Writers Strike - Day 3
When I sign on to AOL this morning, the first headline on my homepage is “Did You Miss It Last Week?” Underneath it says “A lot happened on ‘Greys’ ‘Office’ ‘Chuck’ Download full episodes for free.” Then there’s a link to a site where you can download full episodes of dozens of television shows for FREE. All you have to do is sit through some ads.
The numbers for yesterday are making the rounds, and over 200 more people showed up yesterday than on day one to march alongside the picketers. The numbers also don’t include the cast of ER and the large number of other actors, who are becoming an increasingly omnipresent sight on the front lines.
The day gets off to a slow start. At 9am, there are about 15 of us marching back and forth in front of our gate. Only one problem… No picket signs.
After a short while, a van pulls up with some signs, a case of water, and a box of cookies. It’s easier to get people to honk their support when you are carrying a large sign. There are two pre-made signs to choose from. The first two days I’ve gone with the sleek red and black sign that says “Writers Guild of America on Strike”. Today, though, I opt for the vintage-looking sign that says “The Writers Guild Strikes”. I realize immediately that the vintage signs are at least twice as heavy as the other ones, and that the stick is twice as thick. It doesn’t bother me too much at first, but three and a half hours into my shift, my back is starting to notice the difference.
The security guard seems cranky today. I suspect he’s been instructed to be not as nice to us. He constantly barks at us to make room on the sidewalk for pedestrians. I don’t know what to say. Standing on the sidewalk seems to be the only thing we’re legally allowed to do.
Early into the shift, a truck pulls over on its way into the studio. A woman leans out the window and asks me if I’d support IATSE if they were striking. “Sure”, I tell her. She yells angrily, “No you wouldn’t!” And the truck drives off.
Shortly after, a car pulls over, and a woman rolls down her window and motions me over. (why do they all want to talk to me?) She tells me that she’s an editor, and that her union has threatened that she’ll be fired if she doesn’t show up for work. They’ve reiterated to her that she’s easily replaceable. She asks me if we expect other unions to stop working and strike with us. I say we expect all unions to support us, and that the Teamsters have pledged not to cross the picket line, so we expect them to keep their word. She doesn’t seem satisfied with my answer, and I’m worried she’s gotten the wrong impression. “So you really expect us to strike with you?” Before I can answer she drives off.
A few days in, and a certain odd camaraderie has developed amongst the people I’ve been marching with. We all sort of know each other now. We share strike stories. “Did you hear about the guy at Fox who screamed at the writers, ‘I’m an actor! I’m on your side, and you’re making me fucking late for work!” People are sharing pictures on their Blackberries of the Reno 911 cast striking in costume. Someone announces that the disgruntled compact-crossover-SUV-boxcar-hatchback driver who ran over the writer at Sunset-Gower was arrested today. One guy mentions to me that a lot of people he works with are marching a gate on the other side of the studio, but that he’d feel weird defecting to another gate at this point.
Gate Seven is a no-frills gate. It’s where most of the employees enter, but not the actors or the bigwigs. (Actually, Luke Perry drives out of the studio at one point and gives us all a hearty thumbs up). We’re off the main drag, so sometimes minutes go by without seeing a car.
We hear endless stories about so and so showing up at Gate 5 with lattes, or the cast of whatever marching at Gate 3, or Red Bull girls pulling up at CBS with free energy drinks. Out of the gaze of greater media scrutiny, star power is dim at Gate 7, and the few “handouts” come from truly altruistic supporters of the cause - one anonymous man walking out of the studio to his car across the street sees that we’re low on water, and goes back into the studio to snag two cases of Arrowhead for us. Thank you! A man pulls up with a tray of Subway sandwiches. Thank you! I can’t stand mayonnaise, so instead I eat a ridiculously delicious peanut-butter cookie.
Director Garry Marshall shows up unannounced with the shift change to show his support. No cameras in tow. No reporters. He’s just here to let us know that he’s on our side. Apparently, he’s been marching with the writers at different locations since Monday. He introduces himself to people, shakes some hands, and walks with us for about 15 minutes before heading off to one of the other gates.
On my way home, I get a phone call. It’s the assistant to an executive at Disney. He needs to cancel the lunch we had on the books for tomorrow! I tell the guy that I would have had to cancel the lunch tomorrow anyway, seeing as how I’m on strike and all, and will be spending tomorrow afternoon at good old Gate Seven.
photo by Heath Biter for LAist