You Have No Idea: A Famous Daughter, Her No-Nonsense Mother, and How They Survived Pageants, Hollywood, Love, Loss (30 page)

I got a call at ten thirty that night. My manager told me the job was mine—if I wanted it. He said they knew I would be perfect. After all, I have a history of nailing strong witchy characters—from Ebony Scrooge in
A Diva’s Christmas Carol
, which VH1 runs every holiday, to my roles on Broadway in
Kiss of the Spider Woman
and
Into the Woods.

I admit that when I finally got around to reading the script, I could not put it down. Wilhelmina leaped off the page, which is always a sign of brilliant writing. There was no question about how she would speak, the tone of her voice, or the way she would carry herself. What I loved most about the character is that she is colorless, strong, fierce, and formidable. She’s running the show at a mainstream fashion magazine where she struts around in power pumps and killer suits. She lives in a world where fashion is everything—it’s all about the hottest designer and the hottest colors and trends. There’s no question that she deserves to be where she is. And race had nothing to do with her. It was an equal-opportunity show with plenty of accents, color, and attitude.

And Wilhelmina’s eye-cutting stares? Her exasperation? Her don’t-mess-with-me attitude? I didn’t have to look far for inspiration. I’d just channel the person I knew longest and best.

Mom.

I didn’t have time to ponder whether or not I was ready to do this. I’d have to start immediately—beginning with a wardrobe fitting the next day.

I’ve learned you never know when it’s going to come. That’s
become my prayer.
God, I surrender. Just show me the way and I will follow you. Let me see the signs.

And those signs were relentless.

The next day, I showed up to do a fitting in the wardrobe trailer with the legendary fashion icon Patricia Field (the costume designer for
Sex and the City
). Wilhelmina’s wardrobe had already been selected—for the previous actress, who was a size 2! I luckily squeezed into ivory separates. Patricia loved the way I wore the clothes. The official thumbs-up from the queen of fashion was good enough for me.

One of the gags on the show was that Wilhelmina Slater was so formidable that she couldn’t keep an assistant. So there would be a new assistant each week who would be fired. For the pilot, a Juilliard-trained actor named Michael Urie was cast as Marc St. James, my assistant. The minute we started our scene together, I was blown away by this extremely talented young actor. You could throw anything at him and he would make it work. He was aware, intelligent, and willing to go for it.

I knew immediately that the two of us had some special chemistry. He was like my mirror. He’d capture my mood, my attitude and imitate it, so we became this one person, this one force. In our first boardroom scene, I slid into my chair in a particular way and Michael did the exact same move.

“Michael needs to be a series regular,” I immediately told Silvio. The Botox scene in the pilot immediately cemented our friendship. Willie gives Marc the leftovers from her vial and Michael tapes up an eyebrow to make his brows lopsided. It was hilarious.

On the first day of shooting in my office, Salma Hayek sat next to the monitors with our young star, America Ferrera, the lead of the show, or
^#
1 on the call sheet. Salma had fallen in love with America in
The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants
and
Real Women Have Curves
and had fought for her to become Betty.

In between setups, Salma and America started giggling.

“We want to do something for you,” they said, with these enormous grins plastered on their faces. I knew they were up to something.

“What?”

They burst out in song: “SOMETIMES THE SNOW COMES DOWN IN JUNE.”

They sang “Save the Best for Last” in these really goofy voices. I loved it!

That was their way of welcoming me in.

“Very nice,” I said, just like Arnold would say with a smile and a stogie.

From the beginning I knew that
Ugly Betty
was not going to be average. It looked different. Our director, Richard Shepard, shot it unconventionally. The show wasn’t a drama and wasn’t quite a comedy. As much as I loved the script and the set, I wondered,
Would viewers get it?

After I wrapped my part, Salma called my cell. “Thanks so much. We really appreciate your being a part of
Ugly Betty
. You were great. You were so funny. You saved us.”

I had gone from being indifferent about this project to really wanting it. A steady gig in New York? It was too good to be true.

I’ve learned over the years never to get too attached to anything in show business. So I went about my life—busy with the kids and traveling to Holland to guest star in Musicals in Ahoy, a huge Broadway-themed series of concerts that filled a Rotterdam arena for a nice run.

While I was there I got the news… the pilot got picked up! Yay!

And the show was moving to L.A.

WHAT? The whole idea was for me to live and work in New York.

I had four kids in four different schools. In the fall, Melanie was
headed to the Fashion Institute of Technology (FIT), Jillian would be a senior at Greeley, Devin was in his last year of middle school, and Sasha was starting first grade at Montessori.

“I can’t do the show. You told me it was a New York show and that’s why I agreed to do it.”

I’d already paid my dues flying between New York and Los Angeles while juggling motherhood and work. And I lost two marriages as a result.

I loved the part and I knew that I needed to get back to work, but that constant commute across the country was a grind. Was a bicoastal life worth it for a regular paycheck? I didn’t think it was fair to put my family through that kind of strain again. Plus, it was L.A.—the site of two troubled marriages. I have a lot of mixed emotions about L.A.—fond memories of those early years with Ramon when my career was just taking off, and championship Laker moments with Rick. But it’s also a place where I experienced a great deal of pain.

While shooting the pilot, I was the biggest “name” attached to the show. Most of the cast were also New York hires, so they turned to me to have me try and fight to keep it in town. But it was my decision—I couldn’t leave my kids. The studio said, “We’ll give you three days to reconsider. Then we’ll have to cast again.”

“Go ahead.” And I let it all go.

I knew the producers weren’t happy, nor was my manager, but I didn’t back down.

I showed the pilot to the kids and asked them if I should do the show. Melanie spoke up for everyone. “Mom, it’s a great role. We’ll be fine. Do it.”

The studio called me back. They’d give me a three-day workweek so I could fly home on weekends, plus I’d receive a relocation bonus for housing to accommodate my four kids and a nanny. And then I remembered what Melanie had said.

“We’ll be fine. It’s a great role.”

Melanie had been an infant when I launched my career, so she’s grown up watching me juggle work and motherhood. I can barely remember my life before I had children, so kids always came before a career. Sometimes I’ve done well, other times I felt like I’d failed. But here was my daughter—who as an infant toured the country with me, who went on auditions with me—giving me career advice.

I asked Ramon what he thought. “Do the show,” he said. “We’ll all handle it, don’t worry.”

I signed on the dotted line in May 2006. In July, I moved into a rental house in the hills of Bel Air. All the kids were in Chappaqua, under the watchful eye of their dad, Kathi, and Mom, except Mel who moved to the Chelsea section of Manhattan to be close to FIT. The next season I got a bigger house and moved Sasha to L.A. I hoped that now Rick and I were living in the same city, Sasha would get a chance to experience life with both of her parents. Everything was falling into place.

I was beginning the next chapter of my life.

CHAPTER

31

Milton would have loved watching Vanessa as Wilhelmina, but I don’t think he would have appreciated some of the sarcastic humor in the dialogue. It would have been fun to explain it to him and watch him laugh with some hesitation.

—HELEN WILLIAMS

I
was you for Halloween.”

I couldn’t believe how many times I heard those words in the days following Halloween the first year
Ugly Betty
was on television. I’d get attention in restaurants and parking lots. People would yell on the street to tell me how much they loved Willie. It was “Bettymania.” America Ferrera exploded as everyone’s favorite underdog; Michael Urie was television’s new funny man.

We’d struck a chord and developed a cultlike following. My mother and her friends loved the show for the style of it:
What will Willie be wearing this week?
Then there were the hardcore fashionistas who loved the haute couture and the glimpse into the world of a high fashion magazine. After all, real-life fashion insiders like Vera Wang, Kenneth Cole, Badgley Mischka, Nina Garcia, and Tim
Gunn all paid visits to the offices of
Mode
and gave the show an authentic vibe.

Lastly there were the underdogs—the tweens, teens, and young adults who could relate to Ugly Betty’s plight, who knew Ugly Betty personally, because Ugly Betty was them.

People really responded to my character in a way I’d never experienced before. I’d started getting comments when I’d go through security at the airports. There were the gay men who loved my style and attitude. There were women my age and older who would come up to me and say, “Girl, I love you for being so bad,” or “I hate you, but I love you.” “Why you gotta be so mean?” To the latter, I would respond, “That’s what I get paid to do” (with a smile). Then there were younger fans who’d treat me as if I actually was Wilhelmina! Sometimes it felt like there was a force field around me. I’d hear whispers and they’d look at me, too afraid to approach. I loved it because the truth is… I am nothing at all like Wilhelmina!

Sometimes I wished I lived like she did—her penthouse apartment was insanely posh! Having someone at my beck and call at any moment would be a luxury. I wish I could ask for something and it would just magically appear. But alas, it would begin to drive me crazy. I love my privacy too much. I love my independence. I love doing things for myself and for others.

Ugly Betty
was a treat for four crazy years. I wore beautiful costumes by Thierry Mugler, Alexander McQueen, Halston, and Fendi. We shot at locations—the Bahamas, London, Times Square, the Guggenheim, on yachts, and in cemeteries. I acted on incredible sets with fabulous decor. (I got to take two chairs from Willie’s apartment, two horse heads, and two lamps. Michael Urie has the signature glass desk from my office.)

Our cast was also so different from most television shows. Most of us had theater backgrounds, so we knew what it was like to work as an ensemble. We all were thankful for the work and the opportunity
to stretch ourselves. We worked long hours. We survived the writers’ strike, moving from New York to Los Angeles and back again. I know it sounds corny but we quickly became one big happy family.

Each week we’d have a screening of that Friday’s episode of
Ugly Betty
on set. We’d watch the show together in our costumes and slippers during lunch and just laugh and cry. It was a treat to see the whole show put together with music.

I was busy working fourteen-hour days. I was shooting the show and doing interviews and posing for photos to promote the show. On my days off, I’d drive Sasha to school and activities. At night I’d practice my lines—highlighting and making notes with Sasha in bed next to me. She’d play Marc and I’d be Wilhelmina. Whenever she laughed, I’d think,
Oh, this is going to work
. This became our own version of a bedtime story. When Sasha watched the show, she’d get excited when she recognized the lines she had rehearsed with me.

I was enjoying Los Angeles. The show was a hit, Sasha had received her First Communion, the family was visiting, and Rick was back in Sasha’s life. He even made a cameo on
Ugly Betty
(he played Willie’s bodyguard and they hooked up).

It was a sunny Sunday afternoon when the phone rang. I was outside on the patio. Sasha was jumping on the trampoline and Mom was reading the Sunday
New York Times.
It was Silvio Horta, the producer. Calling me on a Sunday?
Uh oh. Am I getting fired?

“I’ve got some great news—the show’s moving back to New York,” he said. “I know you’ll be the happiest of everyone.”

He explained the benefits of the city’s 35 percent tax break for local productions. The show would save up to fifteen million dollars per season, he said.

You’ve got to be kidding me. I’d just gotten used to Los Angeles.

I felt like the wind had been knocked right out of me. Was I really
being asked to uproot my life for a second time in as many years? Crazy how life works.

I finished my last week of shooting at Raleigh Studios and packed up for Tennessee, where I was playing Miley Cyrus’s agent in
Hannah Montana: The Movie
. (How could I refuse—Sasha was a huge fan and I was “the coolest mom” in her eyes.)

I had to continue recording my next CD,
The Real Thing.
I called New York and enrolled Sasha in a school. As for the home I had rented? Lara Spencer just had gotten a deal as the host of the television show
The Insider
. She had to move to Los Angeles and needed a place. Perfect. She moved into my rental house, which was already furnished with the furniture Rick had given me from our Marina house. Thank God for Brian Edwards, my client relations executive. He handled all the details so smoothly—like he always does.

Then it was back to Queens for
Ugly Betty.