Mrs. Gunn and Mr. President--The Winners!

Just like Barack Obama’s David Plouffe, campaign manager extraordinaire, Soiree Fair, Inc. has a secret weapon. It’s my Mother and she’s very hot right now—Not Paris Hilton hot, but topical--hot.
Here’s the deal—she’s voted in every general and primary election for over 50 years. Her aunt who raised her for a bit was a Republican, so how my mother ended up being a Democrat I don’t quite know. But what I do know like so many others that when asked that burning question of their respected elders at 11:00pm eastern standard time on November 4, 2008—“Did you ever think you’d see the day that an African-American President would be elected in the USA?” Like so many other respected and learned elders, she told me “no”. My mother is a Yankee and never had an affinity for the south with the stories of its racial injustices which made her all the more skeptical in the reality of this day. The bittersweet aspect of the Obama victory is that she was forlorn because with all ecstasy there is pain, and it was all about the ones who have gone on to their glory despite never having witnessed this historical event in their earthly lifetimes. The sadness is to not having experienced it with them here and now, especially with my Dad who was a southerner.

She’d throttle me as this implies that she is like 100 years old…oh, but she has always had the knowledge and foresight of Nostradamus. She’s a wonder and every business and hothead like me needs her. She has perfect common sense. Law enforcement could use her acute insights and uncanny ability to suss out evil motives and toxic human wastes. I’m truly blessed to be able to share this remarkable time in history with her. She gives me a profound understanding of all that is complicated in life due to her experience as my mother, a wife of 46 years to a man who had perfect nerves and diplomacy. My parents were world travelers and an all-around class act couple. I always said my parents may not have always been right, but they were never wrong. What an incredible life they gave me. They instilled in me that all things are possible. That is how I live my life.
I don’t have to Google anybody or Ask Jeeves anything. All I have to do is ask Mrs. Gunn. She’s that good.

Don't Let the Door Hit Ya, Where the Dog Shoulda Bit Ya

They have a sign up sheet for volunteers to help George W. Bush pack his s*** and get out, Nov 5th. I put us all down for the 3pm-8pm shift.

The Bloody Climb

When I was first starting out, trying to make my mark and put Soiree Fair, Inc. on the map, I did all of my own schlepping through midtown and Chelsea, NYC. I delivered the majority of my breakdowns personally. What a chum bucket I was. From being an agent at Fifi’s, I learned that time is of the essence in getting submissions into the hands of casting directors. Thank goodness for the advent of electronic submissions! Going on—I had some adventures in messengering, though. I was working at Harper C. (my survival job at the time) in the east 50’s so it was a little out of the way from the majority of the casting offices. I would snake my way across town from Port Authority at 8:00am, hitting, Hughes-Moss, Elissa Myers and some lesser one-hit wonder casting directors along the way. But a couple of instances stand out that you’ll all get a kick out of. My office at the time was pretty close to Lynn Kressel’s “Law & Order” casting office. She was located on Park Avenue and I decided to sneak out one day and drop off the submission. Of course, I saw a busybody on the floor on my way out who asked where I was going and I told them I was on my way to the ladies room. I dashed to the elevator and out onto the street. On my way back, don’t you know, it began to rain. I got caught in a downpour and came back soaked. Remember, I wasn’t wearing a coat to the “ladies rooms”. I ran into the same idiot on my way back to my office and he insinuated through a foul exchange of words that I obviously fallen into the toilet in the ladies room. I had to keep my cool. I was building a business and it was only a matter of time until I could resign. Another time, wow, I dropped off a submission at Liz Lewis Casting on West 19th at the time. I had to hop a subway downtown in hopes of not getting stuck and not getting back to work semi-on time after lunch. I only had enough dough for a one way trip and would have to hoof it back 30+ blocks with a pretzel for lunch. The good news is I got there to Liz Lewis on the subway without a glitch. The bad news is, I presented my submission and in this case one single, solitary headshot. The receptionist saw the project written on the envelope and flipped it right into the trash saying it was too late without ever opening it. She didn’t know who I was and I didn’t know who she was. I was only the “messenger”. I had gone the extra mile (and them some) for that client and had failed. That one kicked me in the gut, but good. I swallowed hard and turned around to wait for the elevator. It was a long walk back and I had no appetite for my pretzel. But hey, it’s all good now. I bucked up and kept working and Liz Lewis Casting is now a great champion and friend to Soiree Fair, Inc. That was a valuable lesson in amping up my game. They’ve taken a chance on so many of our clients with tremendous success. Shout out to everybody at Liz Lewis Casting Partners—Thanks for making me strong and a contender!

In Memoriam--Paul Newman

Karen Gunn GAB

Ahoy folks! You’ve been warned and now here it officially is—my blog. I’ll tell you stuff and anecdotes of my life that lead up to becoming an agent and onto becoming a personal manager. I’ll also tell you what’s on my mind at certain times but you’ll get a bit of retro stuff that will explain some of my joy, wrath, lunacy and disappointments.

I was terribly saddened by the death of Paul Newman. I met him before the turn of this century when I was a teenager at the Berkshire Theatre Festival, Stockbridge, MA. His utterly divine and most gracious wife, Joanne Woodward was starring in “The Children’s Hour” and I worked as the Prop Mistress on the show. I was rather full of myself because only a select few of us were chosen to work on the show for the fact of her being a world renown star and they selected those with the most discretion and professionalism. My roommate was her dresser so she got the real juice on all the celebrities and family that came to visit her after performances.

There was this one particular performance which I think may have been a Saturday night and as I was gathering all the props left on the table after the performance to restore to their presets for the next day in wanders Paul Newman. I had my back to him and he came up to the table and asked me what something was and I remembering looking over and good golly there he was. He was tan and lovely, not in a “Boy From Ipanema” way but in a way in which you would swear that Tennessee Williams was put on this earth to write about him. He had on a white polo shirt, pristine white slacks and was carrying a can of Budweiser. Now, we’re talking the red and white can of full-throttle Budweiser King Of Beers and none of that piss water light beer mess. I remember explaining the purpose of whatever prop it was in some sort of cockamamie scientific term for a music box, but give me a break. It was Paul Newman and I was a teenager, for goodness sakes, and trying to be a professional and not a star-struck dope. But I failed. I didn’t have sense enough to introduce myself to him. He nodded and left to Joanne’s dressing room. He was a man of few words and such gravitas. And yes his eyes were bluuuuuueeeeeee.

Shortly thereafter, my routine included reporting to Joanne Woodward after every performance with personal items to return to here that she had opted to use in the show. So this time, I got to see Paul Newman again but here’s the kicker—Joanne Woodward took the time to introduce me to him most proper as in “Karen, this is my husband, Paul” proper. We shook hands and he had explained that he had previously spoken to me. It was so cool.

So I can attest that all the stories are true about them being down-to-earth people. Joanne Woodward was a great joy and inspiration to work with. I’ll just throw in that my birthday was during the run of the show and can you image being sung happy birthday to by Joanne Woodward, Shirley Knight, David Selby, Carmen Mathews and a whole heap of young actresses including the late Roy Scheider’s daughter, Max.

I’ve been in some wild places for my birthdays and have gotten serenaded by Oscar winners, Grammy winners, Tony winners—it’s been phenomenal. You’ll get the lowdown on that later.

Rest In Peace, Paul Newman.