Confessions of a Wayward Baby Boomer

The book begins at 3 a.m near Marina Del Rey. I was found unconscious at the wheel of my

1973 Volkswagen bus. Rocky had met Network on the Twentieth Century Fox lot where fear propelled me into that bus past the Darth Vader greeter at the gate.

I began work as a driver at the Fox studio in the fall of 1977. Bad times seemed behind me, PR jobs, house disappeared in New York. Wife and daughter left after film school. I was 31, full of hope with a screenplay in hand. I just wanted to eat free food on sets and maybe date a lovely extra. They offered me two jobs. One with a dangerous old alcoholic on his last legs gassing executives cars and the other a set up for embezzlement under my signature.

Insanity led to a three building collision of rumors which caused the death of my cinderella Hollywood story, cancellation of the movie deal. As I was blackballed by the teamsters, the unemployment office asked me why. The state then audited all of the Star Wars money at Twentieth Century Fox. I told the Beverly Hills psychiatrist paid through medical "this is an unbelievable story." He agreed. After recovering slowly in San Francisco I vomited up the seventies on a bus headed for Tahoe for a chance to dream again.