Up Till Now. The Autobiography

in defense of truth and morality. “What’s with the red tie?” were my first words to Shore. “Around here we wear cold ties. Blue. Black. Hard colors. Tough colors. Red is soft. Soft does not work around here.”
    After I walked away an associate explained to Shore, “That’s Denny Crane.”
    “ The Denny Crane?” Shore said, impressed. And so a character— and a relationship—was born.
    Crane’s brilliance became obvious in the very next scene. After Spader had explained his legal problem, Crane considered the options for a moment and then asked, “You Jewish?”
    Shore was confused. “Am I Jewish?”
    “Best bet we argue they fired you because you’re a Jew. No defense against that.”
    “Well, I would ordinarily agree,” Shore responded. “But they didn’t fire me for that. And I’m not Jewish.”
    I lowered my Denny Crane eyes. “I didn’t hear that.”
    Our conversation was interrupted by a young attorney from another firm who was in our offices to try to work out a settlement in a negligence case. Unfortunately his firm was not offering enough money, so I had been delegated to convince him to increase his offer. “Did Mr. Billings explain that Marie Sennet is one of my oldest and dearest friends, and I’m like a brother to her late husband?”
    The associate calmly corrected me. “It was actually her brother who died. Not the husband.”
    I put my hand on his shoulder and corrected him. “Really? You know what? Medical records aside, if Denny Crane tells the jury it was the husband, they’ll believe it was the husband.” Denny Crane’s huge ego was immediately defined as he told this young associate, “I’ll bet later tonight you’ll be on some barroom stool trying to finesse your way into some legal secretary’s panties. You want to get there faster, son? Tell her, earlier you held court with . . . Denny Crane.” I paused and repeated in an urgent whisper. “Denny Crane . ”
    Seconds later Alan Shore was standing outside my office complaining to another lawyer. “He’s a whack-job...He’s asking me to plead Jewish.”
    “I promise you,” this lawyer said, awe dripping from his voice. “Once he stands up in court . . . he’s Denny Crane.” And then he repeated it, “Denny Crane.”
    Alan Shore wasn’t convinced. After the first courtroom hearing he complained to me that he didn’t want Denny Crane to speak. Denny Crane corrected him. “You want Denny Crane to talk. When Denny Crane talks, E. F. Hutton listens.”
    The story arc continued in the next episode. I was walking across a lobby in the first scene, and I saw Alan Shore. “Denny Crane,” I said, shaking hands.
    “Why do you always tell me your name? Is it so you won’t forget?”
    And here Denny Crane described completely his unique character. “Let me tell you something, soldier. I’ve learned from experience that people can’t actually believe they’re in the room with Denny Crane. They think it can’t be true. So I let them know it is true. I look them in the eye, Denny Crane. Gives them something to tell their grandkids. Denny Crane.”
    Beautiful, just beautiful. What an extraordinary character to be permitted to play. Denny Crane is an actor’s amusement park; you can find anything you want there. For my work in The Practice I was again nominated for an Emmy, this time as Outstanding Guest Actor in a Drama. Oh, I wanted to win. I’d always professed not to have felt slighted that I wasn’t even nominated for Star Trek, but I was. We often did some very good work on that program. So this time I wanted to win as strongly as anything I’d ever wanted in my life. It’s my time, I thought, I’m older now, this isn’t going to come around again. I wanted to win so badly that I managed to convince myself I wasn’t going to win, that way it would not be so painful when I didn’t win. I didn’t dare write a speech because if I did, it would mean I thought I might win. So as long as I didn’t think I could win, there really was a chance I could win.
    Liz and I were sitting in the audience when my category was announced. A camera was focused on each of the nominees. Believe me, I was as aware as a pinprick that a camera was right on my face. Don’t show any disappointment, I told myself. Don’t dare frown.
    I focused my eyes on the lips of the presenter. This is absolutely true. I was looking for the pursed lips of a “W.” And when I saw his lips purse I squeezed Liz’s hand.