Background Shadows
/Andy Warhol said everyone would be famous for 15 minutes.
My buddy Larry Crane was famous for over 50 years.
His musical career began with John Mellencamp. Over the years, his guitar talent was merged with musicians including John Prine, Steve Earle, Bonnie Raitt, Rosanne Cash, Carl Perkins, James McMurtry, Mitch Ryder, Lou Reed, and John Fogerty.
My time to shine?
About 15 seconds.
It was because of Larry.
Oh, what a time we had!
Like that song professes:
“Remember the good and forget the bad.”
Which I did.
Except for one elusive gutter ball.
Let me explain. Here’s what led up to my walk of fame.
In 1999, Larry called me from Chicago.
He was co-starring in a movie titled Bruised Orange. He was putting together a bowling team for a four-day shoot in an old tavern with an eight-lane alley in Lincoln Park.
Now, I had absolutely zero acting experience.
Larry said not to worry. I was just an extra. Just relax. Have fun. Enjoy the magic.
I soon learned “extra” is a Hollywood term for “background shadow that drinks beer.”
For four days, Larry, his brothers Barry and John, and I pretended to bowl between sipping Budweiser in a perpetual Beer Frame.
“Quiet on the set!” is a difficult instruction in a bowling alley. So the floor director would show our Finkle Steel bowling team where the filming frame ended. Once past that point, someone would catch the sixteen-pound ball or we would simply lay it down quietly.
Naturally, every roll was a strike, followed by overzealous reactions to our sensational skills.
Between takes, we would brainstorm different ways to let loose our jubilation.
Other times we’re spent listening to stories from actors Ron Dean, Chris Stolte, Mik Scriba, Wanda De Jesus, Victor Love and John Schafer.
On the fourth day, the director yelled,
“Hey, Gardiner! You’re up. This is your scene!”
I froze.
Nobody told me I had a scene.
I didn’t even know the director knew my name.
Luckily, the direction was simple:
Put down beer. Walk to lane. Aim. Roll a gutter ball.
Step one I had cold.
I’d been rehearsing it for days.
The rest? I’m no rocket surgeon, but this should be easy-peasy.
Right?
Wrong!
I hadn’t bowled since the ’70s, when I used a three-step approach.
In my stunned consciousness, I set up for a five-step approach.
I took a cleansing breath, then heard:
“Quiet on the set! Roll sound. Roll camera. Marker. Action!”
I took aim for the right gutter.
Then, in three steps, I rolled the ball two steps before the foul line.
The ball landed with overspin, winked at the gutter and headed straight for the pocket.
Pins began falling.
As did most of the crew!
As I returned to the bench, I watched them laughing hysterically at the guy who couldn’t even roll a gutter ball!
The director was not amused.
He unleashed a tirade that would shame a Teamster.
“Take two, Gardiner!
Quit wasting my film and roll a frickin’ gutter ball!”
So I did.
CUT. PRINT.
And with that, my Hollywood career quietly came to a close.
As the late, great John Prine wrote…
“It’s a memory that can’t be boughten… can’t be won at carnivals for free.”
By Don Gardiner
From: United States