{"id":3493,"date":"2012-07-05T13:54:42","date_gmt":"2012-07-05T19:54:42","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.bmovienation.com\/?p=3493"},"modified":"2012-07-05T13:54:42","modified_gmt":"2012-07-05T19:54:42","slug":"b-movies-and-bread","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/www.bmovienation.com\/?p=3493","title":{"rendered":"B Movies and Bread"},"content":{"rendered":"

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Behind the glass that separates the kitchen from the customers at Bread & Cie Bakery and Caf\u00e9 in Hillcrest, steam heat pours from the oven. Bakers in long aprons and French bonnets lift loaves of artisan bread from the oven and place them into baskets.<\/p>\n

Patrons gather at the wraparound counter, pointing to this loaf or that quiche as the line to order swells. Order-takers with earrings and tattoos help the customers.<\/p>\n

If he sees the line beginning to snake, Charles Kaufman, owner of Bread & Cie, assists the staff in taking orders while entertaining hungry people by cavorting and telling jokes. At 62, he moves nimbly around his bakery. Kaufman looks distinguished, despite an REI outfit and Merrill Walkabouts. He swears he \u201cnever intended to be a bread-maker.\u201d<\/p>\n

Kaufman grew up in New York City. When he was eight years old, his mom took him to see his first show, Ethel Merman in Gypsy. Upon viewing that \u201cfirst set of boobies in the strip-dance scene, I knew exactly what field I would go into,\u201d Kaufman laughs.<\/p>\n

Despite a stutter, he dreamed of being an actor; his hopes and ambitions were encouraged. \u201cMy dad was an independent lawyer who moonlighted in amateur theater,\u201d Kaufman says. \u201cMy mom was an unconventional narcissist with a passion for Broadway. It fit.\u201d<\/p>\n

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\nMaking of the July 5, 2012 Reader Cover<\/p>\n

Kaufman grew up in midtown Manhattan. His address, a brownstone on 65th, between Park and Third avenues, screamed privilege. At five, he was sent to Trinity Academy, one of the best all-boys\u2019 schools on the Upper West Side. \u201cAt the time, I didn\u2019t think I was privileged. I didn\u2019t think it was a privilege to be away from my family from 8:00 a.m. until 6:00 p.m. every day.\u201d<\/p>\n

Kaufman tried to get his parents\u2019 attention when he was home. \u201cMy parents were very busy with work and philanthropy.\u201d He found his way by being funny. For a year, he carried a puppet around and talked in a puppet voice. \u201cThat fell flat after awhile, especially after my parents brought me to a shrink.\u201d<\/p>\n

He began telling jokes. His mom took notice. \u201cI lived for making her laugh, and I knew very young that if I could make her laugh, she\u2019d be pleased with me. There was nothing quite like that feeling of approval and comfort.\u201d Also, if he told a joke and people laughed \u2014 validation that they enjoyed his company \u2014 he wouldn\u2019t stutter.<\/p>\n

Kaufman enrolled in classes at the Stella Adler School of Acting. \u201cI remember being onstage for scene-study for what felt like hours, as my partner would wait for me to say my lines.\u201d He grimaces. \u201cMy acting career didn\u2019t last long.\u201d<\/p>\n

In high school, he was class president. \u201cI lost many nights\u2019 sleep before speeches, but I knew if I could just make them laugh, I could get through it.\u201d<\/p>\n

He graduated from high school in 1967 and went on to college at the University of Connecticut. He was accepted into UCLA\u2019s graduate film school, graduating with honors in 1973. \u201cMy first real-world job out of film school was as an intern for NBC Studios in Burbank.<\/p>\n

\u201cI was given the clandestine task of driving to Bob Hope\u2019s house to pick up paper \u2018receipts\u2019 that contained the topics Hope wanted to cover in The Bob Hope Show.\u201d It was live television, and Hope left nothing to chance: the receipts had to be delivered in haste to Hope\u2019s writers. \u201cHe was very secretive and didn\u2019t want his topics getting out.\u201d<\/p>\n

A mixing bowl lift drops 300 lbs. of dough onto a table. It will be cut and placed in plastic bins to be sent to a temperature-controlled proofing room for the dough to rise.
\nEvery day, Kaufman would drive to Hope\u2019s house in Burbank, pick up the slips, then drop a slip off at each of the show\u2019s writers\u2019 homes. Some lived in the Valley, some across town in Culver City, near the airport. \u201cThe trip would take hours. I\u2019d get lost all the time.\u201d Kaufman would wait for the writers to come up with material, then he\u2019d drive it back to Bob.<\/p>\n

\u201cSitting in traffic in my red 1968 Volvo, on the dusty, hot, polluted streets of Los Angeles was torture. In order to keep myself entertained, I\u2019d peek at Mr. Hope\u2019s topics. If the receipts said he wanted jokes on \u2018inflation\u2019 or \u2018Nixon,\u2019 I\u2019d come up with my own jokes and tell them to a make-believe audience. Other drivers must\u2019ve thought I was nuts.\u201d<\/p>\n

He began writing his own gags and sneaking them into the pile with the paid writers\u2019 submissions. When Kaufman wrote, he didn\u2019t have a speech impediment. \u201cI had great timing on paper.\u201d<\/p>\n

Hope and the producer of the show figured out that additional scribbled jokes were coming in on the sly. After reading Kaufman\u2019s gags, they knew their intern had comedic talent. They offered to hire him as a writer, as long as he passed a typing test.<\/p>\n

Kaufman didn\u2019t know how to type, but \u201cI told them I did.\u201d Determined to begin his writing career, he spent three days hunkered over a Remington typewriter, teaching himself. \u201cThis was a job writing jokes for Bob Hope. I was going to walk barefoot over hot coals, if I had to.\u201d<\/p>\n

He passed the test, got the job, and worked as a writer on The Bob Hope Show for four years. What he remembers most about that time is how Bob Hope wouldn\u2019t laugh when he thought something was funny. He\u2019d read through the \u201cgags,\u201d checking off the pieces he wanted to use by saying \u201cThat\u2019s funny, that\u2019s not funny, that\u2019s funny\u201d as he went down each writer\u2019s list. \u201cThis guy was such a pro, he didn\u2019t have to laugh, he just knew.\u201d<\/p>\n

To this day, Kaufman doesn\u2019t think Hope knew his name. \u201cI tried to distinguish myself by wearing a jacket and tie every day, but it only made the other writers think I was a twerp.\u201d He wanted to make an impression, stand out somehow. Now, he laughs: he made such a big impression that, when the show went off the air, \u201cMr. Hope gave me a keychain with his picture on it.\u201d
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