USC Alumni Event - MPW Inaugural Fundraiser

Last night, four months after my first Temple University alumni event, I attended my very first University of Southern California alumni event. With one big difference, though. The Temple shindig (one of my December blog posts) catered to any and all alumni, which I can understand. Southern California only has a couple thousand Temple alums, whereas USC obviously has many, many more. Last night's USC event was strictly for alums of the Masters of Professional Writing (MPW) program. Not only was it my first MPW alumni event, though, it was the very first alumni event...ever!...specifically for this program. That's kind of interesting. This program is hardly new. When USC created it in 1971, it was the very first multi-disciplinary writing program in the country. Twentysomeodd other schools have since emulated it. Why has it taken so long to put on such an event? More on that in a sec.

Okay now you might be asking, "Is the MPW program the same as your average MFA program in creative writing?" To which I say, "Well yes, yes it is. And it's more to boot!" Seriously, the MPW program is similar in that it's a masters program, and it's all about creative writing, but it's also got key differences. For starters, the vast majority of MFA programs focus on prose (i.e. short stories and novels) and poetry. Further, their coursework is usually an even mixture of theory and workshops. The MPW program, on the other hand, offers disciplines in prose, poetry, screenwriting, TV writing, playwriting, and nonfiction. Further, all of the classes are workshops. Don't get me wrong, the professors do have their "highly recommended reading lists," but that's not what you spend the classes talking about. These are all workshops, meaning you write your butt off and then bring your stuff to class to have it anatomized. You'll definitely pick up on the various theories and conventions of writing, but it will all arise organically from the workshop experience. One more thing about the MPW program is that it has about 150 students at any given time. For a graduate creative writing program, that's huge. Your average MFA program in creative writing has maybe a quarter of that amount.

I didn't waste a minute getting into the program. I wrapped up Temple in the spring of '98 and enrolled in the MPW program that fall. My emphasis was on novels, but I took plenty of electives on short fiction, screenwriting, playwriting, and poetry. Being full-time meant I could zip through it in three semesters. I was done by Xmas of '99. Most full-timers take four full semesters to get through, but I took a couple extra classes that first year, and I also took advantage of their summer course in Prague. Now this is where I get to why it's taken so long to have an alumni event. It has nothing to do with Prague, but it's as good a town as any to start 'splaining a few things.

My Prague poetry workshop in the summer of 1999 happened courtesy of the MPW program's director at that time, James Ragan. This guy was head of MPW from 1981 until the end of 2006. He was of both Czech and Slovakian descent. In fact, I think he was first generation, meaning his parents were immigrants and that he grew up in a household where Czech was spoken. So he was fluent. Further, every June he served as writer in residence at Karlovy University in Prague which, if I remember correctly, is the third oldest university in Europe. Karlovy is the Czech version of Charles. When he went over there every June, Jim would take about 10 or so students from SC with him to share a four-week poetry workshop with 10 local Czech students from Karlovy. It wasn't the most demanding class. We met Tuesdays and Thursdays from 3-6pm and basically workshopped our poems. By the end of the four weeks we had to have four of those poems as polished as possible. That was it, and the two credits it gave me helped make the difference between completing my degree in the fall of '99 versus the spring of double-aught. Besides getting to live in Prague for a month, I got to take weekend trips to Poland and Hungary. And when the class was over, I spent a week on my own traveling through Austria and Germany, where I could actually speak the language (German was my minor at Temple).

I've recounted that summer for two reasons. First, I get to relive a fond memory. Secondly, I can introduce you to the notorious Jim Ragan, who has become universally reviled in the MPW community. At the end of 2006 he "left" his position, but everyone and their cousin on the street says he was basically asked to pack his Eastern European ass in a suitcase and head for Panama. Why, you ask? Exactly. Well, it was because of various infractions, one of which was misuse of department funds. That's all I know, though, and that's probably all I should spill at any rate. Suffice it to say that people are thrilled to see him gone. The MPW program has already undergone a sea change in his absence. It's left its long-time cramped digs on the fourth floor of Waite-Phillips Hall and now occupies office space in Taper Hall just across the way. They've established connections with the screenwriting program in the film school, as apparently Jim had long since alienated everyone over there. And another change is, well, they're putting on alumni events!

I'd pretty much lost all touch with the program since finishing it. I just, ya know, set out and became a working stiff while toiling in the writing trenches in my own time. I do get the general alumni publications, the magazine USC Trojan Family, as well as USC Health. But that's it. Then, about two months ago, I got this postcard in the mail from the MPW program inviting me to their first-ever alumni event. So I was like, "Well, I had a blast at Temple's alumni event last December at the Getty. So why not try this?" I'm thrilled I went, too, as I had a great time and met some pretty interesting folks.

Instead of a museum or some such other public venue, last night's par-tay was held at this big ol' two-story house in the Los Feliz section of L.A. The woman who lives here, Diane, graduated from the program in '93. I haven't a clue what she does as I only got one brief glimpse of her, during the associate dean's formal introductions sometime in the middle of the event. Oh yeah, the associate dean. Wait'll I tell you how I met her.

I purposely got to Diane's place about an hour early because I knew I'd need time to muster up some courage courtesy of my Uncle Beer. I parked along the street in front of her joint, then walked about a half-mile south to this little dive bar called Ye Rustic Inn. I'd been there before, but it had been years. Los Feliz isn't exactly on my way anywhere, so it's hard to find a reason to head that way. Anyway, I was honestly petrified of walking into a house full of strangers, especially strange writers, so I figured I could score some liquid courage. Ye Rustic Inn is dark and divey enough that I can sit on my own and nurse a few pints in anonymity. After a couple of Harps and innumerable furtive glances at the cute bartenders, I paid the tab and took off for Diane's place, feeling infinitely better than I did less than sixty minutes earlier.

I'd forgotten that this wasn't just an alumni party, it was a fundraiser. I was immediately reminded of that after walking in and seeing all this stuff on tables in just about every room on the first floor. Each object had a sheet in front of it describing its contents and the opening bid. Yes, it was a silent auction. In fact, I'm pretty sure it was my first silent auction ever. What you do is, you go around and look at all the wares. If something catches your fancy, you write your name and bid amount on the space provided on the sheet. Eventually someone keeping time tells the gathering when the auction is closed, at which point the highest bidder wins. Among the stuff I saw were several copies of Final Draft (that's screenwriting software, you non-writers), signed movie posters (among them last fall's Lust, Caution), and a giant basket full of DVDs of relatively recent stuff (e.g. Waitress, Little Miss Sunshine). I need to confess up front right now that I didn't bid on a single friggin' thing. I'm an unpublished writer, ergo I'm poor, so whatdya expect? That's okay, though, as there was still fun to be had at this joint.

While browsing the wares and convincing myself that I wouldn't be bidding on a single goddam thing, this Hawaiian guy named Grant walked up to me and introduced himself. He looked to be about my age, maybe a few years younger. He finished the program in '04 with a screenwriting emphasis and is now working at a medical company in Culver City. He and I sort of marveled that so many copies of Final Draft were for sale. If you're an alum of this program, particularly from the screenwriting part of it, then you should absolutely have Final Draft already. A screenwriter without Final Draft is like a car without wheels. Further, the version being auctioned was version seven. I've got version six myself, which is from 2002. Grant's still using version five and is perfectly content. He'd heard that seven was riddled with bugs.

I left Grant to peruse the wares while I went out back in search of food and booze. Even though I showed up only about fifteen minutes or so past the scheduled start time, the backyard was already packed. I guess writers aren't those fashionably late kind of people. The first thing that struck me was the pool. Most of the backyard was concrete, but flower beds pretty much surrounded it on all sides. A female barkeep was set up behind a couple of those fold-out card tables. The only import I could find in the coolers on the ground in front of the tables was Killian's Irish Red, so I grabbed one of those before I spotted all the food toward the far end of the backyard in an area that I think normally serves as a breakfast nook. Damn, this house was awesome. And look at all the food!

When I was about halfway toward the buffet, I couldn't help but notice a middle-aged and very distinguished-looking African-American gal sitting all by her lonesome near the diving board. So I sat down next to her and introduced myself. She turned out to be a pretty interesting cat. Her name was Jessie, and she finished the program back in '93 with an emphasis on poetry. Since then she's written a memoir of her childhood in Texas while keeping the bread on the table teaching English at a school in the Valley. She's so sincere about her memoir that she's put the title of it on her business card next to a little headshot of herself. That headshot, by the way? It looks nothing like her. I think it's the hair, plus she looks ready to bore two holes in you with eye lasers. Nah, she was nothing like that in person. Her hair wasn't tied back with anything but just hung freely almost to her shoulders. Far from ominous, her countenance was very kindly. She and I talked about our experiences in the program and what we'd been doing since. I couldn't chat for too long, though. I really was getting hungry. Jessie said she'd already eaten and so remained in her chair, quietly and invisibly observing everyone.

What a grub fest! Check it out. You had kabobs laden with meat, piles of baked potatoes cut up into quarters, grape leaves, all kinds of salads, these breaded things stuffed with something. I don't even remember, but it was tasty. Suffice it to say that just one helping of everything left me bloated and content.

I ran into Grant while I stood there stuffing my face. With him was this half-black half-Puerto Rican gal from Brooklyn named Yvonne, whom he knew from his days in the program. His last year had been her first year. We took our food and grabbed a table back up near the house. This is where I ended up spending most of the evening, bantering with these guys. Yvonne took three years to get through the program because she'd been working full-time, meaning she just finished last May. She's actually still on campus these days, working in the business school. Her emphasis was TV writing. In fact, at one point she had a gig with the National Geographic channel as a writer-producer.

Within a few minutes of sitting down, this fortysomething Asian gal took the empty chair next to me. At first she didn't say much. I was busy listening to Grant and Yvonne vent their frustrations with Jim Ragan. Yvonne shared a story about when she took Jim's dramatic writing class. She wanted to write a TV pilot as one of her assignments. He said no, it should be a play. The class description never specified playwriting but had indicated it was open ended and up to each student's discretion. So when she showed up to class with her TV script, Jim apparently walked out. What a weirdo, huh? So Yvonne passed out copies of her script to everyone in the class, they had a read-through, and the feedback was pretty positive. Grant, meanwhile, was relating a story about when he was dating a fellow student. During their relationship, he'd been trying to be discrete about it, but Jim found out anyway. He called Grant into his office and ripped him a new one, saying stuff like how he shouldn't try to hide the fact that he's dating a student, their department is one big family, etc., etc. It left Grant feeling pretty weirded out. Then I piped in with my Prague experience. The trip itself was great, but I told them how weird it was that Jim had charged each student exactly $888 to go, and how he had demurred when asked how he came up with that amount. I also commiserated with Yvonne about her TV pilot story by telling her about an incident in the Prague class. I came in with a poem ready to read. Jim took one look at the title, decided he didn't like the title, crossed out the poem with a big X, and chucked it into the recycling bin, nothin' but net. Right there in front the whole class. The title of this poem was "Little Green Men," and it was about immigration. Jim thought it had something to do with, ya know, extraterrestrials or something, a subject he considered too frivolous for the class. In the end he made himself look bad 'cause everyone in class had a copy of the poem and could see with their own eyes what it was about. Poor Jim.

At this point Grant turned to the Asian woman next to me and asked her about the MPW program's new summer course abroad. Oh yes, the woman said, they're starting a program that'll let students go to Cambridge. "And this one'll actually be legit," she said. Thanks a lot! Can I get my $888 back? Then she turns to me and she's like, "By the way, I'm Susan Kamei. I'm the dean of the program." Inside I felt kind of blindsided, but outwardly I took it pretty well in stride. I was like, "Oh okay. Nice to meet you." Susan, you crafty devil, getting me to spill all that before IDing yourself! I told her I'd heard Jim Ragan had been dismissed for improper use of MPW funds. She said that was the tip of the iceberg but that she'd taken a vow of secrecy never to talk about it. At any rate, since January 2007 they'd been seeking a replacement and had finally found one. Tonight Susan would be making the announcement. Susan's whip smart. She has a law degree but has no time to practice with her USC gig. She works in the arts and sciences school with the official title of Associate Dean of Advanced and Professional Programs. She couldn't talk long. As the head honcho, she had to make the rounds and do the ol' grip-and-grin. We hit it off, though. I told her how tempted I was to bid on the Lust, Caution poster. She said she liked Ang as well. Suze told me all about their new digs in Taper Hall and how I should come on down and check it out. I think I just might. She asked for my card so she could put me on the department's e-newsletter mailing list.

Not long after Suze moved on, we were paid a visit by Jason Squire, one of the screenwriting professors. He was making the rounds to have everyone sign the guest list. When I reminded him that I took his class, he was like, "Yeah I know." Great memory, Jace! Seriously, though, Jason's one of those genuinely nice guys that even if he eviscerates your script, it's impossible to get mad at him. He was thrilled folks as far back as me were showing up because he feared that a lot of the goodwill the program may have fostered with past students was squandered because of the way the department was being run, or wasn't being run, as the case may be. He had to move on in a hurry, but we shook hands and I said how nice it was to see him again.

Now from cordiality we move onto bitterness, personified by this one gal who parked herself at our table not long after Grant, Yvonne, and I got there. Originally from northern California and the only daughter of a Christian parent and Jewish parent, Lauren's a very tall, striking brunette who could easily pass for a decade less than her 41 years. Just as striking as her figure is the irony I couldn't help noticing about her. On the one hand, she was by far the most successful working writer I met that night. She finished the program back in 1990 and has since established a solid career in TV. She's got an agent, she's worked as the writer-producer on a bunch of shows, she's sold a pilot or two, you name it. In other words, she doesn't need a day job like me to tide her over. She's doing A-okay, thank you very much. On the other hand, she was by far and away the unhappiest person I met last night. No kidding, she seemed ticked off just to be there in the first place and railed against the vast majority of attendees for being uptight or what have you. This from perhaps the most uptight person there. Did I mention irony? It gets even better. Lauren was also by far the funniest person I spoke to. She had us all rolling on our asses practically all night. Then it occurred to me: Every modicum of her humor is based in pure vitriol. It reached the point that I was ready to whip out my wallet and pay her to smile. I was thinking, "Damn, woman! You're hot, you're successful...now how about a smile, eh?" I literally never saw a smile from her the whole night. I dunno, maybe it has something to do with the fact that she still lives with her mom. They say people are complicated, right? There ya go.

A mic was set up between the pool and the house, which Susan Kamei used to make her big announcement about the MPW program's new director. Her name's Brighde (pronounced Bridget) Mullins. It took them a year to find this gal with the almighty CV. After scoring not one but two MFAs (Yale and Iowa, the latter of which is generally regarded as the best creative writing program, like, in the universe), she became an award-winning playwright and poet. She used to head up the MFA programs in creative writing at both Harvard and then CalArts. She's also done teaching stints at Brown and SF State. When bored, Brighde helps run this reading series at Disney Hall downtown. For all those ego boosters, though, she came across as very quiet and unassuming. Her time at the mic was brief. Officially she doesn't start until July 1, but she invited whoever wanted to come on down to campus any time for a chat to talk about their experiences. I'm not sure what "experiences" she was referring to, but maybe that's yet another reason to go down to campus to check things out. If you're wondering about her name, it's Irish. She herself is American born, but her folks obviously wanted her to be proud of that Gaelic heritage. I mean shit, look at her photo here. Red hair and pale. They don't get more Gaelic than that.

Ehrich Van Lowe gave a nice talk. A tall African American, Ehrich finished the program in '82 and went on to have a steady TV career courtesy of sitcoms like 227 and The Cosby Show. He still works steadily as a writer-producer but also takes time out to teach TV writing for MPW. Like Jason Squire, he's a very soft spoken and genuinely nice fella who couldn't thank us enough for showing up and toughing out the sea change the department has endured over the last couple years.

The only really notable thing after Ehrich's spiel were these two alums who do stand-up. The first was this really tall guy named Mike. He just finished the program a couple years ago and has already optioned his first script, a comedy about a girls' softball team. And then after him was this side-splitting gal named Elizabeth Sass. She was at the mic much longer and practically had me in tears. And ya know what? She was also tall. Damn, I just realized how many beanstalks were at this party. I never did get a chance to talk to Sass (as she prefers to be called), but I did chat with Mike a bit. Like me, he did most of his growing up in Jersey. In one of his MPW workshops, a fellow student told him his script would be much better if only he just changed the story. Sad to say, but goofy feedback like that can be par for the course.

After that, Ehrich and Sass took the mic together to help close out all the auctions. Everyone else at my table was poor like me, so we sorta tuned out at that point. And then finally, at around 11pm or so, we took off. I gave my card to everyone. As I said up top, I was sort of nervous before coming to this event. But now look. I had a great time, met a bunch of interesting peeps, and made some connections. Ah, yes. Connections. Networking. That's what it's all about.