The Rainbow
Connection

Every dream has a beginning. A time when the seed of an idea ...a hope ...a belief, blossoms into three-dimensional reality in the mind of its creator. I believe that it is in that instant, that moment of creation, that the success or failure of the dream is simultaneously determined. The more vivid the moment, the more enhanced the sensory detail, the greater the chances of that dream becoming a reality. My dream began one cold, dark, snowy, whistling winter night on Cape Cod.

It was raining that afternoon. I had the day off from work, nothing to do, so I decided to get lost in the world of the Muppet Movie. I didn't care that the matinee was going to be filled with hordes of cherubic demons. I didn't care that the mothers were all going to give me those funny stares as I towered over their children. I wanted to see Kermit, and I was going to see Kermit!

I loved the movie and found myself singing right along with the other kids. I really had a wonderful time. As far as I was concerned, anyone or anything that would risk it all to go off and chase their dreams, was OK by me.

By the time the movie ended, I couldn't believe how much the weather had changed. The temperature had dropped below freezing, there was at least a foot of blowing snow on the ground and the visibility was near zero. Having no boots or gloves, I ran to the car as fast as I could. It was my intention to hop into the car, crank up the heat, and then head home as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, the earlier rain had gotten in every lock, nook and cranny; all the doors were frozen solid. As hard as I tried, no amount of kicking, banging, yanking or pulling could budge any of the doors open. Before I knew it, twenty minutes had passed. All the mothers had made it safely home with their children, the theater employees had all rushed off; I was standing there alone in the parking lot, freezing to death. In what could only be called a last ditch effort, I was able to force the back of the station wagon open. I climbed over the seats, started the car up, and then skillfully and slowly made my way home in what was now a complete white out; the back of the station wagon still wide-open and blowing in the wind.

When I got home, I rushed into the house, quickly changed into the warmest clothes I could find, made a steaming cup of hot chocolate, wrapped myself in a thick blanket, then plopped down on the big furry couch in the living room. I honestly didn't think I'd ever warm up again. I turned on the television just in time to catch my favorite show, Magnum P.I.

As I sat there, shivering and watching the opening credits, my mind began to toggle between the movie, my winter nightmare, and the life that I saw Tom Selleck leading. Was I crazy? Here was a man who was living in a tropical paradise--a place where rainbows were a common event and the temperature seldom dropped below 70; I was sitting there freezing to death. Here was a man whose life was filled with adventure; he had all of the beautiful, bikini-clad women he could ever want, enjoyed life to the fullest, and was getting paid a fortune to do it; I was working at Radio Shack and hating it. Now Tom Selleck I'm not, but it quickly became clear to me that it was time for some drastic changes in my life. If he could do it, I could do it, and that became my dream.

After that night my life did change drastically. I dropped out of Cape Cod Community College, doubled my hours at work, joined an investment program and spent every waking hour trying to keep my mind focused on my dream. I bought every book on Hawaii I could find and subscribed to the Honolulu Star Bulletin. I watched Elvis' Blue Hawaii a dozen times and bought the album. I started a journal, called it my "Hawaii Book," then used it each day to keep track of my progress. And I never, NEVER, missed a single episode of Magnum P.I. Those characters became part of my extended family. I became obsessed. I wasn't going to let anything stop me, although a thousand things tried.

In a little over a year, I was able to save up almost $4,000.00 dollars. It was time. I gave up the last of my excuses, hopped onto a plane, and before I knew it, I was there. I WAS THERE! I couldn't believe it. One day, icy cold winds were blowing across my face, the next day it was balmy breezes. Was it really that easy?

As I stood there in the airport, I must admit, it did cross my mind for a moment that I was 5,000 miles from home, had no place to stay, didn't know a soul, had no idea where I was going to work. I didn't even know how to get to my hotel, but the moment passed and I no longer cared! I was there and somehow I was going to survive.

Thanks to my research, I knew Waikiki like the back of my hand and concentrated my efforts there. Within a couple of days I had myself a nice little apartment a block and a half from the beach and was as happy as any human could be. In the next couple of months I found a job, made some friends, had a few difficult moments; but, all in all, made it through the hard times by holding fast to my dream. I was finally ready to take the next step.

One day, while waiting for a bus, I saw a notice on a bulletin board about a new acting workshop. It was being taught by Dick Kendelon, the ex-casting director of Hawaii 5-O, and Jack Hogan, a long time actor best known for his years with Vic Morrow on the TV series Combat. Up until then, my only acting experience had been a couple of acting classes at 4C's. But, deep inside I knew that before I went knocking on Tom Selleck's front door, it might be a good idea to get a little more experience, so I joined. It was one of the smartest moves I ever made.

At the beginning, I had the wonderful opportunity to truly play the starving actor. I would often give up buying food just so I could afford my acting classes. It was a great time and I look back with fond memories. There were about eight of us in the first workshop, all with similar dreams and all working very, very hard just to keep going. We became a kind of a family, helping each other in the hard times and sharing the good times with each other. They truly were some of the nicest people I ever met and I could write ten pages just about them.

As a group, our first big break came when Universal Studios decided to make Jack Hogan the island casting director for Magnum P.I. Although it didn't guarantee us anything, it did, at least, give us a foot in the door. Once we got in, we still had to make it by producers, directors, and what seemed to be a thousand other people all wanting their say in the selection process. But at least it looked like I had a chance.

For half a year it seemed like everyone in the workshop got called in but me. Many of my friends got small roles or parts as extras. It was fun to see them on the TV. Personally, I would have killed just to spend five minutes on the set and see "the guys" in person. Ironically, that is how I got there.

One day, while I was sitting around the apartment, the phone rang. It was Jack Hogan. Very business-like, he said, "Mr. Schmeer, we have a part we would like you to read for. It's a 16 year old boy, blond hair, a John Hinkley type. Can you be at Universal Friday?"

"Ah ... OK," I squeaked.

Heart failure. It still brings chills to my spine just thinking about it. It was Wednesday. I was 23, brown hair, and my tan needed a lot of work. I hung up the phone and ran to the store to get some Nice 'n Easy and some wire-rimmed glasses. I rushed home, bleached my hair, then headed straight to the beach to work on my tan. For the next couple of days, I didn't shave, hoping that Friday morning I would give myself the closest shave of my life and not have "five-o'clock shadow."

Being my first time, I, of course, showed up at the casting office about an hour or two early. That wasn't the smartest move on my part. I got to sit there all morning and watch a parade of handsome young men go by, all with perfect faces and smiles, all with résumé's as long as their arm; and all a hundred times more talented than I. They told me so; why should I doubt them? For those of you who haven't tried a casting call, it has got to be the most humiliating, ego-busting thing on the face of the planet.

Finally, it was my turn. I went into the producer's office where I was introduced to half a dozen people, all of whom had impressive sounding titles. I smiled, shook their hands, just like I had practiced in acting class a hundred times before. After all the formalities were over, Mr. Bellsario, the producer said,

"Jerry, can you put the glasses on?" There was a long pause as he stared at me. "No, the glasses aren't right. Take them off. Do you know any of the lines?"
I responded, "Yes sir, something like, 'Dorsey, I'm really a big fan of yours.'"

"OK. Thank you."

"Ah, ... Thank you, sir."

It seemed like I was in the office 10 seconds. I couldn't believe it. Years of preparation, a snap of the fingers and the dream of my life was in the wastebasket. I don't think I have ever been so depressed. I felt like jumping into the closest volcano. But, somehow, I made it back to work. Ten minutes after I got back to work the phone rang. It was Jack.

"Jerry, you got the part. Can you come by the studio Monday? I'll give you a copy of the script and show you around." Double heart attack! I don't think I had ever been as excited in my entire life. I can't even begin to describe the roller coaster ride my poor body was on.

Monday, I showed up at the studio bright and early. I met Jack and he gave me the script and told me a little more about the part. This wasn't "extra" work, this was a major role! I couldn't believe it! Jack then took me to the costume department where I was fitted with three identical costumes. Then it was off to make-up so they could match my hair color to a wig that they were going to make for my stuntman. MY STUNTMAN! I kept thinking, "Don't wake me up, don't wake me up." Then it was off into the studio where they were shooting the inside scenes of next week's show.

BANG! That's when it really hit me. There they were, right in front of me: Tom, T.C., Higgins and Rick. I could reach right out and touch them. It was like I had walked right through the TV screen. For a second, my mind flashed back to my winter nightmare. Was I really dreaming? You hear people say that often, but, for a moment, I truly wondered about reality. From there, things just became more dream-like each day.

The next morning, I arrived at the studio at five A.M. There, along with the regulars and the other guest stars, Pat Morita and Dick Butkus, I was chauffeured to Aloha Stadium to shoot the outside scenes. It rained much of that morning, so I spent most of it sitting around the dugout and sharing stories with "the guys." "THE GUYS!" Tom Selleck, Roger Mosley and Larry Manetti. It was like they were my next door neighbors. When it wasn't raining and we weren't shooting, we'd be running around the stadium playing football along with a couple of ex-pro football players Tom had as bodyguards. Every one was wonderful to me. Even the crew treated me like a star.

Eventually, it was time to work. The script of the show went something like this: my character, Walt Chambers' favorite pro-football player, Dorsey Bramlett and his team. The Blazers are having spring training camp in beautiful, sunny Hawaii. In his mind, Walt thinks he is Dorsey, so, when he sees him in person, it messes up his sense of being. In his mind, Walt decides the only way that he can correct this dilemma is to kill Dorsey. Tom joins the team to protect Dorsey, his old college friend.

In my first scene, I run up to get my hero's autograph. This is where I get my first close up, get to look crazy, and have sinister music play in the background. Let me tell you, it's hard to keep a straight face with a giant movie camera, mikes, lights, and the three guys controlling them all about a foot from your face. But somehow I do it, and the ice is broken. Over the next couple of days, we film the rest of the scenes, but most of the time we play football.

In the second scene, I try to slip by the security guard. Every time I see the show, I still get mad at this point because I mumble some of my words. Next comes my big scene. I sneak back into the stadium, run up the bleachers, put a rifle together, try to shoot the quarterback, get "blown away" and then go splat on the ground. Let me tell you, it's a lot harder than it sounds. First, I have to stay in the camera's view as I run up the bleachers. That is almost impossible. We must have filmed that about four times. Then I have to take a rifle out of my knapsack, assemble it, aim it and fire it, just as the two football teams on the field clap and break out of a huddle. There just isn't enough time. I finally talk the director into letting me leave half of the rifle behind the wall that I was shooting from. Then, finally, after getting that all right, the gun doesn't fire.

It is important to realize that while all this is happening, there are two football teams, a half-dozen major actors, and a couple of dozen crew members, all getting paid megabucks per minute, all waiting and watching me film these scenes over and over again. I really start to feel the pressure!

Then, I have to get shot properly. That's important because when the stunt man fills in, they have to be able to get a nice fluid motion from my shots to his. That doesn't go very well, either. By this time, I'm starting to wonder why I ever came up with this stupid idea.

As I start shooting my next scene, Tom must have noticed I was feeling a bit stressed and begins telling me jokes. I think that is the thing that impressed me the most about Tom Selleck: his easy-going attitude, and his wonderful sense of humor. Tom Magnum really is Tom Selleck and vice versa. Anyway, I'm lying on the ground, supposedly dead, trying not to breathe, and Tom's telling me jokes trying to make me laugh. If that isn't enough, when he isn't successful, he gets one of those wind-up walking toys and starts it marching toward my face, live, on camera! Of course, you don't see that, but I'd love to have copies of the out-takes. You can't believe how much fun they have on the set while they are shooting.

Finally, after getting shot, they throw me on a stretcher, cover my face with a sheet, strap me down, and throw me in the back of an ambulance. As the cameras are rolling, the two attendants jump into the ambulance, turn on the siren and I hear:

"You got the keys."

"No, I thought you had the keys."

"No, I gave them to you!"

It sounds like an "Abbott and Costello" routine and there I am, strapped down in the back of the ambulance, laughing my head off.

As I look back, it's hard to believe that this whole thing started because of a movie about a little green frog and a dream. It was one of the most exciting times in my life and I know it is going to be hard to ever top that experience. But you know I'm going to try. I hope anyone who reads this is inspired to do the same, so one day you can find your Rainbow Connection, just like-

"... the lovers, the dreamers, and me."