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Under
His Thumb By Craig "Kif" Sanborn |
Exerpts from my former assistant's tell-all book.
When my former boss, Bruce Campbell, asked me to write a story about what it was like to be his personal assistant, my first reaction was, "Wow, I'd be honored." Then I realized he wasn't asking me, he was grinding my face into the carpet and threatening my sister.
When I sat down to write this, I tried to think of the perfect word to describe how I know Bruce Campbell and what it is exactly that he pays me to do. Several came to mind: pawn, whipping boy, scapegoat, gofer, messenger, slave, serf, peon, servant, underling, henchman, busboy, mule, caddie, squire, valet, and patsy, just to name seventeen. But, then it occurred to me that two words already existed which described all those things and much more... personal assistant.
So, for the next two months, I labored in my endangered spare time to produce a completely accurate depiction of what it is like to work for the man. The following paragraphs are excerpts from my unpublished "Tell-All" book called, "The True Bruce." And by excerpts, I mean that these paragraphs are all that survived after Bruce found and burned to a crisp my only copy of the manuscript.
I feel it is time the world understood that deep inside every actor lurks the heart of a hellspawn.
from CHAPTER 1: HOW I MET THE DEVIL
I first met Bruce Campbell at a science fiction convention (or sci-fi con, for those in the "know") in lovely Greenville, South Carolina, only about three hours from my hometown of Sheltered Suburbs, Georgia.
I think what initially impressed Bruce about me was that I was the only person there not dressed as a Klingon, other than himself, of course. In fact, I believe I was dressed rather like a preppy. Come to think of it, I believe I wore what I would have worn to a job interview. Because, that was, in truth, my ulterior motive for bouncing a forty check to get into this place where people haggled over the price of a mint-condition Jawa.
The most interesting thing about the convention, though, was the...
- DAMAGED IN FIRE -
... suppose I should mention that although I enjoyed the "Evil Dead" films and "Brisco," I wasn't necessarily a fan of his because of them. I was interested in Bruce because he and his shemp pals made a movie when they were my age. Anyway...
Campbell spoke his wry and often surly stand-up routine, fending off such questions as, "If Brisco could shoot the bullets off a guy's shirt, why did he miss Bly that one time?" and "Will you autograph my wife?" The line for obligatory autographs and handshakes formed and I ended up in the last third, despite the fact that I was in the second row.
Looking through the line, I saw that others carried the usual: 8x10 glossies, posters, vinyl figures, crying children, half eaten gyros, and the occasional chainsaw. But, I firmly believe that I was the only one there holding a demo reel and a resume.
An aside to offer a bit of biographical information about myself. My name is Craig. I was born four days before Nixon resigned in a hospital off of I-285. Every since I was a wee lad, I have aspired to be a filmmaker, and I ain't talking about working for Kodak. I attended the University of Georgia in Athens and graduated with honors after only two years. There, I performed stand-up comedy to packed houses and was voted "The Freshest Comedic Talent of the Southeast, 1994." And, I have loved a lot of women.
At long last, I stood in front of the icon himself. I slapped down two 8x10s, one of Brisco and one of Ash. He signed them both, and then I slapped down a manila envelope, the carrier of my dreams. He looked up and asked what it was. I explained that inside were my demo reel and a resume. Then, he asked me a question that quite surprised me, after all it came from an actor.
"What are your aspirations?"
Now, in the Library of Congress, they have on file a list of the ten best responses to that question. And, were you to look, you would find that mine was nowhere near it.
"Um, uh, write, direct... whatever."
To this day, I still refuse to believe that such a pathetic answer could have come out of me at such a crucial moment. In fact, I blame a crafty ventriloquist three people behind me. Regardless, I have learned two important things since then. One, when asked what your aspirations are, never use the world "whatever;" and second, for the love of god, never close with "whatever."
Bruce knew immediately I was an idiot and motioned for two guards dressed as Ferengi to throw my doughy butt out of there.
So, I left Greenville with a pit in my stomach and a hole in my heart, like so many who have left Greenville before me. That, I believed, was the end of it. I had blown my chance.
"Whatever."
Six weeks later, I was busy in my collegiate apartment studying for an exam two weeks away when the phone rang. I answered it, wondering which lovely jeune fille it was going to be this time.
"Bruce Campbell calling for Craig Sandorn."
Yeah right. It had to be somebody else. Maybe Nick, my prankster pal from across the way. Or, Slappy, that kind-hearted goon from next door. But, surely not Bruce Campbell. Not on my phone.
"No really, it's me."
After a few minutes, I realized that it was him, and I became naturally excited. Then, it occurred to me... How did he find me? How did Bruce Campbell get my phone number? How did this psycho track me down? Oh my god, he's stalking me.
You always hear stories about fans stalking celebrities, but never about celebrities stalking their fans. I was terrified. I knew that this sick person was most likely outside my window, watching me. I pressed the panic button on my apartment wall to alert the fledgling campus cops that my life was in danger. But, Bruce was sneaky. He got off the phone before we trace him.
I didn't leave my house for days.
The harassment via phone continued sporadically over the next few months. I was afraid for my life. I was afraid for the lives of my loved ones. I had to do something drastic.
I decided the only to get this demented actor (redundant?) off my back was to pack up and move away, to assume an entirely different lifestyle where he would never find me. The Stalked Fan Relocation Program found me a job as a nanny to a couple in Los Angeles. Los Angeles! That's where el diablo lives. But, the relocation people reminded me that there are 17 billion people living in Los Angeles, and that the odds of him finding me were next to improbable. I left for my new life in LA, ready and willing to do the...
- DAMAGED IN FIRE -
... and that was the first time I'd ever hugged a duck.
Six months and a vasectomy later, my nanny job ended (Thank you, Jesus!), and I found myself swimming in the river of freelance film industry work. I landed a job within the art department on a movie then called "Chase." As a member of the art department, I was one of the people who painted KFC buckets gray and hot-glued them to the wall.
The movie went through several changes to its title. From "Chase," it went to "Chase Morran," then "Chase Meringue," then "Lemon Meringue," then "Lemon Cobbler," then "Peach Cobbler," then "Peach State," then "Jimmy Carter," then "Jimmy Cobbler," then "Assault on Jimmy Cobbler," then "Assault on Just Jimmy," then "Assault on Chase," then "Assault on the Audience," and finally, "Assault on Dome 4." Ring a bell?
One day early in pre-production, I was sitting in the art office with my colleagues eating liquid meat (Taco Bell) when I learned the frightening truth. I was working on a movie starring none other than my nemesis, Bruce Campbell. I wanted to run and hide, but I had signed a contract, in pen.
For the next two weeks of production, I tried to hide from Mr. Campbell, but that proved to be impossible. He was everywhere. No one could understand my plight; they all thought he was a nice guy. Had they forgotten that he is an actor? He had fooled all of them with the oldest trick in the script. Only I understood that he was evil incarnate.
As irony would have it, the production people chose me to "double" for Bruce during a couple scenes, meaning they would shoot over my shoulder and pretend it was his. Of course, I had to crouch down because he's much shorter than I. Not to mention, his...
- DAMAGED IN FIRE -
... wasn't my fault! I was nowhere near the damn thing!
About two days before we wrapped, Bruce approached (cornered) me and asked me (at gun point) if I would help him get prepared for this Love Bug movie he was doing next. I had no choice, and in that smoggy October of 1995, my tour of duty under Bruce Campbell's thumb officially began.
from CHAPTER 2: SIGNING AWAY MY SOUL
I signed something on day one which said, "I have no original thoughts. Everything I say, think, or do is from this point forward the property of Bruce Campbell."
I didn't catch the fine print until it was too late, but he's also legally entitled to my first born.
from CHAPTER 3: MY L'IL SLICE OF HELL
Bruce showed me where my office was the very first day I started working for him. It was a hole dug into the ground of his backyard. It consisted of a cardboard box, an abacus, and three broken crayons. And, he insists I spend time in my office during the hours of 1:00 and 2:00. I quickly realized that this coincided perfectly with the schedule of the lawn sprinklers.
from CHAPTER 5: SATAN'S HOTROD
Just prior to working for Bruce, I took a big risk. Despite not having much money, I put a down payment down on a brand new 1996 Chevrolet Blazer. Oh, it was a beautiful car and quite the financial undertaking. It was my pride. It was my baby.
On day twelve of my employment with Bruce, I walked outside to find him setting fire to my new car. As I ran for the garden hose, he tackled me and made me watch, helpless, as my baby burned down to its frame. He laughed and laughed.
In his defense, he did replace the car with another, a piece of crap 1987 Chevrolet Blazer. What a nightmare! Every three days, it throws a fan belt, the inner roof lining sags, the left speakers hum, the chairs don't recline, and I have had to replace practically every vital part of it with my own money.
I fear for my life when driving this car.
from CHAPTER 6: THE PAIN NEVER GOES AWAY
Bruce often quotes Larry Fine of the "Three Stooges" who said, "The pain goes away on payday." Granted, that may be true, but it sure as hell comes back on April 15th.
Bruce pays me with New Zealand coins that he couldn't exchange at LAX upon returning after playing Autolycus, the King of Thieves. He pays me by flicking these coins directly at my head. What I can catch in my mouth, I can keep.
Last year I made almost eighty-two dinars.
from CHAPTER 7: MONOTONY & DRUDGERY & PAIN, OH MY
...gets even worse. For example, on a typical day, I wake up at 6:00 AM, take a six second shower, spend four seconds getting dressed, and drive the three hours to work, uphill and with no transmission.
I arrive on time, as always, and work steadily for the next eighteen hours. When I finally escape, I drive the four hours back home (also uphill), arriving at about 7:00 AM.
I fall asleep and wake up an hour earlier at 6:00 and do it all over again.
from CHAPTER 9: GEZUNDHEIT, MEIN FURER!
- DAMAGED IN FIRE -
... was stinging so badly, I passed out, landing directly in the aforementioned pile of...
- DAMAGED IN FIRE -
Before that even, early in my employment with him, I made the mistake of telling him I was allergic to cats. The next day, I arrived at work to discover that he had just bought three little felines.
He told me to bond with them, then ordered me to remove my brand new Raichle hiking boots. He filled the boots with cat litter and convinced the cats that that was the best place to relieve themselves. And, they did and still do. And naturally, it was my responsibility to clean out these "litter boots." He gave me no scoop. He gave me no gloves. He couldn't even buy the kind that clumps.
But, in my own way, I got even. I have managed to throw two of his cats to the neighboring coyotes, but Bruce just keeps replacing them. I can't win.
from CHAPTER 12: PUNCH IN, PUNCH OUT, PUNCHES ME
... but did they ask me? Heck no, they just threw the darn thing right back into the sewer. And, on a Thursday! Do these people have any shame!?
One day and one day only, I was a mere fifteen minutes late for work. He produced a wire clothes hanger and told me he was auditioning for the remake of "Mommy Dearest" and needed me to help him rehearse.
A year later, the welts have yet to subside.
from CHAPTER 13: THE CHECKS IN THE MUD
It is not uncommon for employers to issue credit cards to their employees from their account. However, Bruce ordered me to give him one of my credit cards in his name.
I don't know what he buys everyday at Pic 'N Save, but my credit card bills are enormous, and of course, I can't pay them off. To make a long story short, I won't be able to buy a car, qualify for a home loan, or move into an apartment for the rest of my life.
from CHAPTER 14: MY LIFE AS A MULE
Bruce has a habit lately of making me accompany him to far away film locations like Portland or Vancouver. While he flies, I drive his stuff miles and miles, days and days, often having to explain to customs why he would have thirteen dead roosters in his duffel bag.
Most recently, Bruce told me he would be shooting in Boston and wanted me to go with. Okay, I loaded up my car with his usual stuff: office supplies, unused recreational equipment like a bike or snowshoes, blenders, cookware, cigars, episodes of "Get Smart," barrels of tree sap, and the occasional corpse.
And, I drove for miles and miles, days and days and eventually made it to Boston, only to discover that there were currently no movies shooting in Boston.
Campbell was laughing his ass off in Los Angeles.
from CHAPTER 15: WEATHER STRIPPING
Don't get me started. However, I admit I crack a smile every time their garage door gets stuck while opening.
from CHAPTER 20: FIVE SPEEDS AND SEVEN BMW'S
I should have learned not to let Bruce know too much about me from the start, but I did let it slip that I didn't quite know how to drive a stick shift.
He went out and traded in his automatic for a five-speed.
"Sandbourne, you're going to learn how to drive a five-speed!" he said as he produced a bottle of chloroform and a handkerchief.
I woke up behind the wheel of his car at a red light atop one of San Franciso's steepest hills with seven BMWs behind me.
The light turned green.
"Now, drive!"
Have you ever been screamed at by seven lawyers with dented BMWs? I have.
from CHAPTER 21: THE DEER INCIDENT
I wish I could tell you about the deer incident, but my therapist tells me I'm not ready to talk about it yet. All I can say is that, while most people kill deer with guns, your truly killed one with his bare hands. I'm not proud of it, but we ate like kings that night.
from CHAPTER 22: KEEP ON SHINING!
All work and no play makes Craig a dull boy. All work and no play makes Craig a dull boy. All work and no play makes Craig a dull boy. All work and no play makes Craig a dull boy. All work and no play makes Craig a dull boy. All work and no play makes...
- DAMAGED IN FIRE -
...no play makes Craig a dull boy. All work and no play makes Craig a dull boy. All work and no play makes Craig a dull boy. All work and no play makes Craig a dull boy. All work and no play makes Craig a dull boy. All work and no play makes Craig a dull boy.
from CHAPTER 26: MY FEELING OF SELF WORTH
I no longer have any.
from CHAPTER 30: EXODUS
Years ago, I was a confident, attractive young go-getter with the world at my feet. Now, I have eighteen gray hairs and I eat through a straw. I'm afraid of my own shadow and terrified of his. I spend most of each day in a gated community called Hell. I am Bruce Campbell's personal assistant.
So, don't be fooled by his nice guy attitude, he'd just as soon kick your grandma as look at you. He is evil. He is cruel. He is an actor.
But, the worst thing... The worst thing Bruce Campbell ever did to me, ever made me do... Brace yourself because it's horrible...
He made me watch "Congo."
Page Updated 03/30/00.