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The Battalion
Page 13 ;
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Baylor student glimpses stardom
as Cruise’s stand-in for ‘Rainman"
WACO (AP) — He stood in scenes
for Tom Cruise, chatted with Dustin
Hoffman, got Cruise to wave at his
mother and appears in the movie
‘‘Rain Man” for a grand total of less
than 30 seconds.
And all because Scott Adams,
Baylor University sophomore,
wanted to pep up a f riend appearing
at an audition.
Since “Rain Man” began its na
tional run several months ago, Ad
am’s proximity to the stars and half
minute on the silver screen have
spawned red-carpet treatment at a
movie theater, good-natured ribbing
from classmates and memories that
likely will last decades for his
mother.
“It’s really kind of crazy,” Adams
said of the coincidences that got him
into movies — well, one movie.
“Rain Man,” the story of a
relationship between the young,
hustling Charlie Babbitt (Cruise)
and his autistic brother Raymond
(Hoffman), is one of the top-gross
ing movies currently in national re
lease. It is nominated for eight Aca
demy Awards, including best
E icture, best actor (Hoffman) and
est director (Barry Levinson).
But it was just another movie to
Adams until last June, when coin
cidence crossed his path with that of
Cruise and Hoffman.
Adams, who was at home in Ed
mond, Okla., for the summer, had
accompanied a friend, Tony Wood
ard, to an audition for a short speak
ing part in “Rain Man,” which was
shooting some scenes in Guthrie,
Okla. While Woodard awaited his
tryout, Adams sat in the audience.
He didn’t realize the person sit
ting next to him was the casting di
rector, however, until she asked him
if he’d agree to have his picture
made and interviewed for a possible
part as an extra.
“I was like, ‘well, sure,’ ” he re
called, thinking his lack of acting ex
perience would doom any chance of
an on-screen part. But a lack of act
ing experience was precisely what
the casting crew wanted for the ex
tras.
Result: Adams got the Sunday
night callback, Woodard didn’t.
Despite a little trouble getting off
work from his summer job as a
C ainter — “At first, I don’t think my
oss believed my story,” Adams said
— he showed up early the next
morning with about 50 other poten
tial extras.
While scouting the group for par-
of Nike athletic shoes from the film
crew.
How did Hoffman look in per
son? “He had really unique skin tex
ture,” Adams remarked.
“I knew he was short, so that
didn’t surprise me. But his skin tex
ture . . . it’s rough and kinda dry.
But it’s not ugly.”
Because his build resembled that
of Cruise, Adams served as his
stand-in, allowing the crew to posi
tion lights, frame camera angles and
the like.
“I
It was scary. My car had been having trouble with
the starter, and every time they finished shooting,
they told us to turn our cars off. I was going. ‘Oh,
please start,’ when they’d begin a scene. I could just
see me saying ‘Oh, Dustin, can you help me push-
start my car?’ ” __ _
— Scott Adams,
Movie stand-in for Tom Cruise
What proved Adams’ screen de
but came the next day when the cast
decided to use his car in a scene
where a confused Raymond causes a
traffic jam in the street.
Adam’s car had the right look so
the crew asked him to drive through
the scene while they filmed Cruise
trying to rescue Hoffman.
Adams obliged — 42 times, as
they shot and reshot the sequence.
“It was scary, too,” Adams said.
“My car had been having trouble
with the starter, and every time they
finished shooting, they told us to
turn our cars off.
“I was going. ‘Oh, please start,’
when they’d begin a scene. I could
just see me saying ‘Oh, Dustin, can
you help me push-start my car?’ ”
On the third day, Adams’ work
was over, leaving him impressed
with the detail and time devoted in
filmmaking. He also left Guthrie a
little richer: more than $200 for two
days’ work as an extra.
ticular looks, a crew member de
cided Adams fit the bill for a nec
essary role: stand-in for Tom Cruise.
“They led me into a room — re
member the scene in the doctor’s of
fice in the movie? That was the room
— and told me to stand in one spot
and not to move,” he said. “And in
walks Dustin Hoffman.”
As the film crew readied the scene
for filming, Hoffman passed the
time chatting amiably with a flabber
gasted Adams. “He was so incredibly
friendly,” recalled the Baylor reli
gion major.
“He asked me where I go to
school, he asked me my major, and
he asked me what my boots were
made of,” Adams said. “I told him
leather.”
Adams offered them to Hoffman,
who unfortunately had a smaller
foot; they did fit another actor, how
ever, and Adams received a new pair
Then when the scene was realy to
shoot, all Cruise had to do was toe
the cues set up by Adams’ standing-
in and act.
In the process, Adams met Cruise
and got him to wave at his mother,
standing in line with scores of female
fans hoping to glimpse the movie
star.
“She was freaked out,” Adams re
called. “She almost had a conniption
when he said, ‘Hi Mom.’ ”
As for Rain Man director Levin
son, Adams discovered things have
changed since the days directors sat
in canvas chairs and shouted orders
through megaphones.
“He was sitting in a room about
two rooms away with five or six TV
monitors, with a headset,” Adams
said. “He’s look at the different cam
era angles and tell them what he
wanted. But he actually yells ‘action’
and ‘cut.’ ”
When “Rain Man” opened in Ok
lahoma City, Adams, flanked by a
host of relatives, and another extra
were invited to the opening.
Adams admits the movie had too
much strong language for his liking
and a few risque scenes.
But his 30 seconds on screen as a
car driver proved sufficient to thrill
his mother and make him a minor
celebrity on campus, especially after
a feature story on him in the Baylor
Lariat.
He even has been approached for
autographs.
“There was also an old lady there
who said, ‘I’ve never met a movie
star before. Could I have your auto
graph?’ She thought I was Tom
Cruise.
“I looked at my dad and he
nodded, so I signed it ‘Tom Crui
se,’ ” Adams recalled. “I feel bad
about it, but I guess there’s a happy
old lady somewhere.”
J
Steve Miller’s
new LP features
jazzy sound
NEW YORK (AP) — Steve
Miller’s newest album, “Born 2B
Blue,” was a work of love for the
veteran musician. It was some
thing he just wanted to do, rather
than a job to create hits.
The album, his 18th for Capi
tol Records, includes such staples
of pop and jazz as “When Sunny
Gets Blue” and “Willow Weep for
Me.” But there are no Steve
Miller tunes on it.
“My own artistic sense told me
I could sing that stuff pretty
well,” the 45-year-old singer-gui
tarist-composer said. “I couldn’t
play it.” But he got help from a
long-time friend, pianist Ben Si-
dran.
He’ll tour the world for the al
bum next summer. “We need
about a $3 million budget to get it
ready to take around the world,”
he said. “I think we can do it. If it
works we make lots of bucks and
on we go for another five-10-20
years. I’d like to be performing
the rest of my life. I’d like to drop
dead on stage, or off-stage and
they can announce, ‘Ladies and
gentlemen, Mr. Miller has just
left the building and the planet.’”
Miller plans to open the shows
solo and acoustically, doing a few
of his big rock hits. Then Sidran
will join him.
“It’ll be the Steve and Ben
show for awhile,” he said. “Then
his band will come in. We weave
our way through blues, jazz and
rock. We’ve got a real good jazz-
rock arrangement on ‘Space Cow
boy.’ We’ll invite jazz and blues
musicians in that town to solo on
‘God Bless the Child’ and ‘When
Sunny Gets Blue.’ It’ll be a well-
rounded evening. I’d like to bring
it on Broadway.”
Sidran and Miller met in 1961
when both studied comparative
literature at the University of
Wisconsin. “He worked on my
first album, ‘Children of the Fu
ture,’ and co-wrote ‘Space Cow
boy’ with me,” Miller said. “This
album has enabled us to work to
gether on a mature level.”
Miller had early musical roots.
His mother was from a musical
family and one of his uncles
played violin in Paul Whiteman’s
orchestra and another uncle
played guitar. His father, a doc
tor and tape recorder fanatic, was
best man at Les Paul and Mary
Ford's wedding. When Miller was
5, the couple showed him guitar*
licks and harmonizing.
Miller has five platinum al
bums and, according to Billboard
magazine, three No. 1 singles:
“The Joker,” “Rock ’n’ Me” and
“Abracadabra.”
His commercial success is all
rock'n’ roll. “‘Fly Like an ELagle’ is
rock ’n’ roll," he said. “I'm going
to play it in my jazz show; it'll go
over great.”
Easton mixes rhythm-and-blues
with ‘dance-pop’ on new album
ASSOCIATED PRESS
(AP) — Sheena Easton came to
America from Scotland in 1981,
singing uptempo pop.
“Since 1982, ’83, my career has
been dance-pop, and the new album
is dance-pop,” she says.
“It wasn’t that far a step from
doing uptempo to doing more danc-
eable pop.”
The new album she refers to is
The Lover in Me, her first for MCA
Records.
It’s her first album in America in
three years. Easton cut No Sound
But a Heart for EMI America, which
became EMI-Manhattan. In the
shuffle, the album wasn’t released
and she couldn’t record for a year.
“EMI still owns it,” she says. “I’m
not legally allowed to go into de
tails.”
She has been heard from, how
ever. Prince’s 1987 hit, “U Cot the
Look,” was a duet with Easton. She
did commercials for a health spa and
was on five high-profile episodes of
“Miami Vice” as the bride of Don
Johnson.
Her first single, “Morning Train,”
was a hit in 1980. The next year, she
sang “For Your Fiyes Only” in a
James Bond film.
“Since ‘Telephone’ was a No. 1
dance single in 1983,” she says, “I
followed it with ‘Strut’ and ‘Sugar
Walls.’
“But my singing now has 100
more times a rhythm ’n’ blues over
tone than it did in 1983,” she says.
“Music in general has more r and b
— if you do dance music. The new
album has got great acceptance at
black and urban radio stations.”
Easton met Prince in 1985. He
produced “101” and co-produced
“Cool Love” on The Lover in Me.
She says, “In 1984, when I was re
cording the album that had ‘Strut’
on it, I sent a message to Prince
through an engineer working for us
both to say I was a major fan and I
would love to record one of his
songs.
“Two days later he sent me the
tape of ‘Sugar Walls.’ He’d just writ
ten it for me. We met for the first
time in the studio when he produced
it.
“We’ve written together some, if
we come up with an idea. I write
with a few people. Mainly, I write ly
rics on my own and decide who I
want to write the melody to it.”
Easton attended the Royal Scot
tish Academy of Music and Drama.
She says: “It taught me how to be a
drama student pretty well. It didn’t
teach me how to act.
“For the past few years I’ve been
looking at scripts and talking about
acting. Much to the chagrin of my
film agent, I’ve never had the time to
commit to any project. I tour six
months. Recording can take nine
months. Then I make videos, do
press and tour again.”
But, during Easton’s time out
from recording, her agent discov
ered “Miami Vice” was looking for
an actress to play Johnson’s bride.
Easton says: “The timing worked
out well. It meant immediate
filming. It was a short commitment.
The role was small enough that I
could cope with it and large enough
to get attention. I went along and au
ditioned and got it and did it.”
She auditioned opposite Johnson.
“He was very active in the selection
for this role,” she says. The sexies’
first choice was Lorraine Bracco, but
she got the flu and Easton was sum
moned.
She says: “I’ve been singing with
an American accent since I was 10
and I was prepared to talk with an
American accent.
“The producers of the show liked
the idea of the character being Euro
pean. She had to be different to
make this hard-bitten cop fall over
and want to marry her.”
Yuppies replace sick
in German health spas
BADEN BADEN, West Ger
many (AP) — West Germany’s
most-famous health spas, like this
19th century playground for the
rich, royal and renowned, are en
joying a renaissance among an
emerging class of European yup
pies.
“Take a look — and get looked
at,” is one of the advertising slo
gans luring a hedonistic crowd
into the spa social scene that for
the past 30 years has been domi
nated by the weak and aging.
In a period of federal belt
tightening, the resorts, that in the
postwar years have focused bn
government-sponsored health
care, are now turning back to the
healthy and wealthy who be
stowed their original fame.
A modest trimming of social
security benefits that took effect
with the new year promises to cut
into the ranks of 8.4 million “cure
guests” who come to take the wa
ters each year in spas of West
Germany.
But administrators of the most
distinguished baths say they had
been expecting fiscal conserva
tism to catch up with the cushy
health care system.
Some, like Baden Baden, Bad
Aachen and Wiesbaden, have be
gun catering to a new generation
of younger, well-heeled profes
sionals known among Germans as
“Schickimickis.”
Sequined and tuxedoed, the
elite envoys of the 30-to-40 set
saunter and gamble in the path of
Feodor Dostoevski and Kaiser
Wilhelm in Baden Baden’s glit
tering casino.
Dwindling in number are the
elderly and ailing bingo players in
an adjacent parlor of the Kur-
haus.
A sprawling seven-pool, glass-
enclosed “bathing temple” com
pleted three years ago draws
1,500 guests a day, increasingly
from among younger couples
and singles who come here for
long weekends to play tennis, re
lax and flaunt their newfound
prosperity.
Hans Berg, manager of the
German Bathing Association of
fice in Bonn, says the spas are at
tracting a broader group of
guests and becoming less depen
dent on the publicly insured cli
entele.
Under the 1956 legislation that
set up today’s elaborate social se
curity net. West Germans are en
titled to a spa treatment as often
as every three years if their doc
tors recommend it.
Until this year, the federally
funded health insurance network
f xaid the full cost of a three- or
our-week bathing cuxe for those
recuperating from illness or tak
ing a respite from the stresses of
work or family life.
Cure clients must now pay 10
percent of the cost of their treat
ments, which run an average of
$2,750 for four weeks, plus most
of their hotel and food expenses.
“We don’t know exactly what
effect the changes in the law will
have on the industry, and we
hope this isn’t too strong a blow,”
Berg says. “But we have been en
joying a steady growth over the
past year or two of younger visi
tors, and by younger I mean
those in their 30s who want to go
away for a few days for a small va
cation rather than a cure.”
Josef Bartholemy, Baden Ba
den’s spa association general
manager, contends the cutbacks
are shortsighted.
“Some of those who would
benefit from rest and recupera
tion will put off taking a cure be
cause of the expense, tlxen end up
in the hospital which will cost
more for a few days than a pre
ventative cure,” he says.
But spa administxators expect
that a trend among younger Ger
mans to take better care of their
health promises to more than
compensate for an expected dx op
in visits by guests on social secu
rity.
“The changes in our clientele
have had a positive economic ef
fect,” says Sigrun Lang, chairwo
man of Baden Baden’s spa asso
ciation. “While the guest here for
a publicly funded cure is often on
a restricted budget during his
four-week stay, those staying for
a three-day convention or a long
weekend tend to spend a lot in
the shops and the casino.”
The Band’s bassist still
making living in music
CHARLESTON, W.Va. (AP) —
Rick Danko’s life has been a musical
carnival since The Band played its
last waltz at San Francisco’s Winter-
land in 1976. And the bass player
wants us all to know he’s alive and
well and has no intention of quitting
the business. ,
Danko took the low road after the
group known loosely as “Bob Dylan’s
backup band,” and sometimes called
by a myriad of other names — Levon
and the Hawks, the Crackers and the
Canadian Squires — decided 16
years on the road was enough. They
retired as a group. But not as indi
viduals.
Danko, who lives in Woodstock,
N. Y. — where The Band’s legendary
house and recording studio, Big
Pink, was located — has concen
trated on raising three children ages
18 through 21 and playing small
clubs.
“Music’s been good to me,” Danko
said. “Hopefully, I’ve been good to '
it. I felt good about it yesterday. I’ll
likely feel good about it tomorrow. It
beats working.”
Robertson released his first solo
album last year and had a hit. Helm
has carved out a cax eer in films, ap
pearing in such movies as “Coal Min
er’s Daughter” and “The Right
Stuff.”
The Band had a brief reunion
tour two years ago; it was cut short
by pianist Richard Manuel’s suicide.
Danko said not to rule out another
reunion attempt despite differences
between Helm and Robertson, both
of whom viewed themselves as the
group’s leader.
“Never say never,” Danko said.
The Band began as rockabilly
singer Ronnie Hawkins’ backup
crew in the early 1960s and even
tually got the name the Hawks from
touring with him. Hawkins moved to
Canada with his drummer, Helm,
where rockabilly was just beginning.
When the Band retired, they did
it with a splash. Their final concert
on Thanksgiving Day in 1976 at
Winterland, called “The Last Waltz,”
featured appearances by Dylan, Joni
Mitchell, Van Morrison, Dr. John,
Neil Young, Eric Clapton, Muddy
Waters and Emmylou Harris and
others connected with the Band’s ca-
Former Tech choir conductor finds second career in painting
LUBBOCK, (AP) — Although Dr.
Gene Hemxnle has retired from con
ducting the choir at Texas Tech
University, he continues to orches
trate an art form.
He has traded his conductor’s ba
ton for a paintbrush, leading instead
of a multitude of voices, a rainbow of
colors.
“I’ve always had a great intei'est in
art,” Hemmle said. “I almost ma-
jored in art. I was always drawing.”
Despite his love of art, he was not
able to pursue it during his music ca
reer.
He served as chairman of Texas
Tech’s music department from 1949
to 1973, spear-heading its growth
from four faculty membexs to 43
during his tenure.
Upon his x'etii'ement fx'om the
university in 1979, he pui'sued his
intei'est in art, studying as much as
he could through visits to museums.
“I think one of the best ways to
learn painting is to steep youi'self in
museums,” Hemmle said. “You have
to look at and see and feel great
paintings. It has a carry-over into
your paintings.”
For inspiration, and to view inter
esting subject matters, Hemmle has
traveled to Indonesia and French
Polynesia.
He also treks periodically to art
communities, such as San Miguel Al-
lende, Mexico, and Santa F'e, N.M.
Hemmle also studies with promi
nent artists. This spi ing he plans to
study pastels and sculpting in
Scottsdale, Axiz., with George Carl
son.
“I was fortunate enough that
(Lubbock artist) Paul Milosevich let
me stand side by side with him to
paint,” Hemmle said. “Of course, he
was 10 sti'okes ahead of me. But, he’s
been an asset to me.”
Hemmle describes his ai't as figu
rative.
“I really would like to do realism
that is based on the abstracts,”
Hemmle said. “I like to experiment
and even mix mediums.”
Despite obvious artistic talents in
childhood, Hemmle graduated from
Southern Methodist University as a
voice major.
He studied privately in New York,
undertook post-graduate work at
the University of Texas and even
tually earned master’s and doctoral
degrees from Columbia University.
Prior to studying at Columbia,
Hemmel served as director of choi al
operations at the University of
Texas at El Paso.
He sang pi'ofessionally with the
Robert Shaw Chorale and worked
with such conductoi's as Leonard
Bernstein, Igor Stravinsky, Ei'ich
Leinsdorf and Artui'o Toscanini.
In 1949, a friend from UTEP xe-
cruited Hemmle to come to Texas
Tech to serve as chairman and dii'ec-
tor of choral oi'ganizations.
Although the band program had
always been strong at the university,
the choral program was small and
focused on music education.
“When I first came hexe, I taught
everything in the book,” Hemmle
said. “Thank Cod that quit.”
He was teaching voice, music liter
ature, music education and chorale
conducting.
In addition to teaching, he also or
ganized and directed the Tech
Choir, now known as the University
Chorale.
“We were heavily oriented to mu
sic education,” he said. “But as far as
I was concerned, every music educa
tor should be an outstanding music
performer.”
Under Hemmle’s direction, the
department of music developed
from offering only a bachelor of sci
ence degree in music education to an
array of bachelor’s and master’s de
grees and a doctorate program in
fine arts.
During his tenure, the depart
ment developed a reputation of pro
ducing talented voice majors. Many
students wei'e accepted at outstand
ing music gradute schools, Hemmle
said.
While trying to develop the music
department, Hemmle turned the
chorale over to another director.
Th e d e m a n d s o1 the
chairmanship also forced Hemmle
to put his intexest in art on hold xxntil
he retired.
In 1973, Texas Tech opened a re
cital hall. The hall later was named
in Hemmle’s honor the year he re
tired.
Today, Hemmle draws every day
and paints as much as he can.
Since his retirement, Hemmle has
had one-man shows of his work at
Fixst Federal Bank, Regency Gallery
and the University Faculty Club at
Texas Tech.
His work also has been included
in group shows and this winter he
has had paintings on exhibit at the
Fenn Gallery in Santa Fe.
Hemmle said his painting hobby is
not much different from his musical
career.
“I think they (music and art) axe
vexy xelated,” he said. “We even use
some of the saine vocabulary. You’ll
say, ‘This painting is well-oxchestra-
ted.’ ”
Hemmle attacks his painting with
his whole body. He said he stands at
the canvas and uses his whole arm
and moves his body with each stroke
of the brush.
“It’s almost a physical experience
as well as emotional,” he said. “I’m
completely lost when I paint. You’re
transported. You forget where vou
are and what time it is. You get
spaced out.”
When he paints, Heinmle is con
cerned with conveying emotions and
feelings, not reproducing details.
“To me, the high detail work that
is like a photograph is boring,” he
said. “A great painting is not one
that puts in every tiny detail and
hair, but it captures the essence of it
(the subject).”
One painter Hemmel admires is
Andrew Wyeth.
“Andrew Wyeth said realism in
painting is a bore uxxless it has an
emotional qxxality,” hemmle said.
When he is not painting, Hemmle
is collecting antiques. He even
bought the Bledsoe Santa Fe Depot
in 1966 and moved it to his property
on West 19th Street.
The 75-mile move took two days
because the height of the structure
required the temporary cutting and
restoring of power and telephone
lines along its route, Hemmle said.
Some refurbishing has been done
on the inside of the depot, but al
most no alterations were made on
the outside.
In the depot’s study, Hemmle sur
rounds himself with his own and
other artists’ paintings, drawings
and sculptures of Indians.
He said he will continue to study,
collect and learn as much as he can
about art.
“One of the most deadly things in
any art is feeling you have arrived,”
Hemmle said.“You keep reaching.”