My First Internship

I first moved to New York after graduation, and I stayed with my college friend's mother in NJ, because I wasn't prepared to pay the City rent. And I was a little lost about how to go about getting into the film business. I really had no idea about what I could do in the business, and actually looked in the newspaper to find a job working on a movie. My parents didn't know anybody who was in the film business and the one lead I had at the Alumni office didn't pan out for me.

I spent most of the summer in that NJ house, not knowing what to do with myself, and by the end of the summer, when I started to feel like I shouldn't overstay my welcome, I gave up, and moved back to my college town, where I lived for 8 months, before venturing back to New York again. I know the internet offers a lot more opportunity to self-educate yourself on what is going on in the business, but I have to believe some college grads are still as oblivious, and un-connected as I was then.

It was my oldest sister who told me John Sayles was in New York, and she recommended that I go to his production office and ask for an internship, not a job. I had written a paper about Sayles and one of his producers, Maggie Renzi, in college, because at that time, 1985, Sayles was a new voice in American Independent Film, having won a McArthur Grant, and having produced a few independents on his own with Maggie Renzi and more recently, Peggy Rajski. I found the number of the company, Red Dog, somehow, and called the office to learn that they were in post production on Eight Men Out and didn't need any interns.

When I told my sister that I had hit another dead end, she told me that I had to go down to the office in person and ask them again if I could work for free. I wasn't going to get anywhere if I wasn't persistent, she said. So, I tracked down their office to an address on West 38th Street and one day got up the courage to knock on the door. It was a crummy little office with three desks facing each other, a few filing cabinets and a love seat. There they were: the producer, the accountant and the post coordinator. And again I didn't get too far because within a couple minutes they had again told me that they needed no help and I was shown the door (politely of course).

I was ready to give up, but my sister wasn't, and she told me to wait one week and go back to ask again. So that's what I did. But again, they said they didn't need anyone. Coached by my sister, I managed to shake everyone's hand anyway, and looked them in the eyes, as directed, and I told them how I had written a paper about John's filmmaking, and their production methods, and how I even recognized the producer, Peggy Rajski, from a picture in one of the books I had used for research. All my efforts still had me back out on the pavement, but I did feel like I had made more of a connection this time. And I had met Peggy Rajski! --the producer from that book.

And then a few days later I got a call from the post coordinator, that If I still wanted to come in, they couldn't pay me, and there was just some really mundane work to do, but I could come in the next day. So I did. And I emptied the trash, and went out for their lunch, and pasted up petty cash, and made runs between the office and Sound One, where the film was being finished. I actually got to hand John Sayles his mail, which was most rewarding because it meant to me that I was finally part of it--even if I was the absolute lowest man on the pole. To this day, I refer to that day, when they called me to come back, as the turning point in my film career, the day I got in.

After a few weeks interning, they started paying me $50/day and after Eight Men Out finished, Peggy called a colleague and before I knew it, I was called to work as a set PA on Nancy Savoca's True Love. After that, Peggy made another call and got me a PA job on State of Grace, doing tasks that would open my eyes wide to the dynamic of a big feature film.

What I learned from my experience trying to get an internship on Eight Men Out, turned out to be true for the business in general. You will always have to hunt for work and sometimes stalk it, but if you keep driving forward and pursuing the road you think will be good for you, you can get in. If you make a good impression on the people you meet and work with, they will help you to navigate your way. You will never make enough money, but you will be part of the movie business.