When I recently learned that yet another friend of mine had written a book I immediately expressed a desire to devote a musing to it. For as few rules as I may choose to follow I have one hard and fast one when it comes to this space–when someone I know is fortunate enough to find a way to actually accomplish something that I feverishly aspire to, I make it a point to honor it.
That said, as so many others confess to me when I even ask if they notice these musings at all, life gets in the way of expressed best intentions. So it was only last night that I had found the time and bandwidth to download a copy. One other hard and fast rule I have lately is that unless all other options are exhausted or someone chooses to gift me I won’t ever purchase a hard copy of a book. I don’t have the shelf space, and I certainly don’t have the shekels to waste on something that will eventually become a coaster or a Zoom backdrop.
And life being what it is of late, my Amazon account was wonky and I didn’t happen to see a Kindle option for my friend’s book. But I had just hung up on my old boss who regularly calls me to wish me an easy fast just before Yom Kippur and when I was discussing who we knew had written books he prompted my memory with one of a mutual business colleague named Shelly Schwab. So I searched for it once Amazon decided to behave and low and behold there it was, blurb and all:
Anyone who has dreams and goals in life and business will enjoy reading “From The Streets of Brooklyn To The Black Tower of Hollywood”. Schwab’s childhood of financial hardship became a positive in his life because he was raised by immigrant parents with love and respect while living in a neighborhood full of what became lifelong friends. His adulthood was filled with challenges and prejudice that only fueled his ambitions. From a career that started with newspapers and magazines, he climbed the executive ladder in Hollywood, never stopping to look back or complain. Schwab’s childhood and ambition fueled his rise to the top at a major Hollywood Studio and his stories about Hollywood, that have never been told before will entertain and surprise you.
More important to the moment, the Kindle option for this work was clear and the price a -72% discount from the hardcover edition. I downloaded it successfully, which was probably the highlight of my day to that moment. And then the storytelling unfolded and long-distant memories and connections flooded over me in a wave of nostalgia and appreciation that I don’t feel all that often any more.
Schwab was in charge of the sales division for MCA TV, the entity that controlled all of the Universal Studios IP, during the brief era where I handled negotiations for FOX’s owned-and-operated television stations. As I’ve previously mused, I was thrust at an unusually young age into a role where I regularly interacted with top-level executives with decades more experience and in many cases a fraction of the integrity and decency I had developed even at that point. I was wined and dined and gifted at a time when expense accounts were rarely scrutinized and where limits on how much someone in a position like mine could accept were even less frequently enforced. My rule of thumb at the time was the less I enjoyed someone’s company the more I pulled rank and connived a higher quality restaurant or more sought after sporting event ticket out of them. The gentleman who took me to the major league baseball All-Star game was one of the more odious folks I ever dealt with and were it not for my personal passion for his show and the creatives attached to it I would have never wanted to be within 100 feet of him. So I figured being surrounded by 55,000 strangers and the best players would at least make the experience tolerable.
With Shelly, that was never the case. Several of my friends were in his employ and had spoken glowingly of him, and in our first few encounters it was easy to see why. He was confident, gifted with matinee idol looks and a remarkable combination of confidence and knowledge. He had immense respect for my background–he valued research and handsomely rewarded my friends who handled that job for him. And when he learned I was like him a nice Jewish boy who loved baseball he began to treat me as much like a protege as a client. We rarely socialized–as he explains in the book, during the time we had our most active negotations he was in the midst of a divorce but had begun dating a stunning Los Angeles news personality whom I immediately recognized when he proudly introduced her at an industry gathering. Frankly, I didn’t blame him for ignoring me–or anyone else, for that matter.
But we did do a lot of business given the importance and depth of his catalogue, and as he explains in the book he was also aggressively pushing first-run production for local stations. While we competed in New York the balance of our markets were extremely attractive to him and since our New York O and O had its own local priorities we ultimately became partners on several projects that our general managers were enthusiastic about. I’d like to say they were good, but I’d be lying if I did. Shockingly low-cost and watered down reboots of the classic Los Angeles-based cop shows DRAGNET and ADAM-12, a ridiculously sophomoric first-run comedy called WHAT A DUMMY! that was intended to be the replacement for our beloved SMALL WONDER and a nightly talk show featuring America’s First Son, Ron Reagan, Junior. Schwab spends a decent amount of time telling that story and how he and I were both among those embroiled in what turned out to be a highly sensitive topic given the fact that the head of his studio, Lew Wasserman, was once Ronald Reagan’s TV agent and that the head of my studio, Barry Diller, reportedly had an outsized interest developed through some personal–ahem–alliances with Reagan, Junior. We learn Schwab had a fascination with Diller and given what his superiors were mandating both my boss and I were mere bystanders in those tempestuous negotiations. What I learned now was what I was at the time only tangentially aware of–my boss had prematurely committed to terms and conditions that the volatile Diller was reluctant to concede. Indeed, as Schwab buttons the story, my boss left the company shortly afterwards, and as a result the division was restructured and my own exit ensued a few months later. Perhaps the one good thing that came out of that for me was that I wasn’t around to see–or be held accountable–for what a dull and ratings-challenged flop the Reagan show turned out to be.
But what endeared me to Schwab above all was the unique gift he chose to bestow upon me for giving him that greenlight on DUMMY! He personally brought over a beautifully framed poster of one of the covers of the best-selling book THE BOYS OF SUMMER, the story of the 1950s Brooklyn Dodgers that were near and dear to Schwab’s heart and my dad’s as well. I had mentioned in passing that my dad lived for that team, growing up at a similar time in an area not that far from him in a similar manner–in an apartment above a store. What I also learned just now was when Schwab had relocated his family from New York he was determined to bring as many reminders of his New York roots as possible along for the ride, and that his condo walls were adorned with many such pieces. This was not something he ordered his assistant to send over by courier. This came from his wall and his personal collection. And it adorned my dad’s garish apartment walls for the rest of his life.
It’s a literal rags-to-riches story and for me it was a wonderful read. But it’s also now ten years old. And it’s apparently been decades since anyone I know has had any dealings with Shelly Schwab. Try as I might, I couldn’t get any confirmation he’s even still alive as of this writing. According to the book, his most recent full-time place of residence is Newport Beach, and he’d have just turned 90. With a truly loving and successful family–including his wife Christine that in the book it’s clear he was as smitten with then as the first day they met and the first date they had at a Chinese restaurant in Beverly Hills (one I spent many far less successful dates at)–and great genes I’m truly hoping he’s still around.
If any of you happen to know his whereabouts–or those of his kids if I’m sadly overly optimistic–I’d love for him to be able to read this even half as attentively as I read his book. And I’d love to thank him for his unique generosity and his atypical kindness since I know I probably didn’t express either at the time.
As for my other friend’s book? Well, turns out there WAS a Kindle version available. But I only learned that this morning, and I know you all only have so much patience for these musings. His story is coming up very soon, pinky promise. Better late than never, right?
Until next time…