Against All Odds: My Story (21 page)

At the conclusion of the program, I confronted Phil Donahue privately. “Phil, to bring me on here under false pretenses was very low handed of you.”

Donahue's response revealed much about the television medium and about himself. He looked at me and without apology said, “We'll get great ratings for this show, Chuck. It's controversial, so our ratings will go through the roof.”

Sadly, that's the bottom line for many Donahue types in the news media as well as the entertainment industry, even to this day. It's not about truth, right and wrong, or moral issues; it's about ratings and money.

CHAPTER 17

MAKE A WISH

W
hile preparing to do a new movie,
Invasion USA
, filming in Atlanta, I went to New York to promote
Code of Silence
, my movie that was already in the theaters in 1985. I was staying at the Plaza Hotel in New York, where I found a message in my hotel mailbox from Whoopi Goldberg inviting me to her one-woman play. I didn't really know Whoopi at that time, but since I had a few hours before I was to catch my flight to Atlanta, I went to see the play.

To say that Whoopi's performance was incredible would be an understatement. She was downright astounding, captivating the audience for more than two hours with her hilarious humor and poignant stories. After the performance I went backstage to meet Whoopi. When Whoopi saw me, she ran right up to me and shouted, “Chuck! My man! My main man!”

I looked around, at first thinking that maybe Whoopi had me confused with somebody else. But then she explained. “Do you remember when you were filming the movie
A Force of One
in San Diego?” she asked. “You had a kick-boxing scene in the Coliseum with hundreds of extras in the audience.”

“Oh, yes. Of course I remember that,” I said, thinking of how it had been necessary to calm down the rowdy bunch of extras in the crowd.

“Well, I was one of the extras,” Whoopi said, “and at that time in my life, I was on welfare and trying to raise a child.”

“You've come a long way since then, Whoopi,” I said. “You are one of the most talented performers I have ever seen!”

Whoopi thanked me and asked what I was working on. I told her that I was preparing to do a movie called
Invasion USA
to be filmed in Atlanta and Miami. “There is a costarring role in the film that might be perfect for you as a struggling journalist who keeps showing up at the locations where I am doing battle with terrorists who are trying to paralyze our country with fear. Would you be interested, and would you have time to play the part?”

“Well, sure, I'd be interested,” Whoopi said, “and I think there's room in my schedule right now.” She explained that she was already scheduled to film a new movie,
The Color Purple
, with Steven Spielberg, but if we could do it relatively soon, she might be able to squeeze in a part in
Invasion USA
.

“Great! I'll send the director to New York to meet with you and discuss the role.”

When I got back to Atlanta, I told the director about Whoopi and how excited I was at having such a talented actress in our film. He flew to New York to catch her play. When he returned to Atlanta, he told me that he didn't think Whoopi was right for the role. I couldn't believe it and told him he was making a big mistake, but I couldn't get him to change his mind. (If you have seen
Invasion USA
, I believe you will agree with me that Whoopi would have been perfect for the part.) Needless to say, I have never used that director again.

Whoopi's career skyrocketed following her outstanding performance in
The Color Purple.
No longer did people regard her simply as a comedienne; she was an actress extraordinaire!

Invasion USA
was a decent success at the box office, and when the video was sold to MGM, it really took off. The video became the second-highest-selling product in MGM's history at the time, next to
The Sound of Music.
Imagine what the movie could have done with Whoopi as my costar!

I've always had a special place in my heart for children. When country music star Barbara Mandrell and her sisters invited me to Nashville in the mid-1980s to participate in a charity softball game for kids, I couldn't resist. It was a mixed bag of players, including entertainers as diverse as Bob Hope, Roy Acuff, Sheena Easton, Dick Clark, Betty White, Lynda Carter, Morgan Fairchild, Gladys Knight, and Chuck Woolery, along with professional musicians and singers such as The Oak Ridge Boys, Lee Greenwood, Alabama, Tanya Tucker, Reba McEntire, some professional athletes such as Walter Payton and Herschal Walker; and talk-show host Oprah Winfrey.

We had a lot of laughs, played a fun ball game, and raised some money for one of the Mandrell's favorite charities. As I was leaving the ballpark, I heard Oprah's voice calling out my name.

“Chuck! Chuck! Please come here.”

Oprah had heard a little boy in the crowd who was crying. When she went over to him to see what was wrong, he told her that he was sad because he'd wanted to meet me, but I was leaving. Oprah brushed away his tears and, with his parents' permission, picked up the little boy, pushed through the crowd, and carried him to where the bus was waiting to take us back to our hotels.

“Chuck, this little boy wants to see you,” Oprah called. I stepped back off the bus, and Oprah lifted the little boy into my arms. “There you go,” she said to the child. “You get your wish!”

“Hey, there, big fella,” I said, as I hoisted him high in the air. “What's your name?”

He was just a face in the crowd, but Oprah had noticed his tears. We were there to raise money for other children, and here was one right in our midst that we had an opportunity to encourage, to say a kind word to, and with whom we could hopefully leave a positive impression. It doesn't take much effort to be kind … especially to a child.

One day I received a telephone call from the Make a Wish Foundation, an organization dedicated to helping fulfill the dreams of terminally ill children. They told me that Michael Majia, a five-year-old boy who was suffering from leukemia, idolized me and asked if I would please send him an autographed picture.

“Where does Michael live?” I asked.

“Bellflower, California,” I was told.

“Bellflower is only about forty-five minutes from my home. Would it be all right if I called his mother to arrange a visit and personally took it to him?”

“Are you kidding? That would be great!”

I arrived at the Majia apartment with the picture and several items from my movie career. Michael's mother, June, said he was out with his father. While waiting for them to get back, June told me that Michael had had leukemia since he was three years old. Confined to his hospital room, he watched
Lone Wolf McQuade
over and over on a video cassette recorder. “I like you a lot,” June said kiddingly, “but I have had to watch that movie over thirty times with Michael. I know every line of dialogue, and it's getting pretty boring!”

I laughed and said, “I have to give you credit. I couldn't watch it that many times.”

Michael finally arrived with his father. Michael was a frail little boy wearing a baseball cap on his head because he was completely bald from his chemotherapy treatments. He stood in the doorway staring at me.

Pointing to me, June asked him, “Do you know who this is?”

Michael nodded his head. He ran over, jumped into my lap, and wrapped his arms around my neck. We talked for almost an hour, mostly about my karate background and how I had started in movies. Then we got on the living room floor, and I taught him some karate moves.

After that visit our friendship flourished. Michael and his parents came to private showings of my movies, and Michael always sat right next to me during the screenings. Sometimes he'd even sit on my lap while we watched the show. While I was in Miami filming
Invasion USA
, I called Michael to wish him a merry Christmas. We talked for a few minutes, and as I was about to hang up, he said, “I love you very much, Mr. Chuck.”

“I love you too, Michael.”

When I returned home a few months later, I called Michael. June told me that he had died the previous month. Tears welled up in my eyes. “I wish I could have done more for him,” I whispered more to myself than to Michael's mom.

“You did everything humanly possible for him,” she said. “When he was in the hospital, Michael told me, ‘Mom, God wants me in heaven.’ He died watching
Lone Wolf McQuade
with your picture in his arms.”

After I hung up the phone, I sat there with tears running down my face.

Michael was only seven years old and he hadn't time enough on this earth to experience a lot of things, but the fact that he knew God wanted him in heaven made me sit up and reevaluate the direction I was taking in life.

Besides teaching me about courage, Michael's example also led me to reaffirm my own faith. When my day comes, I want to know that God wants me in heaven.

Since Michael's death I have continued to work with the Make a Wish Foundation, and over the years I invited hundreds of kids to visit the set of
Walker, Texas Ranger
. Each one of those children is special to God and to me, but Michael will always own a piece of my heart.

CHAPTER 18

THE AMAZING GRACIES