See Don Asher say a line in the trailer from "Public Enemies" on the last page.
INTRODUCTION
The email hit my inbox on Thursday morning February 28, 2008. The message from the Joan Philo Casting Co. in Chicago blasted to the Times’ newsroom was straightforward: the agency was looking for real newspapermen, to be extras for an upcoming movie, Public Enemies. Women need not apply, there were no women reporters in the 1930s (or`40s or `50s, for that matter.) Oh, and by the way potential extras, the message said, the movie stars Johnny Depp.
Photo by Robert B. Hollingsworth Jr.
Johnny Depp waves to a crowd of thousands in downtown Crown Point, Indiana.
I was born and raised on the north side of Chicago, in Lincoln Park, long before it was “Lincoln Park” and knew the story of how the notorious gangster John Dillinger was gunned down by a small platoon of FBI agents, Chicago and East Chicago, Indiana police in 1934 in front of the Biograph on Lincoln Ave. The Biograph was still a neighborhood theater then, back when my folks paid 12 cents for me to be scared out of my wits by the original War of the Worlds one Saturday afternoon in 1954.
Scared kid to movie star, that’s a good transition, I tried the idea out on my wife Donna first. In spite of the hideous winter raging outside, it must have been 70 degrees and sunny in Donna’s head or maybe she was just fantasizing about meeting Johnny Depp. Anyway excited beyond words, it took her but a nano-second to urge me to “go for it.” So I found a head shot in our computer system and fired off the email with a photo, sizes, and contact info to the folks at Joan Philo within an hour.
Of course I wasn’t the only guy at the Times who had answered the stardom’s siren call as I found out later that day. I was competing with several younger staffers. Good and bad in my mind. Maybe the movie people would take more than one of us and then we’d have company. I checked myself --- Was I thinking I actually had a shot at getting hired for this? That evening as Donna and I were sitting around laughing about my non-existent Hollywood career, my cell phone rang showing a 312 area code on the caller ID. I exhaled. I answered.
“Hi, this is Brian from Joan Philo Casting. Are you Don Asher?”
“Yes.”
“Can you come to an audition tomorrow in Chicago?”
“Gee,” I told Brian, “I’ve got appointments tomorrow.” Then the realization of what was unfolding before me hit, even though it was nowhere near the adventure it ended up.
“Umm, what time?” I asked. “12:30,” he said. “Okay, I’ll be there.”
“Oh, one more thing, wear the same suit you wore in the photo you sent,” Brian asked.
I said okay, but I didn’t. I actually wore a different dark suit.
It was a restless night. I was awake early wondering how the day’s events would unfold.
I spent most of the morning at work, but not thinking about work. My mind was on driving to Chicago and how not to make a fool of myself during the audition.
It was a clear, cold day.
I found a parking place just across from the building in the west Loop on Randolph and Ogden where the Joan Philo agency is located. The hallway smelled of a recent paint and plaster job and there was a neatly printed sign pasted on the wall that said, “MOVIE CASTING,” with an arrow pointing at a 90-degree angle down another hallway. Gulp.
And then I was in….inside a new – almost unfinished – office, with boxes all over the place and desks where a sea of 20-somethings were sitting, very seriously talking into cell phones. A young woman sat at a desk as I entered what would become a whole new world. She looked up over her glasses. “Can I help you?”
Yes, I’m looking for Brian, I said. This got the attention of the skinny, little guy behind her. “I’m Brian.”
Like the receptionist at a doctor’s office, Brian handed me a clipboard and pen to fill out some forms. Then he led me across the room where there was a tripod outfitted with a small point and shoot digital camera.
“Stand here,” Brian commanded as he backed away towards the tripod.
“Should I take my overcoat off?” “No, leave it on,” Brian instructed, “and don’t smile!” I noticed behind his shoulder that there was a bulletin board of unsmiling guys with overcoats: police mugshots. After Brian took a set of digital photos, he took Polaroids. Then he led me further through the cavernous room to a row of four metal folding chairs. The hand-written paper sign over the chairs said, “GREEN ROOM.” Now, Brian said I would have to wait because the auditions were being done in groups of three. He disappeared and returned with a two-page script. “You might want to look over these lines because you might have to say them during the audition.”
I was busily memorizing the four reporter lines when the other two members of the audition arrived. A Times’ photographer (an ace videographer) Christopher Smith and columnist Phil Potempa walked over to the folding chairs. Christopher and Phil went through the same process.
In the meantime, a tall brunette, who I recognized from the Joan Philo website as Joan herself, came over and asked “What’s this?”
Joan was a 30-something typical Chicago business woman in casual dress.
Never introducing herself I showed her a copy of a billboard advertising campaign that I was in some years back. And, a photograph of me holding the actual Tommy Gun John Dillinger took when he escaped from the Crown Point jail.
“How do you know it’s the real thing,” she said in a disbelieving tone. “Well I pointed, that’s Porter County Sheriff Dave Lain, and the gun is the property of the Porter County Sheriff’s Department…and I know the sheriff,” I shot back.
“Oh,” and that was it. She hustled off to another part of the office.
By then Christopher and Phil were done.
Within minutes the very efficient Brian was back to lead us into a windowless room. A tall thin geeky-looking guy was hovering over a video camera at the back of the room and next to him a young woman who I imagined was a prototype LA personal assistant of undetermined middle age, working the keyboard of a laptop computer that was sitting on top of a card table.
The young man explained the first task --- to get a video of us saying our name, height, and job. We did a run through one at a time.
“Your job?” he said.
“Editor,” I said. He shook his head no.
“For this you’re a reporter.”
“Don Asher. 5 feet 11 inches. Reporter.” I said, just as a woman I would later learn was Mickie Paschal from TPR Casting in Chicago, a short, dark-haired, Type A personality, walked in to the room with Joan Philo
“Hi. I’m going to explain what we’re going to do. I want you three to pretend you’re in a room full of reporters waiting for a press conference to begin with John Dillinger. Dillinger comes in and you begin competing to ask questions. I’ll give you your lines. Wait until I point to you before delivering your line,” Mickie said.
Individually she told us our line. “Okay, let’s go.”
“Johnny, Johnny, Johnny,” the three of us yelled like hyenas. Mickie started pointing at us one by one. We each delivered our line. Mine was “Johnny, are you glad to see Indiana again…...” Because I had studied my script like a responsible actor I knew what the response would be. So did Mickie and she threw her line back at me without hesitation.
“We’re going to switch lines and do it again,” Mickie said. We ran through the scene again. Remembering my lines seemed like a huge accomplishment. “We’re almost done,” Mickie said. “Now you’re going to be on camera individually and I’ll ask a few questions.”
I went second. “What’s your name? What do you do? What’s the most exciting story you’ve covered?” I answered, but I got this sinking feeling that I wasn’t doing well.
“OK thanks,” Mickie said, dismissing me. But I kept going, “I’m a third generation Chicago area journalist, born in Chicago…….” Mickie kept looking at me and told the cameraman to keep going, then she instructed the woman operating the laptop to “get that down.” It was a desperate ploy, but it was what Dustin Hoffman would have done. I was sure of that.
Once the three of us were done, Mickie shot us a quick smile that gave nothing away and told us we did great.
“Right,” I thought to myself. We went our separate ways, back to the same workplace. Driving home to Valparaiso, I was trying to be philosophical about the inevitable disappointment coming up, “I’m glad that’s over,” I thought. “At least I tried.” Over the weekend I tried to dismiss and forget about it but of course, I just kept hoping.
THE CALL BACK
The first Tuesday in March it was dark and cold and I was beat. By 8:30 that night, I was falling asleep in a chair when Donna said my cell phone was ringing. By the time I got to the kitchen to answer it the call had disappeared. Then I saw the light and message – new voicemail. I checked the phone number, a 312 area code.
I called my voicemail. It was Brian.
“Hi, this is Brian from Public_Enemies. Michael Mann (the movie director Michael Mann) has reviewed your tape and liked what he saw. Please call me back and don’t cut your hair.” I immediately called back. Of course, Brian picked up his phone on the first ring. “Oh good Don, just wanted to make sure you got my message and don’t cut your hair. Someone will be in touch with you soon.” The phone clicked off.
Sixty-three hours later the movie people called from New York.
“Hi, this is Leeba from Avy Kaufman casting in New York,” this young, straightforward, business voice said. “We’d like to hire you for a role in Public_Enemies. Do you have an agent?”
I laughed.
“No, I’m in the newspaper business, so no I don’t have an agent.” I was hoping that they wouldn’t change their mind based on my inexperience.
“Oh, you’re a real newspaperman man?” Leeba said, suddenly intrigued by my exotic background.
“Yes, that’s me.”
Leeba started to laugh and said, “OK, no problem. I’ll help you through this. I want to email you an offer and you’ll need to send me some information.”
Within minutes the offer arrived in my inbox. “Subject: Public Enemies, Public Enemies would like to offer you the role of Reporter #1. Offer is daily scale ….”
I wasn’t on Facebook yet, so I called everybody on earth. Phil Potempa had also been hired as Reporter #3, as well as another local reporter Andrew Steele, Reporter#2. Robert Hollingsworth from Highland had been hired as Hoover reporter #1.
On Monday, Mickie called, “Did New York contact you and did you send them the information they needed?”
“Yes, as far as I know they now have everything they need.”
“Good,” Mickie said. Pause. “Will I have a speaking role?” I asked naively.
“Oh yes, “she said definitely. “Probably more than one.”
By Thursday the following week I was going nuts. I decided to call the production office in Chicago at the number in Leeba’s email. Somebody named Holly answered.
“Hi, I’m Don Asher and I was just calling because I’ve been cast as Reporter #1 in Public Enemies,” I said nonchalantly. “And I know that shooting is coming up and I’m trying to figure out my schedule for next week. Do you have any idea what, if any days, I’ll need to keep open next week?”
“No,” Holly said politely and firmly. “And there’s no one here right now who can answer that. What’s your name and phone number? I’ll have someone call you.”
Now I was in trouble. I was probably going to get fired for harassing the movie producers. Within 10 minutes my phone rang. “Hi, this is David Kelly, AD with “Public Enemies.” Even though I hadn’t figured out what AD meant, I knew right away that David Kelly was important and I apologized for bothering him.
“Oh no, I’m really glad you called,” he said. “Actually I forgot about this. Now let’s see, you’re going to shoot on March 24. We need to get your hair cut…..hmmmmm. Next week we’re going to be shooting in Columbus. I hate to tell you Don, but you may have to come to Columbus for your haircut and costume fitting.” He explained that Michael Mann needed to personally approve the haircut and costume and Michael Mann was going to be in Columbus, Wisconsin. I again apologized for calling. “No problem, I’m glad you did. I’ll be in touch,” David said breezily.
HAIRCUTS
Like a general mustering the troops, I immediately called Reporter #3 and told him to prepare for a trip to Columbus, Wisconsin the following Thursday, March 20. This time Phil and Andrew and I would go together. Thankfully the weather was perfect. Cold, but sunny with a deep blue sky. We arrived in Columbus early, about 10 a.m. The main streets through downtown were barricaded with security guards posted at the intersection just before our destination. We pulled up and asked the guard where we could park. He pointed to the side street only a hundred feet away. While I parked the car, Phil called P.J., our contact person.
“They said to meet them near basecamp at Main and Water,” Phil said.
“Where’s that?”
“I don’t know.” We asked the security guard for directions. He pointed and we started walking…..back in time.
The moment we passed the barricade I went back in time almost 75 years. Everywhere I looked there was nothing to suggest I came from the 21st Century. The streets were cobblestone. Cars were everywhere, all 1930s vintage. A Plymouth parked on the left side. Other antique autos were moving down the street and a couple of Fords were stopped at authentic Depression-era traffic lights.
There was a dress shop. In the window were mannequins draped in one and two piece dresses like I remember my grandmother wearing. There was a diner of course. In the big window in front of the lunch counter there was a chalkboard menu: Hot beef stew, 22 cents. BLT 17 cents. Liver & onions 18 cents. Chicken Noodle Soup. A few steps from the wooden door of the restaurant was a newsstand. In a rack on the side of the stand, ‘The Indiana Star,’ 5 cents. (Remember, we’re in Wisconsin.)
Everywhere I looked, everywhere I turned it was obvious I had left my life as I knew it back at the barricade. All three of us reporter-actors started taking photos like crazy: by the diner; by one of the cars parked on the cobblestone street.
We took pictures of the tailor shop, the shoe store, and a store with a large sign over the door -- J. Beiermann. Wait a minute. That name sounded familiar --- Jeremy Beiermann was the Public Enemies production coordinator. Obviously this was a movie crew with a sense of humor.
This must have been what it felt like to be in an episode of the Twilight Zone. It was 1934 and there was no one around. Just me and Phil and Andrew. We were getting antsy.
“Phil, call P.J. again!” P.J. told us where to find basecamp. Another 25-year-old pint-size blonde with a clipboard turned the corner and introduced herself as Mousy. “Who’s the Crown Point Reporter #1?” Mousy asked, leading us to a trailer at the back of a lot behind Main Street.
“I am,” I said.
“Okay, this is yours.” I looked at the window of the trailer door and there was a masking tape sign: “Crown Point Reporter.” Mousy opened the door and I went in. “I’ll be back to get you,” she said.
I was in my own, personal dressing room complete with a bathroom, TV, stereo and a couch big enough for a dwarf. I sat down on the couch and stared at the opposite wall which was only inches away. Fortunately, Mousy was back within seconds. Knock-knock. “Come with me,” she said. I followed her to another trailer. She opened the door and I followed her up a flight of trailer stairs to a landing. On the left was the makeup department. On the right the hair styling department, complete with three barber chairs. A tall, impeccably groomed and distinguished-looking middle-aged man was poised over one of the barber chairs. “This is Manny,” Mousy announced. “He’ll do your hair.
Manny Millar suddenly seemed to be caught off guard. He spoke to Mousy privately and urgently. “Sit here,” Manny finally said. I plopped into the chair nervously, pretty sure that Manny wasn’t all that keen about cutting my hair. I would have to turn on the charm.
We began to chat. “You’re pretty lucky….there are actors who would fly across the country to have a single line in a Michael Mann movie,” Manny said. Soon we were best friends. By now Phil and Andrew (Reporters #2 and 3) were in the trailer waiting for Manny to finish with me. Manny –after some prompting --told us about the many movie stars whose hair he had cut…..Tom Hanks, Angelina Jolie, Barbra Streisand….We were awestruck.
Finally I had the courage to ask Manny if one of the others could take my picture while I was being cut. “Being cut by you, Manny,” I said, pleadingly.
Now Manny seemed uncomfortable again. “People magazine has been trying to do a spread on me and I’ve said no. But if you promise this picture won’t get published, okay then,” he warned me.
“I promise it’s for our scrapbooks only,” I said sincerely. The others nodded in agreement. We knew we could never double-cross Manny.
MEETING MICHAEL MANN
Public Enemies Director Michael Mann explains a scene during filming in downtown Chicago.
On the makeup side of the trailer was department head Jane Galli. Mousy had introduced us, but there was no reason for a conversation. We would not get makeup until the day of the shoot. My hair was ready though, neatly parted and combed over. Sides very closely cropped. Mousy found a driver and a van and asked that the three of us be taken to costumes.
We pulled up to a non-descript building probably belonging to a community service organization that had been retro-fitted by the film company for the costume department. (It also was the place where the extras got their haircut and makeup done.) Inside the huge wardrobe room were racks of clothes, hair and makeup stations, and jerry-rigged dressing rooms with curtains suspended on wires from the ceiling to conceal the actors changing clothes.
We checked in and were instructed to sit down at a large round table nearby. The three of us joined two others already seated there. The guy reading a book was wearing street clothes. The other one just staring into space was already in costume.
We had talked to Cheryl on the phone and so we knew her name when she came to get us. Cheryl, her face worn probably from years on the road in the movie business, was nice enough but never smiled. Cheryl had called us before the trip and said to bring our own dress shoes if we had them. She escorted us to a group of women who seemed to be a wardrobe team. There we met Colleen….Colleen Atwood. Later Phil whispered to me “…she was a two-time Oscar winner for Best Costume Design for Chicago and Memoirs of a Geisha.”
There was a third woman and Michael, a tall skinny 30-year-old kid who obviously did the tailoring. Suddenly the professionals were dressing and undressing us all at once. Maybe 20 minutes went by and we were dressed in Depression Era suits, unbelievably heavy topcoats and hats.
Colleen had picked a bowler for me, although she wasn’t sure Michael would like it so she also held on to a fedora. Phil had his own authentic Walter Winchell hat that he had purchased at an estate sale.
I was ready to meet Michael. Another female production assistant, Melanie – a cute, bubbly 20-year-old -- arrived to take us to the director. As I passed by Phil, he whispered, “You’re going to do a second scene.” Scoop!
Then David Kelly, second assistant director, appeared and told me I would be working Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday of the following week. David Kelly disappeared as suddenly as he had materialized in the first place. It was the first time I met Kelly. He wasn’t anything like I pictured. He was 45ish, graying hair, slightly overweight but not too much, another non-smiler and always in a hurry and obviously pre-occupied.
I followed the production assistant out the door of the extras building. Melanie led the way through the back streets filled with trailers, cars, equipment, old signs, and hundreds of things pulled from people’s attics. Winding around the piles of stuff, Kelly appeared again and dismissed Melanie. “Let’s go over here where you can get a better look,” Kelly said. He led us across the street and we immediately saw camera people, an old car, folks watching from various places and numerous actors in costume.
Sure enough, we spotted Michael Mann, lean, about my height – 5 feet 11 inches - with silvery hair directing the crew shooting a moving antique car. Behind the steering wheel of the car was ….Johnny Depp! One of the crew members yelled from across the street: “Hey come on over here, we need some more extras.”
“They aren’t extras, they’re actors!” Kelly yelled back. That was the end of that. Extras were brought out from inside one of the storefronts for the scene they were shooting.
Very soon I discovered a huge difference between “extras” and “actors” or “principal players.” First of all extras don’t speak, principal players do. In the film, that is. Secondly, principal players get fed first, have their own dressing rooms, have separate hair and makeup people, and are treated very well. Extras are herded into a corral and not told much anything. Reporters 1, 2, and 3, felt sorry for the extras, although most of them seemed thrilled just being on the set
“Action.” The car started up and moved down the street as the cameras rolled. The background people strode along the sidewalk behind the moving car. “Cut!” The scene was repeated again and again and again. I began to wonder what I was doing there. The filming paused and I knew I was going to be inspected. Colleen appeared along with Jane Galli, who knew Johnny Depp from working on the Pirates of the Caribbean films. While Michael was talking with the crew members Colleen looked me over, adjusting my tie and hat. I asked Jane, “Can you make me look 30 years younger?”
“Yes, I can do that,” she replied and smiled.
Now I saw Michael looking at me and he walked over. No hi, no smile, no nothing.
“Colleen, I don’t like the hat,” he said sharply. “That’s OK, I’ve got another.” She swapped the bowler for the fedora. “OK,” he said and moved on to Phil.
Michael approved of Phil’s look and Phil hastily explained that the hat he was wearing was a genuine Walter Winchell fedora.
“How did you get it?” he asked politely.
Phil responded, “I bought it at an estate sale.”
Colleen whispered in Michael’s ear and pointed at me. The director walked back to me. “So, you’re going to do the Saager scene? Let’s go over the lines.
Lines! What lines? Now I was going to get fired for sure. I had no idea what, or who Saager was. I sputtered out something about “them” not telling me. “I don’t have a script,” I said, terrified of being unprepared.
To my great relief, Michael shrugged and said “Oh, that’s OK. Can someone bring us a script?” he shouted to the 35 crew members standing around waiting to hear what he would say. Now the silence was deafening. No one moved. No one had a script.
“Allright. We’ll do without,” Michael said. He looked me in the eye and said, “What would you ask him?” Apparently I looked puzzled. “You know, what did he say to you? What did he do, were you scared…...?
Suddenly it dawned on me: Saager was a person. I said “Yes, I would ask him what he said, I would ask him were you scared? Where did he take you?”
Michael turned and said, “Remember, Saager’s got the personality of that mailbox!” He pointed to an Army green metal mailbox on the corner 100 feet away. He thought for a moment and his eyes opened wide, “I’ve got an idea.”
He shouted towards the crew, “Someone get him a copy of the DVD with the original interview scene!”
I’m pretty good at small talk and this was my big chance. Knowing the director was born in Chicago, asked him what neighborhood he was from? “Humboldt Park.”
I told him about growing up in Lincoln Park and going to the Biograph. Suddenly I realized that everyone was listening to our conversation, including Marshall. Who’s Marshall? Marshall was the guy with a video camera who taped the inspection, the exchange about Saager, and my personal conversation with Michael.
When our two-minute conversation was over, Marshall volunteered to lead the three of us reporters to lunch and we learned Marshall was taping material for the behind the scenes clips on the movie DVD.
The lunchroom was inside a large storefront. It was packed. Actors, production crew, and who knows what others? It was set up cafeteria style. The selection of food prepared by a Los Angeles catering company hired for this production was beyond imagination. Of course I really wasn’t hungry after a morning of nerves acting like they were being electrocuted.
Our day was almost over by the time we finished eating. The only thing left was to go back to the costume building, change into our street clothes and head for home. The drive back seemed shorter than the drive to Columbus. Of course there was much to talk about and rehash, which we did many times. It was dark when we arrived back in Valparaiso.
The DVD with the vintage news footage of Reporter #1 questioning Saager --the Dillinger hostage --- was delivered to my home in Valparaiso the next morning.
ON LOCATION IN CROWN POINT
Donald Asher signs autographs at basecamp in Crown Point.
The weekend dragged and I couldn’t sleep Sunday night. Monday morning finally came. It was bright and sunny, but freezing cold. I drove to Crown Point and parked adjacent to basecamp, which was filled with trailers and semis. Basecamp was located behind the old Lake County Jail, which would be the set for our scene.
After checking in with Mousy she showed me to my dressing room in one of the trailers. Again it had “Crown Point Reporter #1” on the window. I stepped up and into the room to warm up, only to find it was as cold inside as outside. The heater wasn’t working, and the plumbing was frozen.
My associates arrived and Mousy escorted them to their dressing rooms. Luckily both of their rooms were warm. After getting acclimated to basecamp the three of us walked around the block of the jail.
Wow, a couple thousand people behind barricades were waiting to get a glimpse of Johnny Depp. And they would cheer for any reason --- what else can you do when you’re freezing to death? People started asking us for autographs. “We’re nobody,” we told them. But they insisted so we stopped trying to explain how unimportant we were and just signed whatever was presented to us.
Before long it was lunchtime. We hadn’t yet done any work, other than signing contracts and paperwork, which we didn’t really read. We headed over to the church across from the old jail where there was a buffet including tuna steaks, hamburgers, barbequed New York strip steaks, baked potatoes, mashed potatoes, pasta, every kind of salad imaginable, and more, much more. That was lunch. This time we had somewhat of an idea of what to expect. The volunteers, older women we believe were from the First Presbyterian Church – greeted us as we walked in. “Hi, welcome, please come in."
After lunch it was the same routine. Walk around. Get coffee at the snack bar. Starbucks, of course. Later my wife called my cell phone and said she, her sister and her brother-in-law were headed to Crown Point. I told her to meet me at the orange fence. When I spotted Donna in the crowd and started working my way toward the fence. Cameras started clicking and videos rolling as I walked. Finally I said to the crowd, “that’s my wife” as I pointed to her. Immediately the cameras swung around as people took photos and video of her.
It was mid-afternoon when we got the call and were escorted into the old jail, through a couple of cluttered rooms that opened onto the set, a room already filled with people, cameras, equipment, crew and probably 30 extras dressed in period attire. “Here are the reporters,” someone barked. The pace picked up. “Reporter 1?”
“That’s me,” I said.
“Stand here,” the voice said. Here was right in the center front of the crowd of extras now behind me. They placed Reporters 2 (Andrew Steele) and 3 (Phil Potempa) beside me and just a little back. The room had been transformed into a 1930s booking area.
Bob Wagner, first assistant director, began setting up the scene, telling the crew where to set cameras and other items. Lights were already in place and seemed quite dim for a movie production set. Before long Michael Mann, who had been probably been around the set somewhere even though I couldn’t see him, announced we were going to do a run-through of the scene. There was a double for Johnny Depp.
“Okay, let’s try this. Action!” Mann said. The door opens and in walks FBI agents, Chicago police officers, Lake County Sheriff Lillian Holley (Lili Taylor) and John Dillinger in handcuffs and shackles jingling slightly.
“Unshackle him,” Sheriff Holley ordered. My big moment was near. I had the first line after the sheriff. Immediately after he was unshackled I said, “Johnny, are you glad to see Indiana again?”
Michael, who had parked himself within inches in front of me, put his arms out motioning everyone to stop. Oh no, I screwed up, I thought. The director turned around, looked me in the eye and said “Good, very good. What’s your name again?”
Stunned, I barely uttered “Don.”
Michael again said, “Good,” and shook my hand before turning back to the task at hand.
What a moment, I thought. I can do this.
JOHNNY DEPP
Photo by Robert B. Hollingsworth Jr.
The next time we did the entire scene, over, and over, and over again. In between practice takes Michael and Wagner each made adjustments. The hair and makeup folks, Manny Millar and Jane Galli, were always on the set. In between takes Jane would take our photos with a small camera and touch up our makeup. Later we found out the reason for the photos was to insure identical looks for the three of us in case we were called back weeks or months later for additional filming.
Extras had been given packs of cigarettes – unfiltered Camels and Lucky Strikes. Everyone who smoked was told to light up and puff away. They did and smoke filled the room. Then there was a slight commotion over on the left side of the room. Johnny Depp had arrived. Michael and Johnny spoke quietly to each other, pointed to where Johnny would stand. We all just waited and watched. No introductions or small talk. We stood by for a couple of minutes and the voice said “Okay, let’s try it….”
The FBI agents, police officers, prosecutor and sheriff went out the door to the right, along with Johnny Depp. “Cameras rolling!” a pause as those familiar click-boards – two of them, one for each camera – are placed in front of each lens. “Action!” The group of reporters and photographers milled about and mumbled and grumbled, making small talk, as instructed. The door swung open and in came the star. Johnny Depp, in the flesh, stopped right in front of me, about two or three feet away. The scene continued and all of us – the three reporters – said our lines flawlessly. I was lucky enough to have the first and last questions of the scene.
Then we did the scene over, and over, and over again. In between takes more adjustments were made. When the talking got too loud, the voice would bark “Quiet.” There was no talking to Johnny Depp, although he was clearly personable and smiled a lot between takes. At one point he joked “How many takes have we done? Are we trying to set a record?” Depp looked over at me. I didn’t know quite what to do or say so I just winked. He winked back.
Everyone in the room laughed, although I’m not sure about Michael. It was a couple more hours before the voice said, “That’s a wrap.”
The three of us were led out of the room, and building, to the front porch where we walked over to, guess what? The snack bar. Our work for the day was done, even though it would be another hour or so before Mousy said, “You guys are finished for today. We need you back here at 8:30 tomorrow morning. Sign here,” pointing to the sign-out sheet.
The following day was exactly like the first. Check-in. Go to your dressing room and change into your costume. Wander around basecamp. Talk to other actors. Drink cup after cup of coffee. Same routine. Mousy corralled us shortly after lunch. Back into the old jail we went. Same people, same crew, same extras.
This time, Michael explained, shots would be taken of us as individuals asking questions. Then he would film the press conference in reverse with cameras over our shoulders filming Dillinger (Depp) close-up. This time as we walked to the front porch of the old jail the crowd erupted with cheers. Phil, Andrew and I waved and the crowd roar grew louder. The little blonde production assistant, Melanie, said “Now you’ve got to bow.” So we did. To our delight, the crowd went wild in appreciation.
The day was soon over. And it was over for good for Phil and Andrew as it turned out. I was told to return the next day at noon to shoot my second scene interviewing Ed Saager. Johnny Depp would be gone by then. That night my phone rang. It was David Kelly, “We need you here at 8:30 tomorrow, OK?”
“Yep, I’ll be there”….and I was. This time I was alone, but I had learned a lot about how things worked. What I didn’t realize was that I would be there for almost 14 hours straight, in costume, and my scene would never get shot that day.
There’s only so much reading, so much TV watching, and so much wandering you can do.
Finally just after 10 p.m. there was a knock on my dressing room door. Half asleep I opened the door and there was Mousy.
“You’re wrapped,” she said. She didn’t know whether or not they would shoot my second scene, but obviously it wasn’t going to get shot in Crown Point.
That was it. I changed clothes, collected my coat, shoes and other items and left.
THE SECOND SCENE
For the next three months I would periodically call Second Assistant Director David Kelly and asked if he had any idea when or if they were going to shoot the Saager scene. His answer was always the same. He didn’t know when or where, but he kept thinking it was going to be soon and he would call me.
When it got to the middle of June --- and I knew they were scheduled to finish shooting no later than June 30 --- I resigned myself to the fact that I would never get to interview the guy with the personality of a mailbox. The scene didn’t seem critical to the plot even if Michael Mann liked it. Out of the blue Kelly called, “We’re shooting Saager Wednesday (the day after tomorrow). Is that okay?”
“Yes,” that’s fine, I said.
“Okay, your call time is 8 a.m. in the parking lot on the North side of the Lincoln Park Zoo. Do you know where that is?” The day was dark and rainy. I left Valparaiso at 5:30 a.m. Finding basecamp in Lincoln Park was easy. I arrived more than an hour early. Even some of the production people were just rolling in.
Before long I connected with my production assistant whose name escapes me. She led me to my dressing room. Sure enough, the suit I had worn during my previous days on the set back in March was hanging neatly on a hook. At least this time I had somewhat of a clue as to the process. I changed into my costume and got ready to go.
My assistant took me to an awaiting van where they drove me several blocks to the set where the Saager scene would be filmed. Exiting the van I was greeted by an older friendly, tall, thin guy in baggy casual clothes, with a big smile. “Hi, I’m Michael Waxman, assistant director. I’ve heard a lot about you. Please come with me,” he said.
Heard about me? I doubted it, but thought it was a nice thing for him to say anyway. As we entered the garage a short wardrobe assistant insisted on carrying my heavy overcoat and fedora, despite my objections. “No, I’ll take care of it,” she said. As I walked in I noticed a group of about 15 extras standing in place, heavy overcoats on, notepads and pencils in hand. Sweat beaded on their foreheads. It was hot. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought the filming was already taking place. I saw the actor who would play Ed Saager, dressed dirty overalls, face smudged with grease.
“Can someone bring him a chair?” the voice asked loudly.
Next thing I knew, there was a chair being placed close by, but not in the scene. It was for me.
Sitting down I saw my friend, Jim Jackson, The Times’ and Shore auto writer, standing among the group of extras decked out in his winter attire, despite the extremely warm, humid weather. I had called Jackson a couple of days earlier because the casting company had called me again saying they were looking for more real newspaper reporters and wondering if I knew any more. I told Jackson if he was interested to call and obviously he had.
I saw the lights and camera pointing to where I was sure I would stand, along with former Dillinger hostage Ed Saager. Wait! There were already two people standing in the spot. One was the Saager actor, and the other was ….. ?
I stood up and walked over, wondering why I had driven all the way downtown if another actor was going to interview the hostage. Why had I been replaced at the last minute? As I walked the 15 steps over to the set I noticed wide tape stuck across the chest of the individual I thought was my replacement that said “Crown Point Reporter.” I had my own stand-in double! Just like Johnny Depp! Inside I was laughing hysterically. Outside I just tried to go along and play the part like it was no big thing. After that I went back to my chair, waiting for coffee that they had asked if I wanted. Sure enough the coffee came, along with bacon, scrambled eggs and toast.
I didn’t eat breakfast, though, because just then, Michael Mann walked in and everything went into high gear. The crew placed me on the spot where I would ask Ed Saager two simple questions. He responded with two simple answers. Over and over. I thought to myself, this isn’t anything like the actual scene I watched from the footage on the DVD they sent me. In fact, there were several lines of dialogue on that old newsreel.
In between takes Michael Mann walked over and adjusted my hat. This personal treatment by the director obviously went to my head because I spoke up. “Michael,” I asked, “Can I say, ‘Is that right?’ ….because that was the line in the original interview in 1934? No one moved or said a word. The pause was deafening. I was waiting for a “Whoa, you want a writing credit now Big Boy? ”
But instead Michael Mann looked me straight in the eyes and said “It was? Sure, go ahead.” Next thing I knew Michael was in the back hovering near the production people.
“Okay,” he announced “we’re going to …” and Michael Mann repeated every line from the original scene on the newsreel. He had asked the script folks to dig out the dialogue from the 1934 interview.
Then he asked the group of extras, “Are there any other real reporters in here?” Jackson was the only one to raise his hand. “Where do you work?” he asked.
Jackson replied, “The Times ….”. “Okay, come here. I want you to say these lines,” Michael said. He placed Jim as close as he could to me, shoulder to shoulder. “Cameras rolling…..action!” the voice shouted. We did the scene with the original dialogue. There was something about my hat that was bothering the director.
Michael came over to me. He did not say a word. He took off my hat. He stood back. He put the hat back on. He took the hat off again. When he had finally made the decision to keep the hat off, Michael gently patted the side of my face with his fingers. Then he smiled and everyone laughed.
As soon as we finished the scene, Jim Jackson, my new co-star and I were ushered to a van to return to base camp. I had to change clothes. Jackson had to sign his paperwork since he had been upgraded from an extra to a principal player.
THE END
Soon it was over for everyone. That was June 25, 2008. It was a long and brutal winter, we’ve known for months that the release date on the film is July 1, 2009. It’s almost here.
I’ve seen several Public Enemies trailers, one released in early March and the others later. My voice asking Johnny Depp a question is in the first trailer, and I am seen in the second trailer asking Dillinger, “Johnny, how long does it take you to go through a bank?”
And then the TV commercials started appearing and I began to hear from people I knew, or know from across the county. “I saw you on TV,” each said.
My son, Tony, even text messaged me one day – “I saw you on TV three times today.”
It was always the same line” Johnny, how long does it takes you to go through a bank?”
I won’t tell you the answer, but you probably already know... it takes a lot longer to shoot the scene of him robbing a bank in the movie, than it took to actually rob the bank.
THE RELEASE
It’s May and the anticipation is building. Everywhere I go people ask “When is the movie coming out? Aren’t you excited?”
The answer – yes and no. Yes for obvious reasons. No because once the movie comes out I know the excitement will wane. Waiting has been a huge part of the experience. Soon it will be over.
The real question is when and where will the premiere be? It wasn’t long before we had the answer – June 23 at the Mann Westwood Village Theater in Los Angeles. Surely we’ll be invited.
Not so fast, principal player that you are. Checking websites, and the mail daily for any sign of invitations to the premiere….nothing.
Finally I asked my acting coach – Matthew Miller in Chicago – via email.
“Matt, will I be invited to the premiere of Public Enemies in LA?” Expecting a positive response a reply came quickly – “No!”
What, here I am with one of the most notable lines of the movie (decided at the time by me, but later it was actually listed as one of the top 15 lines in Public Enemies)? I couldn’t believe it, so I call him.
“Actually,” Matt said, “if the premiere was in Chicago you for sure would be invited. But out-of-town actors usually don’t get invited.” What A blow.
Having been in the newspaper business for more than 40 years, I normally don’t take “no” for an answer. This would be no different.
Somehow I was selected to represent the seven REAL reporters in trying to get us invited.
I began emailing Universal Studios’ vice president of special events, Linda Pace, telling her that some of us REAL reporters in Public Enemies would like to be invited to the premiere. Always cordial, Linda would reply she didn’t know yet.
Occasionally I would phone Linda and talk to her. She promised to let me know as soon as possible.
If only the premiere was in Chicago. Soon word began to leak that Michael Mann – a Chicago native – wanted a Chicago premiere. It was already June and time was running out. Still no answer from Linda on LA.
Then a quiet announcement. Public Enemies would premiere in Chicago on June 18th, five days before the LA premiere. Even though it would have a red carpet, it wouldn’t count as the world premiere because what would LA think? The June 23 event was the official world premiere.
I called Linda. “Linda, I have an idea. Why not invite the seven reporters to the Chicago premiere, and skip the LA thing?” There was a long pause. “Don, that’s brilliant. Send me a list of the people and guests and I’ll make sure they’re invited.” Relief. Who wanted to go to LA anyway? Not me.
I called, or emailed all seven reporters. They were thrilled. I collected the list with their names and guests and sent it off to Linda.
The Chicago premiere would be at the River East AMC Theater, and the afterparty down the street at the River East Arts Centre.
On Wednesday, June 17 Chicago TV and newspapers began reporting the Johnny Depp was reportedly in town. He was. In fact, that night one of the entertainment shows had an interview with Depp on the roof of Chicago’s Hotel 71, on Wacker Drive.
Charming as ever, Depp was asked about his well-known appreciation for his fans. If it wasn’t for them, I wouldn’t be able to feed my family, he answered. That’s the real Johnny Depp I concluded after those autograph/photo/handshaking times in the freezing cold in Crown Point.
The Chicago Premiere
Academy Award winning actress Marion Cotillard poses for a photo with Donald Asher at the afterparty of the Chicago premiere. Marion played the role of Dillinger's girlfriend Billie Frechette. She won an Oscar for Best Actress in 2008.
Premiere day has arrived. It was beautiful outside. Donna and I decided to spend the night in Chicago so we headed up there early from Valparaiso to freshen up and change clothes. It was coincidence that we stayed at Hotel 71, where Johnny Depp was interviewed.
At 6 o’clock we left the hotel by taxi for the River East AMC. Crowds close to the theater had already begun to build. Illinois Street was closed by barricades and police. TV crews were in place on the red carpet for a chance to interview the stars –Johnny Depp, Christian Bale, Academy Award winner Marion Cotillard, and of course our own Michael Mann.
All but one of the reporters made it to the theater on-time. We tooks pictures, had pictures taken, reveled in this exciting opportunity which we will likely never experience again. “Here, you stand on the red carpet, and so on….”
It was time. The stars had not arrived, but guys in suits and walkie-talkies began ushering everyone into the theater. There were so many people, two of the theaters were used. Up the escalator, down the hall and into one of two theaters used for the premiere. The rest of the AMC was closed to the public.
All of us had tickets picked up at will-call, ID required. By now it was about 6:40. The movie was scheduled to begin at 7:00. Every seat in our theater was filled. Where was Johnny? And Michael and the others? I saw one of those suits pass by and quickly asked if Johnny would be in the theater. He quietly whispered “they’ll be here soon, but will shuttle between theaters.” That answered my question.
More familiar faces. “Hi Jimmy,” I said tp assign Jimmy Carrane, a Chicago actor who played the part of the janitor in the Crown Point jail. He and I had spoke frequently over a couple of days during the shoot in Crown Point. He, too, waited in basecamp to be called onto the set. We shook hands, made small talk and he left to find seats.
And here comes John Fenner Mays, another Chicago actor I hung out with in Crown Point. He played the part of Deputy Bunk. I wasn’t exactly sure what his role consisted of, other than a deputy. After the movie, he was the deputy sheriff who was taken hostage with my guy, Ed Saager. I remembered him, too, from our orientation meeting at the Screen Actors Guild. We exchanged pleasantries, asked each how the other was doing. “It’s slow, but I’m doing theater.” At least he was working, unlike the 95 percent of the SAG members who are unemployed, we were told at the SAG meeting.
It was nearly 7:30. The lights began to dim. We could see people gathering near one of the side entrances inside the theater. A spotlight came on and followed this person moving toward the front from the side aisle. It was Michael Mann. The crown quieted, the applauded. Michael, seemingly out of his element, thanked everyone and spoke little about the movie. Then he introduced others one by one. First his partner, producer Kevin Misher. Then Christian Bale, Marion Cottiard, and finally Johnny Depp. Michael handed the microphone to Johnny who had no idea what to do. He joked with his co-stars about singing. Marion told him “he should sing.” He didn’t, and neither did anyone else. They left, our theater and the movie began.
Two hours and 20-plus minutes later the credits began to roll. No one in the theater moved. As each group of credits showed on the screen pockets of people in sections of the theater would applaud. Then our credits. And we cheered and applauded for ourselves. Wow! Reporter #1 – Donald G. Asher. Followed by #2, and #3.
Time to party. Seemingly in mass the entire theater rose as the lights came up. We exited into the hallway. For the most part the crowd was nameless faces, except for one. Dennis Farina was standing there talking to a few people. He was an old Chicago guy, turned actor. Age had done him well. The white hair fit his tall frame and handsome look perfectly.
Down the escalator and out the door onto the sidewalk. We followed the crowds. Parked outside were news crews and reporters interviewing the moviegoers.
The River East Arts Centre was a couple of blocks east. Chicago police officers were everywhere. Surely the last thing the city wanted was an incident or problem during this high-profile event.
The night was beautiful, as we walked the two or so blocks along with lots of people from the theater. My niece Kati Deutschle – a Chicago attorney who accompanied Reporter #2, Andrew Steel to the premiere – spotted John Mahoney from the TV show “Frazier” walking with us. “Uncle Donny, there’s John Mahoney.” So, I thought. “I want a picture, would you mind taking one?” Sure, I told her. She turned and asked John Mahoney if he would pose with her. He was very polite and said yes. I snapped a quick photo and we continued our trek to the party.
Arriving at the arts center there was a small crowd of onlookers behind barricades. We slipped past and went into the facility. Our tickets were collected at the door by the suits.
The arts center was this wonderfully contemporary, two-story facility. We entered on the second floor, but could – and did -- look down on the party from there. People were everywhere. Tables of food were everywhere. In the center was a large, square bar. Time for a cocktail. Our group hustled down the stairs. But before we made our way to the bar, we had to scope out the place.
On one side were reserved tables with signs: Universal, Michael Mann, Johnny Depp, Christian Bale, and more.
Despite the large number of people, unlike the wrap party a year earlier, you could actually move about, and hear one another talk.
Christian Bale beat us there. He was standing in the corner talking to some folks. He looked gaunt and too thin, almost sickly. Someone said he had to lose weight for a movie he was filming. Obviously he succeeded.
While Donna was shopping for something to wear to the Chicago premiere, I insisted she buy a purse large enough to carry the first printing of my book: Public Enemies Confidential. She did. My plan was to ask Michael Mann, and Johnny Depp to sign it.
Michael Mann arrived first. Crowds of people surrounded him. I thought it best not to bother him until later. So we headed to the bar, and found a table to sit at. Bob Hollingsworth (Hoover Reporter #1) and his wife, Rose, Jim Jackson (Saager Reporter), and his wife Christy and Donna and I sat together.
I mentioned the book and all wanted to see it – and then buy a copy. “Sorry guys, there were only three printed this first round in order to get the first version done and printed in time for this event.”
I saw Linda Pace, my Universal contact, making her way through the people. Earlier at the theater I had recognized her from a photo and introduced myself. Obviously she was quite busy. It was her party. I said hello, again, and asked if I could get her a drink. She said thanks, but no. Too busy.
By then Johnny Depp and Marion Cotillard had arrived. I suggested to Donna that we start moving in that direction. There was no way I was leaving here without at least Johnny Depp’s autograph on my book.
We stood a ways away from the moving crowd surrounding Johnny as he made his way into the party. Marion was over talking to Christian and Michael.
While standing there I thought, “Geez, what happened to Johnny’s hair.” An unbelievably handsome and charismatic guy, his face was covered with his hair flapping over from the sides. He was dressed in a dark suit, with an open collar shirt. Just like me. That was the only similarity.
Marion, on the other hand was dressed for a gala. Her hair up, wearing a beautiful deep pink dress. She was stunning.
Meanwhile, Donna had struck up a conversation with a woman from Wisconsin. Turns out she was a psychiatrist who helped Marion research Dillinger girlfriend “Billie” Franchette’s life in Wisconsin. I was talking to a 40ish man, slight build dressed in a suit and tie. He asked if he could look at the book. Sure, why not.
He went through it slowly, but before finishing was interrupted by someone he apparently knew. At first he didn’t hand the book back. I needed it because it was time to make my way over to Johnny. Sensing my need, his wife took the book from him and handed it to me. I asked her what his role was with the move. “Oh, he was the supervising art director.”
That’s nice, but I had a mission. It was time.
I made my way, accompanied by my niece Kati. Donna stayed back not wanting to get in the way. Besides, she stood on a step and could see everything and everyone.
Squeezing through toward Johnny one of his two bodyguards saw me, the book and my pen. “He’s not signing anything tonight,” he said firmly. Oh yes he is, I thought.
I slid by the first guard and came face to face with Johnny. “Hey Johnny, remember ‘Johnny, how long does it take to go through a bank?’” His face lit up. “Yeah, how’ya doin’” as he stuck out his hand. “Johnny, I wrote a book about us and I wonder if you would mind signing it?”
“Sure” and I handed him the blank page at thr front of the book and my Sharpie pen. “With respect, J….” he wrote. I wasn’t sure if that meant because I was old, or because he thought I did a good job on the movie. Probably will never know.
Next, Michael. He was talking to some people, but saw standing looking at him. I felt awkward, but I knew I probably only had one chance and this was it. He stopped and turned toward me.
“Hi Michael, I was Reporter #1. Thanks for being so kind to me in the movie.” He patted my shoulder and said “You did a great job.”
I gave him the same spiel about the book. He politely said “Sure” and signed “Thanks for everything, Michael.”
Crap. Looking at the book I noticed I had handed it upside down to him, so his autograph is upside down. Oh well, mission accomplished. I could relax.
It was closing in on 11 o’clock. Late for us. We decided walk around to see what else was going on. I stopped and talked to John Fenner Mays again, who introduced us to his girlfriend.
“Nice job in the movie,” I told him. “Yeah, but they cut all my lines.” Oops, I guess so. But he did get quite a bit of face time on the big screen.
We kept going. All of a sudden I was face to face with Dennis Farina. We stood there for a second looking at each other. “You don’t know me but I know you’re from Chicago,” as I introduced myself. We chatted for a minute or two and off we went.
The food tables looked so good. Scallop rumacki, sliced beef, Ceasar salad, anything, and everything. But who could eat. This was no time to waste on consuming food, no matter how good it looked, although I did snatch a rumacki skewer.
Getting late, it was time to go. Marion Cotillard apparently had the same idea as she and her body guards started making their way toward the exit. I asked Donna if she would mind taking a picture of me with Marion, if Marion said okay. I didn’t give her time to answer. I walked up to Marion and said “Hi Marion, I’m the guy who said ‘Johnny…..’ Can I have a picture taken with you?” Of course.
We had done it all. Time to depart. Up the stairs and out. Standing there were three woman, clearly taking a break. One was Linda Pace. “Don, come here.” As she kissed me on both cheeks, she said “I’d like you to meet ……” I thanked her profusely for setting this up, and what a great time all of the REAL reporters had.
We headed back to the hotel. A perfect night.
Submitted by Don Asher
Photos submitted by Don Asher and Robert B. Hollingworth Jr.
Special thanks to Robert B. Hollingworth Jr. To visit his blog, click here.