Still Talking by Joan Rivers, Richard Meryman Page A
Authors: Joan Rivers, Richard Meryman
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Rosenberg.
I kept saying to him, “Are you sure? Are you sure? What’s going to happen if the show doesn’t work?” To me he was already a movie producer, and this little half-hour morning show seemed like a comedown.
I worried that he was giving up his power base. What would happen if this man, who was used to going to work every day and wielding power, was now home all day? Would that put a tremendous strain on the marriage?
I remember I was sitting on the bed with my legs up, and he was taking off his shirt and tie and he said, “I’ve always wanted to go back and produce for television. If the show only lasts thirteen weeks, I’ll produce other things.” I did not realize at the time that Telsun was winding down and he had no other film possibilities. Anna Rosenberg Associates was a public-relations firm, a far distance from show business, Edgar’s addiction, where he had tasted its glamour and power at the top level. In New York Edgar enjoyed the perks of an important producer, had offices on Fifth Avenue near Rockefeller Center, and his secretary, Ruth Feyer, had been General George Marshall’s secretary. Romancing clients is no longer stimulating when for years you’ve been flying from New York to
STILL TALKING 71
France to Yugoslavia to walk onto movie sets and solve everybody’s problems.
Edgar earned the right to tremendous pride in what he had done. And Edgar’s pride as a man-along with his intellect and experience as a producer-was a big asset for me because I was so vulnerable, so constantly in need of support and reassurance. I did not realize that the roots of that pride extended dangerously deep into his psyche, that it was rooted in lifelong emotional needs that would handicap him for the next logical step into the film business.
Through Telsun he had access to major movie people like David Lean, Tony Richardson, Peter Sellers, and Sean Connery. All sorts of doors were open.
With a partner named Sidney Kaufman, he looked for production projects, but they always seemed to be holding out for the perfect deal. If Edgar did all the development work on a film idea that interested Sam Spiegel, Edgar thought he deserved half the money. It was not in him to give away 80
percent to get Spiegel’s backing, though that would make the project happen. To Edgar the unfairness was a breach of honor and principle, an insult that diminished him. For better or worse, he was not a compromiser, and you had to respect that.
Also, Edgar did not have a gambler’s soul. Closing a deal is shooting crap, putting your reputation and selfesteem on the line. He could oversee my career, but was terrified by risking his own personal failure. Once a package had been put together, he could run it brilliantly-but somebody else had to throw the dice.
The William Morris TV-show package was irresistible because it put Edgar at the top with complete control. Where my showbusiness addiction is drinking in love on a stage, his drug was to be the boss, answering to no one. At the time I believed he was simply a strong, take-charge person, but ultimately events turned that need into a flaw that brought us both down.
I think Edgar craved control because he had such a hard time handling uncertainty. And I believe the reason lay in his past. Whenever a goal had been in his grasp, it had always been yanked away.
72 JOAN RIVERS
Born in 1925, Edgar grew up in Bremerhaven, Germany, doted on by his dominating mother and three aunts. His father, Berthold, owned a prosperous butcher shop. In that family they believed that if you did well financially, you were smart. If you did poorly, you were dumb.
The family, threatened by the Nazis, fled first to the larger city of Hamburg, and then, when Edgar was eight, to Copenhagen, Denmark. Edgar told me that they crossed the German border with only what they could carry, and he had chosen his pet canary and toy soldiers. At the crossing a Prussian guard took these most prized
I kept saying to him, “Are you sure? Are you sure? What’s going to happen if the show doesn’t work?” To me he was already a movie producer, and this little half-hour morning show seemed like a comedown.
I worried that he was giving up his power base. What would happen if this man, who was used to going to work every day and wielding power, was now home all day? Would that put a tremendous strain on the marriage?
I remember I was sitting on the bed with my legs up, and he was taking off his shirt and tie and he said, “I’ve always wanted to go back and produce for television. If the show only lasts thirteen weeks, I’ll produce other things.” I did not realize at the time that Telsun was winding down and he had no other film possibilities. Anna Rosenberg Associates was a public-relations firm, a far distance from show business, Edgar’s addiction, where he had tasted its glamour and power at the top level. In New York Edgar enjoyed the perks of an important producer, had offices on Fifth Avenue near Rockefeller Center, and his secretary, Ruth Feyer, had been General George Marshall’s secretary. Romancing clients is no longer stimulating when for years you’ve been flying from New York to
STILL TALKING 71
France to Yugoslavia to walk onto movie sets and solve everybody’s problems.
Edgar earned the right to tremendous pride in what he had done. And Edgar’s pride as a man-along with his intellect and experience as a producer-was a big asset for me because I was so vulnerable, so constantly in need of support and reassurance. I did not realize that the roots of that pride extended dangerously deep into his psyche, that it was rooted in lifelong emotional needs that would handicap him for the next logical step into the film business.
Through Telsun he had access to major movie people like David Lean, Tony Richardson, Peter Sellers, and Sean Connery. All sorts of doors were open.
With a partner named Sidney Kaufman, he looked for production projects, but they always seemed to be holding out for the perfect deal. If Edgar did all the development work on a film idea that interested Sam Spiegel, Edgar thought he deserved half the money. It was not in him to give away 80
percent to get Spiegel’s backing, though that would make the project happen. To Edgar the unfairness was a breach of honor and principle, an insult that diminished him. For better or worse, he was not a compromiser, and you had to respect that.
Also, Edgar did not have a gambler’s soul. Closing a deal is shooting crap, putting your reputation and selfesteem on the line. He could oversee my career, but was terrified by risking his own personal failure. Once a package had been put together, he could run it brilliantly-but somebody else had to throw the dice.
The William Morris TV-show package was irresistible because it put Edgar at the top with complete control. Where my showbusiness addiction is drinking in love on a stage, his drug was to be the boss, answering to no one. At the time I believed he was simply a strong, take-charge person, but ultimately events turned that need into a flaw that brought us both down.
I think Edgar craved control because he had such a hard time handling uncertainty. And I believe the reason lay in his past. Whenever a goal had been in his grasp, it had always been yanked away.
72 JOAN RIVERS
Born in 1925, Edgar grew up in Bremerhaven, Germany, doted on by his dominating mother and three aunts. His father, Berthold, owned a prosperous butcher shop. In that family they believed that if you did well financially, you were smart. If you did poorly, you were dumb.
The family, threatened by the Nazis, fled first to the larger city of Hamburg, and then, when Edgar was eight, to Copenhagen, Denmark. Edgar told me that they crossed the German border with only what they could carry, and he had chosen his pet canary and toy soldiers. At the crossing a Prussian guard took these most prized
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