My Tennis Morning with Johnny Carson

Waiting in my dorm room in 1987 for that call from Johnny Carson. Note vintage phone. In 1987, I had an unusual job. I studied art at Pepperdine University, but I worked weekends at the Malibu Racquet Club as a "hitter," or "tennis gigolo" as my dad enjoyed putting it. Although I'd done some instructing in the summers, my assignment at the club was simply to be on hand when members needed a playing partner. Regardless of whom I played, I was instructed to hit every ball back as evenly and consistently as possible. Some members were quite skilled, and hitting with them was an enjoyable challenge. Many weaker players, by contrast, seemed to get a perverse pleasure from hitting the ball as hard as they could - randomly - and watching me chase it. For $10 an hour, I let them play out their little fantasy. Don't get me wrong; being a young tennis instructor and "hitter" in Malibu had its perks. I met many fascinating characters and, as one might suspect, I even got to play with a few celebrities of the times, sadly names few people would recognize today. Such is the way of Hollywood fame. A...