One day in November 1980 my mother phoned my Chicago office. She had read a newspaper report about a call for TV movie extras being held that evening at a Skokie auditorium. The proposed film, titled Skokie, would detail the late 1970's effort by the Chicago suburb to prevent a march in its large Jewish community by a neo-Nazi group. Although I then lived in Skokie, I had only heard about the commotion through the media.
I fantasized about starring in a movie despite having no acting experience other than grade school plays. Having accumulated much vacation time I was able to take off from work. So I attended the call not knowing what exactly to expect. The long lines moved rather quickly. The interview itself was short, and people were preferred who simply could fit and dress themselves for the part. For example, in real life I was a lawyer, so they assigned me to a court room scene where I played a second assistant attorney.
Extras had no speaking role, but you can see me sitting near Eli Wallach for about 10 minutes, which shoot took two days at a courthouse in Evanston, Illinois. Between takes, extras observed the intricate technical proceedings and got to chat with many of the cast and crew on the set. Makeup was frequently applied to our faces covering up five o'clock shadow or sweat. We were fed a light breakfast and full lunch, but dinner hour came and went. Certain actors kept forgetting their lines, tempers flared as the evening wore on. At the end of the first day as we were reminded to wear the same clothes for the next day's finish, one man jokingly asked if we could at least change our underwear.
Several of us extras, especially those who were prompt and didn't complain about the long schedules, were asked to be in additional scenes. I appeared in two town meeting sequences filmed in a Skokie synagogue, and in a political rally where we sang patriotically in front of the actual Skokie village hall. Skokie's mayor visited us and greeted the actor portraying him, Ed Flanders, later Dr. Westphall of St. Elsewhere. Many extras were in fact concentration camp survivors living in Skokie. There was an authentic intensity underlying the crowd scenes so the "acting" seemed for real.
When I first viewed the movie, telecast on CBS in 1981, I focused strictly on searching for myself. Only mom recognized me at every shot even catching one I missed. My other family and friends concentrated on the story. Using a Betamax I taped the program, eventually putting it away with my other mementos. In 2003, while browsing a video store, I discovered the Skokie DVD and snatched the two shelf copies. I found the disc quality superb and located every semblance of my younger self. In comparison I played the tape and was shocked at how badly it had deteriorated. DVDs are hoped to have a longer life.
Of course the movie Skokie has its flaws. But in retrospect the melodramatic moments seem very true. The film illustrates the dangers to yourself when the rights of others are assaulted. Experiencing Skokie, I felt aware. Watching Skokie, so might you.
I fantasized about starring in a movie despite having no acting experience other than grade school plays. Having accumulated much vacation time I was able to take off from work. So I attended the call not knowing what exactly to expect. The long lines moved rather quickly. The interview itself was short, and people were preferred who simply could fit and dress themselves for the part. For example, in real life I was a lawyer, so they assigned me to a court room scene where I played a second assistant attorney.
Extras had no speaking role, but you can see me sitting near Eli Wallach for about 10 minutes, which shoot took two days at a courthouse in Evanston, Illinois. Between takes, extras observed the intricate technical proceedings and got to chat with many of the cast and crew on the set. Makeup was frequently applied to our faces covering up five o'clock shadow or sweat. We were fed a light breakfast and full lunch, but dinner hour came and went. Certain actors kept forgetting their lines, tempers flared as the evening wore on. At the end of the first day as we were reminded to wear the same clothes for the next day's finish, one man jokingly asked if we could at least change our underwear.
Several of us extras, especially those who were prompt and didn't complain about the long schedules, were asked to be in additional scenes. I appeared in two town meeting sequences filmed in a Skokie synagogue, and in a political rally where we sang patriotically in front of the actual Skokie village hall. Skokie's mayor visited us and greeted the actor portraying him, Ed Flanders, later Dr. Westphall of St. Elsewhere. Many extras were in fact concentration camp survivors living in Skokie. There was an authentic intensity underlying the crowd scenes so the "acting" seemed for real.
When I first viewed the movie, telecast on CBS in 1981, I focused strictly on searching for myself. Only mom recognized me at every shot even catching one I missed. My other family and friends concentrated on the story. Using a Betamax I taped the program, eventually putting it away with my other mementos. In 2003, while browsing a video store, I discovered the Skokie DVD and snatched the two shelf copies. I found the disc quality superb and located every semblance of my younger self. In comparison I played the tape and was shocked at how badly it had deteriorated. DVDs are hoped to have a longer life.
Of course the movie Skokie has its flaws. But in retrospect the melodramatic moments seem very true. The film illustrates the dangers to yourself when the rights of others are assaulted. Experiencing Skokie, I felt aware. Watching Skokie, so might you.