Sandra de Bruin is an
established actress who has appeared in more than 100 television series (ER, Barnaby
Jones, The Rockford Files, Three’s Company, The Tonight Show with Johnny
Carson, to name but a few), TV films (Law and Order, Return to
Earth) and feature films (The Andromeda Strain, Gray Lady Down).
She has done numerous commercials, worked in voice-over and looping, danced at
the Los Angeles Music Center and is the creator of the bestselling Actor's
Audition Log. Sandra will periodically be sharing her stories of
working with Hollywood legends, which will appear in a forthcoming memoir about
her on-and off-screen adventures.
BY SANDRA DE BRUIN WITH DEAN BRIERLY
How does one describe a bright,
charming, handsome, witty con-man? (The onscreen variety, of course.) Well, if
he’s all of that and more—then he’s James Garner.
Every
Sunday night I would call my father in New York. This ritual began in the 1970s
and continued until he passed away in the late 1980s. I would regale him with
the follies and foibles of my week in Tinseltown, and he would patiently listen,
occasionally interjecting an upbeat comment. At the end of our conversations he
would invariably say something like, “Sweetheart, think about being a stage
actress. Come back to New York.â€
I would answer, “I’ll
think about it, Dad, but not until I’ve worked just once with James Garner.
Remember when we used to watch Maverick together? You’d say,
‘Now, there’s a man I’d like to meet.’ Well, I’m gonna meet him for you.â€
In
1974 it happened. I auditioned for and landed a nice role on the very first
episode of The Rockford Files. I played a prim hostess at an upscale
country club who succumbs to Jim’s charm as he tries to gain entrance to a private
outdoor patio. It was a fun scene in which Jim works his charismatic magic to con
me into showing him to a table. I was to become increasingly enamored as he
charms me, casually removing my sweater to a reveal a tight red dress, then
slipping off my glasses, and then letting my hair come tumbling down. Finally,
I would seductively say, “Come this way, Mr. Rockford. There’s one empty table
available.â€
Come
the day of the shoot at the Bel-Air Country Club I was anxiously pacing outside
going over my lines, trying to tie them together with the physical actions
required, when a familiar voice behind me said, “Would you like to run lines
with me?†Yeah, you got it. It was James Garner himself.
“Oh,
I’d love that. Thank you!†I replied. “I’m a little nervous and trying to get
the timing with the business right. Oh, I’m Sandy de Bruin, and I’m playing the
hostess.â€
“Okay,
then, Sandy de Bruin, let’s go to work.â€
Which
we proceeded to do for the next few minutes, until the makeup man called me
over to get freshened up prior to shooting the scene. Occupying the makeup chair
was an attractive blonde woman underneath a big straw hat. She was obviously one
of the extras who would be seated on the patio. But she didn’t move when the
makeup man politely asked her to please get out of his chair so he could touch
me up. “Why? Who’s she?†she asked,
still seated. I glanced up and saw that Jim was taking in her high and mighty
attitude.
“She’s
the actress in the next scene with Mr. Garner, that’s who she is,†the makeup
man responded with an edge in his voice. At that, she arrogantly stood up, slinked
over to where Jim was standing and tried to flirt with him. He gave her a blank
look, muttered something or other, then turned and walked away.
Moments
later the scene was set—Jim and I were on our markers and the extras were all
seated on the patio. Just as were about to rehearse, Jim motioned the director over.
In a quiet but firm voice he said, “See that blonde extra seated on the patio
with the big straw hat? Lose her!â€
The
director called to the Assistant Director in charge of extras, and moments
later the blonde was gone, but not before exchanging a few angry words with the
AD. All I remember hearing was “Just sign out. You’ll be paid for the day.â€
I
had never witnessed this kind of power, and was quite taken back. But Jim, the
total professional, just calmly turned to me and said, “Let’s do it.†We did,
and the take came off without a hitch. Unfortunately, when the episode aired
the hair-tumbling-down part was cut. But the scene was impressive enough to be
used in previews and PR blurbs for The
Rockford Files.
When
filming was over I said my adios and thanks to everyone on the set, drove home
and immediately called my father. This time he didn’t end our talk with the
usual, “Come home, sweetheart.†He knew I was hooked—and thriving—in Hollywood.
After
a year or so I was again cast in The
Rockford Files, this time playing a nurse at the Malibu hospital where
Rockford was taken whenever he needed medical help. My first scene was simply
assisting the doctor in removing buckshot from Rockford’s butt. Jim hated the
scene and was in no mood for any mishaps, so the set was tense from the start.
It definitely wasn’t timely for me to reintroduce myself. However, we got
through it okay.
The
next scene had me running through the hospital entrance, then skidding to a
halt and screaming, “It’s Rockford, and he’s been shot!†(Films and television
shows are rarely shot in sequence, so while this scene took place prior to the
buckshot scene, it was actually shot afterward.)
There
was no rehearsal, as it was a fairly simple shot. I ran through the entrance
and yelled my line in my inimitable fashion. Then I heard the dreaded words:
“Cut! You missed the marker, Sandy. Let’s do it again.†Jim, seated in his
chair watching the action, loudly muttered, “Jesus Christ, she can’t even hit
the marker.â€
Looking
down in vain for a marker, I instantly responded, “Sorry, I’ll get it right
next time.â€
Suddenly,
an angry voice rang down from the rafters: “There is no marker!â€
Dead
silence.
Apparently,
this crew member had had enough of Jim’s attitude for the day. Within minutes a
marker was set down on the floor, and I nailed the scene in one take. When
lunch was called I retreated to my trailer, hoping to avoid further encounter. A
few minutes later there was a knock on my door. I hesitantly opened it.
Standing below me was Jim. He studied me for a moment before asking, “Why
didn’t you say there was no marker?â€
I
paused, then hesitantly replied, “They’re your crew. I’m only here for the
day.â€
He knew what I meant, but didn’t respond directly. He just said, “Get
some lunch. We’ve got good caterers,†and walked away.
I
had one more scene that day, but it wasn’t with Jim. I just had to shuffle some
paper at the nurse’s station and murmur a few remarks. When I returned to my
trailer, I was greeted by a lovely, understated bouquet of spring flowers and a
card that read, simply yet meaningfully, “James Garner.â€
A
few weeks or a month passed. Then one day my agent called with exciting news: The Rockford Files wanted me to reappear
as the Malibu Nurse. It was just a one-day part, but it came with a raise. Thus
began my first recurring role on a TV show.
My
scene this time as the Malibu Nurse (they never gave me a name) was at the same
nurse station looking through some files when Rockford enters and asks for the
room number of a friend he’s come to visit. I greet him and give him the
number. A subsequent scene was a reverse of the first—Rockford leaving the
hospital and saying goodbye to me. Both scenes were scheduled for after the
lunch break, but my call was earlier so I’d be ready after lunch.
After
being fitted in wardrobe and made up I filled my lunch tray and found a seat off
by myself. I had a slight lingering unease from the marker incident during my
last appearance on the show, and thought it best to maintain a respectful
distance from everyone. Just as I sat down, a voice behind me asked, “May I
join you?†It was Jim. Tray in hand, he promptly sat down with me. Somehow,
there was no gulf between star and aspiring actress—a testament to his
fundamentally down-to-earth nature. We proceeded to have a cordial and
interesting conversation about everything except the show. His career, my
career. His likes and dislikes. He even touched on his current knee problems.
Feeling
relaxed in his presence, I couldn’t resist reminding him that we had worked
together before on the first episode of his
hit series. He looked at me blankly, the wheels obviously
turning. “I played the hostess at the country club,†I reminded him.
A
pause, then a smile. “Ah, yes, now I remember. You did a good job. Sorry I
didn’t remember you, but it’s a bit of a visual stretch from upscale hostess to
ER nurse.â€
“Yeah,
it is, and you work with so many actors you can’t be expected to remember them
all. But it was such a thrill to be working that day, much less on a one-on-one
scene with you. I was a nervous wreck.â€
“I’m
always nervous whenever I work. Don’t let it get to you. Just go out there and do
the job,†he said.
Right
about then it was time to get back to work. We soon finished for the day and
home I went. Glowing. Like a full moon.
I
played the Malibu Nurse two or three more times, often opposite Jim. Other
times I would run into him on set and we would have coffee and chat. My
favorite encounter with him on The
Rockford Files occurred near the end of the series.
There
I am: the Malibu Nurse. This time we were shooting on a sound stage at
Universal Studios. Another scene was being shot and I was just standing around
when the assistant director approached me and said, “Security wants to see you
at the sound stage entrance.†I was somewhat mystified as he led the way. There,
standing beside the security guard, was Damian, the quintessential ten-year old
Tom Sawyer, who had been living with me in my tiny apartment for the past few
months.
The
guard looked at Damian, then at me. “He says he’s your son and was looking for
you. Somehow or other he got onto the lot, where I caught him. Then I tracked
you down through the casting office.â€
“Oh,
thank you. I’m sorry if he caused any trouble,†was all I could say. “Next time
leave him a pass,†the guard said as he walked away.
I
hugged Damian and told him we’d discuss this later, but in the meantime to just
come with me and be quiet. Back at the set we both stood silently until Damian
got restless and inquisitive and started asking questions. Why was that person
holding a pole? What were the lights for? What was that guy doing on an
extension ladder with a camera?
“I
can’t leave right now,†I told him. “So hold on for a moment and let me see if
I can find somebody important to show you around.†Then from behind us I heard,
“Will I do?†You guessed it. Jim. I laughed. “Don’t think we can do better!â€
Introductions
were quickly dispensed, then Jim graciously asked Damian what he would most
like to see. “That guy on the big ladder with the camera.†Jim immediately took
Damian to meet “that guy on the ladder with a camera.†Damian was soon sitting
next to the cameraman having the thrill of his life.
Jim
strolled back over to me. Did I discern a speculative gleam in his eye? “I
thought you told me you didn’t have any children.â€
“I
don’t,†I responded. “But I sort of do now. He’s a neighborhood kid whose
bicycle I rescued, and as a result we became friends. A few months ago, his
mother dropped him off at my bungalow to stay for a long weekend, and she’s
never returned. Once in a while she phones in, but that’s it.â€
“You’re
kidding,†Jim replied.
“No,
but it’s okay. He’s the kind of kid I’ve always wanted, and he and his dog,
Higgins, and my dog, Nada, all get along great. It works! But school is
looming, and the bureaucratic powers that be might get Social Services involved.
That’s gonna be a problem.â€
Before
Jim could reply, Damian returned, and Jim, bless him, focused all his attention
on him. He took him all around the set, answering all of Damian’s questions, then
left him at the Honey Wagon food truck with instructions to the cook to give my
surrogate son whatever his heart desired.
Right
about then I did my Malibu Nurse scene. Once we wrapped, I gave profuse and
heartfelt thanks to Jim, said my goodbyes to everyone else, grabbed Damian and
headed for my car. On the way home I suggested that after we picked the dogs we
should go to our favorite drive-in for dinner. Hamburgers for everyone, but no
onions for the dogs!
“Don’t
need to. I got enough food at the Honey Wagon for dinner,†Damian said, reaching
into his pockets and producing a rather astonishing array of Honey Wagon goodies.
Looking down in horror at the amount of food Damian had conned out of the Honey
Wagon man, I thought, “Oh, God, this might just be my last Rockford Files.†It was, but only because the show was canceled in
1980 due to Universal’s creative accounting. (Jim and his production company,
Cherokee, took the studio to court and eventually won.)
A
year went by, and then Jim got back in the saddle in Bret Maverick, reprising the role he played in the original western
series Maverick that ran from
1957-1962. I was called in to audition for a screaming, hysterical woman
on an episode of the remake. After howling like a madwoman and muttering
incoherently I walked out of the casting office—and smack into Jim. We happily
greeted each other, and then he asked, in some astonishment, “Was that you they
had auditioning for the screaming woman?â€
“Yeah,â€
I answered.
“What?â€
he snapped, as that glazed expression appeared on his face, the one I recognized
that meant someone was going to hear about this.
“It’s
okay, Jim. I need the job. Let it go,†I said, trying to calm him down.
“I
don’t think so,†he responded, and proceeded to storm into the casting office.
Of
course, I got the role.
A
few weeks later it was announced that Bret Maverick had been picked up
for another season. My agent called to tell me I had been offered a recurring
role as a saloon girl at the Red Ox Saloon. The producers were guaranteeing me
six out of 12 shows, which meant I would be doing at least six shows, and
possibly twelve. After catching my breath and screaming out the window, I
asked, “How did this happen? I never auditioned for a saloon girl, but God,
that would be a dream come true.â€
“Oh,
it’s the same producers from The Rockford Files. They know you,
and apparently Jim likes you. Also, it says on your resume that you’re a dancer,
which probably gave you another edge up. They’re sending over the contracts; I’ll
get back to you when they arrive.â€
The
contracts duly arrived, and after a bit of back and forth with the producers a
contract was signed by one and all. Everyone, especially me, was deliriously
happy.
But,
as often happens in Hollywood, seemingly done deals can evaporate in a
heartbeat. A week or so after my contract was sealed the network announced that
it was canceling Bret Maverick, and all contracts were therefore nil and
void. There are no words to describe my disappointment, followed by weeks of
depression. Fortunately, roles on other shows kept the bills paid and me from
slitting my wrists.
Jim
by now had had enough of television and the networks, and went on to do some of
the most remarkable films of his career, including Victor Victoria (1982)
and Murphy’s Romance (1985). Unfortunately, being known primarily as a television actor, I wasn’t
considered for roles in these films.
However,
in 1991 Jim headlined another television series, Man of the People, in
which he played a small-town councilman. He still had that charming con-man
aura; a man that didn’t play by the rules. A few shows into production I
successfully auditioned for the role of Shirley, the proverbial hooker with a
heart of gold. (I had played a similar character on other shows.) Mine was a
simple jail scene in which Jim’s character is there to bail an incarcerated friend
out of jail when he spots me behind bars and stops to chat.
The
director was setting up the scene, with me dressed like a trashy call girl,
when I spotted Jim seated in his personalized chair watching the rehearsal. “Hi,
Jim,†I called out. “I’m back again, only this time I’m in jail.â€
He
laughed. “Recognized the voice, but not the outfit.â€
Jim’s
part called for him to walk past my jail cell, recognize me, stop and say, “Hey,
Shirley, how’s it going?â€
“Ahh,
after 40, it’s all panache,†I reply good-naturedly while freshening my breath
with mouth spray. “But right now, I could do with a little influence.â€
“I’ll see what I can
do,†he responds.
“Do
that and you get a freebie!†I yell back.
After
the second rehearsal the director called out: “Jim, step in closer, you’re out
of the shot.â€
“No,â€
Jim answered. “It’s her scene. Give her
the shot.†And so it was.
Afterwards,
as was our custom, Jim and I had a quick coffee together and nattered until his
next scene was up. I bid him goodbye, feeling really good about the work we’d
done.
A
week later my agent rang me up, not bothering to conceal his excitement. “Man
of the People wants you to come back as Jim’s regular hooker! There’s no
contract yet, but it looks good.â€
Again, euphoria and celebrations. But, shades of Bret
Maverick, a week later the network canceled Man
of the People. Another case of almost but not quite, and my one chance to
snuggle with James Garner was gone.
I
never had the good fortune to work with Jim again. But I followed his career as
he went on to do more worthy films such as Fellow Americans (1996) and The
Notebook (2004). And every year until his passing in 2014 I sent him a
Christmas card. I always signed under my name: “The Malibu Nurse.†More often
than not I would get a card in return.
There
were few actors—or men, for that matter—as talented, charming, kind and strong
as James Garner. He wasn’t afraid to stand up for himself or for others when he
felt that something was wrong or unfair. Thank you, Jim, for just being you.
(Excerpted from an upcoming book on
the Hollywood career of actress Sandra de Bruin)