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Rocky IV: A Rumble In Russia
Petersen's phone rang one day in The 80s. It was the studio calling, saying they needed help with a movie trailer. At
the meeting at the studio, he was informed that the studio had no idea how to sell this picture. Even though it was one of
a series, a third sequel in fact, the studio promotion people had run dry. They needed fresh creative talent. So, what was
the picture and what was the problem? The picture was Rocky IV. The problem was that there was no footage. The picture hadn't
even been started. Stallone was up in Canada, filming Rambo II. All they had to work with was the screen test of the then-unknown
Dolph Lundgren, who was to play the villain. It was awful. But Petersen was not deterred. They had outtakes from the first
three pictures, didn't they? And he knew you didn't have to sell Rocky; everyone in the world knew who Rocky Balboa was, whether
they'd seen the first three pictures or not. All we had to do was sell the new villain, the latest menace.
So that's exactly what he did. Ensconced in a tiny temporary attic office at the studio, he wrote six trailer scripts (he
actually did that in one day, but didn't want the studio to know that). He turned them in, saying he knew which one the guy
would pick (and he was right).
Then came the approval process, which went something like this. First, the head of the trailer department had to select the
one or two that he liked. Then the one he picked would go to his boss, the Vice President of Promotion. In turn, the VP would
send it up to his boss, the President of Production, who would send it still further up to the President of the studio. From
there, it would go across the street to Chartoff-Winkler, the production company. And finally, it would go out to Stallone
on location in Canada.
At each stage, both up and back, every person involved could "red-pencil" it, mark it up with their additions,
deletions, corrections and comments. Usually, when these scripts came back, it looked like someone had bled all over them.
This one came back without a mark on it. The only comment was a note in the margin from Stallone (who had noticed that Petersen
had written a trailer without him) who said he could make himself available for a day or two for shooting, if it was necessary.
(It wasn't)
The upshot was that the trailer was shot exactly as he had written it. It was then attached to the head of "A View
To A Kill," the latest James Bond movie at the time, and released. Several of Petersen's friends saw it in the theater
and said it was dead quiet all through the preview, and then, when it was over, the audience applauded! They'd never seen
anything like that happen before.... or since.
Little Orphan Abbie: A "Trial" Run
David saw his first play produced in early 1972. After nearly a year during which the piece was scheduled to be produced
by Joe Papp in New York (only to be derailed at the last minute by the director), it was finally debuted in Seattle, in no
small part thanks to David's agent, Toby Cole, one of the theater's most prestigious representatives. The highly dramatic
play, entitled "Little Orphan Abbie," was based on the infamous real-life Chicago Conspiracy Trial, which had happened
just the year before. It opened in the spring, receiving rave reviews and playing week after week to sold-out houses, even
having its run extended twice.
It was produced again in Los Angeles and, a few years later, was adapted and shot for television, although it never aired.
More recently, it is being reworked as a screenplay, since a number of people have expressed the idea that the current political
climate is the perfect time for such a project.
TelePictures Triumph
In the mid-1980s, Petersen was hired to promote a new news/variety magazine show being syndicated in some 96 markets across
the US. His job was to produce a series of short promos for each show, ranging from 10 to 30 seconds in length. He had to
do this every single day, plus a set for the weekend show. He had to work with reporters, cinematographers, editors, voice-over
talent, sound engineers and producers, on an extremely tight schedule. The promos had to be uplinked to the satellite feed
every day at noon, without fail. Petersen never once missed a deadline, and he learned to write crisp tight dialogue that
could be timed down to the second.
In addition, he had to maintain constant contact with the promotion managers at each of the 96 stations around the country.
His work was successful enough that one station manager remarked, "If the show was as good as the promos, we'd have better
ratings."
Founding The Scriptwriters Network
Acting on his experience in this most solitary profession and his long-held belief that writers could share their experience,
their contacts, their skills and help each other, Petersen decided to form an organization to do just that. In the fall of
1986, he called together a small group of fellow members of an independent writers association. At a meeting in his living
room in Van Nuys in suburban Los Angeles, the seed of the Scriptwriters Network was planted. It took hold, first in a series
of meetings, each larger than the last, held in members' homes.
Then, in 1987, the group broke away from its parent group and continued its explosive growth, now meeting in larger quarters
on studio lots, and featuring guest speakers from among established writers, producers and others in Hollywood. Petersen started
a newsletter, initiated reading groups called triads, and conceived a special writing contest. Unlike most such contests,
the Door Opener Derby did not require a full script, choosing instead to focus on the first ten pages, which would either
grab a reader's attention or not.
After chairing the group for nearly 5 years, Petersen left to pursue his own work. The group continues to flourish, and
is now about to celebrate its 20th year of operation, still serving as a nexus for writers from all over the country.
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| Opening the door to Hollywood |
Selecting A Sidekick
Over his many years of analyzing screenplays, Petersen admits that, out of the hundreds of scripts scanned, only a literal
handful merited the coveted grade of Recommend. One of this select group was a heart-warming story of a boy who studied martial
arts and daydreamed about being the junior partner of his hero, Chuck Norris. As with Charlie Kaufman's famous film Being
John Malkovich, Sidekicks depended on the approval not just of the story analyst but that of the established star who was
central to the tale.
In this case, Norris agreed it was a charming piece, well-written and worth making, and agreed to do it. Thus, in 1992,
the picture got made, starring Norris, Beau Bridges, Joe Piscopo, and giving young Jonathan Brandis his big break. It cost
about $8 million to make and ended up grossing slightly over twice its production costs, but continues to be a minor cult
flick. And it all started because of that positive coverage report.
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| Say good night, Gracie |
George Burns: A Star Is Reborn
An innovative independent filmmaker decided that, with the rapidly-advancing art of computer animation, one could recreate
the images of real movie stars who were no longer with us. He decided to make a picture starring the dead humorist George
Burns. He needed a way to present this unusual idea to his potential investors. The venture capital company backing the project
called in David Petersen to create a brochure to accomplish this challenging purpose. The piece he created was sufficiently
exciting to readers among the money sources that the people charged with raising the funds reported that, once Petersen's
brochure was put out, their response rate rose rapidly, to ultimately more than 500% its original level.
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| I never met a man I didn't like. |
Will Rogers: An Icon's Last Ride
Will Rogers was one the most popular people in America for years. His untimely death in 1935 shocked the nation. A chance
meeting that year with an old friend and fellow Oklahoman, pioneer aviator Wiley Post, would lead Rogers on his final journey.
Post planned to test the commercial viability of carrying goods from the U.S. to Asia by flying over Alaska and Siberia and
invited Rogers to join him. Upon take-off from a small Eskimo hunting and fishing camp near Barrow, Alaska the small craft
lost power and crashed into a nearby lagoon, killing both Rogers and Post instantly. He was working on his final weekly article
at the time of the crash...ironically, the last word he ever typed was "death". Even more ironic, at the time of
his death, his daughter Mary was on stage playing a character who had lost her father in a plane crash.
Alaska Airlines asked for a feature (lead) article on the great humorist's last flight, which ended in tragedy on the
shores of the Alaskan coast. Rogers' body was flown home by none other than Charles Lindbergh. The highly detailed and illustrated
narrative piece that Petersen wrote included the last photo ever taken of Rogers and his pilot and friend, the famed Wiley
Post, taken only a few minutes before they took off for the last time. The article was so well-received by readers that the
magazine in which it appeared quickly became the most requested issue in the publication's history.
His extensive research into Alaskan bush flying eventually led Petersen to write "Big Sue," a screenplay based
on a true story, one of the most incredibly daring aerial rescues in history.
Flying High
Brought in to edit a national trade magazine called Aviation Trading Floor, Petersen discovered a publication that needed
more than a little tweaking. He completely redesigned the magazine's format, brought in a collection of capable freelancers
to write for it, added features designed to spark readers' interest, and generally revamped the entire enterprise. Its circulation
doubled after his first issue, then doubled again. It attracted major advertisers that previously had been dubious about investing
advertising dollars in the publication. He even garnered an exclusive front-page interview with the wealthy industrialist
who bought the famed Piper Aircraft company and revitalized it.
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| Onward and upward, ever upward |
Drawing & Quartering Downtown
The Downtown Association, a group of influential Seattle businessmen, needed an illustrated brochure to convey the nature
of the city's Central Business District, and suggest the advantages of working, shopping, doing business, and even living
there. Joseph Ward, the Association's Executive Director, called David Petersen in to create this presentation.
Petersen's research led him to offer an entirely new look at the core of this great city. He redefined the area into a
collection of distinct zones (the Historic district, the central Office Core, the Retail District, etc.), each with their
own character and history, each a focused integral part of the city center. He created a colorful booklet, using maps mounted
on blocks, like a giant jigsaw puzzle, showing each District, and the way they all fit into the vibrant whole. His booklet
proved so popular that the Association could not keep it in print in sufficient quantity to meet the demand. The unique definitions
developed by Petersen not only still stand, they have become an official part of the vocabulary of that ever-expanding urban
community.
revised 5 Mar 08
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