Jason Priestley (6 page)

The two of us spent many a Friday night together: one
A.M.
, the audience long gone, the two of us shooting scenes that had just been written, tons of new dialogue. Most of the main scenes on that show were shot in the kitchen, so we used to frantically handwrite our dialogue on the cabinets behind each other in pencil. That way, instead of looking each other in the face, we could look just beyond each other's head and read our dialogue off the cabinets in the background. There was no way we could have memorized it in the sixty seconds since they handed us the new pages. It was a great time.

For a Halloween episode on the show I dressed up in a nun's habit just like hers. In the scene Stephanie came down the stairs and walked right up to me; we stood there in identical habits, face-to-face. She stared right at me and burst out, “I thought I was the pretty one!” The live audience loved it; they were laughing and cheering and clapping. There were lots of funny moments and cool guest stars. Still, it wasn't enough.

Stephanie's gamble on a broad comedy with kids unfortunately didn't pay off the way we all hoped.
Sister Kate
had a good run for nineteen episodes, but after the first season it was very clear we were on life support. In addition to the invaluable sitcom experience, the show was a financial bonanza for me. I had banked every paycheck without even touching it. It was time to look for my own place.

A
lthough I was still officially under contract to NBC, it was clear that
Sister Kate
was not going to be renewed. My agent, Nick, had been looking around to see what else might be out there. He called me one Wednesday afternoon in the middle of pilot season. “Aaron Spelling is doing a new show and I've got the script for the pilot. Read it and see what you think. It's okay, nothing really special, but because it is Aaron you should probably take a look.”

“What's it about?”

“Family moves from the Midwest to L.A. and their two kids have to start over at Beverly Hills High School. All the roles are cast except for this one: the lead guy who plays the son. The production's ready to go; in fact, they start shooting on Monday, but they've got to lock this last role down. Immediately.”

“This Monday? Wow.”

“I'm messengering this to your house right now; give it a read and call me tonight.”

I read the script and agreed with Nick's assessment—it was okay. Brandon was definitely a role I should at least audition for. I was now twenty, but in TV world could still easily play high school, or fifteen, as Brandon was supposed to be. Nick had set up a meeting for the next afternoon at Spelling Productions. We spoke briefly that night about the script. “Go get it!” he said. I worked on my material late into the night.

I drove over to the Lot studio, a small, obscure location on Santa Monica and Formosa, and walked over to Aaron Spelling Productions. I checked in and then took a seat in the waiting room of Aaron's private office. I was surrounded by every other young actor in town, most of whom I knew from chasing other roles.
Everybody's here,
I realized. Crap. Pilot season, a new Spelling show—the competition was stiff.

My name was eventually called and I stood at the huge oak door that opened into Aaron's inner sanctum. It was at least fifteen feet tall with ornate brass handles. I took a deep breath, pushed open the heavy door, and immediately stepped into the deepest shag carpeting I'd ever seen in my life. Seriously, I was buried nearly to my ankles. The office was huge. A dark-haired girl was sitting with a man on a long white built-in couch that took up an entire wall on one side of the office; Aaron himself was pouring a tumbler of vodka at the full bar set up in another corner.
Charlie's Angels
and
Dynasty
posters covered the walls. The room was the epitome of '70s chic decor, though it was 1990. I had never seen anything like it in my life.

The man on the couch, who turned out to be a casting director, jumped up and introduced me. “Jason, this is Mr. Spelling; Mr. Spelling, Jason Priestley.” Drink in hand, Aaron shuffled over to shake my hand. I was dazzled by meeting the television legend in person in his over-the-top office and did my best to imprint the whole scene on my brain. Aaron and I walked over to the couch together and Aaron said, “Jason . . . this is Shannen, she's our Brenda.”

“Nice to meet you,” I said. She nodded.

“So . . . how'd you like to read a few scenes together for us?” Aaron asked. I sat down, we read a few short scenes together, and it seemed to go well; there was decent chemistry between us. When we finished, Aaron said, “Great, Jason, great . . . tell me . . . do you think you could make it over to FOX tomorrow for a network reading?”

“I could probably squeeze that in for you, Aaron,” I said. He smiled. He got the joke.

“Good, good . . .” he said. “We'll have you do these same scenes for the people over there . . . I'll see you then.” I said my thank-yous and exited. There were still eight or ten guys waiting to be seen, but I had at least made it to the next round.

I jumped into my Alfa Romeo and raced home. The phone was ringing as I walked in the door. Nick was calling to hammer out my deal points. All actor deals are struck before you go to the network for a final test, so that no one can hold the production up for more money should the pilot lead to a hit show. My contract was prenegotiated then and there for five years. (Nowadays, it's usually seven.)

The next day, Friday, I dressed in a different T-shirt but kept the jeans and tennis shoes (that's what we all wore back then). I drove to the network meeting on the FOX lot, where I sat in a different waiting room with the other two final contenders. One of the guys I knew by sight, just seeing him around auditions, and one of the guys I didn't. None of us spoke.

When it was my turn, I entered the office and Aaron himself greeted me. He pulled me aside to a corner of the office. From inside his jacket he pulled a page torn out of a recent
People
magazine; it was a small column item about me on
Sister Kate
. “I just showed this to everyone,” he whispered. “Don't worry—I'm looking out for you.” He winked and clapped me on the back.

Then he took me over to meet everybody—including Barry Diller, FOX's chairman and CEO. Shannen wasn't there so I read with the casting director. My audition seemed to go well enough and once again I said my thank-yous and left.

I have no idea what Aaron did or said once I left the room, but he wasn't kidding about being in my corner. Late that afternoon I had the role, along with an invitation. Everyone in the cast was gathering at Aaron's home Sunday night for a table read. It was time to meet my “classmates.”

T
he Spellings had not yet built their famous fifty-six-thousand-square-foot “Manor,” and the family lived in a large, beautiful but still regular-sized home. Regular-sized for Bel Air. The new cast all gathered in the huge living room that featured more shag carpeting. That man loved his shag carpeting. There were crystal ashtrays and holders full of cigarettes all over the place; a slight haze of smoke in the air; beautiful paintings and luxurious furnishings. It was just fantastic. I was in somewhat of a daze, knowing that the very next morning I would be reporting to the set to star in a pilot. It had all happened very quickly.

I was happily surprised to see Jennie Garth again—a perfect choice for the stuck-up rich girl she was going to play. Shannen I had already met, and I was sure we could work well together in the brother/sister relationship we would have on the show. Ian Ziering was the embodiment of the Beverly Hills jock, and Brian Austin Green and Tori, Aaron's daughter, seemed much younger than the rest of the cast; they were both actually still in high school at the time. They really were the geeky little kids looking on with wide eyes! Everyone was friendly, happy, and excited about this new project.

We did a quick read-through of the script, and the chemistry was strong and immediate. Everyone started riffing as soon as we began reading the script, playing off each other, and the banter all went so smoothly. Any show runner will tell you . . . casting is nine-tenths of the battle. If you can assemble the right group of people, it's like catching lightning in a bottle. Everything sure felt right. We broke up early with everyone feeling happy and optimistic.

A mile or so away from the house, I was heading east on Sunset Boulevard and glanced to my right to see Gabrielle Carteris driving in her rental car. She was from New York and rarely drove. She was sitting with her back ramrod straight, hands clenched tightly on the wheel, looking neither to the right or the left. She was clearly absolutely terrified to be driving down winding Sunset Boulevard. I, of course, was racing full speed, cigarette going, stereo blasting. I took one more look and had to shake my head at Aaron's genius.
Where did they find that girl?
I wondered.
She is an absolutely perfect shy and timid Andrea!

I gunned the engine and pulled away in my Alfa Romeo. I had a 6:30 call to be fitted for wardrobe the next morning. I could feel it in the air; something new and big was coming down the line. My life was about to change forever—and I wanted to be ready for it.

W
e shot the pilot over the next two weeks. As is often the case, the pilot was somewhat different from what the actual show would become. It had been written by Darren Star and was directed by Tim Hunter, who was an independent film director. He had shot
The River's Edge
starring Keanu Reeves. Because Tim had an indie-film sensibility, the pilot had a slightly darker, moodier feel as opposed to the slick, shiny beautiful-kids-in-beautiful-locations TV show that
90210
would eventually become.

The final product was called
The Class of Beverly Hills
. The show opened with me, as Brandon, lying fast asleep in a bedroom filled with half-unpacked boxes, hitting the alarm as it goes off at 6:30
A.M.
As his stereo blasted Brandon awake, he rolled over and said, “First day of school. Strange city. New house. No friends . . . I'm psyched.” Then he dropped his head back into the pillow and went back to sleep. Ninety minutes later, after romantic escapades for both Brandon and Brenda, there I was, having a heartfelt talk with Brenda about the great teenage preoccupation: “doing it.” The show closed with Brandon lying in the dark, hands behind his head, thinking over their strange new life at West Beverly Hills High.

My reaction to this pilot was basically, “Huh. Well, that was fun,” and in my mind I pretty much moved on to the next thing. I thought the pilot was okay, and my performance had been okay, but there was no way that show was going to get picked up. Robyn and I headed off to Hawaii for a quick vacation. I couldn't believe it when just a few weeks later, in May, Nick called to tell me that the show had been picked up. By shooting the pilot, of course, we had all contractually agreed to be in the show if and when it was picked up. I had a new series, a steady job. It was great but surprising news.

The FOX network was still quite new at the time; the so-called fourth network was not even five years old and had plenty to prove. The next step was the upfronts. I had been through this with
Sister Kate,
but I was playing a bigger role this time. Shannen and I were basically the two actors chosen to be paraded in front of all the advertisers to generate interest for our show. We were told to jump on the FOX jet to fly to New York. A number of FOX people, including Jamie Kellner, Brad Turrell, and Sandy Grushow, were on this flight as well.

Now, this new show had just barely been picked up. Shannen and I were not stars. We were both young working actors—period. We were a last-minute addition to the passenger list on this jet, which was carrying major industry executives, including Jamie, the head of the entire FOX network. I could not believe my ears at Shannen's very first words after she boarded. Her butt had barely hit her seat before she said loudly to the PR person, “Really? A town car? You send a town car to take me to the airport, not a limo?” She sighed a very put-upon sigh. I laughed, as I couldn't really tell if Shannen was kidding or not.

But that was just the beginning. I looked on, becoming more uneasy by the minute as she began bitching about the short notice and the food on board and the temperature in the cabin and everything else. I tried to play it off. I laughed like she was joking, then took her arm and dragged her to the back of the plane.

“What are you doing?” I said. Shannen looked at me blankly. “Stop talking. Just sit here for the rest of the flight and be quiet.”

I shook my head; I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Meanwhile, she had no idea what my problem was. She honestly could not understand what I was so worried about. It was a long, long flight.

All of us stayed at the Peninsula Hotel on Fifth Avenue, a gorgeous five-star property with every possible amenity. FOX put on an extravagant show for the advertisers. After we completed our duties, both Shannen and I were anxious to go shopping. We had an entire day off before returning to L.A. that night, so I asked a staffer at FOX if we could get a car for a few hours that day to take us around town. The doorman held open the entrance door on Fifth Avenue as Shannen and I headed outside, where we happened to see Brad Terrell waiting for a cab. A shiny black town car was there waiting for us. Perfect.

Shannen glanced at Brad, looked at the car where a uniformed driver was opening the door for her, then turned back to Brad, and said, “Really? Again? A fucking town car? Again, I don't get a limo?” To say I was staggered by the sheer nerve of a nineteen-year-old girl, whose show had just been picked up and had no track record on this network, speaking to our head of PR in this manner would be an understatement. Once again I tried to play it off, smiling at Brad as if to say,
Oh, isn't she a riot
. I put my arm around Shannen and guided her firmly down the stairs to the waiting car. “Get in the car, Shannen,” I hissed. This girl was freaking unbelievable. That was the start of four years working closely with Shannen Doherty.