Gene Hackman (1930-2025)

My Gene Hackman story. 

As the building manager at 99 Chabanel from 1995 until 2015, occasionally strange, exciting things happened. One of the most exciting things to ever happen, occurred around 1999-2000 when I received a request from a film production company looking for a location to shoot a few scenes of an upcoming movie. They were looking for a 'garment building' that had office decor in the style of the 1960s or 70s. My mind immediately went to the offices of Sample Manufacturing Corporation on the 3rd floor, my grandfather Sam's company which shut its doors in 1989. The office decor, which he had designed himself, was unique. The walls were entirely panelled in stained imported wood, and the floors were carpeted. Each executive office had an en-suite bathroom decorated in Italian ceramic. Those were the days when the dress company owners came to work wearing three-piece suits and ties, had their nails manicured and hair coiffed at the local barber on a weekly basis, and their offices had built-in wet bars for 'entertaining' clients. Fortunately, my grandad's former offices were currently vacant and remained untouched and completely intact. The film rep and I toured the building and she took photos of various potential locations.  

It was probably a week or two later that I got a call from the location rep saying that the Director was interested in using our building for the film. I wasn't sure I understood what we were getting into at that point. The building was almost completely occupied with about 85 industrial tenants. I was told that the filming would require not just use of the location for filming, but also the entire 100-car parking lot that we owned adjacent to the building for trucks and trailers, as well as an additional space for a makeshift cafeteria where the crew could eat and hang out, and the exclusive use of one passenger elevator. The filming was to take place during regular business hours when the building was bustling with commercial activity. Suffice to say I had misgivings that it was feasible. At the same time, I was really excited that the building might be used in a Hollywood film and didn't want to refuse. Imagine how much more excited I got when I finally asked for more information about the production. The film was called Heist. It was written and directed by David Mamet and was starring Gene Hackman, Danny Devito, Delroy Lindo and Sam Rockwell among others. I knew of David Mamet from American Buffalo and Glengarry Glen Ross, one of my all time favourite films. Hackman was a screen legend of course, and Devito was star of the TV show Taxi which I grew up with. I could not believe that I might get a chance to meet them. 

Notwithstanding how disruptive the filming would be - someone in real estate who had experience with film crews warned me that it was like having an invading army in your midst - I was determined to make it happen. It was only one week of inconvenience, and I figured I could get 'buy-in' from the tenants if I could get them as excited about it as I was. I also had to convince the building owners that it was feasible, and more importantly profitable. I got the owners to agree by telling them we could ask a crazy price. I think it was around $20,000 for a week of rental, which seemed ludicrously high. To my amazement the producers agreed to the amount without negotiation. Later, as I started receiving more and more demand for film location spaces from the buildings that I managed, I realized that we'd practically given away our location for the price we asked. Film companies paid exorbitant sums because finding a suitable location was almost always cheaper than having to build one. Once the rental contract was signed, I went around the building visiting each tenant individually to tell them the exciting news; a Hollywood film was being filmed in 99, it would only be for a few days, and the inconveniences would be minor. Most of my tenants were unmoved. They just wanted assurance from the management that their business activities would not be interrupted. A few of the tenants, movie fans like me, were enthusiastic and wanted to know if they could meet the stars. I should also mention that the film crew was extremely accommodating when I explained to them that this was a busy commercial building and we'd have to work together to ensure that the disturbance to the tenants was kept to a minimum. They reassured me saying they had plenty of experience filming in busy public areas.   

The week of the filmshoot was indeed like an army invading. There were about 50 people in the crew. They ran thick electrical cables through the hallways, rolled equipment back and forth through the corridors, and filled the parking lot with trucks and trailers for equipment, props, make-up and costumes, various services, and of course the actors. One passenger elevator (out of three) was commandeered. I was worried that this was going to get out of hand. It was a couple of days of preparation, a day or two of filming, and another day or two afterward for restoring the location and facilities back to their original condition. In the end, it all went off without a hitch. They did do a bit of irreparable damage to Grandpa Sam's office when the scene they were filming required one actor to throw a filing cabinet against the wall and it broke the wood panelling. But we were handsomely compensated for the damage without dispute - they obviously knew they had gotten a major bargain on the location. 

I made myself conspicuous during the set-up period, introducing myself to many of the crew members, and making sure that everything was proceeding smoothly. The day of the filmshoot the location manager, with whom I had been dealing, introduced me to David Mamet who was as friendly as could be. He seemed to love being in a Montreal garment building and appreciated the history it embodied. I told him the story of my grandfather's company and about the office he was using, which was in fact where my grandfather had sat behind a large mahogany desk helming his company only a decade earlier. Talking to Mamet felt as natural as talking to a member of the family - the Jewish aspect of Chabanel's story was particularly interesting to him. Mamet invited me to hang around while scenes were being shot, but I declined, not wanting to intrude on their work.   

The next day, which I knew would be the last day of shooting, I didn't go on the set, but instead, at around lunchtime, made my way to the space on the second floor that the crew was using for their commissary. I was quietly hoping to catch a glimpse of the actors, and to bump into the Director again. The night before I decided that I would give Mamet an inscribed copy of a book that I had recently co-edited, an anthology of poems written about Jerusalem by Canadian poets (Montreal son Leonard Cohen among others) in honour of the city's tri-millenium. Our conversation the day before made me comfortable enough to think that Mamet might find our modest publication interesting. Book in hand, I did see Mamet. We chatted briefly and I gave him the book which he seemed to appreciate. I had been told that the big Hollywood stars generally ate in their trailers, not with the crew. Devito ate in private, although when he left his trailer in the parking lot to go to the set, he didn't use the back staircase to avoid causing a stir. He did the exact opposite, walking through the restaurant at lunchtime when every table was occupied. People cheered when they noticed him, and he waved back with a big smile. Customers called him over to take pictures, which he was more than happy to do. Later, several of my tenants displayed pictures taken with Devito on their office walls. I actually never met him myself. 

Because I'd heard that the big stars ate in their trailers, I didn't have much hope of meeting any of the other actors as I wandered through the commissary after chatting briefly with Mamet. I surveyed the room quickly, and spotted him, though I wasn't sure. A middle aged man sitting at one of the long cafeteria tables, eating his lunch, all alone. I could barely believe my eyes. It was Gene Hackman. The tables all around him were filled with the crew talking, but he was completely by himself, almost unnoticeable. I debated with myself whether I should approach him. Clearly, he wanted to eat in peace. How could I not say something? It was a once in a lifetime opportunity. I stepped up to his table with apologies for bothering him. He looked up at me. I introduced myself in my official capacity as the building manager, and said that I wanted to welcome him, and hoped he was enjoying his time working here. I felt like a goofball, a blubbering starstruck fan, but didn't want to show it. He smiled kindly, said two words thanking me, and returned to eating his meal, alone. I quietly retreated back into the halls of the building, feeling a bit embarrassed, like I'd just violated some unspoken rule ie. you don't feed the zoo animals, and you never talk to Gene Hackman during lunch break at work. 

That's it. My entirely unremarkable, somewhat uncomfortable, brush with Hollywood greatness. And from everything I've heard and read about Hackman since, that's exactly how he was with everyone. Ordinary. Unremarkable. He just wanted to be treated like another member of the crew doing his job. And if you were starstruck by his presence, you were a fool, and made to feel like one (though not maliciously). I wasn't surprised when a number of years later I read that Hackman had decided to retire from the business, like any worker who'd decided it was time to collect his pension. This news that he's decided to leave us permanently in the decisive unceremonious way that he did, is also, alas, completely in character.  

PS: To see the scenes from Heist shot at 99 Chabanel go to 14:00. When Hackman and Devito go into an office to sit down, that's Grandpa Sam's office. When they leave the building and hit the street, it's not Chabanel.