known of our candidates, but I had liked her from the first. Shephard nodded, and then everyone concurred.
It wasn’t until the next day that Shephard had second thoughts. He had learned that Emmy Award–winning actress Susan Clark was available and just might be interested in doing what then would have been her first television series. I was determined to be open-minded. Susan Clark was, after all, a major television name. She had, at that time, never before done a television series. Signing her would be a coup.
Ms. Clark had refused to read for the part. Shephard acknowledged this was to her detriment, especially in light of the obvious chemistry of Meg Foster’s reading with Tyne Daly. Nevertheless, the network chief asked me to consider the insurance of some kind of name to replace the not-insubstantial loss of Loretta Swit .
A meeting was set for Rosenbloom, Daly, and me at the home of Ms. Clark and her then-husband Alex Karras. As the producer of Daniel Boone I had, some years before, given Mr. Karras his first acting role in Hollywood (“in Hollywood”, in that all he had done on screen before that was to play a cameo as himself—a Detroit Lions footballer in the filmization of the George Plimpton tome Paper Lion ). The evening was therefore off to a warm and nostalgic start.
Without trying to be too obvious about it, we worked out the evening’s seating arrangement so that Ms. Clark and Ms. Daly sat next to each other on the couch. We were all affable and friendly, but I concentrated on watching and listening to the two women rather than making, or contributing very much to, the conversation myself.
Clark and Daly seemed to get on famously and, so far as I could tell, had a fair amount of respect for each other. The conversations were pretty much of a general nature, primarily centering on their craft but not focusing at all specifically on our series or our production plan. A little over an hour later, the conference was over, and we bid Ms. Clark and Mr. Karras goodnight.
I was in Shephard’s office the next morning. “It’s OK with me,” I said, and then added, “Provided we set the show in Kansas instead of New York and change the title to Lacey & Lacey .”
The CBS chief was not big on sarcasm. I clarified my Lacey & Lacey remark by telling him my feeling that Tyne Daly and Susan Clark might be a viable duo as sisters, but that there wasn’t enough contrast between the two of them to make for an interesting team. I also ventured the opinion that no one would believe Ms. Clark as the hard-bitten New Yorker we had written for Cagney. Harvey Shephard wasn’t used to being disagreed with, and he did not take to my being cute about it. We argued. He pointed out the virtue of a star and the fine creative credentials of his candidate. I countered with my nominee’s chemistry, sex appeal, and physical imagery. We were at a standstill. Neither was convincing the other. Shephard was adamant, and I wasn’t blinking.
There was what seemed an inordinately long period of time where he simply stared at me. I stared back. Finally, I asked, “So what do we do now?”
He punched a button on his intercom. The voice of CBS casting director Jean Guest came over the speaker. Over the phone, and in as even-handed a fashion as he could, Shephard asked for Ms. Guest to choose between Meg Foster and Susan Clark for the role of Christine Cagney.
This blatantly self-serving setup had my eyes midway in their roll heavenward when the disembodied voice of Ms. Guest most unequivocally stated, “Meg Foster.” I ceased my upward glance and smiled.
Ms. Guest received a cursory thank-you from her employer, who then punched some more buttons. CBS executive Bob Silberling’s voice came over the speaker. Shephard’s tone had somewhat changed, I thought. This time he indicated I was with him in the room and that we were having a “discussion” about the merits of who would be the best choice between the known Ms. Clark
It wasn’t until the next day that Shephard had second thoughts. He had learned that Emmy Award–winning actress Susan Clark was available and just might be interested in doing what then would have been her first television series. I was determined to be open-minded. Susan Clark was, after all, a major television name. She had, at that time, never before done a television series. Signing her would be a coup.
Ms. Clark had refused to read for the part. Shephard acknowledged this was to her detriment, especially in light of the obvious chemistry of Meg Foster’s reading with Tyne Daly. Nevertheless, the network chief asked me to consider the insurance of some kind of name to replace the not-insubstantial loss of Loretta Swit .
A meeting was set for Rosenbloom, Daly, and me at the home of Ms. Clark and her then-husband Alex Karras. As the producer of Daniel Boone I had, some years before, given Mr. Karras his first acting role in Hollywood (“in Hollywood”, in that all he had done on screen before that was to play a cameo as himself—a Detroit Lions footballer in the filmization of the George Plimpton tome Paper Lion ). The evening was therefore off to a warm and nostalgic start.
Without trying to be too obvious about it, we worked out the evening’s seating arrangement so that Ms. Clark and Ms. Daly sat next to each other on the couch. We were all affable and friendly, but I concentrated on watching and listening to the two women rather than making, or contributing very much to, the conversation myself.
Clark and Daly seemed to get on famously and, so far as I could tell, had a fair amount of respect for each other. The conversations were pretty much of a general nature, primarily centering on their craft but not focusing at all specifically on our series or our production plan. A little over an hour later, the conference was over, and we bid Ms. Clark and Mr. Karras goodnight.
I was in Shephard’s office the next morning. “It’s OK with me,” I said, and then added, “Provided we set the show in Kansas instead of New York and change the title to Lacey & Lacey .”
The CBS chief was not big on sarcasm. I clarified my Lacey & Lacey remark by telling him my feeling that Tyne Daly and Susan Clark might be a viable duo as sisters, but that there wasn’t enough contrast between the two of them to make for an interesting team. I also ventured the opinion that no one would believe Ms. Clark as the hard-bitten New Yorker we had written for Cagney. Harvey Shephard wasn’t used to being disagreed with, and he did not take to my being cute about it. We argued. He pointed out the virtue of a star and the fine creative credentials of his candidate. I countered with my nominee’s chemistry, sex appeal, and physical imagery. We were at a standstill. Neither was convincing the other. Shephard was adamant, and I wasn’t blinking.
There was what seemed an inordinately long period of time where he simply stared at me. I stared back. Finally, I asked, “So what do we do now?”
He punched a button on his intercom. The voice of CBS casting director Jean Guest came over the speaker. Over the phone, and in as even-handed a fashion as he could, Shephard asked for Ms. Guest to choose between Meg Foster and Susan Clark for the role of Christine Cagney.
This blatantly self-serving setup had my eyes midway in their roll heavenward when the disembodied voice of Ms. Guest most unequivocally stated, “Meg Foster.” I ceased my upward glance and smiled.
Ms. Guest received a cursory thank-you from her employer, who then punched some more buttons. CBS executive Bob Silberling’s voice came over the speaker. Shephard’s tone had somewhat changed, I thought. This time he indicated I was with him in the room and that we were having a “discussion” about the merits of who would be the best choice between the known Ms. Clark
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