THE ART OF THE PITCH by Barney Rosenzweig

Some say that proper nouns are the first thing to go. What “some say” is certainly true in my case. For instance, I simply cannot remember the name of Joe Bologna’s favorite comedy writer (that is to say his favorite other than himself, or spouse Renee Taylor, of course). Whoever that pal of Joe’s is (or was), it is my understanding he was the first to state, “I have lost the will to pitch.”

Over the years, I have repeated that piece of wit so often it has become my own. That doesn’t change the fact that it originated elsewhere.

The show business pitch (short for sales pitch) is an art form all its own. There was a time when I deferred to no one in show business when it came to this skill set. I could sell my ideas to network development executives better than anyone, and that was not just my opinion. Back in the day, when we watched TV the way God intended, I surveyed multiple “buyers” at ABC, CBS, and NBC.

“Who was the best pitch artist you ever met?” I would ask. Invariably the answer came back without hesitation, “you are, Barney.”

So, there you have it, solid evidence of my one-time acumen. To be fair, there was David Gerber (who ultimately was president of the television divisions of three major studios). His sales technique was to give his pitches with such energy, with many of his words simply fabricated on-the-spot or drawn from a lexicon he had invented to supplement his semi-fictional vocabulary. “The Gerb,” as he was known to some of us, would often exhaust network execs into submission.

I took advantage of this by gaining access to Mr. Gerber’s schedule of network meetings. I would then schedule my appointments immediately after his. Invariably, the network execs were so beaten up by Gerber’s whirlwind that on my arrival I found them to be relatively easy pickings.

All that is in the past. Like Joe Bologna’s writer friend, I too have lost the will to pitch. Even, what would have once been for me, the easy stuff … maybe just a phone call… I simply do not have it in me anymore.

Take for example John Steinbeck’s East of Eden. Not the Elia Kazan movie version starring James Dean, but the new mini-series on Netflix, adapted by Kazan’s granddaughter, Zoe. I have rarely seen a more extravagant campaign or more money spent on newspaper advertisements hyping this show which was (as has become the fashion) filmed in New Zealand.

Decades ago, I also produced an eight-hour miniseries called John Steinbeck’s East of Eden and filmed my award winner all in the good old USA … and much of that in the Steinbeck country of California’s Salinas Valley.

**CBS Operations, Inc.; Barney Rosenzweig Productions; Mace Neufeld Productions; Viacom Productions; Produced by Barney Rosenzweig; written by Richard Shapiro; directed by Harvey Hart.**

I haven’t seen the just-released Netflix version, so I will not go out on a limb and say mine is better. I do know mine is true to Steinbeck’s novel, that Jane Seymour, Lloyd Bridges, Soon-Tek Oh, and Bruce Boxleitner have never been better in their prestigious careers, and that Karen Allen was also terrific in this, her last role before becoming the leading lady in the very first Indiana Jones.

I do not wish to explore in this space my view that Timothy Bottoms was the single worst piece of casting with which I have ever been involved; I urge the viewer to read my book Before And After Cagney & Lacey for the details on that sorry fact. As to the miniseries itself, overlook Mr. Bottoms and I believe you will find all else in this production to be first rate.

I could go on about the locations, the music, the casting in the version of Steinbeck’s East of Eden that I produced … none of those things has anything to do with my premise regarding the art of the pitch.

The point of all this is there is another long-form version of John Steinbeck’s East of Eden besides this new, heavily promoted, Netflix series. Paramount now owns that version of the show that I made … they have a streaming service called Paramount + (I call it Paramount minus, but that is another story); they allow Amazon to rent “my” East of Eden for money. You would think at least one of the execs at these giant corporations would say, “hey … we could climb on the back of all this Netflix advert money and get at least a share of the lucre.”

Okay, okay … no one at either of those companies would use lucre in a sentence, but I am sure you get my drift.

Me? I could make a phone call and point all this out, but frankly … even though I am the only living profit participant Paramount has in this eight-hour miniseries … I have lost the will to pitch.