December 17, 2000
How ‘The West Wing’ was won
By JOYCE SAENZ HARRIS
The Dallas Morning News
The secrets to TV show’s success may be found in a Texan’s life story
LOS ANGELES — The Oval Office is too cluttered. The Roosevelt Room is too noisy. So the boss takes a break to chat in the press secretary's office.
Welcome to the White House of executive producer-director Thomas Schlamme, a Houston native who recently won an Emmy (his second for directing) for the series pilot of The West Wing.
The NBC show's hit status has turned an unaccustomed spotlight on the soft-spoken, genial Mr. Schlamme (rhymes with "Tommy," which is what everyone calls him). At 50, the University of Texas graduate suddenly is one of Hollywood's most sought-after directorial talents and could have his pick of TV and film projects — if The West Wing didn't keep him busy 80 hours a week.
But although he speaks wistfully of wanting more time with his family, he's not complaining much.
"We are so committed to not falling into the mediocre," Mr. Schlamme says. "Every show, we try to do a better show." That goal demands the director's special gift for storytelling, a blend of comedy and pathos not unlike his own life.
For West Wing creator/writer Aaron Sorkin, Mr. Schlamme is a sort of professional soulmate. They first clicked when they met four years ago to create ABC's Sports Night. "Hooking up with Aaron was a culmination. He was a writer whose work I absolutely understood," Mr. Schlamme says.
Mr. Sorkin in turn lauds Mr. Schlamme's "leadership skills, which are not seen on the screen," for turning the show's cast into a successful acting ensemble. If two of the leads do not get along in real life, or if another star often neglects to memorize lines — well, Tommy Schlamme is the magician who makes this illusion work.
Mr. Schlamme has perfected the art of the "walk-and-talk," the show's signature tracking shots of two or three characters as they hustle from one West Wing office to another. He choreographs scenes like a ballet master moving dancers through their steps.
"He's one of the greatest directors I've ever worked with," says Rob Lowe, who stars as White House aide Sam Seaborn. "He's got a great eye; he's very strong visually. This is a show that, had Tommy not stamped it in a way that has become its hallmark, could've been a very leaden, talking heads-type show. But it crackles with energy."
In The West Wing's alternate political universe, President Josiah Bartlet (Martin Sheen) is midway through his first term, and his constituents vote every Wednesday via the remote control. So far, his Nielsen polls require no recount, for "Jed" Bartlet is far more popular than any real-life politician.
The show has not only become a critical and popular success — it has become required viewing for a key audience. "Everyone at the White House rushes to the TV on Wednesday night and watches it ... and sits around next day to talk about it," says political consultant Paul Begala. The Texas Democrat, who now co-hosts MSNBC's Equal Time, is both a West Wing insider and a major West Wing fan.
"What's real about it is the characters. They make it," Mr. Begala says. "They get the Oval Office right. ...What you see in the show is that everybody working there has a million plates spinning ... and the one plate that drops is going to be on the front page."
Tommy was born in 1950, the younger of Otto and Steffi Schlamme's two children. "I've been forbidden to talk about when he was a wussy little kid," claims his only sibling, Susan Schlamme Massin of Houston. All joking aside, though, Ms. Massin acknowledges being "super-close" to her brother, who is less than two years her junior: "We were like buddies, really."
Otto Schlamme, who fled Nazi Germany as a teenager and has lived in Houston since 1938, recalls his young son as "not precocious, just an all-around boy." Tommy was naturally athletic, but "he had a lot of insecurity that doesn't exist anymore," says actor Brent Spiner, his best friend since boyhood. "He wasn't sure what his contribution would be to the world, to his family or himself."
Brent was a nerd, and "high school is treacherous for nerds." But Tommy was "good-spirited and protective; I felt safe in his presence." (Mr. Spiner notes that he played his most famous character, the lovable android Data of Star Trek: The Next Generation, as "the ultimate nerd.")
At Bellaire High, Tommy and Brent discovered theater under the guidance of drama teacher Cecil Pickett. "He was very much a mentor. ... It really did turn me around in my life," Mr. Schlamme says. "That's absolutely clear in my head. I was so mesmerized by the way he saw the world."
Mr. Pickett, who died three years ago, also inspired other Bellaire students, including brothers Randy and Dennis Quaid, the late character actor Trey Wilson, and the teacher's own daughter, actress Cindy Pickett. "They all adored that man," Otto Schlamme says.
"Those of us who came into contact with Cecil had a life-changing experience," Mr. Spiner says. "Suddenly, the world was about more than just having fun. It took Tommy a little longer, because he didn't trust what he was meant to do."
Otto hoped that Tommy, as the only son, would carry on with the family's successful office-supply business. But early on at the University of Texas, Tommy realized that what he really wanted to do was make films.
"I had dreams of being Robert Altman," he says. "Breaking down something and understanding the human and emotional element." He told Brent about his decision while the two boys were driving to the Cottonwood Inn, a steakhouse in Columbus, Texas.
Brent, who had known he wanted to be an actor since he was 13, understood perfectly. "Things have a way of working out the way they're supposed to," Mr. Spiner observes.
Tommy was still studying film at UT ("staying stoned and making movies") when his mother, Steffi Becker Schlamme, died of cancer. "She was one of the sweetest women who ever lived, a dear human being," Mr. Spiner remembers. "I think the early death of Tommy's mother informed a lot of the rest of his life ... [and] created a need to prove something to Otto, or the world, or himself."
In fact, his mother still influences his life. "I can talk about my father's professionalism and Cecil's perception of the truth in things," Mr. Schlamme says. "But the patience and the sense of trying to make people feel like a family was completely driven by my mother when I was a kid." Her generosity of spirit "was an incredible gift," he says. And he still believes that "If you give that, you get that in return."
When Tommy graduated from UT, he "left there with a diploma and a head full of dreams. I had not a clue how to pursue that." So he backpacked in Europe, bounced back to Houston and worked as "the resident freak with incredibly long hair" at the Bozell & Jacobs advertising agency — until his boss urged him to move on with his life.
Tommy was 23. He stashed $1,000 in his boot, went to New York and stayed at the Chelsea Hotel with Kinky Friedman; the iconoclastic Texas musician ("loonier than a bird but brilliant") was a friend from Echo Hill Ranch, the Jewish summer camp in Kerrville. Tommy survived by driving a cab while struggling to get jobs making commercials for Broadway shows. That led to music videos, including one for Bette Midler, which led to regular work for HBO and other TV and cable work.
He had loved New York since a visit at the age of 10. "I kind of went 'Wow! Look what these people are doing!' It wasn't a quest to get out of Texas," he says. "It was the idea that there was a world beyond the world I knew."
It is common knowledge in Hollywood that the worst experience of Mr. Schlamme's professional life was directing Mike Myers in So I Married an Axe Murderer.
The 1993 film was supposed to be a comedy, but there was nothing remotely funny about the instant, bitter dislike the star took to his director. A recently Vanity Fair profile of Mr. Myers claimed that he reduced Mr. Schlamme to tears on one occasion, but the director says that never happened.
"Tommy said, 'I have yet to cry over my mother's death,'" recalls Mr. Spiner. "'So believe me, Mike Myers is not going to make me cry.'"
The Axe Murderer shoot nonetheless was unpleasant to the point of emotional trauma, and Mr. Schlamme later acknowledged that he probably should have used Directors Guild clout to rein in his surly star. Mr. Myers' attitude toward Mr. Schlamme was "a total mystery to me," says the actress who undoubtedly knows the director best.
That would be Christine Lahti, the respected film and TV star. "Tommy has a natural gift with actors," she says. "Actors always come up to me and say he's their favorite director — and I'm envious." She has worked with Mr. Schlamme on several projects, most notably the 1991 film Crazy from the Heart. But if she isn't directed by Mr. Schlamme as much as she might like, it's not for lack of access to him.
Ms. Lahti and Mr. Schlamme have been married for 17 years and live in Santa Monica with their three children: Wilson, 12, and twins Sam and Emma, 8. Mr. Schlamme is "a great dad," Ms. Lahti says, despite his heavy work schedule that keeps him away far more than he would like. He makes it a point to block out hours on his schedule to attend movies and museums, go on hikes, take field trips to Knott's Berry Farm.
What usually gets sacrificed, she notes, is his rest: "He doesn't sleep very much."
Mr. Schlamme made his name directing comedians and satirists such as Tracey Ullmann, John Leguizamo, Martin Lawrence and Spalding Gray in HBO specials and concert films. But he never meant to be pigeonholed as a "comedy director." And though he has a sharp, subversive sense of humor, the laughter often is bittersweet, with unshed tears just beneath the surface.
"The rap that used to be on me was, I'd make a drama and they'd say, 'Be careful, he'll make it too funny.' And I'd do a comedy, and they'd say, 'He'll make it too serious,'" he says. "The truth of it is, both those were somewhat valid.
"I don't wake up in the morning and go, 'Today's a good comedy day! I'm going to be funny all day!' Or, 'It's a tragic day.' They sort of exist together."
There is a story he tells about his father, Otto Schlamme, the sturdy survivor. This is, remember, a man who escaped the Holocaust that claimed many of his relatives. He also has been widowed three times, losing his wives to cancer, a brain disease and a heart attack, in that order.
When Tommy's most recent stepmother died, he accompanied his father to the funeral home in Houston — the same Jewish mortuary that had handled the two previous wives' funerals. A solemn occasion, to be sure. But what does Tommy Schlamme do?
He grabs a business card from the reception desk, draws eight little squares on it, then uses a hole-puncher on three of the squares. Then he hands it to his father, "letting him know that only five more wives and he gets a funeral for free!"
Otto is startled at first, but then he gets the joke and laughs irrepressibly. And he carries the card all day, showing it to his friends, just the ones who would understand, and they laugh, too.
And then they mourn. And then they laugh some more.
Posted by Ryo at December 17, 2000 11:29 AM