This is one of the SADDEST stories ever told in Hollywood. His name is Sylvester Stallone by Lee Jones
By Lee Jones
This is one of the SADDEST stories ever told in Hollywood. His name is Sylvester Stallone. One of the BIGGEST and Most famous American Movie superstars.
Back in the day, Stallone was a struggling actor in every definition. At some point, he got so broke that he stole his wife's jewellery and sold it. Things got so bad that he even ended up homeless. Yes, he slept at the New York bus station for 3 days. Unable to pay rent or afford food. His lowest point came when he tried to sell his dog at the liquor store to any stranger. He didn't have money to feed the dog anymore. He sold it at $25 only.
He says he walked away crying.
Two weeks later,he saw a boxing match between Mohammed Ali and Chuck Wepner and that match gave him the inspiration to write the script for the famous movie,ROCKY. He wrote the script for 20 hours! He tried to sell it and got an offer for $125,000 for the script. But he had just ONE REQUEST. He wanted to STAR in the movie. He wanted to be the MAIN ACTOR. Rocky himself. But the studio said NO. They wanted a REAL STAR.
They said he "Looked funny and talked funny". He left with his script. A few weeks later,the studio offered him $250,000 for the script. He refused. They even offered $350,000. He still refused. They wanted his movie. But NOT him. He said NO. He had to be IN THAT MOVIE.
After a while,the studio agreed,gave him $35,000 for the script and let him star in it! The rest is history! The movie won Best Picture, Best Directing and Best Film Editing at the prestigious
Oscar Awards. He was even nominated for BEST ACTOR! The Movie ROCKY was even inducted into the American National Film Registry as one of the greatest movies ever!
And do You know the first thing he bought with the $35,000? THE DOG HE SOLD. Yes,Stallone LOVED HIS DOG SO MUCH that he stood at the liquor store for 3 days waiting for the man he sold
his dog to. And on the 3rd day,he saw the man coming with the dog. Stallone explained why he sold the dog and begged for the dog back. The man refused. Stallone offered him $100. The
man refused. He offered him $500. And the guy refused. Yes,he refused even $1000. And,Believe it or Not,Stallone had to pay $15,000 for the same,same dog he sold at $25 only! And he
finally got his dog back!
And today,the same Stallone who slept in the streets and sold his dog JUST BECAUSE he couldn't even feed it anymore,is one of the GREATEST Movie Stars who ever walked the Earth!
Being broke is BAD. Really BAD. Have You ever had a dream? A wonderful dream? But You are too broke to implement it? Too tiny to do it? Too small to accomplish it? Damn! I've been there too many times!
Life is tough. Opportunities will pass you by,just because you are a NOBODY. People will want your products but NOT YOU. Its a tough world. If you ain't already famous, or rich or "connected", You will find it rough. Doors will be shut on You. People will steal your glory and crush your hopes. You will push and push. And yet NOTHING WILL HAPPEN.
And then your hopes will be crushed. You will be broke. Damn broke. You will do odd jobs for survival. You will be unable to feed yourself. And Yes, you may end up sleeping in the streets.
It happens. Yes, it does.
BUT NEVER LET THEM CRUSH THAT DREAM. Whatever happens to
You, Keep Dreaming. Even when they crush your hopes, Keep Dreaming. Even when they turn you away, Keep Dreaming.
Even when they shut you down, Keep Dreaming.
NO ONE KNOWS WHAT YOU ARE CAPABLE OF EXCEPT YOURSELF! People will judge You by HOW you look. And by WHAT You have.
But please, Fight on! Fight for Your place in history.
Fight for your glory.
NEVER EVER GIVE UP!
Even if it means selling all your clothes and sleeping with the dogs,
But AS LONG AS YOU ARE STILL ALIVE,
Your STORY IS NOT OVER. TRUST ME.
Keep Up the Fight. Keep your dreams and hope alive. Go great .
Like and share if inspired. Lovely day people!
Click here to listen to the FREE Pilot Season Bootcamp to get some concrete steps you can take right now to make your dream come true. Click here now.
""""One of the most mortifying moments I experienced in my theatrical career was when I was asked to bring the entirely African-American cast of a new musical we were workshopping, a new piece by an African-American librettist and composer, across the street to the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion and up into the plush boardroom so they could perform a song or two for the board of directors. I wanted to say something, but I didn't. For one thing, it would take an invaluable 45 minutes to an hour out of the creative team's limited time together. But... every year we had to do the same old song and dance for the board to remind them that yes, we did do new plays and musicals, so yes, it was sometimes a good idea to expose the board to new voices, to the vibrancy of an exciting work in progress.
You all know where this is going, don't you? I led the team in. The talent in that team! The writer/composer himself and the cast, lauded veterans of the stage and the most promising members of the next generation of acting giants. And there was our board. White, as white as can be, white white white white. And very comfortable. They'd just been served lunch, I believe. My theater spared no expense in pleasing our board and catering to their demands (oh my god, I'm feeling such rage right now! I'm pretty sure we had a staff member who was mostly dedicated to help our richest board members get house seats to shows on Broadway and the West End. But I digress...)
The only black face in the audience seated at the conference table? The only person of color? The head of our education department, of course. My heart went out to her.
The cast sang a song from the show. They did it. And they brought it. Because they were and are professionals. And the very pillars of the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion reverberated down to the parking lot. It was breathtaking.
And I had just been complicit in the remaking of a scene for the millionth time: black bodies and voices entertaining white audiences, an institution raising money on the backs and voices of black bodies.
I was too mortified to apologize to our writer and to our cast, none of whom, I should add, expressed even an iota of discomfort. They were professionals, and they shone. And come to think of it, they'd probably all become accustomed to this scene. "It's just how theater works," they might have thought with a shrug of their shoulders. Or maybe they seethed inside, for the millionth time, when all they were trying to do is workshop a new musical.
Well, I apologize sincerely now to our writer and those actors. I wish I had had the courage to put my foot down. It is not how theater should work.
I quit the American theater on Valentine's Day 2016, so I've been out more than four years now. And honestly I don't plan to return, which is why I can write with such candor.
The heart of the problem, my friends, is with the non-profit structure, which is capitalism on steroids. Who are the bosses ultimately in an American institutional theater? The board of directors. Who are the board of directors? For the most part, those members of the community not with the strongest attachment to the art form but those with the deepest pockets. Often they're really not members of the community. They often just drop in. They are sometimes mere tourists.
It's no wonder that that board meeting was held in the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion. The theater, like most American theaters, had built its board of directors on the old opera model: You get the richest folks together, offer them galas and house seats and receptions and private recitals and showings (for which artists often don't get paid extra, mind you), you pamper them and make them feel more special and entitled than they already do, and then they'll write you big checks to support the kind of art they like, the kind of art they can bring their kids and grandkids to. AND they--not the artists, not the community--get to hire the institution's leadership.
It is a rotten model. Rotten to the core. How can any artistic institution claim to be working for and in the community with that model?
It's got to be torn down. It's got to be reinvented. And I have no idea what the next model will be. I really don't. And no, honestly I don't think government is the solution frankly. Some of the most bloated, self-satisfied, decadent theater I've ever seen was in Germany, where it was almost fully government-funded. Lots of bells and whistles and provocations and completely soul-dead.
I see amazing and galvanizing lists of demands recently being made and posted by theater artists of color. These are vital demands. But they don't address the central issue. As long as the ultimate bosses of an artistic institution remain the community's deepest pockets, nothing will change. Nothing. You'll be putting band-aids on a gaping wound. Sorry, but it's true.
So please figure something else out. Maybe for a few years you just avoid the institutions. You've already started. In the pandemic, so many of you are making amazing art without an institution. Find those who truly adore your work and ask them to fund it. Screw non-profit. Form a corporation and value your art art-making as a resource that profits you, your viewers/audience and your community. I have no idea.
But please don't return to a new version of the old. After the virus, after he's out of office, after police reform and nationwide conversations about race, after, after, after, begin something new. I can't wait to see what it is!”
Words: Pier Carlo Talenti
Video: Griffin Matthews
April Yvette Thompson