RIP Gene Reynolds

96 is a good long run, but when it’s the man responsible for your career and the best mentor a writer could ever have, you still have to say “too soon.”

Gene Reynolds passed away, two months shy of his 97th birthday. I would get lunch with him and MASH producer, Burt Metcalfe, at Musso & Frank’s a couple of times a year. He was still very sharp, very funny, and I always learned something.

Gene led an amazing life. He was a child actor at MGM along with Judy Garland, Mickey Rooney, and Jackie Cooper. He starred or co-starred in numerous films. A trivia note: In I LOVE LUCY, when the Ricardo’s finally vacated their famous apartment, Gene was the new tenant.

In the 1960’s he turned to directing, helming hundreds of TV shows from HOGAN’S HEROES to THE ANDY GRIFFITH SHOW to THE MUNSTERS.

In the early ‘70s as a producer at 20th Century Fox he was handed a project. Adapt the movie MASH as a TV series. It was Gene who not only thought of Larry Gelbart to write it, but lured Larry back to the US after years of living in London. Larry Gelbart may have been responsible for much of the brilliance of MASH, but Gene Reynolds was its soul. Gene put it together, Gene established the tone, and for the first five years was the guiding force. After that he ran LOU GRANT and collected several of his six Emmys.

My writing partner, David Isaacs and I met Gene in early 1976. We were less than a year in the business – having written one JEFFERSONS, two JOE AND SONS, and a couple of stories for BARNEY MILLER. Luck is such a key factor in any Hollywood career. This was to be the start of season 5 of MASH and Larry Gelbart had just left. For the first time they were looking for new writers. We happened to be at the same agency as Gene and our agent submitted a writing sample, our draft of the JEFFERSONS (which bore little resemblance to what ultimately aired).

Right place, right year. And it also helped that David and I were in the Army Reserves. We had a firm grasp of that world.

We met with Gene in his office and he took the time to explain the show, what their objectives were, the type of stories they were looking for. Then he loaded us down with research – transcripts of doctors and nurses, books on Korea, recent MASH scripts, and the novel of MASH. Who spends a whole afternoon talking to young writers who may never get an assignment? But that was Gene.

We came in a week later with 50 story ideas, overwhelming him. He paired two of the notions – a gas heater blows up rendering Hawkeye temporarily blind and the guys pull a sting on Frank by recreating a baseball game on the radio. This became “Out of Sight/Out of Mind.” Gene was a little hesitant because it was a pretty dramatic story. We lied and said we wrote lots of drama in college. We had never written drama in our lives.

So he gave us the assignment. That script became our golden ticket and launched our career. Talk about blind faith – two inexperienced writers given a challenging episode based on a first draft of a JEFFERSONS.

Long story short, he loved our draft, kept giving us more, and the next year we joined the staff. It was the break of our lives and we owe it all to Gene.

Ironically, that episode -- directed by Gene -- aired on MeTV the night he died.

The year we joined the staff Gene left for LOU GRANT. But once a week we’d meet up at his house in the Hollywood Hills and go over scripts and outlines. This was an absolute masterclass. Always the gentleman, Gene was the greatest story person I’ve ever met. I learned more about story construction from Gene Reynolds than all my other mentors combined. In a lovely, supportive way he would point out flaws or suggest alternatives. And the amazing thing was this: Not only could he see story problems with laser-like focus, he also instantly had the solution.  Usually ingenious. To this day I don’t know how he did it.

So many things did Gene Reynolds teach me. Besides story construction, the value of research, the constant striving for excellence, and most importantly – the need to include humanity in everything you write. More important than killer jokes or clever plot twists was HUMANITY. The audience had to care. I’d like to think that’s in the DNA of everything I write, so again, thank you Gene.

He also taught me how to be a good showrunner. Establish an organized professional environment high on support and low on drama. Treat everyone with respect, work to get the best out of people. And it’s as simple as this: I remember the first time we got script notes from Gene. There was a joke he didn’t like. Other showrunners might say “That sucks, get rid of it, no!” Gene pointed to it and said, “You might want to take another look at that joke.” It’s a little thing – tiny even – but it meant a lot. And that was Gene.

And as if that wasn’t enough, Gene was my role model as a director. He was always cool, confident, prepared, unflappable, unhurried (although he always finished his shows on time). Trust me, there are times it’s hard to be unflappable. Things go wrong, actors misbehave, a cat gets caught in a heating vent. Yet Gene handled anything that came his way with grace, earning the full respect of the cast and crew. It seemed to come effortlessly to Gene. I have to work like hell at it.

I’m glad I was able to thank him on numerous occasions for all he did for me, both privately and publicly. But I never felt it was enough. How could it be? When a man launches your career and makes you a better human being, how large does the skywriting have to be?

Again, 96 is a good full life. Who wouldn’t take that deal right now? But aside from losing my parents, the only two passings that brought me to tears were Larry Gelbart and now Gene Reynolds.

And just writing this has brought me to tears again. Thank you Gene.  For EVERYTHING.

I hope to continue making you proud.