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Served Mon.-Sat. from 11:00 am to 3:00 pm

your choice of:
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$ 3 9 5

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Banquet Facilities Available
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Open for Lund) and Dinner 7 - DO VS

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1999

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gax: 248 - 865 - 0020

forth until Breckman downs Bill
with a lightening bolt, leaving Bill's
wife a widow and his three fictitious
children fatherless.
Breckman toured with this twisted
tale and others like it for a short while
but tired of the scene quickly when he
met and married his wife, Mary, an
audience member at one of his shows.
"She was unlike any other woman I
had ever met," Breckman explained.
"She would go out with me."
Starting a family and constant trav-
el did not mix well, so Breckman
chucked the music career in favor of a
more stable life, writing for television.
After a stint on a children's show —
whose name he prefers not to reveal
— he went on to other TV jobs,
notably staff writer for David Letter-
man and "Saturday Night Live."
At the same time, he branched out
by writing for the big screen, spending
some time under contract with Warn-
er Bros. His screenwriting career
includes some low points, like pen-
ning the script for Moving, a film star-
ring Richard Pryor.
During one read-through session
for that film, Breckman became
embroiled in a tiff with the volatile
star. Pryor wanted a scene Breckman
had written removed from the movie.
Pryor grew hostile when Breckman
fought the change.
Breckman wrote about the ensuing
experience for an online magazine called
Least Common Denominator.
"And this is what Pryor did: He
reached into his jacket and pulled out
a gun! A real gun. A derringer — with
two short barrels. I'd never seen one
before, but I could tell it was definite-
ly real," he wrote. "I was so scared, I
almost blacked out.
After Pryor placed the gun on the
table, the scene was quickly removed,
and Breckman was a changed man.
He now avoids the mishegas of Hol-
lywood by living in a New Jersey sub-
urb with his wife, three kids and a
dog. Working out of his home with
the aid of an assistant, he has since
turned out IQ, a charming romantic
comedy starring Meg Ryan and Tim
Robbins in which Albert Einstein acts
as matchmaker forkis niece. He also
earned kudos from some critics and
fans with the hilarious revival of S
Bilko, starring Steve Martin and the
late Phil Hartman.
Despite his more recent success,
Breckman remains humble about his
talent.
"Here's my deal with Hollywood,"
he explained. "They send me big

checks and let me make my own
hours. In return, every once in a while
they embarrass me.
How?
"They release something I wrote,
he says.
Breckman insists he has given up
the music career. The emcee gig this
weekend? He wanted to visit relatives
in Michigan and thought he could kill
two birds with one stone.
The recording career? It wasn't even
his idea to record his two albums,
Don't Get Killed and Proud Dad, or the
third, Death-Defying Radio Stunts,
which includes excerpts from his
weekly radio show, "7-Second Delay,"
which airs on WFMU in the New Jer-
sey/New York area.
"I gave up on performing. I have
not written a song in 16 years. Then
one day this little company in Ver-
mont, Gadfly Records, called. They
stumbled upon a live performance and
wanted to release it," he said.
"By their pathetic standards, it sold
pretty well," he said, adding that Gad-
fly asked if he had anything else for
release. "I didn't. They released the
dregs and that became my second
record.
"Then they called back two years
later and I really didn't have anything
else, so they released some excerpts
from my weekly radio show," he said.
"Soon, [they'll] be releasing me
singing in the bathroom."
In fact, Breckman is so far dis-
tanced from performing that on the
rare occasion that he picks up a guitar,
his fingers bleed.
And, outside of an occasional gig
like the one in Ann Arbor, he doesn't
plan on returning to folk music.
Instead, Breckman is focusing on writ-
ing more screenplays.
"My career? My career is in the
crapper, thanks for asking," he says.
"My day job is that I write bad
movies. I should write a big hit movie.
That's what I'll do. I am going to
write a good one next time." 1-1

"

"

Tickets for the 22nd Ann Arbor
Folk Festival, at 6 p.m. Saturday,
Jan. 30, at Hill Auditorium in
Ann Arbor, are $25 and on sale
at the Michigan Union Ticket
Office and at all Ticketmaster
outlets. For ticket information
or to charge by phone, call (734)
763-8587 or (248) 645-6666.
Tax deductible patron and spon-
sor tickets are available at The
Ark, (734) 761-1800.

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