Tag: celebrity addiction

  • The First Drink Was Russian Roulette: An Interview with Leigh Steinberg

    Life will knock us all back, but the question is can we stay in the present moment? Can we summon up the strength and energy to perform with excellence in those trying moments?

    If you’ve ever seen Tom Cruise as a driven sports agent in the award-winning film Jerry Maguire (1996), then you know more about super-agent Leigh Steinberg than you realize. Based on his life experiences, the film’s storyline ended before Leigh Steinberg experienced the worst travails of his life. During his career, Steinberg has represented over 300 professional athletes in football, baseball, basketball, boxing, and Olympic sports, including the number one overall pick in the NFL draft a record eight times.

    Despite his success, Steinberg met his match when it came to alcohol. In 2015, he described his challenging journey into sobriety in his memoir. Today, Steinberg reveals his inspirational journey in an interview with The Fix.

    The Fix: As a young man, your first client Steve Bartkowski became the No. 1 overall pick in the 1975 NFL draft, catapulting you into the upper echelons. When you look back on the sudden rise of those early days, do you ever feel like it all happened way too fast? Was it challenging to deal with the mighty rush of early success?

    Leigh Steinberg: I had had the wonderful experience of being student body president at Cal (University of California, Berkeley) in the tumultuous days of the Sixties. At that point, Berkeley was the vortex of student life. From demonstrations and rock music to alternative lifestyles, the school was at the center of the national story. Such an experience really prepared me for the national profile that came with the Bartkowski signing. I never confused newspaper clippings, awards, or external praise for the substance of being a good person and being grounded.

    From Warren Moon to Oscar De La Hoya, you desired your top clients to be preeminent roles models in their sports. Do you perceive yourself as a role model? How did the process of recovery illuminate this perception?

    We are all role models to someone. Younger people look up to you, older people will mentor you, and you will find people who will be the models for your future behavior. I had a father who raised us with two core values: The first was to treasure relationships, especially family, and the second was to do your best to make a meaningful difference in the world. It is part of your responsibility to help people who cannot help themselves. The whole nexus of my practice was trying to stimulate the best in young men.

    When it comes to making a meaningful experience in the world, I learned a lot from my struggles with alcoholism. Being in my twelfth year of recovery, I feel like I have been given the opportunity to help people who are struggling with the same challenges that I faced. It is a real positive that comes out of the experience. If you are reading this right now and you feel hopeless and overwhelmed by your experiences with substance abuse and addictions, I want you to know that there is hope and a light at the end of the tunnel. I have been where you are now, and it does get better.

    What did you learn from the success of your clients? What did you learn from their failures?

    For me, the critical key has always been how someone responds to adversity. If we take a quarterback who has thrown a couple of interceptions so the game is getting out of hand and the crowd is starting to boo, what happens next? Can that person summon up the internal focus to tune out extraneous distractions and elevate their level of play in critical situations? Life will knock us all back, but the question is can we stay in the present moment? Can we summon up the strength and energy to perform with excellence in those trying moments? What I saw them do in success is stay grounded and stay hungry. As opposed to bragging about a past achievement or becoming self-absorbed, they were able to stay in process and do the things that created their success in the first place.

    An old Irish saying goes, “A man takes a drink, the drink takes a drink, the drink takes the man.” How would you say this saying applies to your life experience?

    When it comes to alcohol, it snuck up slowly on me. I didn’t drink for most of my life and most of my career. However, when I started drinking, it suddenly stopped becoming a decision and a matter of volition of whether or not to drink. With what seems like little or no warning, it becomes a craving and compulsion. I did not realize until later in my life that I am allergic to alcohol. At this point, the first drink would be a disaster. Knowing the metamorphosis in my brain when I take the first drink gives me no other choice but to stay vigilant.

    You write in your book, “Consuming alcohol became a form of Russian roulette for me.” It’s truly a powerful image. Can you explain it further?

    The first drink was Russian Roulette. After I took the first drink, it wasn’t clear what would be the eventual outcome. It could be anything from a blackout where I did not remember what had happened to just falling asleep to something unexpected. It was unclear how an evening would end, and it wasn’t going to be positive (laughing). After taking the first drink, I was no longer in control of my own life. It wasn’t positive. Depending on how my body was metabolizing alcohol and how much I was drinking, it could lead to many self-destructive behaviors, including drunk driving, hurting other people’s feelings, and complete self-absorption. It could lead to a place where I was no longer aware of the choices I was making.

    Can you describe your “moment of clarity”? What realization led to the start of what is now your long-term recovery?

    It was a sense of proportionality. I was sitting in my father’s room at our family house after closing my office and home. I am at my parent’s house in West Los Angeles, and all I have is the next drink. At that moment of despair, there was an epiphany where I gained a sense of proportion. I realized I wasn’t a starving peasant in Sudan, I didn’t have the last name Steinberg in Nazi Germany, and I didn’t have cancer or anything fundamentally wrong with my body. Thus, what excuse did I have not to live up to my dad’s admonitions and be a good father? How could I not follow his guidance and try to be helpful to other people? It was a moment of clarity that I needed to overcome the denial that I had a problem. I realized I had to turn my life over to a process that would hopefully lead to a better tomorrow.

    You believe the success of rookie prospects in the NFL is helped by being drafted by the right teams where successful cultures of strategy and support allow them to grow into professional players. You use the experience of Patrick Mahomes in Kansas City as the ideal example. Do you think that a person’s success in recovery might be similar as well?

    The key to winning in sports is the quality of the organization: Enlightened and stable ownership, a front office that excels at drafting and roster composition, and the quality of a coach who knows how to communicate with his players. All of that is important. Likewise, when it comes to recovery, having the right sponsor, being in the right sober living house, and surrounding yourself with other people who are serious about their recoveries and working the 12 steps is critical. I know it has been critical for me. Going to the right meetings helps you find the people with long-term sobriety who can become your role models. Overall, the concept of being in a healthy environment leading to success is critical in both environments.

    Can you talk about the role of steroids in professional sports? As an agent who cared about his clients, you write that you gained insight into the danger of steroids early on. Do you think performance-enhancing drugs will always be a part of professional sports?

    I don’t think they have to be, and I hope they won’t be. Steroids themselves are a real health danger on both a physical and a mental level. People taking steroids experience such emotional extremes, going from ‘roid rage to breaking down in tears in an instant. Steroids play havoc with a person’s emotional stability.

    Today, there are many promising therapies and techniques for training the human body, like nutrition, hyperbaric oxygen therapy, and stem cell therapies. There are so many breakthroughs about enhancing performance and stamina in a natural way. It really shouldn’t be necessary to use destructive substances to perform well. One of the major threats in professional sports has been opiates to deal with pain. In a football game, it’s like a traffic accident on every play. Since pain is ever-present, it’s essential to find alternatives to becoming dependent and ultimately addicted to opioids is critical.

    Any last words? Any message you want to leave us with today?

    I have found that the most important life skill is listening. If you can cut below the surface with another human being and listen carefully to their greatest anxieties and fears and their greatest hopes and dreams, you can help them. If you can put yourself in their shoes and connect with their hearts and minds, then it’s possible to navigate yourself through life with grace and integrity. Indeed, from the beginning, it was at the heart of my father’s message to me.

    Lastly, I believe one of the keys is to try to live in this moment without being lost in the past or fearful of the future. We don’t always have to answer the cell phone that’s ringing. You can put focus and energy into the present to derive maximum satisfaction and be a happy person.

    View the original article at thefix.com

  • Shia LaBeouf and Alma Har'el's Almost-True "Honey Boy" Tackles Family Alcoholism and PTSD

    Shia LaBeouf and Alma Har'el's Almost-True "Honey Boy" Tackles Family Alcoholism and PTSD

    In rehab, LaBeouf used a flashlight under the covers to write what he was learning about mental illness and alcoholism. These notes evolved into the screenplay for “Honey Boy.”

    Actor Shia LaBeouf, now 33, wrote Honey Boy during his 10-week lockdown in court-ordered treatment, which he nicknamed “head camp.” That was the sentence for his highly-publicized 2017 felony arrest for public drunkenness, obstruction, and disorderly conduct—a charge that could’ve landed him seven years in prison. Since then, much has changed for LaBeouf.

    “I want to thank the police officer who arrested me in Georgia for changing my life”

    This week, only two years post-rehab, the Hollywood Film Awards honored LaBeouf with its Breakthrough Screenwriter prize. Now sober, his acceptance speech was all gratitude, with the first shoutout going to Savannah cop Arthur Bryant:

    “I want to thank the police officer who arrested me in Georgia for changing my life. I want to thank my therapist and my sponsor for saving my life. I want to thank my team for being part of my life and my parents for giving me life.”

    LaBeouf’s mother Shayna Saide, who accompanied her son to the ceremony, teared up during the award speech. Honey Boy is based on a thinly-veiled story about a child actor named Otis Lort—played by Noah Jupe—and his bitter ex-rodeo clown father James Lort, played by LaBeouf. Before LaBeouf’s stay in rehab, he had been estranged from his father Jeffrey for seven years. LaBeouf gives a powerful performance as the elder Lort, a deeply disturbed, bitter alcoholic whose drinking destroyed his marriage, his career, and scarred the psyche of his young son. Yet, these complex characters display an obvious love for each other.

    The screenplay is a slice of LaBeouf’s life. The movie begins with Otis as a preteen, so it doesn’t include earlier scenes such as his parents divorcing when he was only three, nor the violence he witnessed at age nine—overhearing a man raping his mother in another room. In LaBeouf’s last rehab stay (his third), he learned about his PTSD.

    The daring, vulnerable script originated with email correspondence between two close friends. The actor, holed up in a treatment facility, used a flashlight under the covers to write what he was learning about mental illness and the family disease of alcoholism. He shared his innermost thoughts with Alma Har’el, an award-winning Israeli filmmaker he’d first met in 2011 after seeing Har’el’s Bombay Beach, which won Best Documentary at Tribeca Film Festival (TFF) that year.

    Alcoholic Fathers, Jewish Mothers, and Deep Emotional Scars

    They met for dinner and soon found much in common: Both had alcoholic fathers, Jewish mothers, and deep emotional scars. LaBeouf produced Har’el’s second doc, LoveTrue (2016), which also premiered at TFF.

    While LaBeouf was writing about his experiences in treatment, he described painful memories that were surfacing. Har’el recognized the seeds of a cinematic story and encouraged him to keep writing.

    The process of revising the script was a group effort with director Har’el at the helm. The moviemaking team included 12-year-old Jupe, Lucas Hedges as Otis in his 20s, and Byron Bowers as Percy, a kindred spirit for Otis during his rehab stay. LaBeouf and Har’el were open to everyone’s input.

    We reached out to Alma Har’el to find out more.

    How did making your first feature film compare to documentaries?

    AH: This film felt like a documentary even though a large part of Honey Boy was scripted. It was a combination of Shia’s real-life story, his dreams, and adding fiction. Regarding the documentary part, it was very important for me to find out as much as I could about where real events in Shia’s life took place. I spoke with both of his parents to understand as much as I could. His mother Shayna Saide provided so many photos. We used as many as we could in the credit sequence. It was to help bring the story to life as much as was possible.

    How true to Shia LaBeouf’s life was it?

    We were making a film about [the fictional] Otis—not about Shia. Much of the movie was inspired by real-life events and whenever [possible], I wanted to rely on those truths. It was a big help that Shayna, Shia’s mother, was on set with us every day, all day.

    Was his father offended by the portrayal of him?

    I don’t want to speak for him, so I don’t want to say what he felt, but I could say that he sent me a very warm message after he read the script. Then he sent me messages on Facebook almost every day. I think that [brought] good luck on the shoot. When he saw the final film, he was extremely happy for Shia.

    Was it like an AA living amends for him?

    It was. I think it was exactly that in so many ways.

    How do you feel about the use of the word “god” in 12-step programs?

    Yeah, it’s very challenging, but it is, as they say, your higher power, so it’s up to you to define what it is. I think that’s the power of these programs. It is the power of the people that support each other and come back to share things together and find …their own higher power. Much [of it] is a personal journey. [Everyone] has their own terms. But, yeah, I have my challenges with that. That’s been one of my biggest challenges—to find what those destinations are outside of religion. I think gods can be real even if it’s not the god everybody else is praying to. It is certainly about figuring that out for yourself—a personal journey.

    Can you add anything to that?

    Well, it’s like, what is that thing that makes you present? What makes you have faith in something bigger than yourself? Also, the part of Percy was written much more religious at first. It spoke about god-related steps in rehab….When Byron Bowers [was cast] in the role, he rewrote that part for himself so it was based on his own experiences.

    What was it like when you said something but didn’t realize it was a trigger. Did Shia have to take care of himself by taking a walk or was it smoother than that?

    It was a lot more intense than that! We had to deal with very, very intense situations, often on set, but we did it with privacy when we could. We always made sure that Noah, and all of us were feeling safe. I’m very happy that we were all able to … be present.

    Do you mean present for the difficult topics in the script?

    Yes. We all went through these deep feelings and learned so much.

    About each other?

    Yes, and about PTSD. I also feel like our movie could help children of alcoholics [who may be] struggling. We didn’t want to [shy away] or disregard anything.

    Was it cathartic for Shia?

    An exorcism! And not just for him. We let demons come up.

    Noah Jupe said he went into this movie as a child but left as a teenager. Did you see that metamorphosis taking place?

    I’m not a mother so I was really glad his mother was on set with us every day, and Shia’s mother too. They became close allies of mine in directing. We were all very intimate on set, having … intimate discussions about everything. I loved watching Noah’s perceptions and his ability to express himself emotionally and see things in a deeper way. It was happening, but I hadn’t really seen how much he’s grown until we took a break after Sundance. It was obvious then that he’s now a teenager just by the way he walked. He has physically and emotionally grown up so much. It’s so funny when we were sitting together doing the Q&A, some of us teared up when he was talking…from how much he’d grown up and what an amazing young man we were seeing.

    Honey Boy is now in theaters.

    View the original article at thefix.com

  • How "Wired" Betrayed John Belushi's Legacy and Misportrayed Addiction

    How "Wired" Betrayed John Belushi's Legacy and Misportrayed Addiction

    While Belushi’s family and friends would prefer that “Wired” be forgotten, the book provides a fascinating glimpse into how we didn’t understand addiction and harshly judged people who struggled with it.

    “Woodward – that cocksucker!”

    You can’t blame Jim Belushi for being upset. In fact, many of John Belushi’s friends and family members were infuriated with the book Wired, which was written by Bob Woodward, the legendary Watergate reporter.

    Published by Simon and Schuster two years after Belushi’s death from an overdose, Wired was a stark and frightening portrait of drug addiction, but those close to Belushi felt its focus was too narrow, that it didn’t contain any of Belushi’s humanity or good qualities. Woodward put together the cold hard facts of Belushi’s addiction and piled up a number of horror stories, without capturing the whole picture of who the man really was.

    “Exploitation, pulp trash” – Dan Akroyd Describing Wired

    A swift counter attack on the book came from Belushi’s widow, Judy Jacklin. Dan Aykroyd denounced the book as “exploitation, pulp trash,” and Al Franken told Variety, “I hated Woodward’s book because I don’t believe he made an honest attempt to understand John, who despite his sometimes gruff exterior was a gentle soul. My former partner Tom Davis put it this way: ‘It’s as if someone did your college yearbook and called it ‘Puked.’ And all it did was say who puked, when they puked and what they puked. But no one learned any history, read Dostoevsky for the first time, or fell in love.’”

    The controversy made Wired a major best-seller, and the people close to Belushi, who spent untold hours telling all to Woodward, felt burned and betrayed. Woodward was seemingly befuddled by the controversy, and many found his obtuseness infuriating. Woodward told People he was sorry that Jacklin was upset, but “what is important is that Judy is not alleging inaccuracy.”

    While Belushi’s family and friends would prefer that Wired be forgotten, the book provides a fascinating glimpse into how many of us, like Woodward, didn’t understand the nature of addiction and harshly judged people who struggled with it.

    Today, the rise and fall of John Belushi would be written differently, and much more sympathetically.

    Robin Williams once joked that if you remember the seventies, you weren’t there. Not only was it an exciting time for comedy, but many in the entertainment business were out of their minds on cocaine. No one thought the high times would ever end.

    Belushi: A Regular Guy Who Became a Star

    John Belushi was a regular guy who became a star, thanks to the success of Saturday Night Live and Animal House. He was relatable and appealing. The public loved him.

    But his private life was more complicated. Belushi could be brusque and awful, and like many people with addiction, there was a terrible Mr. Hyde that came out when he used. But just as frequently he was kind, decent, and generous.

    Despite his talent and confidence as a performer, offstage Belushi was vulnerable and unsure of himself. Bernie Brillstein, Belushi’s manager, once said that the comedian was “sometimes good, sometimes bad, sometimes in need of a swift kick in the ass, more often in need of a hug.”

    When Belushi died at age 33, it shocked the public. In the pre-internet, pre-TMZ eighties, Belushi’s addiction to cocaine and heroin was mostly hidden from the public. 

    Belushi’s death hit hard. He was a major counterculture hero and a whole generation felt the loss. It was also a big indicator that the seventies were finally over. As Paul Schrader, screenwriter of Taxi Driver and American Gigolo, told journalist Peter Biskind, “The game was up. Some people quit right away, but the feeling was, the rules have changed.”

    In the world of journalism, Bob Woodward was a major star in his own right. He came from the same hometown as Belushi, Wheaton, Illinois, and his reporting on Watergate turned him and his partner Carl Bernstein into household names. He was portrayed by Robert Redford in the big screen adaptation of All the President’s Men, further cementing his legendary status.

    Was His Death a Sting Operation Gone Bad?

    As a political writer, drugs and the Hollywood fast lane were not in Woodward’s usual wheelhouse, but when Judy Jacklin reached out shortly after her husband’s death, he was intrigued. Jacklin felt there was more to her husband’s death than a simple drug overdose, and she believed Woodward, who was already admired by the counterculture for bringing down Nixon, could get to the bottom of it.

    Michael Dare, a former dealer and film critic who knew Belushi well, started asking around to find out what happened. There was apparently a rumor going around that Belushi’s death was “a sting operation gone bad.” Cathy Smith was a groupie who sold heroin to Belushi and gave him the speedball injections that killed him; some believed she was an informer for the LAPD.

    Robin Williams and Robert DeNiro were with Belushi briefly at about 2 a.m. the morning he died, and some suspected the LAPD were hoping to set up a big bust where all three would get nailed. According to the rumor, the drugs that killed Belushi were given to Smith by the police. Dare even claimed he heard that a cop “prepared the scene the way he wanted it to be found, then went down the block and waited for the body to be discovered.”

    Woodward never found any evidence of this, “not even as a wacko theory,” Dare said, and in retrospect the theory does seem ludicrous. But this was the primary reason Jacklin reached out to Woodward in the first place, and Wired is the result: a hard rebuke to that “wacko theory.” (Where Deep Throat told Woodward to “follow the money,” Dare told the reporter to “follow the drugs,” which he probably now regrets.)

    As far as personalities, Woodward and Belushi couldn’t have been any less alike. Many who worked with Woodward found him cold, aloof, an uptight authoritarian workaholic without much of a sense of humor. In other words, he was the wrong person to write Belushi’s story from the get-go. But could be disarming, and many people confused the real Woodward with the version of him they knew from the big screen: Redford-as-Woodward.

    In fact, when one of Belushi’s friends, Anne Beatts, was contacted by Woodward, “my secretary thought it was Robert Redford on the phone. Woodward was so charming, such a good listener, and we were so impressed meeting him. It was like, would Robert Redford lie to you?”

    Woodward was so good at getting sensitive information out of people, most of Belushi’s friends didn’t catch on to him until it was too late. (“None of us knew what he was really up to,” Aykroyd recalled.) In hindsight, Belushi’s peers realized they were naïve. Considering Woodward helped topple the White House, what made them think he could be trusted not to reveal anything they didn’t want to see in print?

    Woodward Wasn’t the Best Person to Write About Belushi…or Addiction

    There were other reasons why Woodward wasn’t the best person to capture a complicated personality like Belushi, or the complexities of addiction. Jacklin said that he took a complicated story “and made it very simple,” and one of Woodward’s colleagues told Rolling Stone that he “isn’t all that introspective. He’s a wonderful machine for gathering facts. He’s not good at insight…He wanted to go beyond the facts, and the gray areas were too immense…the facts about Belushi became his only refuge.”

    What was especially infuriating to Belushi’s survivors was that Woodward blamed the Hollywood system and many close to him for enabling his death. But for Woodward, who was accustomed to tackling American corruption, condemning Hollywood came naturally: “There was no friendship and a safety net in that circle to save him,” Woodward told journalist Alicia Shepard. “I think it would have been morally offensive for me to try to please.”

    Bernie Brillstein was one of Belushi’s peers who objected to Woodward’s characterization of show business. In his memoir, he wrote, “Woodward blamed John’s death on what he thought was a morally corrupt business that indulges its stars with reckless disregard for their well-being because so much money is on the line. That really offends me. We’d have to be scum. Inhuman. No amount of money in my pocket would have made me ignore John’s health for my own gain.”

    When celebrities like Belushi needed help, it was a different world. In the early eighties, we didn’t have rehabs on every corner or TV shows like Intervention. The underlying causes of addiction were not well understood by most doctors, and treatment options were still in the dark ages. (There’s speculation in Wired that Belushi’s addiction and mood swings could have been from a chemical imbalance like “manic depression,” but he was apparently never diagnosed.)

    Belushi’s Death Signaled a Need for More Addiction Treatment

    “We’d talked about institutionalizing Belushi but never did,” Brillstein explained. “The choices at the time were limited to hospital psychiatric wards and white-bread joints for alcoholics. Belushi’s death, perhaps the first high-profile cocaine casualty of the ‘80s, certainly signaled a need for drug rehab centers.” (The Betty Ford Center opened the same year Belushi died.)

    Aykroyd added, “Intervention back then was not a tool that was used. Today if we had a problem like this, we’d get six to ten people together, we’d get the guy in the room, sit them down and say, ‘It’s gonna stop. You’re going into rehab and that’s it.’ Back then that was not a technique that was wide-spread.” For a while, Belushi had a sober companion hired from the Secret Service who did a good job keeping the drugs away, but it was a triple overtime job that wasn’t sustainable.

    Years after the Wired fall-out, Jacklin and Tanner Colby wrote an authorized Belushi biography, and it’s fascinating to read both books back to back because together they give you a good idea of the intense highs and lows of John’s life. Jacklin’s book gives you the good memories, the brilliance of Belushi’s comedy, and the good side of his personality. Then when you pick up Wired, you realize what terrible, terrifying lows Belushi sank to in his addiction.

    If Belushi had lived, he would be 70 today. His comedy still stands the test of time, but he had so much more to give. Not long after he died, a fan left a note on his grave: “He could have given us a lot more laughs, but NOOOOOOOOOO….”

    If any good came from Belushi’s passing, it was that it scared a lot of people straight. SNL producer Bob Tischler recalled in the book Live From New York, “When John died, it changed me. I gave up doing drugs. And I haven’t done any since.”

    He Made Us Laugh, and Now He Can Make Us Think

    And while many felt that Wired gave an incomplete picture of Belushi’s life and legacy, Woodward definitely got one thing right: “Nonetheless, his best and most definitive legacy is his work. He made us laugh, and now he can make us think.”

    Or as Brillstein summarized, “Four years of television, seven movies, and we’re still talking about him. Isn’t that amazing?”

    View the original article at thefix.com