Even the President can't help this guy catch a break.
This is an unofficial transcript meant for reference. Accuracy is not guaranteed.
Hey there, it's my grow, and this is the way I heard the only podcast for the curious mind with a short attention span. I've been thinking. And, rather than sell the incredibly valuable piece of real estate that precedes the unforgettable story, you're about to hear too many of my loyal sponsors this month, I'm going to keep it for myself, so that I might suggest to you with great humility that you consider giving my book as a Christmas present like the story you're about to hear the book is called the way I heard it and modesty aside, I don't think you'll find a more appropriate gift out there. The reviews are excellent: it's an official New York Times best seller and everybody.
Tells me they hear my voice and their head when they read it now. I don't know if that's enough, that's a good thing or bad thing or weird thing, but it's definitely something go to micro dot, com book. That's my crow dot com book there, still a few autographed copies left. If you'd like one just click on autographed copy stuff it in a stocking wrap it in brown paper or slap, a bow on my giant face and give it to somebody to love or like, or somebody just simply feel obligated to buy a gift for either way it's at micro dot com book. This is the way I heard it.
When you look like a movie star and your co workers call you a golden boy, it might be tempting to head west. Try your luck in Hollywood, but when your dad's, a successful writer and your grandfather's even more successful, you like feel a certain obligation to find out. If you two inherited the literary gene which is precisely why Peter was sitting in the White House staring at a blank piece of paper trying to decide what the presidents of the United States should say. Next Peter wasn't suffering from right:
block as the newest speechwriter for Lyndon Johnson. He knew exactly what the president should say and already churned out a dozen excellent drafts problem was the president hated everything he wrote: Peters, Bosman, old friend name, Robert Kintner was getting worried. A golden boy you'd, better right, something brilliant fast, but Kintner knew that Peter wasn't really the problem. The problem was Kennedy, but J, F, Kase speeches had been so damn good that everything Johnson uttered sounded second rate by comparison. Peter could hear the ice cracking beneath him when Kintner walked into his office and told him his latest policy speed It was simply not Kennedy asked enough. Philby J is unhappy, said Kintner right up something for that tree lighting ceremony in the rose garden. Instead, Peter loathed, these assignments, he call them
rose garden rubbish because no one paid any attention to them, but a jobs, a job, so Peter got busy writing presidential prose that nobody would ever remember after the tree lighting comments The assembled some thoughtful remarks around Miss Teenage America's annual visit. Then a gathering of the American. Till association, followed by some parting words. Special emissary delivering to musk oxen to the People's Republic of China. On the positive side, writing rose garden. Rubbish came with no pressure and left Peter time to pursue other interests.
Slipping scotch learning to play the guitar and outlining an idea for a new novel, all of which he pursued from his office in the White House one day, Kintner interrupted Peters, rose garden, rubbish with a last minute assignment that night, a very important stage dinner was to be held and dignitaries from all over the world would be in attendance. The president wanted phonetic spellings of all the guests, so as not
butcher their names during his introductory remarks, Peter complied but neglected to finance a size, the countries as well as the people. Consequently, when Johnson got to the ruler of Nepal, he pronounced MA hundred perfectly but raised a few eyebrows when he confidently identified him as the king of nipple. That was the last straw Peters career. As a speech writer was finished, but, interestingly not his tenure at the White House when Kintner told Peter that be J wanted him out Peter refused to leave of Johnson wants to fire me. You can tell me himself I'll be here in my office, while, apparently President Johnson was distracted by the war on poverty, the war in Vietnam and the civil rights thing. So, while Peter received no more assignments and no more paychecks, he held
onto a security clearance and lingered in his office for many months, sipping a scotch studying his guitar tinkering with his novel Eventually, the secret service got wise and escorted Peter off the premises, but by then Peter had a plan for the future and when those movie star good, looks finally paid off. It was Hollywood who came to the golden boy and offered him a part in one of the biggest movies of all time. The role at only a few lines but Peter made the most of them and that he I ll and has long been known for its clean air, clean water and beautiful white sand beaches. But in recent days a cloud has appeared on the horizon of this beautiful resort: community, a cloud in the shape of a killer shark Peter had no
problem memorizing those lines, partly because he wrote them quite possibly when he was squatting at sixteen hundred Pennsylvania Avenue, Jaws put Peter on the map. Even as Scared, America, out of the water, and to thank one of the few people who believed in his writing right from the beginning and gave him an office in which to do it. Peter Benchley named one of the sharks first victims after his old friend, Albert Kintner. Remarkably L b J was never mentioned anyway. That's laggard.
Transcript generated on 2019-12-31.