I Was Saved by the Bell: Stories of Life, Love, and Dreams That Do Come True

Author:Peter Engel [Engel, Peter]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780997943122
Publisher: Top Hat Words
Published: 2016-11-15T08:00:00+00:00

I MISREAD SCREECH’S HEADSHOT

After casting Mark-Paul Gosselaar as Zack Morris for Good Morning, Miss Bliss, we immediately began searching for his nerdy friend, Samuel “Screech” Powers. Since we had a Zack already, Mark-Paul read with the various Screech candidates to gauge the chemistry. After auditioning a number of kids, we’d invited Dustin Diamond back for a second audition. Just ahead of the audition, Mark-Paul came into my office.

“Peter,” he said excitedly, eyes wide. “Screech is in the waiting room.”

“That’s right,” I said, “we’re doing auditions for Screech today.”

“No, you don’t understand,” said Mark-Paul, “That kid, Dustin, he really is Screech. In real life. If anyone should play Screech, it’s him. He wouldn’t even need to act.”

I took Mark-Paul’s instincts into consideration. He was a serious actor—much more professional than anyone would ever expect a fourteen-year-old to be—and he had sharp instincts. That much was clear to me upon hiring him. I’d already recognized that Dustin had a rare and special gift for comedy, and Mark-Paul’s insight sealed the deal. So after Dustin read, we gave him the part.

Some weeks into production, I was observing a run-through, and noticed that Dustin was acting even weirder than I’d expected a Screech-like actor to act. Compared to the other young actors on our show, he seemed immature, more like a child. After the run-through, I approached Mark-Paul.

“What’s up with Dustin?” I said. “He acts like such a kid.”

“Well, he is just a kid,” replied Mark-Paul. “He’s only eleven.”

“What? What do you mean?” I said.

“You didn’t know that?” asked Mark-Paul.

“No, I didn’t know that. I wouldn’t have hired him if I’d known he was eleven.”

During auditions, I’d been a stickler about ages, reading the birthdate on each actor’s headshot and resume to make sure they fell into the right range. When Mark-Paul told me that Screech was only eleven, I went up to my office and had my assistant grab Dustin’s casting file. Then I called up Shana Landsburg.

“Why didn’t you tell me Dustin was only eleven?” I asked her.

“I thought you knew,” she said. “It said his birthdate right on the headshot.”

“Are you sure it said the right date on the headshot?” I asked.

“The one you have in your file is the one I gave you.”

“Oh,” I said, embarrassed.

“When you said you wanted Dustin,” she said, “I figured the age difference didn’t matter. Do you want me to look for someone else?”

I thought it over. I would never have hired Dustin if I’d known that he was three years younger than he was supposed to be. But then, the kid was comedic gold, and I knew that the longer he’d work for us, the better he’d get. He was a bit smaller than the other boys—something I’d chalked up to late-starting hormones—but that was fitting for a character like Screech, the oddball, the loveable anti-hunk. And anyway, there was no going back. Mark-Paul had been right: he was Screech, and we would never find a better one.

“No,” I said. “Dustin’s our guy.”

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