B004YENES8 EBOK (12 page)

Joe Stern was put in place at Lacy Street, and he functioned as sort of a producer, liaising with April and her staff who were working out of the Westside offices of Orion, nearly an hour drive from our downtown production site.

Stern’s credit deserves qualification only because April was really his superior in money and power, and he had little support from Rosenbloom. He was therefore forced to try to function without much of a portfolio. It was years before he would earn his stripes as executive producer on
Judging Amy
, teaming up (again) with Tyne Daly and for the first time with star/coproducer Amy Brenneman .

Within days of my return to Los Angeles from those New York meetings, Meg Foster came to my office at Paramount. She wanted to fight for her job. I listened sympathetically but told her there was nothing I could do to help. Clearly I could not stop her from doing whatever she felt was in her best interest, but my counsel was that this was a juggernaut that was now in motion and that she would be alone in trying to stop it. Even her friend Tyne Daly, who was outraged and eager to defend her fellow thespian, was powerless. Ms. Daly had stormed into my office and announced her resignation, which I did not accept. She ranted and raved. It was to no avail. Tyne, as Harvey Shephard would tell her, had a simple choice: she could either spend the remainder of the year making
Cagney & Lacey
or spend the time in court. Meg was calmer. She wanted to fight, but she needed allies. There were no effective ones to be had. For me to join arms with this onetime comrade would quite conceivably end the series. I believed that what we had accomplished and what potentially we might achieve far outweighed this issue. I stated that simply, and I believe Meg understood, although there is no question that she must have suffered a lot of pain from this so-public rejection.
²¹

A day or two later, I was in Shephard’s office with the CBS casting head, Jean Guest . We were joined in the meeting by Tony Barr, as well as several members of Ms. Guest’s staff. They were poring over all the possible names that could play this part: a veritable who’s who of “B” television actresses.

I sat quietly apart from the group facing Shephard. He, as usual, remained seated behind his desk. Finally, Guest completed her tally. Shephard turned to me. “What do you think, Barney?”

“I have only one candidate to play the role,” I said, taking a dramatic pause. “Sharon Gless .”

“You can’t get her,” said Guest, complementing her ominous prediction with an authoritarian tone.

“I’ll get her,” I said.

Shephard broke the ice beginning to form in his office by saying, “If you can get Sharon Gless, then this meeting is over.”

With that I got up, thanked everyone, and left. What was to follow was several weeks of the toughest negotiations I have ever witnessed.

The familiar cast is in the background of this company photo of our first half dozen episodes. That is Meg Foster, our then Cagney, way in the back between Tyne Daly and Marty Kove. Sid Clute can be seen between Meg and Tyne, in front of Al Waxman and to the side of John Karlen, and that is Ken Wales right behind Tyne’s left shoulder and next to Sgt. Coleman (Harvey Atkin) . And the guy whose head can barely be seen behind Atkin is director Ray Danton. Richard M. Rosenbloom holds the
C&L
banner with me, and the infamous Stan Neufeld (no relation to Mace) is to the far left, third row back. Hector Figueroa is on the far right in the second row, transportation chief Dale Henry is right behind him, and that is Barbara Rosing, wearing a cop uniform four rows back and to the right of center. Too many others to mention. A hardworking bunch.

Photo: Rosenzweig Personal Collection

Chapter 15 

FINDING A WAY TO DELIVER THE GOODS 

It seems agent Ronnie Meyer was right when he predicted that Sharon Gless really didn’t want to replace yet another actress in a television series. It was only days after the meeting at Harvey Shephard’s CBS office where I had told Jean Guest that I would deliver La Gless. The actress now sat across from me in a large booth at
Musso & Frank’s
, Hollywood’s oldest restaurant. It was the first time we had ever met. Monique James sat beside her client. I was flanked by Corday on my left and Rosenbloom on my right.

“You’re not replacing another actress,” I countered. “Another actress was temporarily holding what has always been your part.”

I reminded her of how Avedon and Corday had first met her on the set of
Turnabout
and how they had phoned me in my office six years earlier to announce: “We have found Christine Cagney.”

Monique verified to Ms. Gless that the role had been offered her not once but twice.

I was good at the meeting, I thought. It was years before I would find out, in front of an audience at the Museum of Television & Radio’s salute to
Cagney & Lacey
, that Sharon left that luncheon, turned to Monique, and said, “I don’t like the one with the beard.”

That would be me.

Facial hair or no, our negotiations were getting closer. Gless was apparently weakening on her opposition to doing another television series. She may not have liked “the one with the beard,” but she did find Corday agreeable, and she was impressed with Rosenbloom. Monique James and Ronnie Meyer were helpful. They believed this was an important opportunity for their client. Billing, of course, was an issue.

It was brought out that Ms. Gless was then the bigger television name and that it should be duly noted in the only place that mattered: right there on screen.

The Gless camp was correct. Sharon had starred in two TV series and been featured in a third.
Cagney & Lacey
was Tyne’s first. Sharon’s established price was also thousands more per episode than was Ms. Daly’s.

It is difficult to explain to a lay person just why billing is so important. It represents status in the industry, one’s power relative to one’s peers. It can be worth real money.

That it is, in fact, more than merely ego is best demonstrated by the case involving billing credit on the television series
Executive Suite
.
²²
MGM assigned actor William Smithers fourth billing on that one-time series, despite the performer having a contract stating his credit would be no less than in third position. The actor sued and won, collecting damages in the millions of dollars.

I was fighting for equality for Tyne Daly. After all, she had seniority on this series, and I felt that equal treatment in all things should be the order of the day. I believed it was the only way to ensure a happy set. I was also up against a rapidly approaching deadline, albeit admittedly self-imposed. On May 25 the CBS affiliates were having their annual convention. It would be in San Francisco. Our cast had been invited, along with the stars of all the other CBS shows. It was a gala affair and would be well covered by the nation’s press corps. I envisioned Tyne Daly being introduced, taking Sharon Gless by the hand as she walked toward the stage, and presenting her new partner, the third—and final—Christine Cagney. I felt it was a terrific forum for this announcement.

Merritt Blake, Tyne Daly’s agent, was attempting to keep up with the pace. He was no match for the sophisticated Ronnie Meyer and the latter’s powerful Creative Artists Agency. He also didn’t have much with which to bargain. His client’s contract read: “Billing shall be at the sole discretion of executive producer Barney Rosenzweig.”

I assured Merritt I was doing my best for his client and that he was in a windfall situation here in that Ms. Daly’s salary would be raised to be equal to that of her new costar, even though we were not contractually obligated to do so. Ms. Daly would benefit to the tune of several thousands of dollars per week. Merritt agreed to put himself in my hands.

We were getting closer. There was little doubt this was going to work. Ronnie, Monique, and I came up with some formula for sharing the billing that was about as equal as you could get: Sharon to the left and Tyne to the right; Ms. Gless’s name to be slightly lower than Ms. Daly’s.
²³

“How are you going to work it out with Tyne Daly?” the Orion business affairs negotiator queried. I reminded him of the special billing clause, negotiated many months before, giving me discretion. Then came the bad news: it seems that when Meg Foster was signed I was asked, per the contract, which one was to get top billing? I used my “sole discretion” and gave it to Tyne. In a subsequent redrafting and finalization of the contract, the “sole discretion” clause was then deemed moot by the Orion lawyer, and he simply wrote in that Tyne Daly would receive top billing.

I called Merritt. Now it was I who needed help.

“Barney, read your contract. You have control. It’s at your discretion, although I can tell you, Tyne is going to be pissed.”

“You read the contract, Merritt. It’s not the way either of us remember it.”

What amounted to a scrivener’s error had totally altered my situation and laid waste literally weeks of difficult negotiations for the services of Sharon Gless. Ronnie Meyer and Monique James could be effective with their client, but there was no way they would entertain any offer that had her billed in second position to Tyne Daly. Merritt was amused for a few seconds, then, having referred to the actual contract, assured me he understood the problem.

“It doesn’t matter what is typed here,” he began. “We’ll honor the spirit of our agreement. You have sole discretion as to billing, Barney, but you’ve got to tell Tyne what you’re doing, and I’m warning you she’s not going to be happy about it.”

Tyne and I had not met since her futile pleas for Meg Foster some weeks before. She would now use her new leverage to urge me to go back with her to CBS and fight for Meg. I tried to bring the conversation back to a realistic plane.

“To hell with Merritt and the spirit of the agreement,” she railed. “I’ve got a contract that says I get top billing, and I’m not giving it up.”

There was no reasoning with her. There was no appeal I could make that would soften her position.

She was, it seemed to me, that archetypical downtrodden soul who at last had power. She would use it even to the point of abuse. She was playing a heroine of the Irish Revolution right in my office. To get Sharon Gless, I was empowered by CBS to replace Tyne Daly if necessary. It would have been counterproductive for me to share that with Ms. Daly. At that moment in the drama, martyrdom, I speculated, would probably have been welcomed by my Irish heroine.

It was a remarkable scene. On any normal day, Tyne Daly is as moral, ethical, and as fair-spirited as you could ask. This was not a normal day; an emotional button had apparently been touched. What I believed was happening was that Tyne now saw an opportunity to get back at the bosses for years of any number of real and imagined wrongs. The balistraria were manned. It was up the Irish, and all I could do was hang on and try to get to the end of the ride.

The affiliates’ meeting in San Francisco would begin the following day. Tyne, John Karlen , Al Waxman, Sid Clute, Carl Lumbly, and Marty Kove were all en route to the Bay Area. We did not have a Cagney. It was more than three weeks since I had assured Jean Guest I would deliver Madame Gless. The adversaries on both sides seemed to relax. It was over, they thought. The deadline had come and no resolution. Next case.

Not so. The deadline was mine. It was imposed to get maximum press coverage of our announcement. We still had nearly a month before we had to be in production. Few, if any, of the antagonists realized this. They had taken me at my word that May 25 was as long as I could wait.

Sharon Gless phoned. She wanted to thank me for my interest in her and to say she was sorry it couldn’t be worked out. It was probably for the best, she appended. I asked if she would meet with Tyne Daly if I could arrange it. Gless demurred. I was just so sure, I quickly added, that once these two talented people met one another they would find a way past all the silliness that had been part of the negotiating process.

My wish-she-were-our Cagney wasn’t so sure of the efficacy of this idea. She did not, I suspect, want to weaken her own bargaining position but finally conceded that if Tyne were to call she would certainly talk to her.

I phoned Tyne in her suite at San Francisco’s Fairmont Hotel. I woke her from an afternoon nap and urged my grumpy star to phone Sharon Gless to make an appointment to get together for a chat, now that the pressures of a negotiating deadline were past. Tyne resented that I believed Sharon Gless, an actress of whom she “had never heard,” was of such importance to me and to CBS .

“Get another blonde” was Tyne’s simplistic instruction. I was emphatic but still held back the ultimate killer piece of information: that if anyone was going to be replaced it was
not
going to be Sharon Gless .

Tyne agreed to call. She took Sharon’s number. I was grateful. In less than fifteen minutes Tyne was calling me back. “Well, I did what you asked and nothing. Your candidate couldn’t have been colder or more aloof, and she had absolutely no desire to get together and chat. She doesn’t even know who I am.” The whole conversation, according to Tyne, lasted only a matter of minutes.

I was surprised. I was sure I had read Gless better than that. Still I didn’t really know her, and if Tyne said she frosted her, well then maybe it was better I find out about this kind of duplicitous behavior now. Maybe we weren’t so close to making that deal work after all. I thanked Tyne for making the effort. I said I knew it was a lot to ask and she was a real champion for doing it. “Sorry I woke you. Have fun up there.” Tyne accepted all my apologies and thanks with the clear implication that I still owed her.

Within minutes the phone rang again. This time it was Sharon Gless. Her report of the phone conversation with Tyne was substantially different, saying Tyne could not have been less courtly. Her opening statement, which, according to Gless, left little room for a continuing dialogue, was that she (Tyne) was only calling because her boss had insisted she do so. Beyond that, the short-lived phone conversation was confused by the fact that Ms. Gless did not recognize Tyne’s voice. (Sharon had recently viewed the tapes of the six
Cagney & Lacey
episodes we had made and had not realized that the accent used by Mary Beth Lacey sounded not at all like the everyday voice of Tyne Daly.) I thanked Sharon for the call and apologized for what I characterized as the rudeness of my star.

Monique James phoned. “Well, Barney, I guess it was just not meant to be.”

“Let me tell you what’s meant to be, Monique,” I interrupted in my most forceful tone. “What’s meant to be is for your client and my actress to stop this shit and get on with the very important business of getting this series going. This is going to work, and you can bank on it.”

Al Waxman and Sidney Clute were on the phone from San Francisco. “What’s going on?” they wanted to know. Did we have a Cagney or not? I told them it had all fallen apart, and I let them know in no uncertain terms of Tyne’s part in the ruin of the negotiations. Then I lied. “You know, we have a pickup contingent upon recasting Meg Foster. It has now come down to get Sharon Gless or the pickup is null and void. We are merely penciled in on the fall schedule. The commitment is not in cement. I just can’t get Tyne to understand that she’s winning a battle here and losing the war, and, if I can’t get her to compromise on the billing thing, we’re simply not going to have a series.”

The guys were stunned. I knew they would find a way to bend Tyne’s arm in old Baghdad by the Bay. To an actor, billing is important, but a job is crucial.

Next I was on the phone to Merritt Blake. “Your client’s behavior is inexcusable, Merritt. I will not have her scuttle these negotiations or my series.” I told him I did not wish to discuss it with Tyne any further and that he better get her out of this self-destructive mode. I then gave him the final word. “I will replace her if this does not work out. It will be easier,” I said, “to find a new Lacey in this climate than to get a better Cagney than Sharon Gless.”

Merritt Blake got the message and was back on the phone with me within the hour asking for Sharon’s address. Somehow, someway, Tyne was going to do something. I gave out the information and instructed all principals to back away from the process. The long Memorial Day weekend was at hand.

“Let’s all have a good holiday and talk about this next week,” I said. Still, just in case, I gave the phone number of my rented Palm Springs condo to Rosenbloom, Ronnie Meyer, and Monique James .

By some means Tyne had learned that May 31 was Sharon’s birthday. Balloons were followed by a visit in which the two agreed to talk about men, babies, or any subject at all except their most recent dispute.

Tyne showed up at Sharon’s tiny Studio City home with two bottles of champagne. The rest, as they say, is history. Not quite. Tyne’s latest solution was to alternate billing. It was movement, but the Gless camp needed more. Surprisingly it came from Merritt Blake. He suggested that there was something more to give Gless that, in fact, had never before been on the table.