forever, and vice versa. Between one’s brain and the other’s body, they are one perfect person.
MARTY LITKE became vice president in charge of talent, East Coast, at William Morris before leaving in 1974 to pursue management and production. Now in semiretirement, he teaches theater at Rowan University in Glassboro, New Jersey.
MIKE ROSENFELD SR. is one of five former William Morris agents who, in 1975, cofounded Creative Artists Agency. He retired in 1982 and relocated to northern California, where he is now a flight instructor who believes it is better to be lucky than smart.
HARRY UFLAND is a film producer whose work includes Snow Falling on Cedars, The Last Temptation of Christ, Moving Violations, and Not Without My Daughter .
THE MENTOR
William Morris Agency, Los Angeles, 1957–1959
SANFORD LIEBERSON, 1957 • RON MARDIGIAN, 1958 • JOE WIZAN, 1958 •
RON DEBLASIO, 1958 • ROWLAND PERKINS, 1959 • BOB SHAPIRO, 1959
Phil Weltman truly cared. It was his humanity.
—Rowland Perkins
SANFORD LIEBERSON: My parents were both poor immigrants from Russia. My father died when I was eleven. My mother worked for Prudential Insurance, in the cafeteria. Show business seemed as far away from my life as China.
After the navy and L.A. City College I worked part-time in the parking lot of the El Dorado Restaurant. One lunchtime a convertible rolled in with a beautiful blonde in the passenger seat. I realized I’d gone to high school with the driver. I thought, Christ, that’s fantastic. I asked him what he did, and he said he’d become an agent. I didn’t know about agents, but I immediately asked, “What can you do for me?”
BOB SHAPIRO: After college I just wanted to get a job, so I applied at MCA and William Morris. My father, Danny Shapiro, a comedy writer for Bob Hope and The Jackie Gleason Show , was represented by Morris. Big agents like Phil Weltman and Sammy Weisbord had been at my bar mitzvah.
I met at MCA with Earl Zook, then Lou Goldberg at the Morris office. I waited a couple of weeks for a call. Goldberg offered me a job on a Tuesday, and I took it. Zook called Wednesday. When I told him I’d taken the Morris job, he harrumphed.
I cleared $37.50 a week after taxes. Not great, even for 1959, but I was very excited. I had always loved The Man in the Gray Flannel Suit, so I made sure I looked a little like that when I went in. At the Morris office the dress code was less stringent than at MCA, where a friend of mine had been sent home because he wore a Brooks Brothers seersucker suit in the summer.
RON DEBLASIO: I knew I wanted something different from the life mine could easily have become. I’m Italian, from Providence, Rhode Island, son of a pharmacist. I thought going to California would be a way to escape all the predictable stuff. I told my family that after high school I was moving, with or without them. They decided to come, and in 1953 we moved to Pasadena. It was about as white bread as possible.
After college and the service I looked for work at a number of industrial outfits. They all said, “Okay, fine, you got the job. Come in on Tuesday, meet our regional boss.” But I’d always make some excuse and not go. I kept wondering: I’m ambitious, why don’t I want these jobs?
I took three days of tests—interests, aptitude, IQ—to find out. Afterward the adviser said, “You should be dealing with people. You could work insurance, advertising . . . but have you ever heard of MCA?”
I knew a guy from high school who worked in their mailroom. But his clique and my clique had been at odds. I took him out to lunch at Frescati’s. It was a big deal for me to humbly ask my rival if he could get me an interview. He confronted me with my sins of the past, but to my surprise he said he’d make a call.
At lunch I also happened to run into another guy, who, by chance, worked at the William Morris office. “What are you doing with that guy?” he asked. “William
MARTY LITKE became vice president in charge of talent, East Coast, at William Morris before leaving in 1974 to pursue management and production. Now in semiretirement, he teaches theater at Rowan University in Glassboro, New Jersey.
MIKE ROSENFELD SR. is one of five former William Morris agents who, in 1975, cofounded Creative Artists Agency. He retired in 1982 and relocated to northern California, where he is now a flight instructor who believes it is better to be lucky than smart.
HARRY UFLAND is a film producer whose work includes Snow Falling on Cedars, The Last Temptation of Christ, Moving Violations, and Not Without My Daughter .
THE MENTOR
William Morris Agency, Los Angeles, 1957–1959
SANFORD LIEBERSON, 1957 • RON MARDIGIAN, 1958 • JOE WIZAN, 1958 •
RON DEBLASIO, 1958 • ROWLAND PERKINS, 1959 • BOB SHAPIRO, 1959
Phil Weltman truly cared. It was his humanity.
—Rowland Perkins
SANFORD LIEBERSON: My parents were both poor immigrants from Russia. My father died when I was eleven. My mother worked for Prudential Insurance, in the cafeteria. Show business seemed as far away from my life as China.
After the navy and L.A. City College I worked part-time in the parking lot of the El Dorado Restaurant. One lunchtime a convertible rolled in with a beautiful blonde in the passenger seat. I realized I’d gone to high school with the driver. I thought, Christ, that’s fantastic. I asked him what he did, and he said he’d become an agent. I didn’t know about agents, but I immediately asked, “What can you do for me?”
BOB SHAPIRO: After college I just wanted to get a job, so I applied at MCA and William Morris. My father, Danny Shapiro, a comedy writer for Bob Hope and The Jackie Gleason Show , was represented by Morris. Big agents like Phil Weltman and Sammy Weisbord had been at my bar mitzvah.
I met at MCA with Earl Zook, then Lou Goldberg at the Morris office. I waited a couple of weeks for a call. Goldberg offered me a job on a Tuesday, and I took it. Zook called Wednesday. When I told him I’d taken the Morris job, he harrumphed.
I cleared $37.50 a week after taxes. Not great, even for 1959, but I was very excited. I had always loved The Man in the Gray Flannel Suit, so I made sure I looked a little like that when I went in. At the Morris office the dress code was less stringent than at MCA, where a friend of mine had been sent home because he wore a Brooks Brothers seersucker suit in the summer.
RON DEBLASIO: I knew I wanted something different from the life mine could easily have become. I’m Italian, from Providence, Rhode Island, son of a pharmacist. I thought going to California would be a way to escape all the predictable stuff. I told my family that after high school I was moving, with or without them. They decided to come, and in 1953 we moved to Pasadena. It was about as white bread as possible.
After college and the service I looked for work at a number of industrial outfits. They all said, “Okay, fine, you got the job. Come in on Tuesday, meet our regional boss.” But I’d always make some excuse and not go. I kept wondering: I’m ambitious, why don’t I want these jobs?
I took three days of tests—interests, aptitude, IQ—to find out. Afterward the adviser said, “You should be dealing with people. You could work insurance, advertising . . . but have you ever heard of MCA?”
I knew a guy from high school who worked in their mailroom. But his clique and my clique had been at odds. I took him out to lunch at Frescati’s. It was a big deal for me to humbly ask my rival if he could get me an interview. He confronted me with my sins of the past, but to my surprise he said he’d make a call.
At lunch I also happened to run into another guy, who, by chance, worked at the William Morris office. “What are you doing with that guy?” he asked. “William
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