I had just finally joined the actor’s union and was shooting one of my first industrial films in San Francisco as a proud member of The Screen Actors Guild. I was now a Union Man and poised to receive all of the rich experiences that came with that. We were set up on the sandy sidewalk next to Ocean Beach near Fulton Street, adjacent to the four wide lanes of The Great Highway, as it is known. I recall I was paired with another actor and we were having to practically yell our lines to be heard over the wind, surf and traffic. We were in the middle of a take when out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the cameraman slowly lift his head away from the viewfinder and whisper-yell something to the director, Brien Burroughs, who was crouched just over his shoulder. The cameraman then pointed past us to something in the distance, and after removing his headphones, Brien said: “Cut?” Not like “Cut!” but more unsure, like “Cuuuuutttt???”
My partner and I stopped our incredibly informative corporation specific performance and turned in the direction of the pointing. There, in the distance, obviously clearly in frame of the shot, was a man who appeared to be dancing in and between the traffic on The Great Highway. He was using one hand in an attempt to magically stop the cars barreling toward him, while the other hand was holding something that appeared to be a small piece of paper high above his head. Incidentally, I believe The Great Highway derives its name from the fact that if you attempted to traverse its four lanes on foot without the use of a crosswalk, there was a Great probability that you would be run over.
After miraculously surviving his waltz with death, we watched as this mysterious stranger now ran at full speed straight up the sandy sidewalk at us, one hand still aloft, holding that small rectangular piece of flapping paper and the other hand now urgently pointing to that paper.
As he got closer and closer, we noticed his shiny black wind tousled hair half covering his eyes and a smile that stretched ear to ear as he slid past a lunging production assistant and came to a sliding stop a few feet away from us. He was doubled over trying to catch his breath, but we could now see that his hand held what was clearly a faded little card with printing across it and a signature at the bottom and between his gasps for air, we heard him say: “It’s okay! It’s okay!” then lifting his head to breathlessly assure us: “I’m in SAG!” Yes, our union brother was holding what was left of his SAG card.
I was so new to the union, that my card hadn’t even arrived in the mail yet. If it had, I’m sure that I would have read the fine print on the back that clearly explained, once you pay your initiation fee and are now an official member of SAG, this affords you full and complete access to any union set at any time, including during actual filming, including during actual takes. From what I could glean, I could now sashay onto a sound stage or onto location and straight into a scene if it suited my card-carrying fancy. Simply flash your union status and the gates of show business will swing wide to greet you! “Welcome member…let’s get you into hair and makeup.”
Quiet on the set…for some! (wink)
It also pointed to the possibility that now I was a member of SAG, I ran the risk of living in a box at the base of a tree out near the windmills in Golden Gate Park. Now that is a union with breadth!
On set, the director is the skipper, and this day was no exception as ours unplugged his headphones from the audio cart and walked over. For a man who had the word “VOLATILE” tattooed in all caps on the inside of his right forearm, Brien Burroughs was always a gentle and caring soul from what I could tell. He walked right up to our newest cast member, looked at his card respectfully and listened to him as he explained that he was a company man and belonged here. Brien eventually allowed him to stay on set and watch the rest of the shoot with a production assistant stationed at his side, should he again decide to exercise his “Union Privileges” and write himself into our film again. The man hung out near the craft services table and, in the time-honored tradition practiced by all of us in front of and behind the camera, when we wrapped for the day, he , like us, took a little for the road. You know, a cup of Pepperidge Farms Goldfish, a fistful of licorice whips and some coffee that had been brewed in the pre-dawn.
I’ve never truly tested it, but I sometimes wonder what that little card is capable of. Is it akin to being privy to some SAG secret menu items? “You never knew, because you never asked!”
Well, that guy at Ocean Beach seemed to know about the SAG secret menu, at least Brien made him feel like he knew and he got to believe that for just one day, he was back in the game.
Union Man