The Way I Heard It with Mike Rowe - 198: Where Do I Begin

Episode Date: May 4, 2021

A problem at the border, a fat man in a shiny suit, and all the thirty-five cent draft you can drink. It's a fine place to begin, even if you don't know where you're headed.

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Slash Mike. That's netsuite.com. Netsweet. Hey guys, it's Mike Rowe. This is episode 198 of the way I heard it. It's called Where Do I Begin? Where do I begin to tell the story of how great a love can be? Yes, I learned last week that I'm allowed to sing on the podcast, copywritten material, but ever so briefly.

Oh my God, the letters, the money that was spent with lawyers just trying to figure out simple little copyright questions. I don't want to bore you with a bunch of complaining, but man, what an ongoing adventure. The things I learn doing this podcast. You can fill a book with them, which of course is what I did. Today's episode features another conversation with Chuck, the producer of this here podcast. And it concerns itself with a story that Chuck wrote for the podcast a couple years ago called fame and infamy. It was a fine story, but I rewrote it as my hubris demands. And for various other reasons that will soon be made clear.

I also changed the title to O Brother, and I omitted the inciting incident around which the entire tale was originally based. Chuck swears he forgives me for rewriting him, which is nice. Also, full disclosure, this is a political story inspired by today's headlines, specifically headlines concerning our southern border. So trigger warning, for those of you who believe, borders don't matter. I'm very sorry, but they do. They matter a lot. That's followed by a continuation of last week's story about the audition that started

it all with another audition story that mattered a whole lot more than I thought it did at the time. Just one more reason why it's hard to know precisely where to begin. Where do I begin? Even when you know exactly where you're headed. It's episode number 198, and it all starts right now. Chapter 20. Oh, brother. Ed and his little brother had a lot in common. Both were famous actors, both were deeply patriotic, and both loved turkey with all the fixans.

But, unfortunately, for those around them, Ed was a staunch Republican, his brother, a devoted Democrat. And that was not a recipe for a peaceful Thanksgiving dinner. Before the election, the brothers had bickered over the economy, immigration, taxes, race relations, and of course, the border. Their arguments had been heated, but always respectful. It was frustrating for Ed, though, because, during the run-up to the recent election, his kid brother had been Saddam smug. Like many in the entertainment business, Ed's little brother saw the election's outcome as a fait accompli. He not only believed that a Democrat would win, he believed it would happen in a landslide. All his friends

said so. All the pundits said so. Besides, the Republican alternative was a buffoon, a dangerous, unpredictable buffoon. Well, on November 8th, conventional wisdom had gone out the window. The buffoon had won, and now, after the most contentious election in U.S. history, Ed's little brother was still in shock. He wanted a recount. He wanted a do-over. Bits of mashed potato flew from his mouth as he announced to everyone in the room that the Republican was not my president. Ed held his tongue as his little brother railed against the electoral college, the new limits on a free press, the future of the Supreme Court, and of course the situation with the border. His face became flushed and his voice rose higher and higher. It seemed to Ed that he was watching a performance, a series of talking points called from a biased media delivered with all the drama and passion he could muster, like a Shakespearean actor. addressing the last row of a sold-out theater.

The man is a tyrant, he said, a warmonger, a dictator, and mark my words, he will destroy this country. With that, Ed's little brother stood up from the table, knocked his chair to the floor, and slammed the door so hard a picture fell off the wall. Ed sighed heavily and apologized to his guests. He turned his attention back to the turkey, and that, Was that? The two brothers never spoke again. It's always a drag when politics trump family relations. But there was more to this sibling rivalry than a contentious election. While both brothers were actors, only one was a household name. It was Ed who traveled through Europe and toured the

United States to great acclaim. It was Ed who basked in the glow of critical reviews after performing 100 knights of Hamlet on Broadway. And it was Ed, who would have his statue erected in Gramercy Park, the first American actor to be honored in such a way. Ed's fame cast a long shadow, and his little brother had lived in it for most of his life. And yet, we barely remember Ed today. His statue is still there, not far from Broadway, but his memorial is dwarfed by the legacy of his younger brother. Just five months, after that fateful Thanksgiving dinner, the aspiring Thespian stepped out from under his older brother's shadow

and delivered his command performance. With just one line, delivered with all the drama and passion he could muster, Ed's little brother addressed the last row of a sold-out theater, just like the Shakespearean actor he had always wanted to be. Sick, semper, tyrannis. Thus, always, to tyrants. It was an odd thing to say about a president whose most fervent hope had been to make America great again

by reuniting the north and the south and bringing an end to the civil war that had very nearly destroyed the country he'd served. But that's exactly what the audience at Ford's Theater heard on that fateful night in April, just a few seconds after Edwin's little brother murdered Abraham Lincoln. That's why we barely remember the immensely talented and deeply patriotic performer named Edwin Booth, the great actor upstaged by his younger brother,

a common murderer whose full name is unforgettable and not worth repeating. Edwin Booth's brother was 26 when he jumped onto the stage at Ford's Theater, wild-eyed, spewing nonsense in Latin. When I was 26, I jumped onto the stage of the lyric theater, wild-eyed, and spewing Italian. At 27, I was spewing French and German. By the time I was 29, I was simply spewing. My opera plan had worked, but, like all my plans, it had not worked in the way I'd intended. I'd gotten my Agma card and my SAG card and started auditioning for union commercials that paid actual money. But I hadn't quit the opera, as planned. I had stayed on because Mike Gelert had been correct. The music was terrific. The orchestra was world-class.

The chorus girls turned out to be friendly. Very friendly. By 1990, I'd sung in nearly two dozen productions and even had a few solo lines. My Italian had gotten no better, but I had ingratiated myself into the fabric of the chorus and become a useful, if not entirely reliable, participant. One Sunday afternoon, during the intermission of something in German, Gellert and I slipped out the stage door and walked over to the Mount Royal Tavern for a couple of beers and a few minutes of the football game. We were dressed like Vikings, but the patrons of the Mount Royal Tavern were in no way surprised. They'd seen us in a variety of costumes over the years, always during the intermission

of some opera. Gellert and I took our usual seats at the bar, but when we looked up at the TV, the game was not on. Instead, we saw a fat man in a shiny suit selling pots and pans. What the hell, Rick? Where's the game?

It's half-time, the bartender said. Okay, but why are we watching a fat man in a shiny suit selling pots and pans? Because, said Rick, I'm auditioning for his job tomorrow, and I'm trying to figure out what that guy does exactly. It was the first time I had ever seen or heard of QVC. Rick explained it to me. The network was basically a 24-hour commercial and currently engaged in a nationwide talent search.

It had come to Baltimore and was holding a cattle call audition the next morning over at the Marriott in the inner harbor. As he poured us another beer, Gellert nodded to the TV and said, I bet you could do that. What? I said, get fat, dressed like a used car salesman. You keep saying you want to work in television. That looks like television. To me, you should audition. Last time you told me to audition for something, I wound up in a bar dressed like a Viking, watching an infomercial.

You're welcome, he said. Laugh all you want, said Rick, nodding toward the screen. That fat guy in the shiny suit makes $200,000 a year. starting salary is $60,000 plus a bonus. We drank our beer and continued to watch QVC. The thought of a 24-hour commercial struck me as a sign of the apocalypse, a harbinger of doom, an end to Western civilization. That, or a steady paycheck, something I had yet to experience in my chosen field.

We got back to the lyric in time to make our entrance, spew some German and take our bows. But that night, in bed, I flicked around the dial and found QVC. I watched a nervous-looking woman try to sell me a treadmill, a simulated diamond bracelet, and an eelskin handbag. Amazing. I drifted off with the TV still on. When I got up to pee, I saw a sweaty gentleman in a leisure suit hawking unbreakable plates and stemware, followed by an electronic device that purported to keep mosquitoes away. $60,000 a year plus a bonus? The next morning, I drove downtown to the Marriott.

There, as you know, I talked about a pencil for eight minutes straight and landed my first job in television, the job that taught me the submissive posture, among other things. What you don't know is that I wound up forgetting the important lessons I learned on that job. For many years, I went out of my way to forget them. Later on, I'll tell you about those years, too, a time I think of today as my years in the woods, a time that lasted until I found a path that led me to the place

I should have been all along. Is it weird to love people but despise human resources? If so, well, color me weird. It's not to say I don't respect the millions of people who work in HR departments and companies all over the country. I do. It's just that I don't envy him. That's why MicroWorks doesn't have an HR department for better or worse. And it's also why I use ZipRecruiter whenever we need to expand. ZipRecruiter has proven themselves a million times over by helping countless employers get through the hiring process faster and more effectively than ever before. And now they have a new feature that instantly shows you the most interested, the most passionate, and the most qualified candidates first. This is a huge time saver, hours and hours of save time.

And it helps people like me find the people who can function in a non-traditional work environment like MicroWorks. In other words, ZipRecruiter works for me, and they'll probably work for you too. Post a job for free at ZipRecruiter.com slash row. watch what happens. Odds are you'll find a human resource that just happens to be a great fit for your company in 24 hours or less. ZipRecruiter.com slash row. ZipRecruiter.com slash row. The smartest way to hire. Chuck Klausmeyer, producer extraordinaire, how are you feeling now in the wake of your second prick? Well, it was way worse than the first prick, I'll tell you that. Yeah, on Friday, I got my second Moderna shot.

And, you know, it was it was reasonably good. And then Saturday morning, just everything just started to crap the bed. And the fever came on, super achy. I think I talked to you. We were going to do this yesterday. And I was like, you know what? I think we should do it tomorrow. And you were like, you should take a nap.

It'll do you good. And I turned on the TV. and I woke up at 7 p.m. Well, secretly, I was hoping you would take me up on it because I feel like hell myself. I mean, I am just absolutely dirty jobs is kicking my ass again. I have, as you know, a third-degree burn on my left shin that I got while welding the interior of a tugboat about a month ago. and I just did this job sucking rocks off of a roof.

Well, one second. Just before you move on to that, I just want to say that I have seen this injury on your shin, having just been up there. And it is like a divot on a golf course. I mean, it's like a, it's like a pond. If you fill it, you can fill it with water if you were lying flat. It's like a hole in your shin. That's because there's a hole in my shin.

And it hurt. Look, I've, got a decent threshold for pain, and I certainly don't like to complain in front of people. Pledge eight. But I'm telling you, man, I was curled up like a ringworm inside the hall of an upside down tugboat with a, you know, cutting steel. And I saw the molten magma drip. And it hit my car hearts. It didn't even pause, like a knife through butter.

It just burned through the car heart, hit my skin and burn. right to the bone. And it hurt so bad, I made a high-pitched whimpering sound that I'm not even going to attempt to replicate. And then the most amazing thing happened. All the pain went away, like within a second. And then it was kind of relieved. And I thought, oh, no, it doesn't hurt anymore because all the nerves are gone. They're gone. And the doctor said, yeah, yeah, I had cauterized the nerves, carterized the blood, everything. So there's just a hole in your leg now. Anyway, I'm on this roof in Nashville sucking rocks off with the giant vacuum. And the technique requires me to put the hose against my left shin so I don't have to bend over with this giant hose.

So, I mean, the one square inch on my body that's in absolute agony is the exact spot where this giant hose is supposed to rest while I'm rock sucking. So anyway, as all this is happening, I've got this chronic problem because of a grinder. This is another job, right? This is another, a previous job. It was right after the tugboat. I was putting on an epoxy floor a month ago, and I had a big grinder on the floor, and I'm hanging on to the handlebar of the thing. And it's got these big spinning wheels with diamond blades on them. And if the diamond blade catches, too far into the floor, it'll spin the whole grinder around. Well, that's what happened. And I didn't let go.

So it wrapped my arms like in a figure eight, sprained my left wrist, hyper-extended my right elbow. And so yesterday I went to get these shots of something called PRP. I'm sorry, folks. I said I didn't like to complain, but just let me get this out. PRP, platelet-rich plasma. A nurse named Cheyenne comes in with a needle, like the size of my index finger, takes a lot of blood out of me, puts it in a machine, spins the machine, separates the red from the white cells, the platelets, and the plasma that's left at the top, somehow gets mixed up with something else, and then they shoot it back into my elbow, into the tendon in my elbow. And then they did the same thing to my hand. So now I can't pick anything up with my left hand. And I can't straighten out my right arm. And tomorrow, I'm supposed to be on an iguana hunt in Florida because they're overrun with the iguanas down there, you know. I'm sorry, an iguana hunt. Yes, a team of people look for iguanas. They find them. We kill them because they have to die. They're, I mean, they're an invasive species and they're terrorizing people. And then we sell them.

for bait. God, I can't believe I'm doing this show again. Dude, this, and you're older than you've ever been, as I recall. Is that right? Honestly, yes, I just turned 59. It's been nine years since I did this. I swore I'd never do it again. I've covered with burns, sprains, tears.

I'm having a ball. Don't get me wrong. But damn it. Anyway, what do you want to talk about? Well, I figured we should start with the story, oh, brother, about John Wilkes Booth. Do you still hate me for rewriting it? Because this one, you took a complete pass at, as I recall. Yes.

No, I don't hate you about it. I said my piece, because as I recall, I wrote the thing, and it was called Fame and Infamy. And I was in North Carolina at the time on vacation, and I took like three days to write it. And I just, I really, you know, I researched a lot. And I sent it to you and you were like, yeah, it's good. But I think it's really about their mother. And I was, and you sent it back to me and I read it. And I was like, you know, I kind of, I mean, I'm not married to the story.

I'm married to the structure. I just thought it was about these two brothers. And you took another pass with the mother and then eventually, to your credit, that you, after two passes where the mother was a character, you were like, you know what, I think you were right. I think this is a story about the two brothers. Well, if I may be so bold, I don't think either of us was entirely right. The structure to me was still a little too leading. But you were right. It wasn't about the mother. What I was trying to get at was that it wasn't about the brothers either. It was about every brother. It was about every family. It was

about every family. I was trying, I wanted to write something. You know, at the time, the country was being torn apart pretty much the way it is right now. But the parallels that you pointed out between Trump and Lincoln were absolutely fascinating. And the things that we could learn about the Booth brothers were also really interesting, but no more interesting than you and your own brother, you know, who I love, right? I mean, you and Rick do not see eye to eye on a great many things and I can say the same thing about my brother, you know. And so it was literally brother against brother in, you know, four years ago during this election, not quite as intensely as it was in 1860. When it was brother against brother in war. Yeah, the civil war. Right. Correct.

So I just wanted it to be more relatable to people who didn't care about politics or history, but we're living through this weird thing that was tearing families apart and defining conversations over Thanksgiving and every other meal for that matter. The cool thing about that story for me was that there was a show on, I think it was ABC, called Timeless. And I, first of all, you know, Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure, one of my favorite movies, just because I love the rules of time travel and, you know, a moment in time, all these great movies. the one with, what's his name? Chris Reeves? Chris Reeves. Somewhere in time.

Somewhere in time with a penny. Oh, geez. So good. By the way, the Grand Hotel in McAnall Island. That's where they filmed that. And for many years. The Dirty Jobs twins. Yep.

The Dirty Jobs twins. The two. Boy, there's a story. Oh, my God. We'll save that for another time. But teaser alert, I finally got two twins in my bed. The catch. I didn't know they were there, and they were each 75 years old. Yes, yes. Oh, my God. They're so sweet. Yeah. Anyway, this show, timeless, I just, I love just time travel shows. And so I'm watching it. And John Wilkes Booth runs into Lincoln's son, whose name I cannot remember. And he talks about how his older brother, John Wilkes Booth, runs into Lincoln's son, whose name I cannot remember. And he talks about how his older brother, John Wilkes Booth,

says my older brother saved your life at a train station. Stop, yes, or sorry, the Lincoln, the son says, your brother saved my life on a train station. I thought, that can't be true. And then click, click, click, click. I look and it's like, oh, son of a gun. Edwin Booth saved the younger Lincoln's life. And I thought, how interesting that one brother saved a Lincoln and the other killed a Lincoln. Right.

Right. And I thought, oh, there's a story here. So I started researching it. And then what became really crazy was just all of the similarities between the election we had just gone through. Because I wrote this in like December of 2016. And once I've realized, once I found out that Lincoln's second, you know, election day was November 8th. I was like, oh, that's too much. That was the same.

It was November 8th of this year. Yeah, of 2016. Yeah. And so, I mean, in the end, what you did, I thought was really great. But the reason I took a hatchet to it was because as interesting as that moment on the train platform was and as monumental as the assassination itself was. And as interesting as the similarities were between Trump and Lincoln, I thought the most interesting thing was what was happening to. our country right now. And, you know, in your draft, you made mention to a war that was going on. And I didn't like that because I thought, you know, that's going to make people think of the civil war.

And you were referring to another war. But to me, the bigger hook was the problem at the border. The problem at the border. You know, the civil war was a problem at the border. Yes, it was. And right now, as four years ago, the problem at our southern border is, well, who knows how big it's going to get and who knows what it's actually going to lead to. But it's a monumental problem. And all of that just made me think, boy, this is really, this is a story about dinner time and families that just can't talk to each other anymore. And that's something that you did. First of all, let me just say, I like your version better than mine.

And I thought you took it and you kept the bones. The bones were all I was interested in, really, honestly. And there are a couple of turn of phrases like a fait accompli and stuff like that that managed to survive your draft. But I think it's really interesting to note how sometimes you go looking for a story and you find a completely different one. In this case, it was all about the train platform and saving a life. And this is nowhere in this. In the same way, there was a story that we did about, I went looking to research Tesla and wound up writing a story about the electric chair and Tesla is nowhere in the story. That's right. And that's one of my favorite stories too.

And Sean McCourt, of course, you know, who's a friend of ours and helps with the stories. He did the exact same thing. We didn't coordinate quite well. And we both wrote it at the same time. time. And I said, well, you know what? How I got to the electric chair as I was looking for a story on Tesla. And he's like, that's exactly what I was doing. Figuring out what the stories are is the obvious challenge. But for me, and the thing I want to talk to you about next regarding the second part of the chapter, is figuring out where the story starts, right? And that's, I mean, if a story has a beginning and a middle and an end, as all good stories do. Well, I always come at it in terms of, as long as I know where I'm going to land, I'm in good shape. And then I have to figure out,

okay, well, what's the big overarching theme? What's the point of writing it? And then, you know, it's supposed to be easy to figure out where to start. But it's not. And you know what? It really struck me last week talking to Michael Gellert, who was the guest on the podcast, and if you haven't heard it, you should because he's awesome. I realized that for years I had been talking about the most important audition in my career being this very, very weird hour or so that got me the job at QVC. But I realized, of course, that's not true, because I never would have had that opportunity had Mike Gellert not got me into audition for the the Baltimore Opera. And of course, that wouldn't have happened had Fred King not dragged me

on stage with you back in high school and forced me in that direction. And of course, that wouldn't have happened if you hadn't stolen his Oriole 4 album and we had listened to it incessantly. Right. And that would have happened without my mom and dad, who are also on this podcast from time time. So where do you start your story? Right. It's probably the least consequential thing in comparison to where you end it. But you'll make yourself crazy if you don't decide. And that's why so many of these things get rewritten. You know, David Sedaris, I was listening to something he said the other day,

I think on maybe on his master class or something. But he said, writing is, do do do do do do do do. My guest today, Tom Albanyce, is an American giant. And I'll tell you why. Tom understands on a fundamental level that the business of mining is a, non-negotiable prerequisite of our civilization and our economic independence, just like the business of making things. American Giant knows this, which is why they committed themselves 16 years ago to make all their excellent clothing right here in this country. It wasn't easy, but they

did it. They sourced locally grown cotton, and they built factories in towns across the nation where they could hire hardworking locals who cared about making a quality product. And then they went about the business of gently reminding people that when you buy a piece of clothing from American Giant, you're not just buying a high-quality sweatshirt or T-shirt or another pair of jeans. You're investing in a local supply chain. You're supporting communities from the Carolinas to California. And you're getting a piece of clothing that won't just survive the wash. you're getting a garment that'll get better with age.

Check out their high-quality staples, hoodies, teas, denim, built to be worn year after year at American-giant.com slash mike. It's quality you can feel and a true American success story that you can be proud to support. Use code Mike. Get 20% off your order at American-giant.com slash Mike. American Giant, American Made. What do you think he's?

Rewriting. That's right. Writing is rewriting. Yeah. In the same way, acting is reacting. Reacting, yeah. Right. Writing is rewriting.

And God help me, I just keep doing it. Oh, you've embraced that, Mike. Let me just say, you have embraced that maxim to the maxim. Yeah, absolutely. So here we have this murderous son of a. bitch who killed my favorite president spewing, you know, Latin from a stage. And I thought it would be fun to pick up where we left off the week before, where I'm spewing Italian on a stage. I get into the Baltimore opera. And as discussed, Gellert and I make it across the street,

have ourselves a beer. Well, hang on. Let me, let me ask the, this is, you're talking about the Mount Royal Tavern, correct? Yes, absolutely. So one of many consequential. dive bars in my life. And we'll get to that in a minute. But how much of that story is true? The beer with Gellard. Oh, I mean, the way I heard it, it's all true. Some of the names are conflated. I actually did do something. I mean, if you want me to come completely clean, the, the details are 100% accurate. All of that happened. But it wasn't. And honestly, this is how weird memory gets sometimes. remember it as Mike Gellert and I sitting there having that conversation. It wasn't Gellert. It was another guy from the chorus. But, you know, A, it was a long time ago. And B,

you know, Gellert and I have sat in thousands of dive bars, as have you and I and had countless conversations solving the problems of the world. Now, I remember him dressed as a Viking. And he was. I was dressed as a Viking. We were both downstairs dressed as Vikings with an hour and a half to kill. But no, I walked across the street with a couple of other guys to watch the football game. And when I was there drinking a beer, it was Rick behind the bar who didn't have the football game on, but was watching a big guy in a shiny suit, sell pots and pans. And that's how I have.

Do you remember which big guy it was at QVC? Did you work with him later? Yeah, I did. it was Steve Colin Tuno. And, you know, the camera adds 15 pounds. He really wasn't that big. But, you know, he was puffy. He was a large puffy guy.

It wasn't Paul Kelly, who we've had on. Right. I'd like to have back on. But at the moment, it didn't matter who it was. It was a large man. I thought it was a parody. You know, I thought somebody was doing a parody of a commercial that never ended. Interesting.

But it was a real thing. It was QVC. Was that the first time you'd seen home shopping? Yes. And Rick, the guy behind the bar, who was a very serious actor, and at the time, I kind of fancied myself an artisan of, you know. You were in the Baltimore opera. Yes. Of course you were.

But I was also drinking beer dressed as a Viking, right? That just makes you cool. Well, I felt like it was important to be true to yourself, right? I mean, I still do, but I was kind of haughty in the way that arrogant actors sometimes become and starving artists who realize, well, I'll tell you how committed I am. I don't have any money. See, that's how committed I am. I don't know what you're talking about or who you could be referring to. Well, I got tired of feeling that way. I wanted money. I was 27 years old and I thought, you know, it would be nice to have some money. And sitting there, I caught myself arguing with the bartender about the inevitable decline of Western civilization brought on by the advent of home shopping. That was my argument. I was like, how much worse can things get?

They have a whole channel, a whole channel now with nothing on it but one endless commercial. And Rick was like, yeah, well, I'll tell you, I'm auditioning for that guy's job tomorrow. That's why he was watching QVC. And he said they started $60,000 a year plus bonus. And that in 1989... That sounds good. Dude, that was an awful lot of money. And so I went from thinking Steve Colantuno was a harbinger of Doom, one of the four horsemen, right?

I went from thinking this guy represents everything that I despise all. that filthy lucre to, I wonder if I could do that. I think I could. I shall take your job, sir, and I will do it properly. Well, for the people. But, but it still wouldn't have happened had Rick not bet me that I couldn't get a callback. And that, that's the truth. That was a handshake. We made a wager. I said it's $100 in the story. I don't actually think it was that much. But there was money. Did he ever pay you? No, he didn't.

But he didn't charge me to drink anymore. Oh. Well, yeah. So he took it out of Mount Royal Tavern. No, it was brilliant on his part because I hadn't even thought of it. But if I got the job, I would have to move to Westchester. Right, right, right. I wouldn't be drinking there anymore.

Right. And, of course, you know, what happened is Rick and I went down there the next day to the Marriott and we both auditioned. Well, I want to hear about that audition, but not before I tell you that when I called Mike Gellert to get him on the podcast last week, the very first thing he said to me, do you know what it was? Knowing Gellert, no. I still have the 15 bucks I owe you.

And now, because of interest, it's now 3395. He offered, he said he'd pay you 15 bucks if you jump. off of that crazy. We were at the quarry. I don't know what the quarry. It was an old rock quarry that was now a, what do you call it? Like a swimming hole, I guess. It filled, they hit water and it filled up.

And it was a place that people went to swim and stuff. And it was deep as all get out. But there were these giant cliffs, like 20, 25 foot cliffs that you could climb up on and jump off. And he said, I'll give you, I said, how much you bet me to go off that? And I guess we settled on 15. and I, he goes, without looking, don't even look over the side. You just get up there and run. And I did it because I was an idiot.

You were a total idiot. What happened to you, man? God, you were possibly brave once upon a time. You know what? I started working for micro-orics. Yeah, we'll make you careful. I'll tell you that. Yeah, so Gellertz got the 15 bucks.

Good. Anyway, you were saying. Anyway, so this was all leading up to the audition that you made a bet that you could get a call back on. And you don't write about this in the book. So why don't you tell people what your audition consisted of? Well, I didn't write about it because I wrote about it earlier on Facebook, on a post that reached like 15 million people. And I kind of felt like it would be cheating a little bit. It was somebody asked me what I thought about Howard Dean's comments regarding Scott Walker, the governor of Wisconsin. and Howard Dean had said he didn't think Walker was qualified to run for president because he hadn't gone to college.

And I, you know, so this is a big softball for MicroWorks, right? Right. I smash this out of the park. Right. And again, I wasn't trying to be political. I don't see eye at eye with Howard Dean and I don't know Scott Walker, but it's kind of crazy to suggest a college degree is somehow a qualifier in order to be president. in my view. And so to make the point, I wrote a story about how QVC back in the day had no hope of accurately predicting the success of its show hosts.

They tried. You know, they had very elaborate processes early on to try and find a great salesman. And they did. They found great salespeople. but many of them were just no good on TV. So then they started going to people who had worked as show hosts on television, game show, talk show, whatever. And those people they found just weren't very good at selling things.

Right. Right. And so they were screwed. And after going through all of these crazy protocols, they just decided that they would hire anyone who could talk about a pencil for eight minutes. That was the audition. If you could talk about a pencil for eight minutes, you were essentially put on three months of probation and put straight into the middle of the night. So you get the graveyard shift and it's up to you.

You sink or swim depending. There's no training program. Zero. You walk in and you are confronted with a litany, a smorgasbord of chotchkes and stuff that had failed to sell at prime time. I mean, it's the kind of stuff you might win on the midway of some carnival if the barker couldn't guess your weight. You know, I mean, it was just stuff. Ridiculous stuff. Anyway, I write about all that in a book.

But getting there was so interesting. I walked in after Rick auditioned. He didn't tell me anything. He just walked out and said he'd meet me. said he'd meet me at Phillips, the bar in Phillips, not far from the Marriott Hotel when I was done. So I went in and a guy named John Eastman nodded, we shook hands. He asked me if I had any experience on television. I said none whatsoever. And he said, okay, take a seat. And we were at a conference room table. He was at one end. I was sort of in the middle and he had a camera set up on the

table. And he said, I'm going to ask you to talk about this pencil. And he took a pencil from behind his ear and he rolled it across the table. And he said, I'm going to ask you to talk about it until I ask you to stop. He didn't tell me how long it would be. He just said, I want you to make me want the pencil. Don't stop talking. Make me want this pencil. Do you have any questions? And I I said, no, no, I understand. Can I wrap it in a $20 bill? Would that make you? I should have said that.

No, he turned the camera on. The little red light came on. And I just started talking. And the first thing I did was grab a piece of hotel stationary that was on the table. And I wrote the word quality. And I held it up. And I said, as you can see, you can see at a glance, the Ticonderoga Dixon number two pencil is all about quality. Look at the market leaves, I said.

Not hard and wispy like the number three or soft and smudgy like the skid marks left behind by those number ones. This is a number two, right smack in the middle. And then I just fell back on everything I knew about, you know, feature benefit. selling, which was, if you're going to point out a feature, point out the benefit right on its heels. So it's a yellow pencil. That's a feature. Why is that good? Because when you open your desk drawer, that vibrant canary yellow pops right out.

You can see it. There it is. You don't spend your valuable time rooting around looking for a beige colored pencil. Why would anyone do that? You're making me want a number two right now. Graphite from Madagascar, not lead. Madagascar graphite. Why is that important? Well, it lasts longer and it won't poison you. And to make the point, I licked the point. Bold. John Eastman's loving this. It goes on and on, right? The eraser at the end is not there randomly. I mean, obviously, where else would you put an eraser? But the size of the eraser is perfectly calibrated to last the entirety of the life of the pencil. Even sharpened all the way down to a nub.

that racer is still guaranteed to be there, right? The little silver thing that holds the eraser to the wood, that's actually real silver, I said. And the reason, yes, we're going to charge a little bit more for this pencil than we normally would because all the extra money goes to Madagascar to help the poor children there, you see. So it's not just a pencil. It's a way to help your fellow man.

I'm digging as fast as I can do. Right. And, you know, at this point, one minute has gone by. Oh, my gosh. And I'm like, oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, yay. You know, what else can you say? So when you run out of features, you run out of benefits. And then you have to stop thinking like a salesman and start thinking like something else, like a poet or a philosopher.

So speaking of which, what sorts of poems have been written in pencil? Robert Frost wrote all his poems. in pencil. And the next thing you knew, there I am. Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, and sorry I couldn't travel both and be one traveler. Long I stood and looked down one as far as I could to where it bent in the undergrowth, then took the others just as fair, but having perhaps the better claim because it was grassy and wanted where. But as for that, the passing there had warned them really about the same. I ask you, could he have done that with a pen? No, he'd be crossing stuff out and making a giant mess of things. You can't do a crossword with a pen unless you're a

genius. And let's face it, who among us is really a genius? So I started trying to make the case for the pencil. Einstein's theory of relativity was written in a pencil. Why? Because he didn't know how it was going to end when he started. Like me, he didn't know where to start. He just knew where he wanted to finish. And if that's how you're going to approach life, Chuck, you can't do it with a pen and ink. You need to do it with something that has an eraser so you can course correct as you go. I make all these points along with my first love letter to Heather Clebey, which I wrote in pencil. Wow.

So eventually I broke him, you know. He just shook his head and started laughing. You surpassed the eight minutes, right? I surpassed the eight minutes. What he did was he turned off the camera, walked over, took the pencil out of my hand, took the piece of paper I had written quality on, turned it over and wrote, you're hired. And we had a brief conversation. He explained the situation was immediate. The offer was immediate. He invited me up the next day to take a look around. And I was on the air four nights

later at 3 a.m. Oh, yeah, I remember that. because he was talking about the AMCOR negative ion generator. And the health team, infrared pain reliever. And so it's such a hot mess of seemingly impossible events. Shameless plug. Long before she was Peggy Roe, my mom was Peggy Noble, daughter of Carl and Thelma Noble. It was her father, Carl, who inspired me to pitch a show called Dirty Jobs to the Discovery Channel,

and later start a foundation that honored the kind of work Carl Noble did for a living, trade work, skilled labor. That foundation is called MicroWorks, and today I'm proud to tell you that we've helped thousands of people get the training they need to begin a career in the skilled trades. In fact, we'd love to help you. You can apply for a work ethic scholarship right now at microwworks.org. We've set aside $10 million for this year's applicants,

thanks to a number of very effective fundraisers, including the one with my grandfather's name on the label. I refer, of course, to Noble Tennessee Whiskey, K-N-O-B-E-L, which is now available in a variety of delicious mash bills, all of which you can peruse at noblespirates.com. In fact, if you spend $100 and use code Carl, C-A-R-L, you'll get one tube of orange-bitter-infused sugar cubes for free. That's code Carl with a C to get nine,

sugar cubes ingeniously engineered to make nine perfect old fashions every time. It's my favorite way to support microworks and my favorite whiskey to sip responsibly after a long day of interviewing people on this podcast. Pick up a bottle at noblespirits.com. K-N-O-B-E-L-Pirits.com. Soon may the nobleman come to bring a bottle for everyone. One day when the waitin is done, we'll take a drink and go. Gellert said it last week when he talked about it's a wonderful life. And it's true. I don't know where to start.

I think I know where I want to end. I mean, look, I know how it's going to end eventually. 100 years, all new people, right? One way or the other. But this hot mess in between of auditions and beers and stories, it's getting stranger. I wrote that the book starts to talk to itself. or back to itself at some point. Yeah.

This podcast is doing the same thing. You and I are doing the same thing right now. Layers on layers. I don't know if anybody's listening to us, but I'm finding it positively fascinating. Well, I mean, this would be a good time to remind anybody who is listening. If you like what you hear,

give us five stars and leave us a review. Shameless, dude. That's not the way you're not going to get hired a QVC. Well, I mean, I'm not going to take eight minutes. to say that either, but... Exactly right. So it was too brief? I should have...

No, it was premature. We're not done yet. Oh, all right. You know what? I'll edit that out. No, don't. How long we've been talking? According to this, 33 minutes.

You know, it's probably long enough, but I did think of something as I was remembering the many times I left the lyric stage in costume, usually. in the middle of a performance, to run across to the Mount Royal Tavern and have a beer. It occurred to me that stages and taverns are two things that you and I probably have more in common, maybe than anything else. Well, you know, last week you mentioned that you stood on the lyric stage where, I forget who some people that you worked with in the opera, you had been there. It was the exact same spot when you did.

your one-man show a couple of years ago that Mike Gellert couldn't be bothered to make. I know, because he had a prior commitment. But as I recall, you and I sang in a barbershop quartet with the chorus of the Chesapeake for a show at the lyric theater. And the headliner, do you remember who the headliner was? A quartet called... Was it the B&O Connection? Yes.

And we were big fans of the B&O Connection. And I remember that we were always just doing stuff we weren't supposed to do. And we climbed up into the rafters. I'm sure we would have gotten in a lot of trouble if anybody had seen us. But we watched from, I don't know, 30 feet above the stage looking down at them. It was just an experience I'll never forget. Well, it's the same place I had stood hundreds of times during performances, looking out at the audience.

They couldn't see me listening to the orchestra. Mr. Just playing the hell out of some, you know, Verity score as Brunhilda sang at the top of her bottomless lungs on the top of some paper mache mountain and Voton cast down his indiscriminate lightning bolts. I mean, it was an amazing place to watch any production. But it's the juxtaposition of the stage in the tavern where I was going, right? That happened all the time with the lyric and the Mount Royal Tavern. But how many times did people leave the stages of the various community theaters where we worked and repair to a little joint called Lefties? We created Lefties. We saved Lefties. We saved it. Yes.

So just to give a little background, the way this started was there was a place called Chuck's Maple Inn on Philadelphia Road that we would go to all the time. And they had a really, they had really good food too, great crab soup. How many nights started with, hey, you want to go to Chucks and get a bowl of crab soup, which meant we would drink until 2 in the morning and then probably get breakfast at the double T diner afterwards? So this one, what was it that happened? I don't know why we left Chuck's Maple Inn. We were asked to leave. Oh, that's probably true. Yeah.

There was a dispute over the Miss Pac-Man machine. We had run out of quarters, and I tried to get a slug into the slot. And that's not allowed? It's frowned on. And it jammed in there and they asked us to leave. It didn't matter. We just walked across the street and back into time. Yes.

Yes. Well, we walked out of Chuck's papal in and looked around and literally across the street, there was a sign that said lefties. And you thought, well, what could lefties be other than a bar? We had never noticed it before, even though we had been on that corner a million times. And it was just a tiny, tiny hole in the wall. And we opened the door. And it was like that scene in Animal House where just like the music stops when the white people walk into the all black bar.

Right. All the old people just stop and stare at us because the average age was like been dead for five years in that. Truly. Well, look, I mean, it's funny that we're talking about this. You mentioned timeless and your love of time travel. But that's exactly what this was. We walked through a wrinkle in time. And we walked up to the bar and we looked around.

And it was still decorated for Christmas, even though, you know, it was the middle of July, I think. Christmas lights were always up in there. They had an hors d'oeuvre thing set up, as I recall. Yes. They had. Oh, they were like chicken fingers. Yes. And just stuff.

I mean, not just bowls of chips you would expect to find on the square. tables that were in every bar like this, but they had real food out. And Sinatra was on the jukebox. And the old men at the bar did give us the stink guy. But we didn't care. We walked right in. We sat down. Yeah, you sat down. I said, you get us a table like that was difficult. I mean, there were maybe six people in the whole place. But you got the table. I went up to the bar and I said, give me two draft beers. And I put two dollars. What year was this? I don't even remember 80 something. This would have been 80.

Early 80s. I put $2 down on the bar. So give me two draft beers. And the guy pours two draft beers and the change was a $1.30. And I was like, oh, so I picked up the $1 and I put it in my pocket. I grabbed the two beers and I came over and I set them down and I said to you, oh, we're drinking here from that one. And, you know, being a math whiz, I quickly deduce this is 35. cents a draft. Right? That's a, that's a quarter and a dime. I've got a few of those. I'm good.

That's seven nickels, right? I got seven nickels. And so, so Chuck and I started going to lefty's place after quartet rehearsal every week. And then we started going there just for fun. And then one of us, I don't remember who, was involved in a play over at Towson Town, I think. That probably was me. Probably you. It might have been something like Fiddler on the roof maybe, something like that. I did Fiddler. Yeah, I did Shenandoah.

I did quite a few shows over there. I did South Pacific. Right. Yeah. And I was doing shows over at Dundalk Community Theater with my dad, actually. my dad and I did two, three shows together over there. That's amazing. That's so much fun.

But, you know, after a show, it's written. It's written in the stars. You must go out and ye must have beer. And gentle libation, yes. It has to happen. Of course. And so we started bringing the cast of various shows, wherever shows we were in, and the crew.

And suddenly this little hole in the wall called Lefties that was maybe on a Saturday night maxed out with, seven people, you know, a dice game in the corner, some yachti, a little parchezy, you know, suddenly they're 50, 60 people packed. Ridiculous. Yeah. It was unbelievable. People younger than us.

Well, the day, the day new mall of this story, because all the time that we saw people in there, we were there as well, because we had brought them there. But the crazy little coda on this story was years later, when I had moved to New York, maybe I was even out here in L.A. by then. But we met in Baltimore. And it was like, hey, man, you want to go to Lefties for old time's sake? And we walked into Lefties. And the place was packed with young people, none of whom we knew.

Yep. So that was just a visualization that we had saved this bar and turned it into a young hotspot. It was crazy. Now we're done because you just did it. That's it. I'm fumbling away to try and better articulate the tapestry that this book is and the hot mess that my resume represents in the inextricable ways that we're that we're all connected. And I've been trying to do it with the people who have helped me up to the sewer. Right.

But what we're really talking about is walking into a bar that was on the verge, truly on the verge of closing. They were shutting that place down. And accidentally, we don't get any credit for this. We can give ourselves some because it feels good. But we don't get any credit for it. We got booted out of Chuck's Maple Inn because I was doing a bad thing to a Miss Pac-Man machine. And suddenly we were drinking 35-cent drafts and Way leads on to Way to bring it back to Robert Frost. Ooh, that's not bad either.

Back to the penciled poem, third stanza. And both that morning equally lay two fields no steps. had trodden black. I kept the first for another day, but knowing how way leads on to way. I doubted if I would ever go back. You can't write that with a pen. You have to write it with a pencil.

And if you do try to go back, Chuck, to Lefty's place today, you'll find it has in fact closed. It's gone. Because nothing is timeless. It all fades. And sooner or later, it really got me last week

when I said to Gellert, just in passing, the Baltimore opera is gone. Do you think it'll be back? And the answer is no. It's not going to be back. A version of it might arise. It almost certainly will, but never in the same way. Lefties will never be there. They haven't made a better video game since Miss Pac-Man. They haven't. They've made a lot of more complicated ones. I understand people are now playing Halo and putting weird masks on their heads and, Some people are making billions of dollars developing games. But they haven't made a better one than Miss Pac-Man. And I still don't know where the story really begins. But I'm pretty sure this one has come to an end. He was right.

He was right 10 minutes ago. Chuck was, as he almost always is, if you want to listen to the book in its entirety, you can download it where people download books. And at the risk of channeling those old QVC skills, might I implore upon you to take just a moment and go to iTunes or wherever you listen to this podcast and give us five stars? If you don't think we deserve five stars, give them to us anyway. Look, I didn't deserve to be hired by QVC, but I was. I didn't deserve to be hired by the Baltimore Opera, but I was.

I did deserve to be thrown out of Chuck's Maple in, and I was, which got us into Lefty's place, which eventually brought us here. And if you think that's weird, ask yourself this, gentle listener, you listen to the whole damn thing. Now, now Siri's talking to me, Chuck. Siri's talking to you? What does she say? A damn computer.

Right in the middle of my sales pitch, Siri starts talking to me through my headphones. How does that happen? I don't know. She's listening all the time. She really is. Well, I told you what happened with me all the time. I say called Mike Roe and she dialed, she says, would you like me to call mom mobile? or mom home. I'm like, mom's been dead a long time, man. I really should take that number out of there,

but you really should. All right. Well, you really left us on a, you really left us in an odd place, Charlie. Oh, I'll edit this out as well. Go ahead. Go back. Pitch us the thing. It was going so well until Siri interrupted. If you can find a moment in what I'm sure is a very busy day, could you go over to iTunes or wherever you listen to your favorite podcast and get give us five stars. If you don't think we deserve five stars, could you give them to us anyway? It really is okay. Nobody really takes these five star reviews seriously, except for the advertisers. And so if my plan comes together and the stars truly align, I'm going to call QVC and see if they'll sponsor this podcast, but something tells me no amount of five star reviews is going to make

that possible. All right. Anything else, brother? No, that's it, man. You know what? I did want to say one thing. This book, listening to these chapters over and over again, reminds me of what a great writer you are. And I mean that. And you need to write this next book. You need to finish writing this next book and get it out there because I think people will read it. You're a very good writer. It's very kind of you to say. Thank you. I will send it to you for your normal, what do they call that? Dramaturge? Drama. Oh, just check the grammar if you'd be so kind. I'll just proof it.

All right, man. I hope you're feeling better. Wish me luck with the iguanas. Yes, good luck with the iguanas. I hope that you're feeling better. I hope that your elbow and wrists are back to normal. It's only a flesh wound. I mean, it sounds like, you know, that,

Fear the Walking Dead kind of thing where they took some of your blood, they spun it around, and then they injected it into your elbow. I'm like, what? And suddenly I'm spewing Italian. Right? Yeah, crazy. All right. More next week.

We have to end it. I'm just being quiet. Just end it. All right. You know, I take it all back. The ending is harder than the beginning. It is today. See you.