#109 Fast Times at DIC

Life at DIC Entertainment hurtled at lightspeed. Jean and Andy landed new series after new series. Jayce and the Wheeled Warriors, Rainbow Brite, Hulk Hogan’s Rock ‘n’ Wrestling, Kissyfur. The studio was expanding like the universe after the Big Bang. Writers, artists, assistants, production personnel; people were everywhere.

I was gliding on greased rails with Heathcliff and the Catillac Cats. As 1984 blazed into 1985, story springboards for all twenty-one episodes had been approved. All treatments were written, and scripts were coming in on a daily basis.

Things were going so fast that we were far ahead of schedule and I was starting to think I’d made a mistake when I told Lori I wasn’t going to write scripts for the series; that I was just going to story edit the other writers’ scripts.

As Ray Dryden, Eleanor Burian-Mohr and other writers happily arrived with a steady stream of scripts, I was getting envious. I missed coming up with my own story springboards, my own treatments, my own scripts. Writing is the closest a person can come to being a god. You take a blank page on a computer screen and create whole worlds and locations and then people and stories to populate them. It’s exhilarating.

But I’d be less than honest if I didn’t mention another reason I missed writing my own scripts. I was making $1,500 hundred a week as a story editor. Writing the occasional Care Bears script had been a nice boost to my income. L.A. was an expensive place to live and I’d gotten used to that extra income. Now it was gone because I’d decided not to write scripts for Heathcliff and the Catillac Cats.

As always, like the empath she was, Lori came to my rescue.

#108 “Swing, batter, batter, batter!”

I’m still on the pitcher’s mound, Linda Blair still in the batter’s box. As Bobby keeps up the catcalls to The Exorcist star, Warner Bros. players and fans booing and hissing louder, the actress steps out of the batter’s box.

I signal the ump for a time out. I motion Bobby to the mound for a conference. When they arrive, I tell them, “Can you guys back off that stuff?”

Bobby chides, “You worried she’ll spit pea soup at you?” He wiggles his forefinger and pinky behind the top of his head as horns, and he trots back to his positions. I strike out Linda Blair on three pitches.

An inning later we hold a 2-to-zero lead. There are no signs of a single demon anywhere on the diamond; just a scattering of boos as I take the mound. Warner Bros.’ cleanup hitter lumbers to the plate – a six-foot, four-inch, two hundred and thirty pound stone cold killer who glares at me.

He swings and misses my first pitch, which seems to anger him. He settles in like a bull and waits. I lob in my second pitch. He connects. The softball, which is anything but soft after just two innings in the frigid night air, rockets straight at my ankles, striking them squarely, knocking my legs out from under me. I fall like a sack of potatoes, Warner Bros. fans on their feet, cheering.

Bobby and Lori hurry to the mound and help me up, my ankles swelling. Bobby offers, “At least he didn’t spit pea soup at you.”

We win our first game 8 to 2. After post-game pizzas, I hobble home to ice my ankles.

#107 “Play Ball!”

Softball may not be directly involved with writing, but it played a big part in this writer’s life. The DIC softball team has come together. We act like ballplayers and thanks to lime green pinstriped uniforms, we look like ballplayers. The camaraderie, the fun, and laughs are a tangential but significant benefit of working at the studio.

After a few of weeks of spirited after-hours practice sessions, we’re ready for our first game against another studio – the reputed powerhouse of the Entertainment Softball League, Warner Bros. Studios.

On this chilly L.A. winter evening, Lori’s behind the plate and I’m on the pitcher’s mound. Newcomer Bobby Logan is at third. Linda Levin covers second. Mike Cowan, an incredible athlete, is at first. I don’t know our outfielders well. Infielders are a tight-knit group, a subset of a team.

With warm-ups finished, the umpire calls “Play ball!” As Warner Bros.’ leadoff batter strides to home plate, it’s a shocker. It’s Linda Blair, who played Regan, the twelve-year old girl inhabited by a demonic entity in the epic horror film The Exorcist!

Bobby jumps all over her, calling, “Spin your head, Regan!” Cuppings his hands around his mouth, Bobby shouts, “Careful, Jack! Smoke her and she might spit pea soup at you!” I frown as I recall the gross-out scene in The Exorcist when the director William Friedkin had Linda Blair spit pretend-vomit pea soup into the priest’s face.

I hear protesting boos, the Warner Bros.’ ballplayers and fans getting ticked off. Before long I’d find out why it’s not a good idea to open a door to the occult…