I'm Not Dead... Yet! (18 page)

Well, somehow I had to forget about growing up hearing how elderly family members would never purchase a German car. “No Nazi-mobiles for me! Never forget, Hitler rode around in a Mercedes!” And “God forbid you should ever marry… what did you say? Karla DeVito is half German?! Oy! Why can’t you find a nice Jewish girl?” Yup. It’s not just in Woody Allen movies.

I went across the street to the Volkswagen dealership during a break in shooting; there wasn’t time to change out of my wardrobe—or even brush my hair. When I finally got a salesman to pay any attention to me, I asked him how much the convertible cost because I was going to drive it off the lot.

The salesman looked at me, dressed like a mentally challenged person, down to a fake tummy and shoes with different sized heels to help me with my ‘stride,’ and with contempt he said, “Money talks, bullshit walks. Why don’t you get out of here and stop wasting my time.” If he wasn’t willing to be civil to someone who looked like ‘Dave’ I wasn’t going to explain why he wasn’t getting my money—today.

Taught to problem-solve at an accelerated pace, I ran (limped) across the street and purchased a new Mazda RX-7 in the speedy time of 10 minutes. I made sure that my ‘performance’ was in full view of the Volkswagen salesman, and as I drove the new car off the Mazda lot, I smiled and waved to ‘mein Volks-vagen’ salesman. Funny thing is, Dan Berlinghoff was my best man and Karla’s mom Vivienne (a saint) was a Snyder. Here’s how I broke it down for my grandparents: “Nazi, bad! German, good!”

On July 11, 1982,
three days after the movie wrapped, Karla and I were married at her Aunt Marilyn and Uncle Bob and cousins Bob and Andy Braeunig’s home in Mokena, Illinois.

We only had close family and a few best friends at the ceremony. My Mom and Dad and Shelli and Moshe flew in from L.A. Karla’s mom Vivienne and Marilyn made the dinner. Our wedding cake was chocolate.

Karla was a few minutes late, and as I paced in a nearby cornfield with my best man, Dan Berlinghoff, I admit I was worried she wouldn’t show up. But she came, with her brothers Mat, Ray, and Mark, and her ‘best woman’ and best friend since high school, the dynamic rock manager Billie Best.

I played guitar and we sang to each other, and as my eyes welled up with tears, I almost botched our vows—an involuntary giggle kept coming out of my mouth when I was supposed to say “I do.”

Little did I know, the ethereal, loving heart I was promising her for a lifetime, ‘till death do us part,’ was prophetic; because the heart itself was a tangible, substantial, medical mess. She thought she was getting a healthy, young romantic—and we both learned my romantic moral fiber was the best thing that could be said about my heart. My loving heart was plum; my practical heart was a lemon.

I know I am living on borrowed time. Then again, aren’t we all?… I’m just lucky to be reminded of that fact with every heart beat and spend the rest of my life, with the love of my life.

To this day, Karla Jayne DeVito has stood by me, been my best friend and taught me that true love has nothing to do with appearances—only the soul. She should know. She has the purest soul of anyone I have ever met.

We were still newly-weds
when Rick asked if I was interested in an offer to star in
Running Brave
, a film about a half-Native American, half-Caucasian runner who made it to the Olympics against all odds.

This remarkable individual is Billy Mills—who is still the only American to ever win the Olympic Gold Medal in the 10,000 meter (6.2 mile) race.

The film was being produced by Ira and Nancy Englander and financed by the
Ermineskin Band of Native Canadians,
and I was highly flattered to learn Billy Mills hand-picked me as the right actor and athlete to portray him.
He won the race in Tokyo in 1964 in an astonishing fashion: he was bumped and knocked out of contention at the beginning of the last lap, but with a startling amount of athleticism and heart, he came roaring back, picking off runner after runner in the last 400 meters—and in a stunning upset, won ‘going away.’

I had been a runner ever since I asked my dad how a kid like me could ever go to the Olympics and compete for his country. My dad was very honest and told me how much training and sacrifice would be involved. He told me about the African runners who train endlessly and don’t have an ounce of body fat. But he always gave me hope along with truth. If I had it within my spirit to make such sacrifices, I one day could be running for my country in the Olympics. Little did we know that the only way I would ever get there was as an actor in a film portraying an Olympic runner.

At least my training foundation began at an early age, running the stairs of our 30-story apartment building. I never allowed myself to stop because I believed, ‘If you ever stop once, you’ll stop again. Habit.’ In good weather, I’d run the 220-yard cinder track at Riverside Park. A top women’s track team from Harlem worked out there, and the coach allowed me to run with the 880-yard runners. The best I ever ran was 2:14 seconds. I was last in every race—I just didn’t have the talent.

But I never stopped running. I refused to go for jogs—jogging was ‘against my religion.’ I ran, competing in every 10K race I could find. Before I left for Alberta, Canada to make the film, I got my time down to 36:00. Not bad, but not even remotely Olympian.

I believe in exercise; I actually love to exercise. It isn’t just for the endorphin high, it’s a belief that we are privileged to be alive, and movement and body conditioning is my way of saying ‘Thank you for giving me life.’ I think more clearly when I exercise. I feel I can overcome any physical problems by working my heart so it will be stronger and stronger. Some physicians may dispute this, but I believe that being able to run and swim and be very, very active after four open-heart surgeries is my heart’s way of thanking me. We’re a team.

When I had the good fortune of meeting and spending time with Billy Mills and his wife Pat, I realized what an extraordinary man he is. Many films are made about people who need Hollywood’s help to make the effort worthwhile, but Billy Mills is one man who truly deserved to have a film made about his life and accomplishments.

So heart symptoms be damned—I was going to portray Billy Mills and make him very proud of his film.
I’d run my ass off and train harder than I had ever trained before.

Karla finished her theater commitments and joined me in Edmonton where filming was underway. We hated being apart—even if only for a few days. She flew in and after taking one look at me, began baking pies and making the most delicious healthy meals. I married her for love and had no idea she was the best chef I have ever encountered! (And because of my gas, I was able to run the 440 two seconds faster.)

I was putting in 120-mile weeks and rehearsing. When we were filming, I put in 75-mile weeks. Because we shot most scenes on the track, 440 yards at a time, I knew I had to work on my fast twitch muscles and began doing more speed work. I had such respect for true Olympic athletes, I was embarrassed to be winning an Olympic Gold medal as an ‘actor.’ I had to get over it—and cross that finish line first.

I adored my fellow actors, especially Graham Greene and Pat Hingle, who gave a great performance playing the coach from KU who tries to guide Billy through the ‘white’ sports world.