Thank You, Klamath Falls

There is something to be said about following a dream.

Not in a cheesy way that’s written in cursive and framed on a living room mantel. And not in a way that yields incessant social media updates. It’s a lot more disheveled and far more personal.

It’s the dream you’re almost afraid to speak of for fear of receiving the dreaded eye-roll because certainly people know that your frivolous little notion is something that probably won’t happen. But you know that it definitely won’t happen unless you try.

I came to Los Angeles in search of a career in the entertainment industry.

As an alumnus of Tiny Hopefuls, Roosevelt Elementary School, Ponderosa Junior High School, Klamath Union High School, and Oregon Tech, it can be safely stated that my time in Klamath Falls largely shaped who I am today. The teachers, the friends, the coaches, the Pelican Cinema, the stars, the midges, the Creamery, the early morning train whistle, the roar of a packed Pel Court, and the deafening silence of peaceful Klamath nights.

For all of it, for all of you; let me say, thank you.

The idea of venturing out to explore a world so vastly different from one that holds so much familiarity and comfort is terrifying and intoxicating.

I didn’t know many people in Los Angeles, so I hung out in places of personal interest: comedy clubs, coffee shops, and film-based networking groups where I could hear others’ stories and hopefully figure out where I belonged in this new world, if at all.

Not knowing exactly what I wanted to do, I worked or volunteered on any production that would hire or have me; even in departments I had no interest in pursuing. I became a sponge: listening, watching, learning, doing. It was my intention to prepare a skillset and retain a knowledge base so that if luck found me, I’d at least be able to try and put a good foot forward.

I was able to do this and not let the existential dread take over because Klamath Falls taught me how to keep moving forward: how to humbly stand on a mountain peak, and, more importantly, how to trudge through ubiquitous valleys of failure.

Two years ago, I found myself in such a valley: the valley of the freelancer's blues. Suffering from ambition and seriously questioning the rationale in following a dream, I was numbingly scrolling the Interwebs when I came across a post by Lyle Ahrens, Klamath Falls KOTI news anchor. He had shared an article entitled, "Lights, Camera, Klamath!"

Woah. Wait. What? Someone was going to shoot a movie in MY Klamath Falls? My mind raced as I launched into a few stages of grief. Denial was first; this is not real, this isn’t happening, everyone look…Lyle’s got jokes! But there it was, an article with a video of the Klamath County commissioners, featuring a Location Scout and a Unit Production Manager for some kind of clandestine film.

Denial quickly turned to anger, but faded promptly because anger is incredibly fruitless. Then, a deep, pitted sickness replaced everything and lingered for a hard minute. I hadn’t lived in Klamath Falls for six years, but I still had family and friends there. I kept in touch. I maybe even had a sprig of cachet leftover from days long gone. And I had film experience. The thought that this might simply pass me by was unacceptable.

Needing to be proactive, I consulted the oracle, researching common entertainment websites for contact information and...lo and behold, the movie God’s spoke.

Sending perhaps the most important e-mail of my life to a perfect stranger, I waited. One hour, two You've-Got-Mails, and a five minute phone call later, my ears were graced with the words, "Welcome to the team."

Could it be that easy? All I did was ask. And it worked. It worked! CACHET!!

I had left Klamath Falls, Oregon, to work in the movie business by way of Los Angeles, California, only to land my first union gig right back in Klamath Falls, Oregon.

Unbelievable.

It's difficult to fully explain just how strange it was to go from working in the sprawling city of Los Angeles, to working on a major motion picture in the small town that bore witness to those tender salad days. Around every corner, worlds were colliding rapidly and repeatedly, and I was standing in the middle of a whirlwind that was both nostalgic and unfamiliar. It was the greatest six week-long episode of The Twilight Zone I could ever imagine.

Even though my position on the film was that of a meager cog in a mammoth wheel, it was an authentic and rare experience. I felt like the conduit between the film and the town.

And what made it so special was Klamath Falls and the people who live there. I didn’t even know what kind of film I had climbed aboard until I showed up on my first day. Had no idea it was a Lorne Michaels picture. Didn’t know I’d be working with half the current cast of Saturday Night Live, let alone Rita Wilson and Bill Pullman, whose careers both had a significant impact on my love for storytelling. Initially unaware of and unconcerned about any concrete details, it was Klamath Falls that held the appeal.

We shot most of the film 36 miles outside of Klamath at Lake of the Woods. The cabin that served as our hero location was directly next door to another cabin where, decades ago, my Stand-By-Me friends and I spent many-a-summer-day swimming off the dock and as many summer nights as the calendar would allow, laying on the dock, gazing at those magnificent stars and confiding in each other, our dreams.

There were six days where we shot in various locations around Klamath Falls: The Whoa Tavern in Keno, Oregon Tech’s library and college union, Fairview Elementary School, The Klamath County Government Center and its surrounding streets, and the Rooney’s driveway and the Nagy’s old house on Pacific Terrace.

I learned so much on this project. I learned what it was like to be a part of a real production. I learned that I could hang tough playing Trivial Pursuit: SNL Edition with the cast of SNL. Learned that horses need sleep, too. That skunks are not the most obedient of animal actors, and their handlers are even less devoted to making the day. I learned that when you can’t audibly scream in utter frustration, flipping over an imaginary table is the best relief. I learned that if Alex Noble or Dave Wickert flip the table around 3:00AM, I lose all control and ‘the giggles’ take over. I learned that, on set, your job title often becomes your last name. I learned that the Lake of the Woods caterers make the best bacon in the world. I learned that if Julie Wardrobe fits me with a Sergeant Pepper-esque jacket and I’m placed in front of the camera, I may just end up goofily moonwalking with Rita Wilson. I learned I couldn’t have done this without Klamath Falls. And, I learned that dreams can come true in full circles.

And, as pleased as I am to report that work continues in Los Angeles, and, as much as I hope to shoot another film in Klamath, there’s nothing quite like the first time.

It is unlikely there will ever be another job where breakfast is staged in my elementary school’s cafeteria and the entire cast and crew get to make fun of my 6th grade photo on the wall in the auditorium.

There will probably never be another job where I get to hire my beloved high school English teacher, Mr. Jan Domela who fully understood and supported my whispered Hollywood dreams when I was his student. He once wrote in my yearbook, "You'd better invite me to the premiere of your first film!" And there we were, working on a major motion picture together.

There will never be another job where I get to actually share the screen with so many people who mean so much to me.

Simply, there will just never be another summer of 2014 when we made Brother Nature.

It bears mentioning how fortunate the town was to have such a wonderful crew working on the picture. That is not always the case when films shoot on location, however, this production was honest and respectful and genuinely cared about the footprint they would eventually leave. We were all so very lucky to have gotten to work with each and every one of them and I’m honored to call them my friends.

We wrapped what was originally called Brother in Laws on September 14th, 2014. I wish I could be at the Pelican Cinemas premiere tonight (September 9th, 2016), but I’m still down here in Los Angeles, trying to make you proud.

Thank you, Klamath Falls, for everything.

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