Tales
from the Casting Couch
by Michael
Dare
(originally published in Film Threat Magazine)
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The year was 1969 and I was a senior at Beverly Hills High School, long
before everyone on earth knew the zip code. I had directed the school's
senior play, which was entered into a statewide contest for high school
drama departments. We lost the contest, but soon afterwards, I was approached
by a man named Ken Handler who told me he was a producer. "I'm going to
be doing a new show on Broadway next year and I think you're very talented.
If you want to come to New York, I'll guarantee you some sort of work on
the show."
I was very flattered, but this was 1969, and the United States government was extremely interested in taking 18 year old boys like me and shipping us home from Vietnam in body bags. I had every intention of going straight to college where I would be immune from the draft. I thanked him for his generous offer, but told him my arrival in New York was unlikely. He gave me his number and told me to call him if I changed my mind.
Six months later, after I had gotten thrown out of college, I did indeed change my mind. I decided to dodge the draft, and I convinced a friend to drive to New York with me so we could both become actors. I got a room in a boarding house, a job in a bank, enrolled to study with Lee Strasberg, and finally called Handler to tell him I was in town.
He invited me to his apartment on Fifth Avenue where he talked to me about the play. He was currently having auditions, so he read me for some of the parts, and asked me to come by the theater the next morning to meet the director. If he didn't cast me, I could definitely hang out and watch, and possibly get work as some sort of production assistant.
Just as I was leaving he said "Oh, by the way, I'm a pervert."
"Excuse me?"
"Yeah, in high school I sucked off the entire football team. You ever been sucked off by a guy?"
"Uh, no."
"We do it better than girls, we know what feels good. You're very attractive, and I would have a very hard time working with you unless we were lovers. Are you sure you wouldn't like me to suck you off?"
"No thank you, I'm straight."
"That's too bad. Let me explain something to you."
He went on to tell me that his parents owned Mattel Toys, and their top line of dolls were named after his sister Barbie and him. They were the most popular dolls in the world. When he got married, his parents came out with a doll named after his wife, and when their daughter was born, a doll came out named after her.
He started pacing the room. "Millions of children play with miniature replicas of me and my sister's bodies," he cried. "They take the teeny clothes off the dolls, maybe they put them in bed together. Me! In bed with my sister!"
"Gee, that's too bad," I said, nervously eying the door.
"Have you ever seen my doll with it's clothes off?"
"Not that I can recall."
"It looks just like my sister's doll with its clothes off. It doesn't have any genitals. Well I've got genitals. Look at this!" he savagely declared before flopping out his wanger and pumping it up to its full majesty.
I was too stunned to move. I sat there frozen while he mysteriously tried to continue carrying on a normal conversation. "How do you like New York so far?" he remarked, casually, without missing a beat. "Have you seen any shows?" He invited me to join him in his extracurricular activities. I declined as I dashed out the door. "I'll see you at the theater tomorrow," he said. I didn't shake his hand. I didn't show up at the theater. I continued studying with Strasberg but I didn't go to any more auditions. My first was too traumatic, and I couldn't stand the thought of any more casting people wanking off in front of me.
I was never quite sure about the doll story until years later when there was an article about them in the Los Angeles Times. There was his picture, standing with his arm around his sister, a man driven to expose himself because his doll had no genitals.
And I still shiver in fear whenever I pass a toy store.
