My Exclusive Interview with BRIDGET DOBSON - Part Two

We’re coming to the second part of my interview with Bridget Dobson. If you have missed the first part, you can read it by clicking here. Today Ms. Dobson tells us in what way she left General Hospital to write Guiding Light. This step was not without obstacles. We will see in what way Jerome Dobson helped his wife and how one of the biggest writers’ pair was born. Bridget Dobson also recalls the famous sequence of Holly’s rape by her husband Roger Thorpe (GL) and I tried to ask also about Augusta and the pigeon (SB). All this and much more in the second part of the interview that Bridget Dobson granted to Santa Barbara Blog.

You and your husband worked together as a writing team for many years. When and how did you decide to work together?

One day toward the end of my promised run on GH, I called the man who had walked by the Cadillac my parents borrowed and placed in their garage to get hired onto their first soap, Search for Tomorrow. He was still head of Procter and Gamble productions.  I said, "Do you remember the girl who passed hors d' oeuvres  at the Search story conferences?"  He said, "Of course, Bridget.  We've been following your work on GH and think it's wonderful.  Do you want to be a headwriter?  Or do you prefer to stay an associate writer?"

I was utterly stunned, almost confused by the praise.   I mumbled something about not being sure I could be a headwriter.  He suggested he would fly me to New York and we would talk about both positions.  Long story short:  I was hired as headwriter on Guiding Light.

The dragon inside me did a secret cha cha dance.  I told my father he was mistaken.  I had gotten a writing job for someone other than my parents. 

My new contract was set the next week.  And then, at the end of that same week, I received a phone call:  My mother had terrible cancer and was to be hospitalized for an indefinite length of time.  And then another phone call from the Vice President in Charge of Daytime Television at ABC-TV: "Bridget, you can't leave the show.  If you leave the show, I'm going to walk into that hospital and fire your mother and your father. I swear to you I will do it."  I had to stay on GH.  It would kill my parents to be forcibly removed from the show, their creation, their baby.

I called and explained the situation to the people at Procter and Gamble.  They were upset but very professional.  A new contract would be written.  I would still "belong" to them, but I could stay with GH for another two years. Astoundingly, I received full pay from both ABC and P&G.

I remained for two more years with GH, this time as headwriter with no assistance from my parents.  At the end of this jail sentence, I went dancing off to NY to start writing for Guiding Light. They had a little surprise for me. Very shortly after starting, in a matter of days or weeks, the show would expand from a half hour a day to an hour a day.  My insides cried for help.  On the outside I was all smiles.  "Sure.  No problem.  As long as you double my salary."  They agreed in a second.  I went home to my husband and burst into tears.  How on earth could I handle an hour a day soap when it had nearly killed me to write half an hour a day?  Jerry had a solution:  he'd help me.  Of course, he'd never written anything in his life.  He was a Far Eastern History major at Stanford.  But he was half-crazy (a necessary qualification) and smart and creative and funny.  Thus, a new partnership was born.

“Craziness: a necessary qualification to write”. On GL one of your shocking storylines it was Holly Bauer' rape by her own husband Roger Thorpe. Generally, the rapist is a stranger. However, if the perpetrator is the husband, then more emotional implications are involved. Was the public reaction the same one that you expected to have, by proposing a so strong and unusual story?

To begin, "craziness", the term as I intended it, is a high compliment.  It is only unique individuals, who stand outside the norm, who have the distinction of exceptional wit or sophistication or knowledge, that qualify, in my lexicon, for this verbal honor.  It does not mean they have a natural ability to write, but, when accomplished as writers, they have a kind of perspective on the world, different from most, that makes them outstanding. But that was not your question.  I just wanted to clarify.

I don't want to comment on specific GL storylines.  However, I can say that whatever the storyline, it was not conceived or written for the audience.  We wrote to please ourselves. We were very selfish. We wrote what interested us.  There is too much work to be accomplished.  Time can't be spent gauging the audience's reaction.  Also, I think hoping to please an audience distracts from the passion of the writer.  "Group-think" does not work.  Writing by committee does not work.  The intensity of the writer's creative fervour can't be diluted.  (The networks and the sponsors might disagree, but that doesn't change the ferocity with which I hold this conviction.)

What you say has led my memory to a specific episode of SB. So if you agree, let's jump forward in the interview, as a sort of flash forward: in 1984 mobile phones were not yet widespread. So Ted and Laken communicated through a pigeon until Augusta, Laken’ mother, decided to cook and serve him to her daughter during an aperitif. I know that Louise Sorel tried to avoid that scene (in vain). But you liked it and I love it because it's irreverent, cruel and funny at the same time. What happened with Louise Sorel and why that was a key scene for you?

Augusta coocks Laken's pet pigeon

August 31, 1984: #Augusta (Louise Sorel) cooks #Laken's pigeon and she give her to eat it. Did you know that Louise Sorel wasn't happy at all with this? Here what she said about it: "I called Dame Judith at the Beverly Wilshire hotel, I didn’t even know her then. I said, “Hello, this is Louise Sorel, have you read the script for tomorrow?” And she said [in Dame Judith’s voice] “Oh My God, it’s disgusting! Oh My God, you can’t possibly do that.” And I said, “I have to, could you make a call for me?” She said, “Oh Darling, I’m too old and tired to get involved.” So I said, “Okay, thanks.” Then I called my agent. I said, “Michael! They’re making me kill my pet pigeon.” He thinks I’m nuts. He’s an agent, what does he care? “They’re killing my daughter’s pet pigeon, this is insane. I won’t do it.” He said, “Then quit the show, Louise, I don’t know what else to tell you.” So I go upstairs to Bridget and Jerry. I said, “Excuse me. Um, you’ve written that I kill my daughter’s pet pigeon. I will not do that. I’m an animal activist. I will call the ASPCA and tell them that you told me I had to this.” And they’re like ready to kill me [laughs]. I didn’t know what else to do! They said, “We wrote it and we think it’s funny.” I said, “It’s not funny.” They said, “Well, we’ll think about it.” So I go downstairs. Dame Judith comes in, she sits in her make-up chair. And I’m sitting in mine. And Jerry comes in. She says, [in an English accent] “Jerry, come here. That poor girl, you’re making her do such a terrible thing. I mean, she can’t do that.” And he said, “Well, we kind of liked it.” And I’m sitting in that chair thinking, “God bless her.” Finally what they let me do is just alter the lines slightly. My daughter says, “Is it pigeon?” And I say, “Maybe.” Which is the same thing as saying yes, but at least I didn’t say “yes.” There was just the slightest possibility that it didn’t happen.

Pubblicato da Santa Barbara Blog su Venerdì 31 agosto 2018

There are so many scenes over a career that involved writing (and in many cases producing) more than 6000 scripts, that it seems excessive to go into detail about any one scene or dramatic sequence.  In general, as I have already written, the writer's passion must prevail in an on-going drama.  That is not to say that the writer is always right.  Still, right or wrong, the drama will be less effective, over all, if others interrupt or intercept the writer's vision.  Many, many actors (and producers, and network executives, and sponsors, and members of the audience) have disagreed with what we writers wanted to do. It happened in a weekly, if not daily, way.  Some were more vociferous than others.  Some went to the press to try to gain support for their causes (and, perhaps, a little publicity for themselves).. Sometimes compromise was possible.  Sometimes it wasn't.  Usually the decision was made by the writer in the heat and frenzy of yet another day of storytelling.  It was certainly a subjective decision. I guess a successful writer had a good "batting average" when it came to all decisions.    

Further, the best characters are the complicated ones, not pure good, not pure bad, not always rational, sometimes jealous, sometimes bitter, sometimes generous and wise, sometimes gentle, sometimes harsh, sometimes revengeful, often witty or self-deprecating.  And of course, the id, the ego and the superego -and all the intricacies of personality that Freud described - play a part in every character at all times.  I embrace heroes with weaknesses and less than perfect inclinations, and anti-heroes who are understandable and even sympathetic.  I recognize these qualities in myself.

As far as a scene being a "key" scene, in an ideal world they would all be "key", otherwise they would be scrapped.

So when a character becomes unpredictable, maybe this can especially stimulate the audience’s imagination. When I was twelve years old, I imagined that the biggest amusement for Mary Duvall was to say to the poor orphan children that Santa Claus does not exist and then she felt happy for having given a Christian teaching…because Santa is not actually present in the Bible. Imagining this story, I felt able to give vent to my sadistic side. I’ll try to ask the question by using other words: Aristotle believed that through tragedy the author and audience could feel purified. Did the tragic stories of SB have a cathartic function for you? If so, how?

There is, I believe, without any scientific basis in fact, a very strong cathartic release for the writers of on-going dramas.  My own experience is that with every scene I've ever written (not just when writing tragedy) I've lived through each character's emotions. This happened many times a day, over and over again.  Seemingly, my psyche never tired of joy or sorrow or relief or whatever it was.  In a given scene - say, for example a two-person drama leading to rape in marriage (which you cited earlier) my psyche was jumping from person to person: the righteous husband and the wife afraid of sexual violence.  I am him.  I am her.  I am him.  I am her.  I am demanding.  I am scared.  I am insisting.  I am relenting.  I am determined.   I am afraid not to be feminine.  On and on.  Jump to the next scene: a doctor secretly in love with his patient who is married to an abusive man. He: this bruise is painful. (He knows what caused it.)  She: Not very. (She is protecting her husband)  I have one very inconvenient drawer in my kitchen. (She tries to laugh.)  He: I think that drawer is meant for kindling. (He's telling her to leave her husband.)  She: But where would I store my essentials?  (She's saying her husband's important, and hopes the doctor doesn't understand her weakness for him).  On to the next scene.  Every day.  Without exception.  I have been discovered weeping and laughing at my computer (earlier, at my typewriter).  I cover any personal cathartic needs I've had by saying I've had the privilege to live not just my own life but also the lives of hundreds, if not thousands, of characters.  Some people think, after all that, I'm still sane.  Some think I'm sane because of all that.  Everybody agrees I'm still (mostly) here.

to be continued...