Why Abbey Road Crossing Remains a Must-Visit for Beatles Fans.
The Abbey Road crossing, located in the St. John’s Wood area of London, is one of the most famous pedestrian crossings in the world. Its fame is largely attributed to The Beatles, who immortalized it on the cover of their 1969 album, “Abbey Road.” This simple zebra crossing has since become a pilgrimage site for Beatles fans from around the globe.
A short film about Abbey Road Crossing, London – shot October 2024
St. John’s Wood, where Abbey Road is located, has a rich history. The area was developed in the early 19th century and became known for its grand villas and leafy streets. It has long been a desirable residential area, attracting notable residents and maintaining a sense of exclusivity.
The Abbey Road area itself is steeped in history. The road was named after Kilburn Priory, a medieval religious house located nearby. Over the years, the area has evolved, but it has always retained a sense of charm and historical significance.
The studios quickly became a hub for musical innovation. In the 1960s, they were at the forefront of the British Invasion, with The Beatles recording most of their albums there. The studio’s innovative recording techniques and state-of-the-art equipment allowed The Beatles to experiment and push the boundaries of popular music. Albums like “Revolver,” “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band,” and “The White Album” were all recorded at Abbey Road Studios 8.
Today, visitors to Abbey Road can walk in the footsteps of The Beatles. The crossing is a popular tourist attraction, with fans often recreating the famous album cover pose. The studios themselves are not open to the public, but the exterior is a popular spot for photographs. People from all over the world have signed the wall outside Abbey Road as a lasting tribute to their donation to the Beatles and their music. The nearby Abbey Road Shop offers a range of Beatles memorabilia and souvenirs.
Abbey Road Studios Shop Video
The Abbey Road Crossing and Abbey Road Studios are not only significant for their association with The Beatles but also for their contributions to music history. They represent a unique blend of historical charm and modern innovation, making them enduring symbols of creativity and popular cultural heritage.
London is a city brimming with history, culture, and iconic landmarks. The best part? Many of these experiences are completely free! Here’s a guide to some of the top free attractions in London, featuring Abbey Road, Tate Modern Museum, St James’s Park, Millennium Bridge, Big Ben and Parliament, and the Changing of the Guard.
1. Abbey Road
Famous Abbey Road crossing on a rainy London Day
Start your journey at the world-famous Abbey Road. This iconic zebra crossing, immortalized by The Beatles on their 1969 album cover, is a must-visit for music fans. Snap a photo as you walk across the same spot where John, Paul, George, and Ringo once did. Make sure to visit the Abbey Road Gift Shop for all kinds of touristy items – like posters, t-shirts, magnets, any and everything about the Beatles, and the history of Abbey Road Studios. Don’t forget to sign the wall outside Abbey Road Studios, a tradition for fans from around the globe. Abbey Road Studios is very easy to get to by subway (Tube as it is called in London) to St. John’s Wood. The Studio and crossing are a three block walk from the Tube station.
2. Tate Modern Museum
Entranceway to the Tate Modern.
Next, head to the Tate Modern Museum, located on the banks of the River Thames. This contemporary art museum is housed in a former power station and offers free entry to its permanent collections. Explore works by artists like Picasso, Warhol, and Hockney, and enjoy stunning views of the city from the museum’s viewing level.
The building itself is a piece of artwork, and an amazing place to see and experience. Thought out the museum are 2 coffee bars, a cafe and a tea room on the top floor. Certainly worth a visit. Entrance is free. They do ask for a donation of 10 Pounds (UK currency) but that is up to you to donate or not.
3. St James’s Park
A beautiful sunset over the stream in St. James Park
Take a leisurely stroll through St James’s Park, one of London’s most beautiful green spaces. Located near Buckingham Palace, this park is perfect for a relaxing afternoon of looking at nature or just people watching. Enjoy the picturesque lake, vibrant flower beds, ducks and geese, and the resident pelicans, which have been a feature of the park since the 17th century.
4. Millennium Bridge
A bridge only for walkers and runners.
Cross the Millennium Bridge, a pedestrian suspension bridge that offers breathtaking views of the Thames. Connecting St Paul’s Cathedral with Tate Modern and Shakespeare’s Globe, this bridge is an architectural marvel and a great spot for photos. As you walk across, take in the stunning skyline of London.
5. Big Ben and Parliament
No visit to London is complete without seeing Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament. While you can’t enter the buildings for free, you can admire their Gothic architecture from the outside. The clock tower, often referred to as Big Ben has an official name, Elizabeth Tower, is one of London’s most recognizable landmarks.
The Parliament building was originally constructed in the eleventh century as a royal palace and was the primary residence of the kings of England until 1512. The original building burned down in 1834 and was replaced with what you see now. Be sure to visit at night when the buildings are beautifully illuminated.
Parliament, seat of English Home Rule for over 1000 years.
6. Changing of the Guard
A single guard on duty at the Horse Palace where the horses for the changing are kept.
Witness the Changing of the Guard at Buckingham Palace, a quintessential British experience. This ceremonial event takes place on select days and is free to watch. Arrive early to secure a good viewing spot and enjoy the pageantry as the New Guard takes over from the Old Guard, accompanied by a military band.
Do not want to stand in a large crowd to watch? You can wander over to Horse Guard located at the other end of St. James Park and see a much smaller version of The Changing of the Guards at Buckingham Palace. Although not as well known as the Changing at Buckingham Palace smaller crowds and no railings between you and the men and horses taking part make changing The King’s Lifeguard on Horse Guards Parade ideal for visitors with younger children and those looking for some amazing pictures.
The Real Deal at Buckingham Palace every afternoon.
Conclusion
London offers a wealth of free attractions that allow you to experience the city’s rich history and vibrant culture without spending a penny. From the musical heritage of Abbey Road to the artistic treasures of Tate Modern, and the regal splendor of the Changing of the Guard, there’s something for everyone to enjoy. So, grab your camera and start exploring!
Whether you’re a history buff, a foodie, or just looking to enjoy some scenic views, River Street has something for everyone.
Savannah’s River Street is a vibrant and historic area that offers a plethora of activities and sights for visitors. Whether you’re a history buff, a foodie, or just looking to enjoy some scenic views, River Street has something for everyone. Here’s a detailed guide to some of the best things to see and do on Savannah’s River Street:
Savannah’s River Street is a destination that truly has it all. Whether you’re exploring its rich history, indulging in delicious food, or simply taking in the scenic views, you’re sure to have an unforgettable experience.
Part Two of My Journey to Teach in Zimbabwe.
Ethiopia, Chinese Colonialism, and Twenty/20 Cricket!
(This is an ongoing series of stories about my travels in Africa, and specifically Zimbabwe, since 2012. I was hired to judge a national drama contest and was the first American to have this position in the 100 years of the event. The flight took 37 hours and what greeted me was a whole new experience. Thanks for reading and enjoy! This is a re-edited article from 2016. )
Thursday, June 21, 2012 Travel Day Day 1 I am flying high over the Atlantic on Ethiopian Airlines. Talk about luxury. Certainly no American airline offers this kind of service any more. Blankets and pillows for everyone. Free meal and free booze and basically free everything. The people are incredibly friendly. They ask what I am doing and when I tell them, they all give me advice on how to survive in Zimbabwe and Africa in general. People are friendly everywhere if you take the time with them, and are courteous yourself. But this was really very pleasant.
My stopover in Washington was completely uneventful. I landed at 1:45 AM and had booked a hotel room. I am just too old to try to sleep in a row of chairs in the airport. It was worth it because I was exhausted after a day of taking care of last-minute details and the stress that I have every time I fly. Plus, it was really nice to spend one last night in what I perceive as American-style luxury: TV, ESPN, AC, coffee in the room, and a very large hot shower.
I am watching the cutest little Ethiopian boy run up and down the aisles. Big smile on his face as he laughingly runs back and forth. How can you not smile at that? The pure joy of just being able to run around with no cares.
Even with the help of alcohol and a few pills, it is very hard for me to sleep on a plane. Although for one stretch, I did manage to until a beautiful air hostess woke me up because I was drooling. How romantic and sexy is that image?
Addis Abeba, Capitol of Ethiopia
I am about halfway to Addis Abeba, and I still have 9 more hours after I land there. I will arrive in Harare around 12 PM on Thursday. This jet lag is going to be awful. (For spelling junkies – Addis Ababa can be spelled two ways. I choose to use the spelling used by the official Ethiopian Mapping Authority: Addis Abeba.)
I will try to send this out when I get to Addis Abeba as there is no internet on my planes. I marvel at people who can do all their work from the skies, but unfortunately, I am not booked on one of those flights.
My two seatmates are two Ethiopian men who are returning home after long times away. One is a college professor in computer science in North Carolina, and the other is a man who has not been home for over 15 years, who lives in Seattle and has three kids. They have been very kind, answering all my stupid questions about Ethiopia and trying to teach me useful words.
Listening to Miles Davis at the moment – on the airline sound system – he is so cool that he makes me feel cool just listening to him.
“Wandering re-establishes the original harmony which once existed between man and the universe”……Anatole France.
Addis Abeba
Sunday, June 24, 2012 Day 2 (It is hard to get online here for a number of reasons. So please bear with me. I will write as often as I can.)
I have been flying for about 10 hours now, and it is dawn. I am watching the sunrise over the east coast of Africa, and it is amazing. It is the same sunrise as in any part of the world, but since I have never seen anything in Africa, this is especially amazing. I am flying over Somalia and Khartoum. The view screen on the back of our seats shows us flying over places that I have seen on maps all my life but never imagined that I would ever come near to.
Bole International Airport, Addis Abebe, Ethiopia
As we flew into Addis Abeba, it was gray and dreary. It is winter here, and grey seems the main color. The airport seems in a total state of chaos, but it makes sense to them. There must be 20 or more duty-free shops selling everything that you can imagine. Prayer rooms in all corners of the airport for men and women to pray separately. No clear idea of what gate a flight is landing or taking off from, yet everyone but me seems to know exactly where to go. Someone in LA taught me a phrase in Ethiopian that means “good health to you.” A common greeting, I was told. So I have tried it on about 10 people in the last day or so. I usually get a strange stare. t is due to my amazing and very special pronunciation, I am sure.
The plane that I am taking to Harare is the size of a sardine can. We have not even taken off, and the man behind me is already snoozing loudly. Every third person on this flight is Chinese. Talking with people on the other plane, they confirm that while we were fighting two wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, the Chinese have bought all the minerals in Africa. They own Africa just like the Europeans owned it in the last century. This is the new form of colonialism, so has anything really changed? It just seems a new master is all.
Harare, Zimbabwe, Capital City
Finally, I am in Harare, dog-tired, yet I still have customs. The people are very nice, but the process is clumsy at best. I stood in three lines for over an hour while one man in one booth processed about 60 people. I arrived with a temporary work permit, my passport, my contract with the Festival, and proof of my ticket out of the country – all required to enter the country. They never asked for any of it. They only wanted my 45-dollar fee for my visa. Oh well.
Robert Mugabe International Airport, Harare
I finally got through and met Gavin Peter, the festival director. We have spoken for months by email and Facebook, but to finally meet him in person was great. A big, friendly, gregarious man who drove me through Harare to the home of my hosts for the next week, Keith and Jeannette ——. Keith is the chairman of the board of the NIAA, who sponsors the festival.
A quick shower and a brief nap. I was so knackered, but I got up to be on Zim time. It was about 4 PM, so they showed me around their property. Many of the homes in the suburbs consisted of large to moderate homes on large tracts of land (2 to 3 acres) surrounded by high walls and fences. Their garden is amazing with so many beautiful plants and flowers that blaze with color even in winter. Then a pleasant evening in their lovely home with a fire (it is winter here), dinner, and a bottle of wine. What a very lovely introduction to this interesting country, and what promises to be a very life-changing adventure.
Keith & Jeannette’s Home in Harare, Zimbabwe
Tuesday, June 26, 2012 Day 4 It was Saturday, and Keith took me to see my first cricket match. We drove around downtown Harare on the way to the cricket stadium. The Brits laid out this city in a beautiful way. Wide streets and a partial grid make it somewhat easy to get around.
Keith and Jeannette’s pool area
The constant jaywalking and almost non-existent traffic laws take a little getting used to. I forget that Americans have some of the most rigid traffic laws in the world. Here it is a complete mess with everyone going everywhere at once, but it seems to work somehow. Driving here for the newcomer would be extremely overwhelming. I have not had to make that choice yet, as everyone has been so kind to take me where I need to go, or I am within walking distance from shopping areas. http://wikitravel.org/en/Harare
Zimbabwe Cricket vs. South Africa
We got to the stadium to watch Zimbabwe’s national team play South Africa in a Pan-African Cricket tournament. I knew something of the game but not enough to describe anything to anyone. WOW. I love cricket. We were watching a type called Twenty/20 cricket as opposed to Fifty/50 or One Day cricket, which takes all day, or the 5-day classic Test match cricket. Can you imagine watching a 5-day match of the same two teams playing the same game for 5 days and still maybe ending in a tie? My head would explode, but people here are totally into it.
Zimbabwe vs South Africa
I cannot explain the game here in just a few words because it is as complex as baseball in the record-keeping and strategic moves. Yet once you get the basics down, it is a really fun and exciting game to cheer for. Zim lost, but due to a tournament rule, they somehow got into the finals.
Zimbabwe vs South Africa
We were in private boxes enjoying the game. Like watching football in a luxury box – only way to watch a sport, really! I was taken to two other boxes as I continued to meet the sponsors of the drama festival here in Zim. I am a bit of a local celebrity or curiosity since I have come all this way to do the festival on my own dime. Some appreciate it, some are worried that I will bring an American influence to a festival that is 100 years old next year, and some are worried that I will underestimate Zim’s education system. It is strange to be an American on the ground in a small country. They respect us and dislike us in equal measure. They know more about our country and elections than we do because we are such a huge influence in the world that what we do affects them as much as ourselves. I cannot tell you how many conversations I have had about how they see the Obama/Romney contest.
Our hero watching his first cricket match
It is like we are the Mafia Don at the end of the street protecting his neighborhood. We can provide protection and benefits to the local street, but it comes at a really big price. And even when we do nothing, it affects them. They have taken the Chinese money because of all the international sanctions that were leveled at President Mugabe because of his Land Reform measures where his government seized white-owned farms and gave them to native Zimbabweans.
The sanctions are against him and his government personally, but the effect trickles down to all the businesses and people here. Whether the sanctions were right or not, they are one reason that the Zim economy is a disaster. They did not affect the leaders; they affected the everyday person, destroying jobs, pensions, and savings. While we were fighting two wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, the Chinese quietly came into Africa, and Zimbabwe in particular, and have bought all the mineral rights. So Zimbabwe has taken all that the Chinese will give them, because they were getting very little now from the US and Europe.
The final score to the cricket match was 129 to 126. I can kind of explain the scoring if you are interested at some other time, but I can tell you it was a nail biter right down to the last over. Yes, I said Over. It is like an inning/turn/bat in baseball but shorter.
Backyard of Keith and Jeannette’s House
Then I went to over to Gavin’s house for a really quick dinner and off to the local theatre called Reps. Not professional, it is more like a community theatre. Reps Theatre is a private non-profit enterprise with two theatres, one large and one small and an excellent pub bar that is open all during the show. I saw part of the Norman Conquest trilogy. It was ok. Couple of really good actors, but felt like an actor’s showcase in LA.
Back to my new temporary home and to bed. Tomorrow, I am going on SAFARI.
A Story and Short Film about a Beautiful Afternoon in New York’s Central Park.
A Short Film About a Perfect Spring Day in New York City
It was a beautiful spring day on the Upper West Side by Lincoln Center. I had just finished a long lunch at P.J. Clarke’s with my former college roommate, Terry Larsen. We both majored in Theatre at Valdosta State University, though our paths diverged—he went to New York, and I went to Los Angeles. We hadn’t seen each other in over 20 years, except for photos on Facebook, so it was a thrill to catch up and share our lives.
FILM – AFTERNOON IN CENTRAL PARK
FILM – AFTERNOON IN CENTRAL PARK
After we said our goodbyes at the corner of Broadway and 63rd, I decided to take a stroll through Central Park and maybe have a cocktail at Tavern on the Green. Those plans quickly changed, leading to one of the most beautiful days I’ve ever spent in New York.
The weather was perfect—70s with no humidity, a slight breeze, and everything lush and green. I wandered from the West Side to the East Side and back again, taking in sights like Sheep Meadow, the Lake, Strawberry Fields, the ice rink, the Chess and Checkers House, Belvedere Castle, and the outdoor Delacorte Theatre. The views were simply amazing.
Since returning to the Atlanta area, I’ve made it a point to visit New York City every year to catch up on theatre and Broadway. This time, I saw Uncle Vanya at Lincoln Center, Home at the Roundabout, and a new play on Theatre Row, The Actors. While the theatre wasn’t particularly impressive this time, that afternoon in Central Park will stay with me for a long time. If New York City were always like that, you’d never want to leave. I ended the day listening to excellent jazz on the crowded patio at Tavern on the Green, sipping a superb Sauvignon Blanc. It was an excellent day!
I took so many photographs that I decided to make a short film to showcase that singular day in the park. If you’re a fan of the band Chicago, you can almost hear their famous song, Saturday in the Park, as the film plays. Hope you enjoy it!
THIS IS A REPRINT OF A STORY FROM OCTOBER 2016. START OF A NEW SERIES CALLED AFRICAN ADVENTURES.
National Flag and Symbol of Zimbabwe
THE START
In 2012, I accepted an offer to take a temporary job in Africa. At the time I did not know that this opportunity would quite literally change the entire fabric of my life. This trip would be so much more than just an adventure but in fact would be an overwhelming experience that would lead me to change the entire direction and focus of my life.
In 2011, my life was kind of falling apart. A three-year relationship with a woman who I loved very much had ended. I was still reeling from the aftermath of the world-wide economic downtown that had closed my real estate investment business and was forcing my house toward foreclosure. To cover the expenses of running my suddenly upside-down house, I was renting out every extra bedroom that I had to college students who went to school at the close-by University of Southern California. My only other income at the time was running a small non-profit theatre where I served as Producing Artistic Director. Theatre is one of the great passions of my life, but after 25 years leading a small non-profit arts group, I was exhausted and burned out.
I desperately needed a break, or as one friend put it best – “I needed an escape from my own life”. Yet, there was no lifeline nor escape. As my house edged ever closer to foreclosure, my despair grew, and my options were shrinking fast. It was at that moment that one morning an email arrived in my inbox. It was an email that I had been expecting, but I was not really sure how I felt about it. I had been communicating about a possible gig job with an arts group in Zimbabwe. One of my former theatre students when I taught at Pepperdine University in Malibu, CA., was from Zimbabwe, and her mother was a volunteer administrator for this organization. My former student had put us together and on a lark, I had applied to work for them.
Harare, Zimbabwe – Capitol city of Zimbabwe
THE JOB
The job was to be the Judge or Adjudicator for a national drama festival that takes place in Zimbabwe every year. The drama festival was part of an even larger series of arts festivals run by a group known as the National Institute of Allied Arts. The National Institute of Allied Arts is a 100-year-old volunteer organization founded by the British colonials to instill public speaking, drama, music, literature and visual arts into the white children of Zimbabwe. But over time and with the change of governments and Zimbabwe getting its freedom in 1980, the organization become one of the first to open its doors to all the children of Zim. Every year about 30 thousand+ children take part in 4 festivals a year in music, visual arts, literature and drama.
If hired I would be the first American to adjudicate their national drama festival. The job would take about 2 to 3 weeks and the adjudicator would see about 15000 children perform in various theatre and public speaking categories. The job paid a small salary and promised all living expenses would be covered. The catch was the adjudicator had to figure out a way to get to Zimbabwe and pay for it themselves. But who ever came as a reward, they would be given a two-week tour around Zimbabwe. They would see places with names that I had never heard but would soon become very familiar with in the coming weeks and years. Places like Harare, the capital city, Kwekwe, Gweru, Great Zim, Matopos National Park, Vic Falls, Bulawayo, and so many more.
The email offered me the job and seeing this as the escape that I needed and desperately wanted, I quickly said yes. The Festival would be in June and so the plans began in earnest. Being broke and not having the money to pay for the trip, I lied and told them I did. I swiftly started a campaign to raise the money. I wrote a small grant through my theatre, held a garage sale, and ran a Kickstarter fundraising campaign. Plus I also got 500 dollars from the US Embassy in Zimbabwe, but more on that later. In a matter of 3 weeks, I raised the 1500 dollars needed for the flight.
Zimbabwe here I come!!!
With the help of another friend, I managed to get a small guest teaching job in Rome, Italy for a week on the way back from Zimbabwe. I would spend a week there and then have two weeks of traveling very cheaply in Europe. Upon my return to the US, I would still be broke but maybe not in despair anymore.
LAX in Los Angeles
Wednesday, June 13, 2012, Los Angeles Still I leave in 4 days. The rush to get everything done. What to pack? How much is too much or too little? The excitement! The fear! Of flying and being away for over two months! The voice of my doctor in my head. Don’t eat that, don’t drink that, wash all your food yourself, sanitize everything, don’t touch anything – really? People live there, what do they do? I am sure that every person who goes out to dinner in a large city in Africa does not ask to wash the vegetables. Next he would have told me not to breathe the air just to be on the safe side.
There are certainly concerns about health issues, I get that. Drink bottled water, be careful what you eat, be observant of the things around you. But if we are all that cautious, we would never leave our home. As Ben Franklin said – “all things in moderation.” I find that to still be one of the best pieces of advice every given. Try everything, do everything – just be reasonable about it.
I rented my own personal room out at my house. So even if I want to come back – I have to sleep on the couch. So, I might as well just stay overseas, right. I am packing for two different hemispheres, and it is crazy. Winter in one place – seems mild in Zimbabwe. Pleasant days, chilly nights. It will be blazing hot in Rome in mid-July. You need to bring enough, but you want to travel light. Ahh, adventures in packing. And of course, it never fails no matter how organized you are when you are somewhere over the Atlantic, you remember that “most important” item aside from your passport that you left behind. I leave in 4 days. The adventure begins. Whether I am ready or not. The plane leaves in 4 days. I am on it!!
“A journey is like marriage. The certain way to be wrong is to think you control it.” – John Steinbeck
Delayed passengers inside Terminal 7 at Los Angeles International Airport line up to go through TSA security check following a false alarm event in Los Angeles, California U.S August 28, 2016. REUTERS/Bob Riha Jr
Monday, June 18, 2012, DAY 0. Los Angeles.
I take off in 3 hours. After 8 months of work and luck and reaching out, it is about to happen. I take a red eye to DC. to meet my plane to Addis Abeba, Ethiopia. Than on from there to Harare. There are no words to describe how I feel at the moment. Excitement, fear, apprehension, joy all mixed up together. Here is praying for a safe journey to Harare. If you have good thoughts, please send them along.
My way to Zimbabwe – Ethiopian Airlines
“The whole object of travel is not to set foot on foreign land; it is at last to set foot on one’s own country as a foreign land.” – G. K. Chesterton ]
The true real life encounter of my cat with Mel Gibson.
Part of a new series about my real life in Hollywood-
Up In The Attic.
In a bygone era, I was the proud owner of a quaint theatre nestled in the heart of Hollywood—the Attic Theatre. My partner, Denise Reagan Wiesenmeyer, and I ran this cozy establishment, complete with a 50-seat auditorium, a small company of actors, administrative offices, and a rear dance studio that we leased out for classes and rehearsals.
Our theatre found its home in an aging edifice on Santa Monica Blvd. The building itself had witnessed decades of history as it was right in the middle of film soundstages, lighting and equipment companies, small production companies and the industrial part of the film business. I knew little of its early days, except for a fascinating tidbit: during World War II, the building had housed a parachute factory. Back then, parachutes were a novelty and considered a military weapon, and the building stood under military watch as these life-saving contraptions were meticulously packed.
The building’s owner, an elderly gentleman, treated it as a mere revenue stream. Maintenance was an afterthought, and the structure bore the scars of neglect. I acquired the theatre from a man named Bill Sorrell, who, along with the Swayze brothers—Patrick and Donnie—had birthed the Attic Theatre. The Swayze siblings, fresh from Texas, had ventured to Hollywood with their wives, eager to make their mark in the film industry. Their fateful collaboration with Bill Sorrell gave rise to the Attic Theatre.
Perched on the second floor of the ancient building, the Attic Theatre became our creative haven. Denise and I assumed control in 1987, launching a vibrant repertoire of plays. By 1990, we had also taken over abandoned office space within the same structure and fashioned a humble four-room apartment complete with a kitchen. It lacked opulence but offered proximity to our artistic endeavors.
The old building 2016. The Attic was on the second floor left side. Building was shut down in 2001 and we moved to Culver City area.
As struggling artists, our lives revolved around the theater. We juggled outside jobs to make ends meet, but the Attic was our sanctuary—a realm where autonomy reigned supreme. No one dictated our choices; we were masters of our own destiny.
Our little theatre somehow defied the odds. Despite our shoestring budget and the building’s faded grandeur, the Attic Theatre thrived. We churned out good plays and sometimes even great productions. We were earning a reputation as a haven for artists—a place where creativity blossomed, and dreams took flight.
I had taken a brief business trip and Denise, my capable partner, held down the fort while I was away. She was the beating heart of our operation, both a good administrator and a wonderful theatre producer. Upon my return, we convened to discuss the theatre business and that is when she told me that a company by the name of Icon Productions had booked the dance studio for a reading of a screenplay. The name immediately caught my attention because I knew Icon Productions was Mel Gibson’s production company. In the early ’90s, Mel wasn’t just an actor; he was a cinematic force, weaving tales both in front of and behind the camera as a producer and director. I was shocked that such a prestigious outfit would choose our modest theatre. Our place, though well-maintained, was a little low rent for a major film company to use for their reading.
ICON Image
I kept the news from Denise. She idolized Mel Gibson, and I didn’t want to raise her hopes prematurely. But curiosity gnawed at me. Why here?
Days later, the phone rang—a production manager for Icon Productions was on the line. His concern? Parking. The executives attending the reading needed ample space. I inquired about the headcount: around 30. Our parking lot, alas, was a postage stamp—a handful of spots shared among tenants. I explained this to the manager, emphasizing that the spaces weren’t mine to allocate and that the executives would have to park on the street or arrange other alternatives. He assured me that this would not be a problem.
Mel Gibson as he is today.
It was then that I informed Denise that it was Mel Gibson’s company who was renting our space and that he might be there. She became so excited that I thought she was going to faint. Even though the production meeting for Mel Gibson’s company was still two days away, she went back there and immediately started cleaning up the studio to make it look as perfect for Mel Gibson as she could.
The day finally arrived—and my worst fears came true. The Hollywood elite, their luxury cars began arriving and filling the parking lot. Land Rovers, Mercedes, Jaguars—all vying for our meager parking spaces. The other tenants, unaccustomed to this overflow, erupted in protest. I was caught in the crossfire, played reluctant traffic cop, my pleas drowned out by irate voices.
The production manager, seemingly impervious to chaos, stood his ground. Executives, he declared, wouldn’t be relegated to street parking. Our arrangement meant nothing to him. I told him that maybe the cars would be towed by the other businesses. He shrugged his shoulders and walked away. I watched helplessly as the luxury cars multiplied, stacking atop one another while the other businesses’ patrons were relegated to the curb, and the tenants hurled colorful expletives my way.
And there, amidst the parking mayhem, Denise was star-struck. She’d met Mel, her eyes wide as saucers, and guided him upstairs. The plain and unassuming rehearsal studio was now filled with high powered movie execs including Mel Gibson as the executive producer, while production assistants scurried, setting tables, arranging chairs, and stocking coolers with drinks and lunch.
Example of a table read for a film. This was not Mr. Gibson’s read.
The script that they were reading was a new one that they were considering producing as a movie. There were no other movie stars there besides Mel. It was just executives hearing the production assistants read the movie out loud to see what they thought about it.
Occasionally Denise would go to the rehearsal hall to check if they needed anything, but I think it was secretly to see Mel. Down in the parking lot I had morphed from theater manager/owner to an impromptu parking valet, my frustration simmering beneath a veneer of professionalism. Yet, I wanted to keep their business in case they ever come back. Often, I would go upstairs to get keys from the production manager for a certain car to move so the other tenants’ customers could use the space. I was pissed off, but I just wanted to get through the day. They were booked for only four hours, and I managed to hold off the other businesses owners until finally it was over. Than all the executives began to leave and all the luxury cars that had been crammed into our parking lot like sardines, now vanished into the afternoon traffic. Eventually, everyone was gone, and I walked up to the office.
Denise, her starstruck glow undiminished, wanted to thank Mel personally. So, we wandered back through the theatre, through the backstage, and opened the connecting door to the rehearsal hall.
Now remember we lived at the theatre space, and we had a cat. Our cat was named Squirrel, a beautiful female that we’d had since just after she was born. One day, a few years before, a very tiny kitten had somehow managed to survive extremely busy Santa Monica Blvd and had wandered up the stairs to our theatre and just sat there. Denise did not live with me at the time and so I tried to shoo the cat away, but she wouldn’t leave. So eventually I fed the tiny little kitten, and from then I belonged to her. Cats have a way of just kind of staking their claim on you and that’s what Squirrel did. There’s an old saying about cats that goes “dogs have owners, cats have staff”, and it is very true. Our cat got her name when Denise moved in because of the way she bounced and ran around all over the place like a crazy squirrel out in your front yard.
Mel Gibson as he looked at the time of kicking Squirrel
So, Squirrel had followed us back as we were saying goodbye to Mel Gibson and the production manager who had booked the space. There were still 2 production assistants there folding up the tables and chairs and packing up the food. Now Mel Gibson is not a big man. He is probably about 5’6 or 5’7 and had on cowboy boots to jack him up another couple of inches. Most leading men in Hollywood are actually quite short. He seemed fairly nice, and both Denise and I were fans of his. She was more gaga than I was, but I was very impressed that Mel Gibson was standing in my business.
While we are standing around saying our goodbyes, Squirrel who was a very people friendly feline was wandering around and she rubbed up against Mel Gibson’ leg. Inexplicably Mel Gibson drew back his boot and forcefully kicked Squirrel about 6 feet across the rehearsal room.
OWWWWWW!
I was shocked at his action and quickly checked to see if my cat was ok. I looked over at Denise, and the look on her face made it clear she was as upset as I was. Turning to Mel Gibson, I asked, “Why did you just kick my cat?”
Mel Gibson looked at me and said, “I don’t like cats. I don’t want them anywhere around me.”
I responded, “Well she’s our cat and this is her house. She only trying to be friendly.”
Mel Gibson said, “I don’t give a damn! Keep the cat away from me.”
Maybe it’s because I was irritated from 4 hours of re-parking the cars of over privileged and inconsiderate movie executives who had showed no regard for my business or the people who worked in the building, yet without hesitation, I told Mel Gibson, “I think it’s time for you to leave.”
Everybody in the room froze. The two production assistants regarded me with astonishment, as if I had blasphemed the Almighty. The production manager was completely shocked. Mel regarded me for a second and said, “Well, you have a crappy theatre anyway.”
I said, “That may be true, but you’ve already paid me for it. Have a good day.”
At which point Mel Gibson turned, and he and his big cowboy boots stomped loudly down the wooden stairs to the parking lot. After he had quit stomping down the stairs, the production manager turned to me, “People don’t speak to Mr. Gibson that way.”
“Well people don’t kick my cat either. When you guys get all packed up, you can go as well.” I asked Denise to make sure that they left, and I picked up our bewildered cat and went back to our apartment.
I understood that some people have an aversion for cats for whatever reason, but you do not go into someone’s home or business and kick their cat that hard. I thought it was very arrogant and a cruel way to treat someone else’s animal and pet.
Mel’s mug shot after his arrest.
It was a few years later that, Mel Gibson had his major blowout with the Jewish policeman who pulled him over for drunk driving in Malibu, California. Mel berated the man, calling him all kinds of ethnic and racial slurs. When I heard the story, I was not shocked. During our encounter in the rehearsal room, I had concluded that he didn’t seem like a very nice man.
I’m still a Mel Gibson fan to a degree. I think he’s a wonderful director and a good actor, but I probably would not want to speak to him if given the opportunity. That is the true story of when Mel Gibson kicked my cat.
When Denise left to move back to Illinois because of an illness in 2000, the new owner of the building began trying to force all the tenants out. He raised our rent 4 times in 4 months. I was forced to move the theatre to the Culver City area on Washington Blvd and continued running it until 2016 when I sold the theatre company to another group.
The front door to the old Attic Theatre in Hollywood. Building is now vacant.
For the official record, I hereby attest that the following account is my own personal recollection of the events that transpired, over a quarter-century ago, within the confines of my theatre. The building is still standing on Santa Monica Blvd., though now abandoned since the year 2001. The other tenants and businesses have all gone or moved. I am unconnected to their present whereabouts.
My dearest friend and confidante, Denise, she passed away in 2007, her laughter and camaraderie forever etched in my heart.
As for the employees of Mr. Gibson and his company, I never knew them or their names, and have no idea where they currently may be.
The building as it looks now in 2023. Completely abandoned and derelict.
COPYRIGHT 2024 – CAREY ON CREATIVE, LLC., ATLANTA, GA.
TRIPSWITHJAMES.COM IS A TRADEMARK OF CAREY ON CREATIVE, LLC.
The new book of short stories by James Carey. On sale at Amazon and Kindle.
Subject: Exclusive Pre-Sale Offer: “Three Days in Hamburg & Other Stories”
Dear Friends, Family, and Esteemed Subscribers,
I want to thank you for being readers of TripswithJames. I have enjoy writing my articles for you over the years about travel and the film business. I’m truly thrilled to announce the pre-sale launch of my debut book, Three Days in Hamburg & Other Stories. 📚✨ I could use your assistance in making my first book a success.
About the Book:
Three Days in Hamburg & Other Stories is a collection of eleven captivating tales that will transport you to intriguing worlds. From crumbling marriages to lost fortunes, superpowered aliens to Viking zombies, these stories promise excitement, mystery, and unexpected twists.
Why You Should Grab Your Copy:
Early Access: Be among the first to delve into these enchanting narratives before the official release.
Special Price: For a limited time, the e-book is available at an unbeatable price of $0.99.
Support a Dream: By purchasing during the pre-sale, you contribute to making this book a bestseller.
James R. Carey’s debut on Amazon at $0.99 at www.amazon.com/author.jrc.128 , the book comprises personal, fantasy, and memory-based stories. The title short story, inspired by his own dissolving marriage amid the pandemic, is a semi-true story based on real life events.
This is my first book – one of several to come I hope. You can find it on Amazon.com for the price of $0.99 as a presale special. I hope that enough people will buy it and make it head for bestseller status. (One can dream).
Follow the link www.amazon.com/author/jrc.128 and that will take you directly to my Author page and you can buy directly from there. An excerpt to the title story follow below.
EXCERPT FROM THREE DAYS IN HAMBURG
“My cell phone rang at exactly 11 PM. I picked it up and looked at the caller ID. It was my wife. The call caught me by surprise as we had been having some tough times for the past few months. She was calling from Hamburg, Germany, where she had gone to visit her mother. There’s a 9-hour time difference between Hamburg and our home in West Adams, an area of Los Angeles where we had lived for 5 years. That made it 8 AM in the morning there. We hadn’t talked on the phone for a week, and our few emails to each other had been very terse.
“Hey, how are you?” I asked as I answered the phone.
Silence.
“Hey, can you hear me… Are you there…?”
“Yes, I’m here,” she answered in her odd combination of American & German accent. Something that I had always found very sexy.
“What’s going on? Everything okay?”
“Look I need to talk to you about something very important,” she said in a very flat voice. Hackles rose on the back of my neck and red flags began to appear. “I have been doing a lot of thinking, and I’m calling to tell you that I’m not coming back.”
“For how long? Is everything okay with your mother?” I asked, still unsure which direction this conversation was going to go.
“Mother is fine. I’m calling to tell you that I’m not coming back to you. I’m going to stay in Hamburg for a few more months, and when I come back, I’ll probably file for divorce.”
“What the fuck?”
“Look I don’t want to fight with you about this, please?” she said in a stern voice, cutting me off. “We just do this all the time. I’m tired of the tension. I’m tired of the arguments. I’m tired of being tired and stressed. I love you very much, but I just can’t go on living like this. So please respect my decision. Don’t call me and don’t write me one of your long angry emails. I just can’t take it. Please. And if you do call me, I’m just not going to respond. Okay? I love you, but I just can’t live like this anymore. I’m sorry.” With that, she hung up.
Shocked, I sat staring at the wall for what seemed like hours. Yes, we had not been doing well but I didn’t think it was this far gone. She went to Germany about three weeks before to celebrate her mother’s 70th birthday and to take a break from us and the tension in our house. It was the middle of the semester and I had not been able to leave my teaching gig. I had Face-Timed with my mother-in-law on her birthday and had briefly spoken to my wife. Things had seemed to be okay at least for the moment. This came as a major surprise.
Then I got angry. Really angry. I tried to call her back, but of course, it went straight to voicemail. Predictably, I left her an angry message. Then I poured myself a large Jack Daniels and stormed around the house for the next couple of hours holding imaginary conversations between myself and her telling her what a bitch she was, how unfair she was being and defending myself from all the supposed wrongs that I had done to her over the last few years. Finally, at about 1 AM, I took several hits of pot and fell asleep on the couch.
Somewhere I heard the distant ringing of a cell phone and some part of my brain realized that it was mine. Pulling myself from a deep sleep, I reached out for the phone where I had left it last night. Hoping that it was my wife, I looked at the caller ID and saw the number for work. It was 9:45 AM and I was an hour late for work.
In a groggy voice I answered, “Hello?” Lynda, my department head goes, “Where are you? You’re an hour late for your class.”
My thoughts just could not seem to connect last night to this morning, but I knew I had messed up in a major way. I just decided to tell the truth. “Lynda, my wife is leaving me. She’s in Germany and I have to catch the next plane to try and save my marriage.” – End of Excerpt!
My original plan for this book over four years ago was to be a few short stories surrounding a novella called The Ticket that I’ve been writing for about 5 years. It’s a great story in my head but it never has quite come together the way that I wanted it to on the page. So, it has never been finished.
That was the idea and then real life came along changing everything. A crumbling marriage, the pandemic, a move to the other side of the country, and a new city and start all seem to move the stories in another direction. The stories began to take on the form that they wanted to take, and I just kind of followed along.
Some stories are very personal, others are fantasy. Some are memories of people or places, and some are combinations of all the above. Some are new, and some are old. Some came very easily, and some took months to write. This collection of stories is quite different than the one I intended, but it is the one that came to life.
The title story was written in the early days of the pandemic in my home office in Los Angeles as I tried to come to grips with my dissolving marriage. My then wife and I were still speaking, and she was the first to read it. Her appraisal of it was “very hard for me to read but it’s very good”. Not sure if she meant that or not, but I will take it.
As a young boy I wrote ideas for stories and comic books. First it was crazy little stories about flying turtles or other idiotic ideas, but I thought they were funny, and it kept me entertained as I listened to my parents argued downstairs or sitting by myself in the school cafeteria. Later in my teenage years, the stories became dark ones of loneliness, escape, teenaged angst and desire. However, they could never finish because I wasn’t old enough to know where life was supposed to take you. So, if I didn’t throw them away, they got stuck in a drawer.
In college I discovered three things that I loved. First, was girls. The second was music so I wrote a ton of bad poetry and awful songs, truly little of which has survived to this day. The third thing I discovered was theatre so I wrote some unbelievably bad plays and screenplays. Not any of those survived.
Yet, I still continued to write down little ideas, thoughts, dialogue, situations, dramatic conflicts and the best of those got stuck in that drawer.
When I moved to Los Angeles, I had a writing partner for a while, so some of those ideas that had been stuck in the drawer for years came out. They were dusted off, reexamined and rewritten. Some were used, some were thrown away and some got stuck back in the drawer. Later when I opened my own theatre in Los Angeles with my partner Denise Ragan Weihenmayer called the Attic Theatre Ensemble, we had a lot of stage time to fill and actors to keep busy. So, I started adapting short stories and updating old plays to fill that void. The reaction to those adaptations was positive. I continue jotting down ideas and dialogue.
Eventually, I got married to a minor television star in Los Angeles and when her TV show got cancelled, I wrote her a play. She never performed in that play because we got divorced before I finished it. I did finish it, however. The play was a full-length comedy with dancing and the Devil, and a lot of food called Dancing in Hell. It got produced twice. Once at a university near Los Angeles, and once at my own theatre. It got complimentary reviews, but when those two productions were over. I put the script in the drawer.
I wrote a couple of short film screenplays that got produced, Owlman and A Cost of Freedom, but this was before the Film Festival circuit had become so big. So, the films and the screenplays went in that drawer.
An opportunity to start doing theatre festivals both in the United States and other parts of the world presented itself. This became a time period where I would write and perform one man shows and tour them around these various venues. The first one called Coming To Zimbabwe which debuted in Africa and was later optioned by a German production company to be done as a radio play for German speaking audiences around the world. It was the story of the first time I ever went to Africa and what a life-changing experience it was for me during a difficult part of my life. My second one-man show was called Mi Casa Su Casa where I talked about my large old house in the West Adams area of Los Angeles where I ran an Airbnb for 11 years and the people from all over the world who stayed with me. That was performed in Los Angeles, Atlanta, New England, and various parts of the United States and won several awards. Yet when those shows had run their course, those scripts got stuck in that drawer.
I married my second wife; a Danish woman and we had a very passionate but turbulent relationship. As our marriage fell apart, the pandemic struck, and I found myself stuck in my house in Los Angeles by myself for months. To keep myself busy I decided to paint a couple of rooms including one that had been my home office for over 15 years. As I was clearing out the room and moving items, I discovered that drawer with all the ideas, conversations, dialogue and scenarios that I had left shut for such an extraordinarily long time. As I read through the material, I realized that I had written a lot of stuff. I had written award-winning screenplays and theatre plays. So, with all this time on my hands, I decided to try and write short stories and see what happened. I started and finished the first short story that I had written in probably 25 to 30 years and polished it in a couple of days. Then I rewrote a couple of stories that were in that drawer except now I was approaching them from an adult perspective. I changed them around a good bit and they’re in this book as well. With my marriage finally coming to an end, I wrote a fictionalized version of the last trip that we took together to Hamburg, Germany. Parts of the story are absolutely true, and other parts are as they used to say in an old television show, “the names have been changed to protect the innocent”. That story turned out to be Three Days in Hamburg and became the title story of this collection.
Over the past three years I’ve written more short stories, discarded them and written new ones. I have a novel I’ve been trying to finish. A memoir about my time in Africa that I have worked on sometimes. Written three more screenplays and a couple of them have being produced, but this book of short stories was always something I wanted to finish.
Now I have and I hope you enjoy it. I can’t say it was easy to write but it brings me immense joy to see it in its published form. Thank you for taking the time to pick it up.
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