It was not a bad concept, putting Hercules in modern New York City, and the movie was very funny, especially Arnold Stang, the comedian who played Pretzie. He was so little and I was so big. I found the experience daunting, I have to admit. I thought it would take me at least until I was thirty to be in a movie. But here I was at twenty-two, in America, starring as Hercules. How many people got to live this kind of dream? “You should be happy!” I told myself.
At the same time I thought, “But I’m not ready. I haven’t even learned about acting!”
If I’d had acting experience, it would have been a lot better. The producers hired an acting coach and a dialogue coach, but two weeks with them couldn’t make up for my lack of English and lack of experience. I wasn’t up to par. I had no clue what this type of performance should involve. I couldn’t even understand all the sentences in the script.
The guy who played Zeus was a TV soap opera veteran named Ernest Graves. I remember cracking up in the middle of filming a scene because he produced this huge God voice for a speech he was supposed to give, and it was so different from the voice of the guy I’d met in the makeup trailer. He really got into it, and that was funny to me. But, of course, you’re not supposed to laugh on the set. You’re supposed to help the other performers and really buy into what they say. That’s the whole concept of being supportive. When you’re not on camera, and the camera is behind your shoulder, you stay in character, act your part, giving it everything you have in order to draw the best out of the actor who is being filmed. That is so important, but I had no clue. When something struck me as funny, I just laughed.
On the second-to-last day, I finally felt it, what acting is about. We were shooting a sentimental scene where Hercules and Pretzie are saying good-bye. I really got into it, just like they always talk about in acting. The director came over afterward and said, “I got goose bumps when you did that.”
“Yeah, it was strange,” I said. “I really felt that scene.”
“You’re going to be good. I think you’ll have an acting career because as time went on with this project, you really started to get how to do it.”
One of the producers asked if they could bill me as Arnold Strong—nobody could pronounce Schwarzenegger, he said, it was a ludicrous name, and besides putting Arnold Strong and Arnold Stang on the poster would be funny. When they edited the film, they dubbed another actor’s voice over mine, because my accent was too thick for anybody to understand. Maybe the best thing about Hercules in New York was that for many years it wasn’t even shown in the US: the production company went bankrupt, so the film went on the shelf before it could be released.
But even so, starring as Hercules was way beyond any dream for me. And they paid me $1,000 a week. Best of all, I got to send photographs home to my parents and write, “You see? I told you the whole thing was going to work. I came to America, won Mr. Universe, and now I’m in the movies.”
—
I headed back to California a very happy guy. Joe Weider had promised to stake me for a year, and that time was up. But there was no question he wanted me to stay. As I became more and more successful, he kept thinking up new ways to feature me in the stories and advertisements in his magazines. He asked if I would take a tape recorder and interview the other bodybuilders. I didn’t have to write the stories, just make the tapes, and the writers would turn them into a series of articles giving readers the inside scoop. All I had to do was talk to the others about their training routines, their diet, what vitamins they took, and so on. The guys came over, and Franco cooked them a big Italian meal—paid for by Joe, of course, as were the gallons of wine we opened. After everyone was loosened up, I brought out the tape recorder. Somehow we didn’t get around to the subject of training and nutrition. First I asked, “We want to know all your girlfriends. Have you ever been out with boyfriends? What do you do when you go to bed?”
Joe’s eyes got wider and wider when we played the tape for him the next day. “Dammit! Dammit!” he exploded. “Idiots! Clowns! There’s nothing here I can use!” Franco and I were cracking up, but I promised to do the interviews again.
I started taping the bodybuilders one by one. Most bodybuilders don’t have very interesting insights or routines. But I’d noticed that Joe’s writers could make a story out of anything. So after the first few times, I’d just stop the interview if I got bored, and the tapes I gave Joe kept getting shorter and shorter. He would grumble, but he really wanted those interviews, and I would say innocently, “I can’t help it if these guys don’t have any ideas.” The last couple of interviews were like five minutes and eight minutes, and Joe finally threw up his hands. “Aw hell,” he growled. “Just give me back my machine.”
CHAPTER 7
Experts in Marble and Stone
THE MONEY JOE PAID me never went very far. I was always looking for ways to earn more. As my English got better, and I could explain how to train, I would give seminars at Gold’s and other gyms. Each netted $500.
I also launched a mail-order business out of my apartment. It grew out of the fan mail I was getting. People wanted to know how I trained my arms, my chest. And they asked how they could get fit themselves. I couldn’t answer all these letters, so in the beginning, I got the writers at the magazine to help me with standard letters that I could send out. That gave me the idea of selling a series of booklets.
In America, unlike Europe, there weren’t a million obstacles to starting a business. All I had to do was go down to city hall and pay $3.75 for a permit, and then rent a post office box to receive the orders. Next came the California Board of Equalization and the IRS. They’d ask, “How much do you think you’ll make?”
“I hope a thousand dollars a month.” So you’d pay $320 for the first estimated payment. There was no interrogation. They were kind, sweet, accommodating. When Franco and I started a bricklaying business, it was the same thing. We walked out shaking our heads, and Franco said, “This is why they call this the land of opportunity.” We were so happy.
Basically, my booklets were the articles I’d been writing for Joe, which the writers and photographers helped me flesh out by adding more details and photos. We made a booklet for arms, one for chest, one for back, one for calves and thighs, how to get a more symmetrical body, how to gain weight, how to pose, and so on—ten different courses. You could order the whole set for $15 or $20 or pick and choose for $1 or $2 each. People asked for photos of me also, so I had an album printed up of my favorite shots. Joe Weider was big in mail order, of course, but he didn’t really see his bodybuilders as competition. I talked him into giving me free advertising space in his magazines. “You can always start paying me for using me in your ads,” I said, “but I’d like it if you just give me an opportunity.” I figured Joe would go for this because he always hated to part with cash. And he agreed, and he was very supportive: he said I could start with a full-page ad that we would make into a double page if the thing really took off.
Many bodybuilders failed at mail order because they’d accept the money but not get it together to mail the product. You had to fill your orders within a certain time by law. If the post office received complaints, it would take away your post office box, and your business would be gone. You might even go to jail. But I was superefficient. I took the doors off my bedroom closet to make an alcove and had a friend build shelves and a little fold-down desk. Each booklet had its own numbered niche, and there were bins for incoming mail, checks, envelopes, and outgoing orders.