The Boys : A Memoir of Hollywood and Family(116)

RON: Clint, I think it would be interesting to discuss what we learned about ourselves and our family in the course of doing this book. You first.

CLINT: Thanks for putting me on the spot, bud! Well, I would say that our childhoods were a much wilder, stranger ride than we realized when we were living through them. You don’t stop and contemplate the big picture when you’re a kid. But now I’m reminded of something that Gary Sinise’s character, Ken Mattingly, says in Apollo 13 at the start of their moon mission: “It’s gonna be one for the books!” Our journey has been one for the books. Or at least a book.

RON: Absolutely. I’ve also come to appreciate more deeply the crazy, potentially unwise leap into the unknown that Mom and Dad made when they ran off together to take their chances in show business. I suspect that because of them, I have been subconsciously drawn to the stories of people who take on outsize challenges with little regard for the physical or emotional risks. Like astronauts. And race-car drivers. And flawed geniuses listening to what’s in their heads more than the advice of so-called normal people.

And what a blast to revisit and reexamine these memories with you, Clint. Granted, they were not all as rosy as I had originally imagined. I used to think of my journey from The Journey to the present as a pretty straight line. But it’s been much more of an unpredictable zigzag than I thought. Before we did this, I sometimes fell into the highlight-reel mentality: The Andy Griffith Show, The Music Man, American Graffiti, Happy Days, directing. Now I get that I was equally shaped by projects that no one remembers, nor would I want anyone to. The mediocrities and stinkers had a damn-near equal effect in determining the path that I followed to adulthood.

CLINT: Ron, I love you and respect your beautiful mind, but I have a different take. From my chair, I have always seen life as a zigzag. I was never certain of where I was headed. Look at some of the parts I’ve played, starting at age seven: a six-hundred-year-old alien, a kid with a pet bear, a boy who predicted the end of the world, a young military cadet possessed by the devil, a twisted ice cream man who terrorizes neighborhood children, a nutty but earnest Cajun, and numerous flight controllers. That’s not a straight line. But it sure as hell was interesting.

My life has been no straight line, either. That really came into stark relief when I set it down on paper. But I find myself landing on one thought: I am humbly grateful to God for the life I have lived. Maybe it’s my age or my emotions getting the better of me, but I want to sign off by saying, “Sorry, Mr. Gehrig. I am the luckiest man to walk the face of this earth.”

RON: I second that. Can I ask you one more question?

CLINT: Fire away.

RON: Hey, where’s your bear?

CLINT: Oh, you want to play that game, do you? He’s on the floor in front of my fireplace, Opie Cunningham.





Acknowledgments


In many ways, this entire book is an acknowledgment of our love and appreciation for our parents, so it might seem superfluous to thank them again here. But it would be a sin of omission to leave them out of this section. The choices and decisions they made throughout the years—small, medium, and large—are what shaped the story we have to tell. What a gift it is to be able to look back at our lives with such love, respect, and appreciation. So, thanks, Mom and Dad.

Thanks also to our literary agents at Creative Artists Agency, Mollie Glick and Cait Hoyt, to whom we were introduced by Ron’s longtime CAA reps Richard Lovett and Risa Gertner. Mollie and Cait shepherded us through the whole process: the first creative discussions, the preparation of the book proposal, and then the business of finding a home for us at William Morrow.

At Morrow, we have been privileged to work with a wonderful and supportive team. We have especially enjoyed working closely with Mauro DiPreta, our editor. Mauro’s patience, suggestions, and overall guidance enriched our storytelling at every step. Vedika Khanna was right along there with Mauro, and we thank her as well.

And of course, this book would not be what it is without David Kamp. He threw his considerable talent and experience as both a journalist and an author into helping us effectively define, shape, and thoughtfully present this story of our journeys through boyhood and into our early adult lives. He listened, asked questions one way and then another, and when our book needed it, he would find a third way to open a window to our self-discovery. We talked, traded emails, and shared documents back and forth, as David sifted through our notes, old articles, and correspondences preserved by our dad. Without David’s dogged intent to bring the insights of our stories into a structured narrative, we would still be scratching our heads, or, worse, we’d have given up. Thank you, David. You’re an incredible storysmith, for sure.

And now, some personal notes of thanks, offered in order of birth . . .





RON


My wife, Cheryl, has been a remarkable and constant source of love, support, and wisdom for the better part of my life. She has also, project by project, been a creative secret weapon. An author herself, Cheryl not only believed in this book idea but poured hours into it with me, discussing the pages, reading various drafts, and helping me sift through my memory banks.

Son-in-law Dane Charbeneau was an early proponent of the book and also offered feedback on various drafts, as did two of my longtime professional collaborators, the film editor Dan Hanley and the screenwriter and director Bob Dolman. Their thoughts and belief in this project were invaluable.