were over.
Allactors when they are between roles are technically unemployed as no play or TVseries runs forever. Actors accept that as the norm in show business. They don’tlose their agents, managers or their talents, just because a play closed out oftown or a television series was canceled. And as all things come to an end, sowould the current SAG strike.
“Jesus,what rotten timing for us," Zimmerman repeated like a mantra when the newsof the strike hit the papers before our court date.
Itwas nearly noon, and the lawyers were anxious to finalize everything and go tolunch. Wiping the perspiration from his brow with his forehand, Buter leanedover to Richard and said, "Pay her a thousand a month, and let’s get outof here."
"I’llpay for 90 days of support, and that’s all."
Butertried to control himself as he said quietly, "That’s not long enough. Nojudge will agree to that, Richard. You were married too long—twenty years. Trustme!"
"ThenI’ll declare bankruptcy!"
"You’renot going to do that so shut up, big mouth."
Icould tell that Zimmerman was masking his disappointment with Richard, whoremained so uncooperative. Last June, Zimmerman had assured me that noreasonable man wants to face a court battle. "The closer we get to thetrial date, the more likely Richard will back down. Reality will hit him."
Thatvery day, when we arrived at the courthouse, Zimmerman kept up his delusions. "Oncewe’re inside, and Richard takes in the cold atmosphere of the court and theunsmiling judge’s face, he’ll settle. We’ll never go to trial. I’ve seen manymen in the twelfth hour drop this macho facade and come to their senses."
Myattorney doesn’t understand the psyche, not to mention the narcissistic ego ofan actor. Richard needs drama in his life, particularly when he’s unemployedand between roles. He will relish standing in the witness box as if he were onstage and projecting to us, his captive audience.
Yearsago, a well-respected critic wrote that no man with any brains has ever been anactor. I have to agree. Any man lured upon the stage as politicians aresometimes lured into bordellos, would have his mind almost immediatelydestroyed by the gaudy nonsense spilling out of his mouth every night.
(Ihave to step aside here and admit that Richard Forest is not his real name. Ichanged it, not to protect him, but because he doesn’t deserve this much freepublicity.)
Thisis my first life experience at retaining an attorney and preparing for court. Itried to find someone who was not too expensive. Then I was nervous aboutretaining an attorney who seemed too cheap in comparison with his colleagues. Ididn’t want to feel like the astronaut who climbed into the spaceship andremembered it was built by the lowest bidder.
Zimmerman,in his upbeat way, had tried to explain to me how California was in theavant-garde of the divorce game. In this state, divorce is called dissolution. Plaintiffand defendant have been replaced with petitioner and respondent. These newterms make it look as if it were a proceeding, not a lawsuit, a lessadversarial nomenclature.
AsZimmerman said, "Previously, divorce stated that someone was at fault andcould be denied. Now we have ‘no-fault’ divorce, and that’s why Richard haspleaded irreconcilable differences."
InRichard’s case, irreconcilable differences meant he had found a twenty-two-year-oldgirlfriend. Hell hath no fury like a man who wishes to marry a girl half hisage. I studied Richard for a moment as he conferred with Buter. Richard wasstill handsome for someone in his mid-forties. He had just begun to tint hisprematurely gray hair. The chlorine from his swimming pool must have affectedit, for his chestnut brown locks had a strange cast that resembled menopausered. Perhaps his new young friend didn’t notice or care. I reminded myself thatshe would have been about two years old on the day Richard and I married. Iwondered what Richard would have thought if he had known at our wedding thatsomewhere in the universe, there was a toddler running about who would somedaybecome his second wife.
Zimmermanstarted speaking as he flipped through his files. "According to ourbudget, Candace will need around $2,000 a month to live on if she’s to keep herBeverly Hills apartment and maintain her standard of living."
"Noshit!" Richard said. His face flushed like a sunburn.
"Heynow, I live in Beverly Hills," Buter said, "and I don’t need $2,000 amonth, and neither does she. Look at her, she could easily make $1,500 a month.Candace, why don’t you go to real estate school? It’s a six-week course. Youget your license, and you can make a million dollars. I know a lady who didthat last year."
"Ninetydays of alimony wo