Up Till Now. The Autobiography

ring again. Painting the walls over again while waiting for the next offer. After beginning my career I went more than twenty years without taking a real vacation, petrified I might miss a phone call. Having had that experience, having lived in the back of pickup trucks in the parking lots of summer theaters, indeed I am open to opportunities. But there is a general belief that I will accept almost anything that I’m offered and that certainly is not true. It was less than two years ago that I turned down an offer. Like any actor, I’m concerned about being over-exposed, so I’ve been very careful to limit myself to acting on the stage and in dramatic television programs, hosting documentary-type programs and game shows, appearing in movies and commercials, endorsing products, doing voice-overs, charity appearances, radioprograms, Webcasts, videos, Star Trek conventions, game shows, horse shows and dog shows, writing books and songs, making albums, creating, directing and producing television programs, performing at concerts, and appearing on talk shows, competitive reality-type shows, and award programs. But that’s where I draw the line. For example, I rarely do bar mitzvahs and I’ve never worked in the Catskills.
    My work ethic comes from my father. His dream was that I would eventually take over the business. So, as he had done, I worked in the factory packing suits. One of my skills is good packing. I know how to fold a suit with the shoulders touching inside-out, the sleeves down, folded flat so it stays pressed. I know the correct way to fold pants and put them in a box. Had I not become an actor I could have had a fine career in folding.
    But acting? What did my father know from acting? Acting smacting, that wasn’t a thing real people did, it wasn’t a job. It wasn’t what people did to earn a living. It was playing.
    From my father I learned the value of education, respect for others around me, and to be on time and prepared to work. Eleven-ohfive, he used to tell me, was not eleven o’clock. All my life I have been on time and prepared to work. I’ll tell you how deeply that ethic is ingrained in me. In 2007 I was invited by ABC to participate in a show entitled Fast Cars and Superstars, actually a NASCAR celebrity race. This was an opportunity to drive as fast as possible in an oval without having to worry about speed traps. A racetrack is the one place in the world you can drive as fast as your skills and your courage allow. This was my kind of TV show. I said, “Of course, I’d love to do it.” And then I began negotiating furiously for as much money as I could get.
    As I was leaving the set of Boston Legal to fly to Charlotte, North Carolina, a producer gently put a comforting hand on my shoulder and explained, “Remember Bill, you’ve got to report for work Thursday at seven A.M. And if you’re not here, if you’ve hit a wall and broken your arms and legs or turned the car over and are lying in a hospital somewhere covered from head to toe in bandages so youcan’t get back, this company can sue you.” Then he paused and smiled broadly. “Other than that, have a great time.”
    I’ve loved fast cars all my life. I’ve long admired the great drivers. But I am aware of the danger. I know Dale Earnhardt Jr.’s fate. The reality is that race drivers die. They crash and burn, they roll over and catch fire. I’ve seen those pictures. Not me, of course, them. I have been in enough television shows and feature films to understand reality—the star never gets hurt.
    There were twelve competitors divided into four groups. Each group of three people shared one car. For safety, there would be one driver on the track at a time. We were racing against time, not directly against each other. My group consisted of myself, former Pittsburgh Steelers head coach Bill Cowher, and volleyball player-model Gabrielle Reece. We drove for the first time in a morning practice round. I hit 160 mph, and as I went around the turns I was convinced the car was going to slide out from under me and hit the wall. Well, it didn’t, and 160 mph put me way back in the pack.
    I promised myself I would do better in the actual competition. I realized I had been holding back on the straightaways, anticipating the next turn. When we raced that night I intended to press down on the accelerator so I could remain in the race. The only question I had was who would be eliminated first from my group, Cowher or Reece?
    My