Meeting Mel Gibson ~ Excerpt from “Diary of a Hollywood Nobody”

Copyright 2011-2024 by Lisa Maliga

Thursday, May 18

I was sentenced to eight hours in the legal department at Warner Bros. The lawyer’s secretary was pregnant and all she did was sit behind her desk and talk on the phone. The lawyer, Mr. Manic, was civil to me at first. He sauntered in around 10:30 and disappeared into his office on the other side of the suite. Preggers sat in the large reception area and I was squeezed into a file room with a desk on the other side of the secretary’s office. The water cooler was beside the desk and he came over to fill up a mug and hand me his car keys! Mr. Manic told me to go down to his car, a Jaguar convertible, and retrieve his briefcase.

I loped downstairs, glad to get out into the sunny day and check out his wheels. It was a white Jag. with a matching leather interior and it sure smelled clean and new when I opened the door. Then I saw the briefcase. It wasn’t the standard issue case made of imported leather; it was quadruple sized and HEAVY! As I lugged it out of the car, I almost dropped the damn thing.  That it contained books was evident–but all 26 volumes of the Encyclopedia Britannica? 

The briefcase never left the ground. Having to go upstairs in the elevatorless Admin. building meant that the case rested on each step. Mr. Manic was having me, someone who was probably half his weight, play pack mule? Why? Did he hate temps?

The endearing Mr. Manic also had his car washed for him. A man stopped by and asked Preggers for the car keys so the Jag. could be washed and the gas tank filled. I’d happened to be in the reception area doing some file organizing so I witnessed the man pocketing the keys. I wanted to tell him to make sure he left the top down and hit every phone pole on the way back!

Preggers had me “run” to the mailroom to drop off some important letters. Just as I was rounding a corner, I barely avoided slamming into an equally surprised Mel Gibson! Those famous blue eyes were huge; we were just inches from a collision!

Book link: Diary of a Hollywood Nobody

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1992 Los Angeles Riots Excerpt from ‘Diary of a Hollywood Nobody’

By Lisa Maliga, copyright 2015

This is an edited excerpt from my novel, Diary of a Hollywood Nobody.

Wednesday, April 29, 1992

On Monday, I began a new assignment in the basement of the Union Pacific Bank. There were several departments in the sprawling basement and I got lucky as the lawyer I worked for took every Wednesday afternoon off in order to perfect his golf game at the Wilshire Country Club.

George, the guy in charge of the mailroom, came over to the desk where I sat. My work consisted of alphabetizing loan applications for another secretary. I noticed his serious expression as he told me that the four cops who’d beaten Rodney King had been acquitted out in Simi Valley. The look on his broad Samoan face told me that he didn’t agree with the decision. Neither did I. “People are outside the court house yelling guilty, guilty.” He shook his head. “They’re saying it could get ugly…”

Quitting time was five o’clock and I drove home the usual way and didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Until I got home and turned on the TV. I still didn’t have cable but that didn’t matter as every channel was broadcasting the events. Fires were set, looters invaded stores, and my adopted city was in a state of chaos. The only noise I heard was that of sirens screaming down Melrose and helicopters overhead.

Thursday, April 30

Early that morning I called Alltemps and asked if I should go in to work. The answer was yes. I guess being located in the middle of Beverly Hills changed their perspective.

I took Sunset to downtown and parked at the usual lot east of the business district on 6th and Bixel. There weren’t many cars. In the distance, I saw plumes of smoke. L.A. was on fire and I had to report to work in the basement of a bank.

The bank office was abuzz with static-filled radios. Iesha, a South Central resident, spoke of a night of terror. Luckily, her house remained intact and her kids were unharmed. Her husband was out of town so she and her three grade-school aged children endured a night of fires and looting and helicopters buzzing overhead. The nearby mini-mall was looted and burned. No more convenience store, video shop, or Chinese takeout remained.

Sybil was another black woman who had a firecracker of a night. She resided in Koreatown, a hard-hit area near 8th and Vermont. Her apartment was unscathed, but she received a free fire show. Windows broke. Gunshots rang out.

Every so often, someone would remember the employees below street level and announce another mishap. Looting on 6th Street. Fires burned everywhere. No work was done.

By noon, we were dismissed due to the ‘civil disturbance.’ Nerves were wrought. Various forms of panic seized the employees. George was accompanying Rosalinda to her bus stop near Skid Row.

I was driven to the outdoor lot across the Harbor Freeway. Two other cars remained in the $3 per day lot. Behind me, the smoke was billowing higher and darker. I locked my car doors. I was leaving work at lunchtime and wasn’t pretending I was sick; there was a legitimate excuse for going home early.

It started gradually. I noticed more pedestrians on the sidewalks than usual. Teens. Little kids. Mothers.  They headed westwards, about a half mile from Vermont Avenue. People trotting, some running. Uphill, at the intersection of Beverly and Vermont, traffic stopped at a green light.

Read more about the riots as well as the excesses of the 1990’s as a nobody tries to become a somebody in Hollywood. This unique diary is available here:
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Diary of a Hollywood Nobody ~ New Cover + Excerpt

By Lisa Maliga

Copyright 2014

In Hollywood, nobodies are as disposable as toilet paper.

Although I’ve written a little about Hollywood in NOTES FROM NADIR, the majority of that book takes place far, far away from Hollywood.

What really happened in Hollywood? How easy is it to sell a screenplay? Did I work in the entertainment industry? Did I meet lots of celebrities?

DIARY OF A HOLLYWOOD NOBODY is partially based on my years working in wonderful world of showbiz. My character, Chris Yarborough, is someone who might have a few similarities to me. This book is based on people I met in Lalaland. I’ve also incorporated other peoples’ stories to make this a better read. Some of the characters names have been changed to protect the innocent … and the guilty. The following excerpt takes place in 1993.

***

I arrived at the studio and parked in visitor’s parking. I went to the admin. building and the person who was in charge of processing over 2,000 invitations wasn’t located in the studio head’s office.

Marybeth, my contact, was a gregarious young woman in a cream colored pants suit. She smiled and escorted me into a little room containing a copier and office supplies. There was a typewriter on a folding table along with an ancient plastic chair. My job was to type the addresses directly onto the envelopes. No labels were used. The typewriter was old enough to vote and whenever I got any speed going, it jammed. I felt like I was in a bad movie. Every time I hit the CAPS key, the machine locked up and spit out different letters than what I typed! Finally, I told Marybeth about the Jaws-like machine and she tried it. The same thing happened to her.

It was lunchtime, so I could use another typewriter at the opposite end of the building. I grabbed the list, the envelopes, and my tote bag containing my purse and sneakers, and set up in another area. I was a portable temp. Cramped copier room, lunch-going secretary’s desk. Didn’t matter. Chris, the port-a-temp. Then Marybeth emphasized the obvious:

“Don’t get too comfortable.”

I nodded and continued lining up the tabs on the typewriter. It was the story of my port-a-temp career–I wasn’t ever comfortable. I got told what to do by secretaries and junior secretaries. Even clerks. I did other people’s work for less money.

Read the book’s description here: Diary of a Hollywood Nobody