7/16/2025
Newsletter #781
The Crack of Dawn
Part I:
Way back when, I used to work pretty frequently as a production assistant. It paid pretty well and was sort of in the same field as making movies, but the work was inconsistent. That’s why I drove a cab. As a cab driver I could come in any night I wanted to work; or just not come in at all. That way if I got a P.A. gig, I was always available to take it. One aspect of being a good P.A. was always being available. I never turned down a P.A. job. Therefore, if a producer needed a P.A. and called me, they knew they were going to get me.
The most grueling P.A. job I ever had in Detroit—I would have an even worse one later in L.A.—was really two commercials that were shot back-to-back. Rob Tapert, who would later produce Evil Dead, Hercules, Xena and Spartacus, worked as a P.A. on that gig.
The first of the two commercials was for the Detroit Optometric Center, or DOC, with locations all over the Detroit metropolitan area. DOC was a big company, and they spent a lot of money on advertising. For a couple of years DOC had the best local commercials in Detroit. This particular commercial was a full-blown, 1950s, Grease-like, musical, with a dance number, shot in a real ‘50s diner that was miraculously still in business. The commercial was set to the 1961 song, Pretty Little Angel Eyes by Curtis Lee – pretty little angel eyes original - Google Search – which was a terrific choice that worked perfectly. It does, however, have a somewhat repetitive lyric.
Pretty little angel eyes
Pretty little angel eyes
Pretty little angel pretty little angel
Pretty little pretty little
Pretty little angel
Pretty little little little angel eyes
Pretty Little Angel Eyes is and will always remain the song I’ve heard the most times in a row in my life.
But I’ve gotten ahead of myself. If the producers here in Detroit had enough money they brought in Hollywood directors and cinematographers, which I thought was really cool. On this little extravaganza they brought in the director William Dear (with whom I worked a number of times), who had directed Harry and the Hendersons (1987) for Steven Spielberg. Bill Dear was a good director and went on to make a lot of movies. Bill would come to Detroit for the bigger commercials that could afford to pay his rate.
The day before the shoot we the crew scouted the one location. The building had a red exterior, white trim, and a cool curved corner with glass blocks. It was a great location. Inside there was a long counter with swiveling, aquamarine stools, about eight tables, and a fairly large open area, perfect for dancing. The floor was covered with white vinyl tile. Bill Dear said to the producer, Bob Dyke, “And the floor will be checkerboarded black and white by the time we shoot tomorrow?” Bob said, “Yes, it will.” Based on sheer proximity, he turned to me and said, “We have boxes and boxes of two-foot-square peel-off, black stickers. Make the floor checkerboard.” I said what all P.A.s should always say, under all circumstances, “Right. You got it.” Bob pointed at a female P.A., whom I hadn’t yet met, and said, “You help him. Get it done. Call time is at 7:00 AM.” Bob, Bill, and everyone else including Rob, turned and left. The girl and I were alone. It was a big white floor. Upon it sat boxes and boxes of two-foot square black stickers. Where to begin? I said, “This open area will be the dance floor, let’s start here.”
It was noon. We quickly found that sticking down each one of those stupid black plastic stickers was a ridiculous ordeal. Once you peeled off the backing, they immediately curled up into a sticky tube. When you stuck them down, if they weren’t lined up perfectly straight, it was obvious. Once you stuck them down, it was a bitch getting them off. When she and I finished one disconcertingly uneven row, we both realized that in 17 more hours we might not have time to finish. On our hands and knees, she and I stayed there all night long with those goddamned black stickers. At call time the next morning we weren’t done. But since we had wisely completed the main staging area, they could proceed, although we were still bitched out for not being done. She and I persevered and continued sticking down stickers while the camera and lights were being set up, which took a couple of hours.
There were about 25 boys and girls in their 20s and 30s. The boys wore black leather jackets, the girls in pink poodle skirts. There was choreographed dance number where two couples jumped up and danced a quick jitterbug. Luckily, it was a sixty-second commercial so there wasn’t much dancing, but there were still a couple of dance moves, so there was a choreographer, and now it all had to be staged for the camera. Bill had it completely in control. I paid attention to what he was doing and was in a very good place to see and hear everything.
Because as the rehearsal commenced, me and the girl still weren’t done. We kept right on going, moving our way farther into the background. As they rehearsed the dance moves, this was when the song Pretty Little Angel Eyes began playing. For the next twelve to fourteen hours the song was on an endless loop. These are the lyrics which were repeated over and over and over again . . .
Pretty little angel eyes
Pretty little angel eyes
Pretty little angel pretty little angel
Pretty little pretty little
Pretty little angel
Pretty little little little angel eyes
Pretty Little Angel Eyes wins hands down for the song I’ve heard the most times in a row of any song in my life. It is indelibly scorched in my brain.
Bill Dear, meanwhile, handled the whole thing like the pro he was. In a few hours it all came together. Throughout all of this, the girl and I kept sticking down black squares. I’d look up and see Rob standing there, pointing at me and laughing. It could just as easily have been him, but I was standing closer.
Finally, though not in conclusion, when they got ready to roll camera, me and the girl still weren’t done, but we were far enough back that it didn’t really matter. She and I were finally ordered off the set. This brought applause from the crew. Seventeen hours of applying stickers. Then, as people danced on them, they tore. Several times me and her had to run in and hastily replace them, then scurry away.
As the song played, ad infinitum, the shoot finally wrapped at about 3:00 AM. Once everyone else had left, we P.A.s had to stay and tear off all of the black squares, including Rob. This took a few more hours. We finally finished as the sun rose.
Rob had wisely only signed on for the first commercial. I had foolishly signed up for both. That meant, having just completed the sticker nightmare of Pretty Little Angel Eyes, I went straight to Producer’s Color sound stage where the second commercial, this one for Canadian Tire paint, was just setting up.
End Part I:
As always, thank you.
We were both experienced P.A.s. I'm the shmuck who took both jobs. Bob was a good producer.