Hanks for the Memories

"The truth is that we don't need everyone to like us; 

we need a few people to love us. Because what's better than

being roundly liked is being fully known - an impossibility 

both professionally and personally if you're so busy being likable

that you forget to be yourself." ~ Jessica Valenti

At my therapy session today, I was expressing how I often feel unlikable -- I'll let the source of that neurosis be fodder for another day. Dr. Bob responded that no one is universally liked. Everyone can name people who don't like them. 

I replied, "Yeah, except Tom Hanks. He's probably the only person on the planet who is liked by literally everyone."

Years ago I was browsing in the Canoga Park Salvation Army when I came across a vintage collectible book titled, "Collier's Photographic History of World War II." It had page after page of riveting black-and-white war photos. 

I immediately thought it would be a great gift for either Tom Hanks or Steven Spielberg, since the subject matter was near and dear to both of them. They had done "Saving Private Ryan," and this was around the time of "Band of Brothers." It seemed like a great way to introduce myself and start a conversation.

But I didn't think any of my projects would resonate for them, so the book languished on my shelf for a year. I didn't want to knock on their door unless I could follow through. The rule in Hollywood (and business) is that you usually only get one shot, so it's important not to squander it. Make sure you're ready, because the door may never open again.

I finally concluded it was a silly idea in the first place, and decided to simply donate the book back to the store the next time I went there. Then... within days, I read that Tom's birthday was coming up. The timing seemed oddly serendipitous. I decided to send him the book as a birthday gift... just because. No strings attached. I included a note explaining how much I admired him and Rita, wished him a happy birthday, made it clear he didn't know me and I didn't want anything from him. I signed it with my name and phone number. 

Next I called his agent's assistant giving her a heads up that the gift would be coming via FedEx, and made clear it wasn't a script I was trying to smuggle past them. It was simply a birthday gift and please be sure Tom gets it. I sent the book off and went on with my life.

A few months later I was sitting at my desk when the phone rang. I answered, of course. A man inquired, "May I speak with Rachel Wolf?" The voice was SO familiar but I couldn't place it. Was it an old boyfriend? A one-night stand? Why did I know this voice? I replied, "May I ask who's calling?" And he said, "Tom Hanks." I almost fell over but remained composed. Of course it was Tom Hanks! How could I not recognize that voice? 

We had a delightful chat. He said the book was "the neatest gift he ever got." (While I'm sure that wasn't true, I'll never forget he used the word "neatest." It was so Tom Hanks.) He told me the book was on their living room coffee table and that it was a remarkable gift. Even their guests would comment on it. 

Tom asked, "So do I know you?" I said no. "Do you know Steven?" Again, no. 

I explained how I couldn't decide whether to send the book to him or Spielberg. Without missing a beat, Tom said: "Oh, I was definitely the better choice." (If I had been drinking something, I would've done a spit take.)

It was important for me to make clear that I wanted nothing from him. He remarked, "Well, if we're ever in the same room, please come up and introduce yourself." I said I would. And the magic moment ended.

Can you imagine what I was feeling? It was surreal. And again, so Tom Hanks. Think about it. He didn't have an assistant send a thank you card. He didn't even have an assistant dial my number and say, "I have Mr. Hanks on the line for you." He took the time from his ultra-busy schedule and called me. Personally. Himself. The man, the legend picked up the phone and dialed.

I felt seen. And heard. And for a brief moment, relevant. But the story doesn't end there.

About two years later, I was working as the Executive Assistant to the Senior Vice President of Television Production for Viacom Productions (a division of Paramount Studios). Our offices were in the Showtime building in Westwood. My co-worker, Dee, was a member of the Producers Guild and he knew my Tom Hanks story. I mean, c'mon. Tom Hanks!

As it just so happened, the 2003 Producers Guild Awards were coming up, and they were honoring Rita Wilson with the Visionary Award for producing the hit, "My Big Fat Greek Wedding." Dee said, "You know Tom will probably be there. Do you want to go?" The response, "Duh," came to mind. 

I gave Dee money for a ticket and we went. The event was held at the Century Plaza Hotel, if memory serves. It was in a large ballroom with tiered seating that surrounded an inner circle where the Hollywood elite, the crème de la crème mingled. Of course, we were seated in the section for commoners and peasants, furthest from the royalty. 

There, way down there, surrounded by people and engaged in conversation, were Tom Hanks and Rita Wilson. My co-worker nudged me. He said, "Go introduce yourself." Well, Tom did say that if we were ever in the same room I should introduce myself. And there we were, in the same room. What did I have to lose?

I maneuvered my way through posers who were there to see and be seen, until I stood a foot behind him. He was talking to someone. What should I do? Interrupt? Tap him on the shoulder? I waited for what seemed an eternity but was probably only a minute. Finally amid the clamor, I cleared my throat timidly. Then loudly. And Tom turned. Our eyes met.

Boldly extending my hand, I introduced myself, trying to be a peer, not a fan. "Hi Tom. I'm Rachel Wolf." Within a split second he exclaimed, "THE BOOK!"

Several years had passed since our call. And he knew who I was! 

"Wow, yes. You did say that if were ever in the same room I should introduce myself."


He grinned. "I did say that."

Teeming with insecurity, I awkwardly stammered, "Well I just wanted to say hi." (In truth, I wanted to say a lot more, but didn't want to intrude or overstay my welcome, so to speak. As women we tend to downplay our value at times like this.)

Tom made a V-sign with two fingers. Pointed them at his eyes then rotated his wrist and pointed at me with that I'm-watching-you gesture. "And now I know you," he affirmed.

I didn't know what to do next. Slink away or be bold? I mustered up the courage from, I don't know where. "May I ask if your door will be open to me if at some point in the future I have a script to send?" He said, "Absolutely."

Okay, I'm not being entirely honest. It didn't take much to muster up the courage. Anyone who knows me will tell you that I'm relatively fearless. Friends say I have balls. Chutzpah.

"Great. Well, I'm glad we met."

I shook his hand and headed back toward the outer limits. Briefly I turned back to glance at Tom. Our eyes met for a second time. Again he did that "I see you" gesture.

Some time passed before I felt it was appropriate to reach out. Not surprisingly, I was intercepted by his gatekeeper and highly competent Executive Assistant, Allison Diamond. (She's been with him for at least 10 years and is fiercely protective of him, as celeb assistants must be.) As I'd been an E.A. in the industry since the early 1990s, and a Personal Assistant for a few celebrities, I knew the drill. She was going to vet me. I told her who I was. I reassured her that my story was legit. Still, she was skeptical. A few days later, Allison rang me back (she's British), and said Tom remembered me and, yes, I could submit "Wish."

My screenplay is a metaphysical romantic comedy with a genie who teaches a shallow guy that it's who you are on the inside that counts. Sanford-Pillsbury loved "Wish" so much, they had taken it to DreamWorks. David Ladd at MGM was impressed as well. But it never reached Tom. His reader said it was good, but their "plate was full."

Another year passed. Undaunted, I called to pitch my western comedy ("Wanted"), a perfect fit for Tom, not just as a producer, but as the star. 


Joong-Hoon Park, an award-winning Korean movie star, was already attached as the co-lead. Tom's D-girl (development person) was polite, but firm and dismissive. It was as if they were just going through the motions to humor me but probably never even read anything I sent over.

"We're already developing a western for him and Julianne Moore." I asked if it was a comedy. She said, no. A drama.

I responded that mine was an action-comedy set in the Old West, so an entirely different animal. Her reply was swift and curt, intended to shut me down and make me go away. "We're not interested in doing two westerns." And that was that.

By the way, I tried a third time with my comedy thriller, "Star 69," loosely based on a true story about a celebrity stalker. That time I didn't even get a response.

Since then, at least 10 years have passed. Their western was to be the film version of Larry McMurtry's "Boone's Lick." It was in development forever. At some point, Barry Levinson and Lasse Halstrom were each attached to direct. Around 2009, Tom decided not to pursue it.

Such is the way of Hollywood. They rejected my western, a high concept, ultra-commercial movie, in favor of a big budget literary drama, which they ultimately abandoned.
   
Now I find myself crossing Tom's path again, albeit on a metaphysical plane. I talked about him in therapy today, and then there he was tonight, a guest on Colbert's Late Show. Should I take that as a sign to try again?

It's well-known that Tom Hanks is an American history buff. And I happen to have written a full-length historical stage musical about Edgar A. Poe, the iconic 19th century American author, master of misery and mystery, who penned the most famous poem ever written. 

I believe Tom will want to produce it... if only I can get an afternoon with him. (Of course, a piano in the room would also be helpful.) Will Tom Hanks finally welcome me into the Playtone family? Has my moment finally arrived or shall I attempt nevermore? Stay tuned.