Why I Joined The Caucus

Even when I was a little boy back in Winthrop, Massachusetts, and people would ask me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I would tell them I wanted to be a member of the Caucus. Naturally, they didn't know what the hell I was talking about, because way back then there was no such thing as The Caucus. But even then I somehow knew there would be one, and I knew that I would want to be part of it.

And, as the years passed, and my television career unfolded, wherever I went, whatever I did in the business, no matter what type of program I worked on--game shows, talk shows, reality, variety, sitcom, longform--I knew--I hoped--I prayed--that all of it would eventually lead to the possibility that maybe--just maybe--I might someday prove worthy of being a member of The Caucus.

And finally, one day I received that thrilling yet humbling letter from David Levy. "Congratulations. You are now a member of The Caucus. Send in your money." I had arrived!

As far as I was concerned, there was the U.N., then NATO, and then The Caucus. Everything else came after. The Library of Congress, Women in Film, Film In Women, The Boy Scouts, The Girl Scouts, NATPE (otherwise known as NAPTE to the folks who always get the T and the P reversed.)

As my misty eyes swept along the columns of The Caucus Membership List, my mind flashed back to professional and social experiences with more than a few of those illustrious names. All of them movers and shakers and star makers and show bakers.

And now I, too, had at last been inducted into The Pantheon of Program Purveyors, The Temple of Top TV Tummelers, The Mount Olympus of Made-For Makers.

So what was the first thing they asked me to do as a new member? Write a free article. Now I really felt at home writing on spec for The Caucus. Well, I thought, at least the Tycoons of Telly are consistent!

Naturally I'm kidding--and deeply honored. Who would say no to such a request? I had been anointed, so the least I could do was to give of my time and talent in reflecting on the lofty environment to which I had been elevated. (I did consider checking the MBA to see if I would be in violation of anything, but then I decided to take the chance no matter which WGA working rule might befall me. The gods had summoned my skills, and I could not deny them. I felt blessed.)

So you can imagine my shock and dismay when I began to realize that these talented and dynamic men and women who had shaped the industry were, in fact, no longer joyous in their television tasks. Rather they were downtrodden and miserable because their powers of creative entrepreneurship had been greatly diminished.

To a great extent, they had been relegated to the role of unglorified order takers--and the orders they were taking were resulting in programs that they were no longer proud of. Amy Fisher had far surpassed Amy Semple McPherson in public awareness.

Now they were forced to take their instructions from a new breed of development executives, at least one of whom reportedly thought that Arthur Miller was an accountant in Beverly Hills, while another apparently had never heard of Sid Caesar. And yet those executives were merely carrying out the wishes of higher-ups, whose ranks include at least one individual who reportedly knew of Rod Serling as merely a good sci-fi host.

Of course my new colleagues of The Caucus still wanted to make money--but they longed for the time when they made their livelihoods while making shows that gave them creative satisfaction.

The frowns on the soulful faces all around me had been deepened by the loss of such basic creative control as dialogue punctuation, placement of sofas in livingroom sets, and even minor casting decisions, which day player will be cast as the two-line deli counterman who serves the corned beef on rye to the rapist? (Note from on high --change that to turkey on whole wheat.) Or the choice of the taxi driver who will say to the fleeing mother and her kidnapped child, "That'll be $3.50, please." And you only see the back of the guy's head at that.

And they huddled in small clusters at Chasen's, sipping cafˇ lattes and seething with frustration. Their angst ridden mutterings were punctuated with piercing verbal snippets such as "glut of trivia" and "tabloid television" and "murder of the week," and, "Screw this, I'm opening the bookstore in Aspen."

This was not The Caucus I had dreamed of. As I walked among them, I was embarrassed for these once-mighty creators. Here I finally stood with them atop the Everest of their profession, only to discover that the granite had long been eroding beneath their feet, which were themselves turning to clay.

And a great sadness enshrouded The Caucus.

But then a wondrous thing began to happen. At first it was but a faint murmur--some say it started on the west side of town. Perhaps at the Fox commissary or Jimmy's or the Westwood Marquis or even Junior's. Then, over in the Valley, the sound rose more clearly from around Universal, then down to Barsac on Lankershim, echoing through the smog along Riverside Drive to Vall's and Hampton's and Chadney's, then jumping Alameda to The Seven Dwarfs and NBC and the Warner lot.

Very quickly the words gained volume and momentum as they resonated down the freeway to the Paramount company store, then up to the Columbia Bar and Grill, and along Hollywood Boulevard, ever building in power and intensity until they were ringing boldly in the ears of both Musso and Frank.

Four simple words: A Call To Action!

A new battle cry. It was as though Moses had misplaced the tablets, and then found them again! Behold--an Emancipation Proclamation for the creative television entrepreneur!

Caucuseers Unite! One for all and all for one!

"We shall take back our inalienable right to control our own creativity. To give the buyers what they really need and want us to do for them--to pull them out of their own uninspired rut, and to help return them to the days of television glory when they gave to their viewers hour after hour of quality entertainment and even enlightenment. And the buyer will rejoice along with us because, ultimately, they will know that it is good for them. Amen."

And now I proudly stand among these reinvigorated industry leaders, and I exalt in the knowledge that the Caucus is once again as I dreamed it would be even before it was born, when I was a little boy in Winthrop, Massachusetts. And now I am at peace . . . .

Until they ask me to write another free article.

Writer-Producer Don Segall is currently developing a two-hour movie for Wilshire Court.