Jason Priestley by Jason Priestley Page B

around double-and triple-checking everything. Finally, they declared the area safe.
    Apparently, 90210 had worn out its welcome at Torrance High.

Tucson
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    A ppearing in the movie Tombstone on my hiatus was a fantastic opportunity. I loved the script as soon as I read it, and I couldn’t resist doing a western costume drama, which was so different from what I was doing at my day job on 90210 . The cast was all-star: everyone from Kurt Russell as Wyatt Earp to Val Kilmer in an unforgettable portrayal of Doc Holliday, to the veteran of a hundred westerns, Sam Elliott himself.
    I played the supporting role of Billy Breckinridge, a sweet and naive young man hopelessly out of place, tagging along with a gang of vicious bad guys known as the Cowboys, identifiable by their blood-red sashes. The movie shot on location around Tucson with a huge cast. Along with all the movie stars and “film” actors in the cast, there were a couple of other faces that were recognizable from television. Thomas Haden Church, playing his first role as a mechanic on Wings at the time, was there playing a Cowboy, as was John Corbett from Northern Exposure , almost unrecognizable behind his beard. The three of us were immediately tagged the “TV guys” and became fast friends.
    On Friday, after only one week of shooting, the film’s director, Kevin Jarre, was replaced. All the actors were informed that a new director, George Cosmatos, would be coming in on Monday. That weekend, the entire cast and crew speculated endlessly about this bombshell. What’s going to become of this film? What about my role? What’s going to happen to me ? The first instinct of many of the actors was to quit, as they felt the film had been Kevin’s baby. His brilliant script and the opportunity to work with him were the main reasons we were all there. There was such a hubbub over his firing that Sam Elliott called a meeting in his room for the actors to air their grievances.
    Michael Biehn, who played the gunslinger Johnny Ringo, was particularly upset by the change; he was a close friend of Kevin’s. During the meeting in Sam’s room we were all drinking whiskey. After a few shots, Michael really let loose. “I’m not doing this fucking movie with anybody but Kevin,” he said, and “This is bullshit,” and on and on.
    â€œMichael,” I said. “You don’t know George. Why don’t you wait and see what he’s like on Monday? It might all work out.”
    Michael stood up and walked across the room toward me. “What did you say . . . kid?”
    Emotions were running high, and all his frustration and anger was suddenly redirected at me. The menace in the air was unmistakable, and the hair on the back of my neck literally stood up. I rose as he drew near, bracing for a fight.
    â€œWhoa, whoa, hold on there, boys,” Sam Elliott jumped in. “There’ll be no fighting in my room.” He soon got everyone sorted out and reseated. Thank God, because I didn’t like where that confrontation was headed.
    George Cosmatos, director of Rambo and Cobra, arrived and took the helm. All of the actors ultimately stayed on board. Production on what was destined to become a classic film moved ahead, and I had the time of my life. Tommy, Johnny, and I headed out on the weekends and just tore up the greater Tucson area. Maybe because we appeared in people’s living rooms every week, the three of us were always the first to be recognized when a bunch of the cast was out together. Kurt Russell, a major star for most of his life, told me that growing his big mustache was the best disguise ever . . . he could walk around anywhere and no one paid him any attention. He was having a great time.
    As for the TV guys, bad behavior abounded all around. We used to come staggering home in the early morning and grab a few hours of sleep, then drag ourselves out to the pool with a cooler full