"Don't Go Smelling Like a Rabbit"

Chapter Forty Two

It's called "The Big Wait": an actor coming to California or New York can expect to wait from 3-5 years or more before getting their careers started.

Started.

That means months and months and years of going on auditions and getting rejections. It means trying to find an agent. It means trying to stay alive in a town that doesn't care if you're there or not.

It only cares if you can make money for somebody else.

When I finally got to Los Angeles I started doing lots and lots of theatre. In 6 years I did at least seventeen productions to rave reviews like: "Top Rate" -Daily Variety; "Most engaging character" –L.A. Daily News; "The intriguing performance is J.David Moeller's" -L.A. Times; "Moeller gets a good share of the laughs" -DramaLogue; "When he is onstage all the younger puppies fade into the woodwork" -L.A. Herald Examiner; “J David Moeller is subtly frightening as Barb’s husband/father” –L.A. Times; “...carries the day...the skillfully rounded performance of J David Moeller as Schlegel.” –Dramalogue.

But I'm a middle aged character actor and there are about a zillion out here just like me.

It took four years just to get my first on-camera role in a slapstick segment of "America's Funniest People". I played the villain out to get "The Jackalope" -one of their recurring, in-house produced slapstick comedy bits.

They called me in again four months later and a third time a few months after that.

Lesson: If they call you again, they like you.

The first time they called the director, David Wechter, said he wanted to go over some of the stunts with me to see if I had any problems with any of them.

"First, you'll be working with a guy in a gorilla suit...that's no big deal. But you’ll also work with a chimpanzee. Any problem with chimps?" he asked.

"None at all. I like animals", I reassured him.

"Ok, then, we have you swinging on a vine through the forest...it's a Tarzan motiff...and at one point we have you sink in quicksand. Any problem with getting wet?" he wanted to know.

"None at all. I assume it's not real quicksand", I tried to joke.

"No, it's vermiculite. It looks just like quicksand. And then there's the snake", he continued.

"Snake?" I swallowed a little harder than I wanted to.

"Yeah, but it's ok. We've worked with it before", David said.

"What kind of snake?" I asked.

"Uhhh...a cobra."

"COBRA! A cobra?" I gasped. I was trying to sound so calm on this.

"Yeah, but it's harmless. We've used it a bunch of times and it's never bitten anyone. It'll be ok, you won't have anything to worry about", he said.

"Are you sure it's a cobra? Are you sure it's not a boa constrictor?"

"Yeah. That's it. It's a boa. I always get those two mixed up. Why, are they different?" David asked naively.

"Sure. The cobra's poisonous! The boas just hug you to death", I explained. "I've got no problem with a boa at all."

I knew that if little bitty strippers can work with boas in their act, I could work with one that was professionally handled, as they are in L.A.

But I did make a point to ask my actor friends if they'd ever worked with snakes and if they had any advice.

One said they were generally calm if the temperature was cool and that, if they were well fed, there was no fear they'd strike at me.

I don't know how much longer it'll be till I become great and famous; but if I've learned any lesson at all along the way, it's this:

When you're working with snakes, don't go smelling like a rabbit!

Good Luck.

I love you Lisa,

PoP