Brent Miller first started working for Norman Lear at events, helping him travel the Declaration of Independence across the country. That eventually led to Miller running Lear’s Act III Prods. company. And thanks to their partnership, the company – based at Sony – came roaring back in a big way, with the critically acclaimed reboot of ‘One Day at a Time’ and the Emmy-winning ‘Live in Front of a Studio Audience’. Lear died in December at the age of 101. Here, timed to Lear’s first birthday since his death (he would have been 102), Miller recounts a specific moment that stands out to him and that says everything you need to know about Lear.
It was a typical sunny morning in Beverly Hills and Norman Lear asked me to come over and enjoy brunch on the patio of his house overlooking the pool before we drove to our office on the Sony lot. The menu consisted, which was no surprise to me, of hollowed out bagels, thinly sliced onions, lox, sliced tomatoes, cream cheese and fresh fruit – his favorites. And of course his newly discovered love for a glass of freshly squeezed mandarin juice.
He marveled at the meal he ate, appreciated every bite, and drank that juice as if he were experiencing holy water straight from God. We talked about our current development programme, our productions, the state of our industry, a touch of politics and his recent obsession with trees.
When we finished eating, he leaned back in his chair, wiped his mouth, looked at me and said, “Can I say something that might come across the wrong way? I mean, not in the wrong way, because it’s not wrong, but it’s rare to say, let alone share it with anyone.
This was a general trend. A thought, an idea, a suggestion suddenly came into his head and he had to share it. Of course I said, “Of course, Norman. Say what you want.’ He paused for a moment and then replied, “I fucking love, and I mean love – because I’m a man who knows how to love – like we do. usage each other.” He was 99 years old.
Anyone who knew Norman well, especially when it came to his desire to make the world a better place, would inevitably hear him exclaim, “Please use me.” Whatever I can do to help. Use me.” In fact, it was 2008 when I first heard those words come out of his mouth. We produced a July 4 event on the USS Midway in San Diego on behalf of Declare Yourself (Norman’s nonpartisan voter registration organization) and the Declaration or Independence Road Trip Tour. (Yes, Norman owned an original copy of the Declaration of Independence which traveled through all 50 states before he sold it. He felt it was the birth certificate of the country and it should travel to the people, they would be there don’t have to travel there).
The event required a singer to sing the national anthem and a few other patriotic songs. “American Idol” was a huge success at the time and I thought it would be great to have one of the “idols” perform. Unfortunately the booking agent would not answer my calls. After several attempts, I walked into Norman’s office and admitted that I was struggling. He immediately picked up the phone, got the agent on the other end of the line, and within less than three minutes he managed to charm him. He then masterfully told the agent that he was an asshole for not answering his “young colleague” call – and then wrapped up the conversation by signing that artist for our event. When Norman hung up, he looked me straight in the eye and said, “Brent, I work for you, just like you work for me. So please use me.” He was 85 years old.
We used each other for the next 16 years. In the most caring, loving way possible. He used me to market his memoirs and tour. At the same time I used him to make a documentary about his life and get him back on television. He used me to support his ‘comeback’. I used it to expand our agenda and launch my career. In short, I came into his life when he needed a me, and he came into my life when I definitely needed a him. It was serendipity at its best. It was the best 17 years of my life. And not a day has gone by since I first met him that I haven’t felt gratitude and appreciation for the universe that brings us together.
During the 17 years we have worked together, there have been hundreds, if not thousands, of stories that have brought laughter and tears. Stories reminiscent of various television episodes he created based on the many characters we all came to know and love. But there is one personal story in particular: an act of selfless kindness from Norman that changed my life forever.
As humans, we tend to share the desire to please our parents. We want them to accept and appreciate the choices we make and ultimately embrace us for our successes and failures. We want them to be proud of the path we’ve taken and to simply love us for who we’ve become.
I didn’t meet my biological father until I was 17. He had an affair with my mother and chose to stay with his wife and five daughters rather than leave the family he had built. I was a secret and he wanted to keep it that way. Even seventeen years later, during our first meeting, he made it clear that his family was never to know of my existence. My mother never pursued child support or any form of joint custody and ultimately honored his request not to be in our lives. Norman couldn’t understand why this man, my biological father, didn’t want to be in my life. He often asked me if I wanted to reach out and take another chance at building a relationship with him. I explained to Norman that I had tried before but it was too difficult to maintain a relationship while he insisted on keeping me a secret. Ultimately, his need to keep me a secret hurt more than my desire to be in a relationship with him, and I had to move on. Norman understood my feelings and asked if he could write my biological father a letter. I said, ‘Norman, you can do whatever you want, but remember that his family doesn’t know anything about me.’ A week later I received an email from his assistant. “Brent, I think you want this for your records. Norman sent this via FedEx and I have scanned and attached the note as well as proof of signature from your father accepting it.” On Norman’s personal letterhead was that note:
June 18, 2015
Best Albert Horstman,
I begged your son for this address so I could thank you for the gift from him on Father’s Day. Brent has been working with me for about nine years now and not a day goes by that I don’t have a reason to bless his presence.
You have sired here a very attractive, smart, determined and loyal, generous and affirming, proud and reliable man, who has just turned forty. I am indebted to you, sir, for being on this planet, let alone in my orbit.
Honestly,
Norman Lear
I never again had to wonder if my father knew that I had “made it” in life. I no longer craved any kind of approval or recognition from him. When I see my name scrolling through the credits of a show I produced, I don’t wonder whether or not he’s seen it. The heaviest weight I have carried for more than 40 years of my life was lifted in four sentences that Norman Lear wrote to my father in 2015. The romantic in me wants to believe that Norman’s constant request to be used had somehow found its way into the psyche of my birth father’s mind. And in turn found his way back to Norman. My father, who was never fortunate enough to meet Norman, actually used him as a role model, mentor, father figure, partner, and the friend he could never be.
And Norman Lear, the man who spent 101 years of his life trying to matter — and did everything he could with his celebrity to make the world a better place — never met my father. But he understood the value of being used and at the same time unknowingly taught me that a win-win situation is not necessarily transactional, but a philosophy of human interaction that can benefit us all.