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| Isabel Sanford and Sherman Hemsley on the set of The Jeffersons. |
I learned this the hard way during my first week on the set, when one day during a break in rehearsals, I tried to sit down on that very same couch. I crouched down and plumped my butt on the couch, expecting a set of soft cushions to break my fall, only to realize that TV couches have a hard barrier under the outer cushions, in this case a piece of plywood, that keeps actors from falling down into the couch, and out of view of the camera.
Now take a closer look at that picture and notice that Isabel and Sherman seem to be floating right on top of the couch - they don't fall down into the cushions at all. There's a piece of wood under those cushions, keeping them up.
Lesson learned. Things in Hollywood are not always as they appear.
In the summer of 1982, I had just finished my first year of college in Los Angeles. Norman Lear's hit sit-com The Jeffersons, itself a spin-off of Lear's All in the Family, was among many of his shows moving over to the Universal Studios lot. I had worked as a tour guide at Universal that year, and was able to snag a job interview to be a page, someone who helps corral live audiences in and out of the studio for TV tapings.
The biggest sit-com producer in television in the 1970's, and into the early '80's, Lear had recently sold his production company, and its stable of hit shows, to Embassy Television. Things were a bit slow at Universal at the time, and they were looking for some outside tenants to occupy some of their cavernous, unused sound stages around the lot.
Different Strokes and The Facts of Life would wind up on Stage 43. Silver Spoons and Who's the Boss would share Stage 42, and I would eventually find a home on Stage 44 with One Day at a Time and The Jeffersons.
Every one of these shows were hit network sit-coms, which meant they were a license to print money for those involved, and I wouldn't watch any of them unless somebody paid me. Which was exactly what happened.
My stepfather loved The Jeffersons. It was his favorite show after All in the Family. The character of George Jefferson first appeared on All the Family. He was basically an African-American version of Archie Bunker, the loud-mouthed, bigoted leading character of All in the Family.
I disliked both shows - I felt they were coarse, predictable and not funny. My stepfather thought they were hilarious. I never heard him laugh so hard as when he watched those shows. I later understood why he would identify with characters who, like himself, worked hard every day in their own small businesses to feed and provide for their families, and were the sole voices of sanity in a world gone mad.
The Jeffersons was broadcast for 11 seasons - an ETERNITY in network television - produced over 250 episodes, and was in production from January of 1975 through June, 1985.
It was a landmark show in its time. Lear liked exploring contemporary social and political issues in his shows in the 1970's, and it was the only depiction of a black family on American television, paving the way for the arrival of The Cosby Show in 1984. I believe it's still the longest running show on television to feature a black family.
I worked on The Jeffersons two days a week in my first year as a page at Universal, and then was promoted to Head Page, supervising a crew of 6-7 pages working the show each week, for its final two seasons. My primary responsibility was to keep the production company, and their many V.I.P.'s each week, happy with the audience.
The cast and production crew of The Jeffersons at that time were in TV's version of "golden handcuffs." Any relevance or freshness the show ever had was long gone, but in those final seasons everyone involved was still making boat loads of money. Brinks' trucks backing up to the house kind of money. Beautiful women walking around your house wearing your shirts, and you don't even know their names, kind of money.
One thing I've tried to explain to my boys from an early age is that people you see in films and TV shows are just actors playing a role. Just because an actor plays a tough guy, or a brilliant politician or a doctor, does not mean they are that person, or can do those things, in real life. Actors are paid to put on costumes and make-up, dress up and pretend to be those characters. Seems like a simple concept, but it's something that many adults in America have failed to grasp, resulting in some odd choices for elected office. Sometimes it works; sometimes not.
I have never met an actor who was less like his character than Sherman Hemsley, in his role as George Jefferson (which he portrayed brilliantly). While there were some similarities to be sure, an actor must bring something of himself for any role to be convincing, the differences were just as acute.
Sherman was the friendliest cast member on the set. You can tell a lot about someone by how they treat the "little people." He would walk up, introduce himself - ask who you were - and talk to anyone on the set, if there was a break or pause in the action. He would even look you in the eye when you were talking, listen, and on occasion, ask YOU a question about your own life. I can't emphasize strongly enough how unique it is for a famous actor to show some interest in the normal people, civilians, around them. I was stunned the first time he called me by my first name.
I once told him how much my stepfather enjoyed him and his show, and asked him if he would autograph a copy of a script that I could give to my stepfather. He happily wrote a little note for him and signed the script. He even came back later with a signed picture. It was the only time I ever asked an actor for an autograph. He couldn't have been more gracious.
He was a nervous ball of energy on the set, always moving, like his character. I realize now he was probably ADD, like many actors and executives in Hollywood. That energy made his character seem exasperated and impatient much of the time, which worked for that role.
Sherman was also openly gay (on the set) and allegedly had a drug problem.
I think being trapped as an artist by his own success, and being a gay African-American, contributed to the drug problem. I have no idea how long it was a problem, or if it was something he ever overcame (certainly hope he did), but I do know that in my four years as a page the only taping I can recall being canceled the day of the show was on The Jeffersons. Everyone on the set told me Sherman was just too out of it to tape the show.
Doing some research tonight, I was shocked to discover Hemsley was the same age I am now when his show was canceled. He seemed so much older. After playing the role for eleven seasons, making millions for the network and production company in the process, he learned the show was canceled when he read about it in the paper. That's show biz.
I'm sure that the show, which made him rich beyond his wildest dreams, could not have possibly been creatively fulfilling after the first season for a trained actor with numerous stage credits - including an appearance on Broadway - like himself. And the role would typecast him for the rest of his life. He knew it. He's still doing commercials as that character. I might need a little medication to ease the psychic pain had I been in his shoes.
The show ended. Their set, a "deluxe apartment in the sky," was moved out of Stage 44, and a new show took its place.
Somewhere in storage I probably still have a jacket with The Jeffersons logo embroidered across the back - a gift from the production company to everyone who worked on the show that final season.
I wonder if Sherman was ever able to find his peace. A pure creative outlet. I hope so. He seemed a gentle soul who had lost his way when I knew him.
The Jeffersons still holds an important place in the history of network television. And its theme song is embedded in American popular culture. Just start singing the opening line of the theme song, "we're moving on up," around some friends and you'll inevitably have several people singing along.
I was looking for a clip on YouTube of the opening of the show to put at the end of this post. Couldn't really find a good one. But then I found this oddity, which illustrates even better how ingrained the show really was in American pop culture. You know you've made it when you've become a Hitler meme on YouTube. Like finally having your piece of the pie.
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