Two Writers From New York Move to L.A. to Do a TV Sitcom. The Story Lines Are Endless.

Just what happens to your life after your sitcom hits it big on TV? Sure, there’s the money and fame. But, aside from those incidentals, what’s it really like? * Let’s pick a series, say “3rd Rock From the Sun,” which premiered on NBC earlier this year. The comedy about four aliens in earthling bodies hit it big almost immediately. The creators, Bonnie Turner and Terry Turner, had spent seven seasons as writers for “Saturday Night Live,” living in New York City. They commuted to Los Angeles when their work as screenwriters for “The Brady Bunch Movie,” “Wayne’s World,” Wayne’s World 2” and “Tommy Boy” dictated, but it wasn’t until 1994 that they agreed to move to Los Angeles and write a situation comedy for Carsey-Werner Productions. * So, Bonnie & Terry, what is it like? (And by the way, are you going through life connected by an ampersand?)

*

It was in midtown manhattan about 31/2 years ago that our business manager announced, “You are now making more money in California than you are in New York.” This was met with a blank look from us, for while we knew that making more money was good, there was something in Stuart’s tone that meant we were going to have to reconsider things. We didn’t know what. Then he added, “You are paying taxes in Manhattan and California. You might think about moving.” It was a hard decision. We had what we thought was the best of both worlds. Writing movies in Los Angeles and working in late-night television in New York. We thought, no. We’re not moving.

It wasn’t as if we had never been to Los Angeles, or didn’t like it. We had spent the previous three summers working at Paramount. We had made friends there. John Goldwyn, the studio’s president of production, had guided us through the pitfalls of movie writing, and we felt like Hollywood was a great second home. Our daughter loved it. She spent her days at theme parks and cruised around boulevards she had only seen in Aaron Spelling productions. She hung around movie sets and had her picture taken with members of Aerosmith. At night we returned to our rental home and lounged by the pool and talked about how we were going to re-carpet the apartment on West 88th Street. We were bicoastal and damn proud of it. We were back living in New York when we worked on “The Brady Bunch Movie.” Even then, we never thought we would move. But then again, we never thought we would create a sitcom. Life changes.

Friends and family ask us what it is like to work in half-hour comedy. We are not sure. By the end of this day, we still will not be sure. The only thing we can confidently say is we like the place we work, we like our new house and we like our car. Which is a good thing, because these are the only places we’ve been since “3rd Rock From the Sun” started production.

The history of the show was a little odd in that it jumped from ABC, which developed it, to NBC. ABC was not exactly warm to the show. NBC, on the other hand, was openly excited when we arrived. Our agent, Marty Adelstein, told us that a move like this usually never happens. We nodded. But we weren’t really surprised because throughout our career we had heard that phrase a lot. We have even considered it as an epitaph for whichever one of us goes first. “Here lies Bonnie/Terry Turner--This usually never happens.”

NBC started us up in the fall of ’95. After making 13 shows, we still weren’t on the air. We began to joke that we were making the world’s most expensive home movies. When “3rd Rock” first aired, many people were surprised (most of them pleasantly) by its success. We thought, “This is great! We premiered in the Top Ten.” Looking back, we were very naive. We were new to sitcoms and didn’t fully understand the odds. We merely assumed “3rd Rock” would do well because of the people involved. After all, the show had John Lithgow at the helm, Jane Curtin opposite him and a gifted supporting ensemble. Jim Burrows directed the pilot episode. There was a big, bright promotional campaign from NBC. And, of course, Marcy Carsey, Tom Werner and Caryn Mandabach had guided the show from the beginning. How could it miss? Right?

It wasn’t until after the show was on the air that we saw the big picture. There was a nearly overwhelming rush of joyous enthusiasm from everyone involved. In that moment, we realized how slim the chances were of the show’s making it. It felt like the elevator in the Empire State Building. Like children we wondered, “When does it stop going up? When do I get my stomach back?” Suddenly we were thankful for our ignorance. If we had known how high the platform was, we probably would never have taken the leap. Or at least not without a major prescription from a licensed professional.

Caryn Mandabach, president of Carsey-Werner, persuaded us to come work for them. She told us we wouldn’t miss New York. That we would love life in Los Angeles. We can still remember where we were when she convinced us. We were sitting in a glorified taco restaurant next to the Ventura Freeway. It was late August, it was about 105 degrees, and the hills in the distance were on fire. Caryn is a very good saleswoman.

People who move from New York like to compare Manhattan to Los Angeles whenever possible, with a heavy emphasis on bagels and museums. We were just as guilty as any ex-New Yorkers when we arrived. But now it looks a little foolish. The truth is, in Los Angeles you never wear a heavy coat, and in New York you never show your navel. That’s the main difference. When you get down to it, comparing New York to Los Angeles makes as much sense as comparing Houston to Seattle. Everyone that does it begins to sound like a stand-up doing bad observational comedy. “New York-L.A. They’re different. They’re not the same city. It’s like they’re two completely different cities. Thank you! Good night! Tip your waitress!”

Coming to Los Angeles is, in a way, prophetic for the two of us. About twenty-some years ago, when we met in Atlanta, we always mused about how we would arrive in Los Angeles--or Hollywood, as we called it. We would take the Super Chief or some other chrome-plated locomotive, and along the route we would stand on the rear platform and sing like Al Jolson --”Sun-kissed miss says don’t be late . . . That’s why I won’t hesitate! Open up that Golden Gate! California . . .” or something like that.

California, as it turned out, was different. Different in ways you don’t think of when you’re in your 20s. People here respect your weekends. After seven years of “Saturday Night Live,” weekends are a new experience. And when friends back East are digging out of the snow, it’s nice to see sunshine. The produce is great. The earthquakes--well, to put a positive spin on it--we think they are there to remind us that there are some things we really can’t take personally.

We had one regret in moving. Our daughter opted to go to boarding school in the East. We miss her. But on those nights we stay late, we know she made the right choice.

and so, like we jokingly promised ourselves, here we are in Los Angeles. In show business. Making magic. However, we didn’t take the Super Chief. We took the long route--through theater, clubs, industrials, feature news, feature films and late-night comedy variety. And every day we draw on all of it to do “3rd Rock.” If we had to say how this job differs from all the other jobs we have had, we would refer to the recent trend among household cleaning products. It seems Procter & Gamble has an urgent need to concentrate everything into smaller packages. We don’t know when this started, but we do know that Mr. Clean is now in a squat little bottle, one-third his normal size. That is close to what the L.A./TV experience has been for us. It has taken everything we have done before now and concentrated it into a single job. “All the essential goodness of Bonnie and Terry! Now concentrated in a smaller, more effective container!”

The film writing part of our career is in a holding pattern. TV production is time-consuming and we are still learning to deal with it. But we have handled the simultaneous before--we just have to think with that full 10% of our brains. Film writing’s pace sometimes looks like a luxury.

We have been here full time for two years. And it feels good, like we finally left the card table in the kitchen and moved to the grownups’ table. We’re not good with all the utensils yet. Sometimes we have trouble cutting our own meat, but there are big people at the table to help us. We are home. We know we are, because when we walk around the Radford Lot where “3rd Rock” is filmed or visit the Paramount lot where we first worked, we get that same feeling we had when we walked into Studio 8-H at 30 Rock in New York.

There are some wonderful people in L.A. They have made a huge difference in our lives. We hope we can do the same while we’re here.