Starstruck: Mel Gibson and My Cat's Unexpected Meeting

Once a upon a time, the actor/director Mel Gibson and my cat had a rather unexpected meeting. In a bygone era, I was the proud owner of a quaint theatre located 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.

The Attic

Our theatre had its home in an aging building on Santa Monica Blvd. The building had witnessed decades of history as it was smack in the middle of film soundstages, lighting and equipment companies, small production companies and the industrial part of the film business. 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 collaboration with Bill Sorrell gave rise to the Attic Theatre.

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Perched on the second floor of the ancient building, Denise and I assumed control of the space in 1987, and began producing 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 Attic Theatre — **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 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.

How It Started

I had taken a brief business trip and Denise held down the fort. She was the heart of our operation, both a good administrator and a wonderful theatre producer. Upon my return, 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, working 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 parking 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 they would have to park on the street or arrange other alternatives. He assured me that this would not be a problem.

That’s when 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 Arrives

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. He said the executives wouldn’t be relegated to street parking. Our arrangement meant nothing to him. I told him that maybe the cars could 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 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.

Table Read — **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. 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.

Squirrel the Cat

Denise wanted to thank Mel personally. So, we wandered back through the theatre, through the backstage, and opened the connecting door to the rehearsal hall.

Remember we lived at the theatre, and we had a beautiful cat by the name of Squirrel, who we’d had since just after she was born. A few years before, a very tiny kitten had somehow managed to survive extremely busy Santa Monica Blvd and had wandered up our stairs and just sat there. I tried to shoo the cat away, but she wouldn’t leave. Eventually I fed the tiny 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, “dogs have owners, cats have staff”, and it is very true. She got her name when Denise moved in because of the way she bounced and ran around all over the place like a wild squirrel out in your front yard.

Young Mel Gibson — **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. Several 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.

Mel Meets Cat

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.

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. So 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.” Asking Denise to make sure that they left, and I picked up our bewildered cat and went back to our apartment.

Understanding 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 pet.

Mel mug shot — Mel’s mug shot after his arrest.

The Aftermath

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.

Original Attic Theatre — **The front door to the old Attic Theatre in Hollywood. Building is now vacant.**

For legal reasons, I hereby attest that the following account is my own personal recollection of the events that transpired, over a quarter-century ago. 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. My dear friend and confidante, Denise, passed away in 2007, her laughter and camaraderie forever etched in my heart. I sold the building in 2016. As for the employees of Mr. Gibson and his company, I never knew them or their names.