MeTV has lately been running episodes of Welcome Back, Kotter which I worked on in 1976 and 1977, several lifetimes ago. I have had a request to tell a story about one which I've told at conventions but never told here. The episode in question ran last week.
My then-partner Dennis Palumbo and I were on staff, which meant we did a lot of rewriting and adding jokes and rewriting the rewrites of the previous rewrites. At the same time, I was asked to take over the scripting of the Welcome Back, Kotter comic book which DC Comics was then publishing. I really didn't have time for it but (a) I had stopped writing comics while working on the TV show and I missed it and (b) I thought it might be fun to write Kotter without arguing over every line with the producers, the other writers, the network and the actors.
I sent in my first script and then I got a message that the editor had "a few problems" with it and wanted me to call him to discuss them. I decided to phone from the studio from their WATS line. I don't think they have them anymore but a WATS line was a special kind of phone service a business could purchase that gave them all their long-distance calling at a flat rate. Calling the other side of the country was costly then so I opted for the ABC WATS line and I called from the reception area at the studio, just outside our rehearsal hall.
The editor told me a few minor things in my script that he thought needed fixing. They were reasonable notes, easily rectified. Then we got to one line he really didn't like.
At the time, a man named Evel Knievel was in the news often for his daring motorcycle leaps. Every time you turned around, he was either vaulting his bike across some famous landmark or over a new world's record number of Buicks or something. He was also promising he would one day conquer the Grand Canyon that way. So in my script for the comic book, there was a scene where some loud individual says something outta-line to the character Arnold Horshack, whereupon Horshack turns to him and says, "Hey, Evel Knievel just called. He wants to know if he can jump your mouth!"
Not the funniest line I ever wrote — I would hope — but, hey, it's just one line in one panel of comic book, right? Well, the editor wanted it out because according to him, "Horshack wouldn't say that."
I said, "Of course, Horshack would say that," and I reminded him that I was a story editor of the TV show. Part of my job description was writing lines for Horshack. The editor said, "No, that's out of character for him. I've seen the show and Horshack is a sweet little guy who is never mean."
I thought but did not say, "No, no…you have your TV on CBS instead of ABC. The show you're watching is The Waltons!" We argued a bit and were soon trapped in one of those endless loops. I kept reminding him that I was writing the TV show. He kept saying, "Horshack would never say that."
Just then, Ron Palillo was walking through the reception area. Ron, of course, played Horshack. I asked the editor to wait a minute and I called out, "Hey, Ron! Would Horshack say this line?" and I told him the line. Ron said, "Oh, that's great! I love that! Could we use that in the scene we're rehearsing right now?"
I realized it would fit in fine so I said, "Sure," then I told the editor in New York, "Okay, I'll cut it out of the script." I did. It was on the show, it got a tremendous laugh and the network used it in the promos for that episode so it ran dozens of times on TV that week. But it wasn't in the comic book because, you know, Horshack would never say that.
I do not tell this tale to embarrass the editor in question, who was beloved by many who worked for and with him. I'm sure when I've been in an editorial position, I've made miscalls of far greater magnitude and density. But the incident stuck with me a long time and shaped my unique view of editors and producers, which is that they're human beings.
Yeah, I could tell you stories of a few where that seemed arguable. Every so often, you run into one who for reasons of rampant megalomania and/or paranoid insecurity — usually both — feel they have to be right all the time even when they aren't; the kind who corrects you on subjective issues the way a third grade teacher tells you that no, Johnny, three plus three does not equal nineteen. Such bosses are few, far between and usually don't remain bosses for very long.
The guy in charge is just the guy in charge. He's infallible the way baseball umpires are infallible: Because even when he's wrong, he can throw you out of the game for arguing too much with him.
I have this one friend who writes and draws comics and he follows a simple pattern: He does a job. He calls me to complain about the idiot editor. He does another job. He calls me to complain more about the idiot editor. He does a job for someone else. He calls me to complain about how that idiot editor is even worse than the other idiot editor. And so on and so on…
I keep telling him that, yes, the editors may be wrong in each and every instance. Maybe, maybe not. Even the most inept editor I've ever had would occasionally say something to me like, "Hey, how come this character is named Joe on page eight and Jason on page twelve?" and I'd go, "Uhhh…" And sometimes, what editors contribute can vary wildly from active particpation to benevolent neglect.
But whether you're the editor of your own work or someone else is, there has to be a person to make the call, just as there has to be that person, blind though he may be, to say what's a ball and what's a strike. Don't get too crazed about it when it's someone else and you think they're wrong. Eventually, if all goes well, your work will be judged by a higher authority — the buying public. And you know something? They aren't right all the time, either…and sometimes, they remind you that you're the same way.
