A Hollywood Ending...Why I walked Away From "Show Biz"

I decided I didn’t want to be a professional actor anymore when I was paid to pretend to be John Cusack. (I had been doing it for free up to that point).

I had a pretty good run in Hollywood back in the 90’s. But if I’m being truthful that was probably because of my hair. I was one of the first to sport the “bed head” look back then and it was entirely by accident. I was late to a “Mountain Dew” audition that was across town. I raced over there without even time to look in the mirror after my agent called to ask me where I was. Turns out the look was perfect for the part. I was cast as one of the original four “Dew Dudes” and ditched the comb for good.

Soon guest spots on “JAG” and “ER” followed and then my two “big breaks”—a series regular role on Jenny McCarthy’s sitcom, called….wait for it….”Jenny” on NBC (13 episodes then cancelled) and then starring opposite William Shatner and Eric McCormack the indie film “Free Enterprise” in 1998. The comb never made another appearance.

While my work put me in the upper 1% of actors (there’s a LOT of actors out there), I was still frustrated. For a person with control issues, it’s not a good career choice. There’s no consistency. It’s feast or famine. You’re at the mercy of other’s whims.

I was also pursuing success to make my father, the late Tim Weigel, proud. The Old Man was the most popular sportscaster in Chicago for almost thirty years and made it clear to me he expected big things. In that house, fame equalled success. It's what paid the bills.

“I was more successful than my father and I expect you to be more successful than I am,” he would say to me. Given his rock star status in the Windy City there was only one rung above that—movie star.

To his credit, the Old Man was very encouraging because he believed in me. Our conversations resembled a Monty Python skit. I would be begging to come home and go into the family business of broadcasting. He wouldn’t have it. “No! You can’t give up! You’re so close. Keep chasing the stars! You have to stay in L.A.”

The problem is, chasing stardom is also chasing a Don Quixote windmill. The myth of Hollywood is that one day you get your “big break” and you don’t have to audition anymore—that you hit the right number on the roulette wheel and the scripts just start showing up at your door. The problem is that’s only true for about 20 actors and even for them it's for a finite period. I came to that sober realization on a beautiful LA day in June before Father's Day weekend.

My next-door neighbor was casting the film “Serendipity” with Cusack. The actor from my hometown of Evanston was already slated for the role and the CD needed someone to read with the auditioning actresses for the part that was eventually played by Kate Beckinsale.

What I saw when I arrived for the job changed everything.

I walked into the bungalow on the studio lot past a waiting room with a sign-in sheet. There was about a dozen actresses—all of them big names, Christina Applegate, Marisa Tomei, and Mira Sorvino among them. There were two OSCAR WINNERS and a star of a hit show talking to themselves as they went over their lines. They were just like any other actor in that situation—nervous, trying to calm themselves while they prepared for the big moment behind the door.

I realized then and there, you never spike the ball in that business. There is no touchdown dance. It’s an endless journey of proving oneself. There was no reaching that carrot on the stick that would keep you out of those waiting rooms mumbling to yourself. If you were focused on results and not the process like I was, it would be a never-ending life of frustration.

Then, just as I was leaving the lot, the phone call came that put a new path in motion for me. It was from my sister in Chicago.

“Rafe?” she said. Her voice was shaking.

“Yeah, Jen. What’s up?”

“It’s Dad…..”

Her words trailed off and were replaced with high pitched sobs.

“Jen?! What’s wrong?!”

She took a deep breath and composed herself.

“Dad’s sick. It’s cancer. You need to come home.”

I was on the next plane back to Chicago. It was my Hollywood ending while I stepped into a new storyline that would have anything but. The only thing that didn’t change for me from that point on is that I would still never own a comb.