If You Ask Me (4 page)

More scenes from
Saturday Night Live
.

NBCU PHOTO BANK

I was so nervous, but Lorne brought Tina Fey and Amy Poehler and all those wonderful gals to read with me, and they couldn’t have been more supportive. Soon, of course, we began having fun. (At the time, Amy was so pregnant she could hardly fit in the sketch. She has since had a beautiful baby boy. Now when I see her I say, “Have you lost weight?”)

As the week progresses, so does the weeding. By the day of the show, it has been whittled down to five or six sketches!

That day, you run through the show two times—in full costume. But it’s more than a dress rehearsal, it’s the real show, twice.

The challenge for me, besides the cue cards, involved the complete costume changes for each sketch, which must be done in one minute, thirty seconds.
Saturday Night Live
, indeed!

They have been doing this long enough to have it all down to a system, so the only thing one can do to help is to do absolutely nothing. As a sketch ends, someone grabs your hand and drags you offstage into a very small closet nearby. You are literally attacked as someone strips off your clothes and stuffs you into new ones while someone else is touching up your makeup and yet someone else is removing your wig and pinning on a new one. (Ouch!) Your hand is grabbed again to drag you back onstage, too frazzled to remember
what
the next sketch is until you get back to those blessed cue cards.

Jeff, who was standing just offstage, says all I did was glare at him as I flew by. “I didn’t know you could look that fierce,” he told me.

The day after the show aired, on the flight back to Los Angeles, I had to admit it had been an exciting and incomparable experience.

“Thank you, Jeff. It wouldn’t have happened if it weren’t for you,” I said.

Jeff replied, “Well, it’s about time!!!”

And as chance would have it,
Saturday Night Live
brought me my seventh Emmy Award. The day it was announced, Jeff called, wanting to know, Didn’t I think
he
deserved the Emmy?

Truth be told, he absolutely should have accepted the award.

With my castmates from
The Mary Tyler Moore Show—
Ed Asner, Mary Tyler Moore, and Ted Knight.
The show won twenty-nine Emmys.
© BETTMANN/CORBIS

I
know it sounds like a cliché, and I’ve discussed it in my interviews and other books, but it’s the truth—I truly believe a nomination in and of itself is the greatest honor one can receive for one’s work.

When you’re nominated, you get it all sorted out in your mind—not
who’s
going to win, but that you yourself are
not
. And that’s not being coy—that’s being realistic.

At the Screen Actors Guild Awards in 2011, I was nominated for Outstanding Performance by a Female Actor in a Comedy Series, and the actors with whom I was nominated were simply extraordinary—Tina Fey of
30 Rock
, Jane Lynch of
Glee
, Edie Falco of
Nurse Jackie
, Sofía Vergara of
Modern Family
, and me for
Hot in Cleveland
. When I saw the competition, it took all the nervousness away. I thought,
This is great, but I’m never going to win!

So when my name was announced, I was simply stunned. I’d nearly forgotten I was nominated. And if you think I was in shock, you should have seen Jeff Witjas. He looked at me, and the color just drained from his face. Meanwhile, the girls from
Hot in Cleveland
were jumping up and down with excitement—they were, if possible, more delighted than I was!

As with the instances when I’ve won previous awards, it all happened so fast. There’s always a striking and sudden contrast: one minute, you’re sitting at the table, wherever that may be, and the next you’re onstage. You’ve been sitting in the audience long enough that you know your environment around your table, you know who’s seated nearby, but you get up those steps and turn around, and suddenly you see the whole overview of the audience. And that’s overwhelming, because you haven’t thought of all those people in that great big auditorium. You’ve thought only about the tables nearby.

When you turn around, the impact of what you see scares anything out of your head that was ever there!

I’ve never, in all the instances I’ve been nominated for an award, prepared a speech. I’ve known whom I would thank, but I’ve never actually written a speech. And this occasion was no different. And as in times past, I opened my mouth and words came, and God knows what they were. But it is such an exciting feeling.

When I picked up the SAG statue itself, which presenter Jon Hamm had left on the podium for me, it felt like it weighed twenty-five pounds. All I could think about was that it was the heaviest award I’d ever held.

 

 

Allen’s always there when I win an award, or when anything special happens, because nobody would celebrate it like he did. So he was right up there with me.

Ever wonder what happens to an actor after they accept an award and leave the stage?

After you win, someone escorts you backstage to a room filled with press. They all ask you questions and take photos. Then, if it’s early enough in the program—which it was, at the SAGs—they’ll take you back to the table. That was great, because the girls were just so excited. I think Valerie was still jumping up and down, bless her.

We had also been nominated for the show itself, for Outstanding Performance by an Ensemble in a Comedy Series. That was the one I wish we had won rather than the individual, but my castmates didn’t seem to care one bit.

My beloved castmates couldn’t have celebrated more.

 

 

Actors tend to take the bows for their performances and forget to share the credit with those who put the words on the page. Where would we be without them? To be blessed with good writing is such a privilege, and I have been so lucky. Shows like
The Mary Tyler Moore Show
and
The Golden Girls
have lasted over time thanks to some of the best writing in the business, and I am ever grateful.

The morning after the SAG Awards, we had a table read for
Hot in Cleveland.
Suzanne Martin, the creator of the show, who does a lot of the writing, walked in and said, “Welcome to the
award
-winning
Hot in Cleveland
!”

It was a great moment.

KEVIN WINTER/GETTY IMAGES

A
t the 2010 SAG Awards, I was honored with the Life Achievement Award.

I got up from the table, and once again I had that moment of sudden contrast—when I got up to the podium, I turned around, and here’s this enormous Shrine Auditorium audience. It’s just overwhelming.

When I gained my composure, I tried to explain that being in show business is like living in a small town.

Your paths really cross and cross again through the years.

Even if you’ve not seen someone in a long time, all of a sudden you’re working with him or her again.

I talked about how two show-business people who encounter each other might not
know
each other, but they’re automatically in the same club, and they greet each other like friends.

And I talked about how I’ve
never
gotten used to running across a celebrity. I’m always impressed. I’ve never outgrown it. I still remember the thrill I had the day I came home and there was a message that Fred Astaire had called.
Fred Astaire!

So I said to the audience ...

“I look out here and everybody is famous. And I’ve had the privilege of knowing many of you and working with some of you—I’ve even
had
a few of you! You know who you are.”

Afterward, as I was led back to my table, George Clooney was at the podium. He saw me walking across the room and said, “And while I’m here, I’d like to thank Betty White for her discretion.”

KEVIN WINTER/GETTY IMAGES

I
’m often asked if there are roles I was offered that I regret turning down.

The answer is
No
.

Sure, I’ve turned down parts in movies that went on to be successful.

One was
As Good as It Gets
.

But in that movie, there was a scene in which a character throws a dog down a laundry chute. When I read the part, I told the director, James Brooks, who is amazingly talented, “I just can’t do that!” I know it’s for laughs, but given my feelings about animals and my work for animal welfare, I just didn’t find it funny. I didn’t think it would be a good example to people who might try it in real life.

I was hoping that Jim would change it! But Jim had fallen in love with the scene and wouldn’t change it. So I said, “Sorry, I can’t do it. But thank you very much!”

Another script was sent to me, and it started with a truly disgusting scene in which a drunken Santa Claus is vomiting all over a stack of toys. I didn’t find that funny, either. The scriptwriters were these really talented guys, but I said, “Thank you but no thanks!”

So the answer is, more than regretting
not
taking a role, I feel good that I’ve turned down roles for the right reasons.