The Horror

By Sue Bergeron

March 6: I opened the website for the RI Secretary of State to see my name posted in the column "Qualified for Presidential Primary Ballot" and there was the word Yes/ signatures required: 150/ signatures obtained: 159. I had turned in 185. This all came on the heels of a massive Super Tuesday win for Joe Biden. In addition, several of my district delegates did not qualify, raising my chances of going to the convention. Super Tuesday II followed with another massive win for Joe, as he began to sweep the nation with win after win, scooping up so many delegates that it began to look impossible for Sanders to catch up. Then the pandemic began to cover the globe and the primaries shut down, one by one.

People now talk of no DNC convention at all; either Sanders could concede in an effort to spare crowds flocking to polls to vote in an unwinnable race, or the DNC could figure out some way to vote remotely. I had mixed feelings, emotions that were hard to sort out. I was thrilled for the final almost unbelievable success of my candidate whom I'd campaigned so hard for. People had laughed at me. People had taunted me and even abused me, but I soldiered on with a deep conviction that Joe was the guy who could pull us out of this horror show we've been living in. I don't want to see people become sick or die in an effort to exercise their vote, but what do we do? And of course there was the letdown, after all that hard work, to see the whole campaign fizzle. No rallies. No campaigning. No door-knocking. No hand-shaking or hugging people. Everything ground to a halt. Only Trump was visible---at his daily Coronavirus Crisis Briefings. And it was clear he was turning a frightening pandemic into a political rally while the other candidates were idled, silenced, confounded as to how to carry on their campaigns in light of a national crisis.

I began to fall into a mild depression. Back in February, I sensed that the government was lying to us about the chances of Covid-19 impacting the U.S. Things were in flux. I began to have trouble reaching people for my nomination papers. All the delegates had trouble. Most just barely made the 150 signature threshold. Some, as I noted, failed. Then I got a call to come back to work in the film industry.

I've been a member of the Screen Actors Guild for 25 years now, doing mostly background work in major feature films and network TV shows. I started moonlighting when I was a railroad worker and continued after I left that job. It's spotty work; I have no agent, I'm a freelancer. When I got the call it was for a horror movie. I figured I could use the money to help offset the cost of my volunteer work.

The work was really hard. It was an exterior scene. Several days were spent in weather in the 20's. The director seemed to like me and I got some nice featured work. But there was a big problem brewing: the holding facility was crowded, there were kids---a lot of twins, in fact--- and there was no hot water to wash up with. I can't be more specific, because of the NDA I signed, but I'll say that we all began to worry as more cancellations showed up on people's phones at lunch one day. Then production held a meeting. The director gave the talent a break and then the production crew locked the doors to the lunchroom and after one hour they emerged with new rules: show would go on but hair & make-up could no longer touch anybody. Many of the crew were now wearing N95 masks. I began to wonder if I was risking my life just to make a little extra money. On the long ride home that night I decided I would not return. It didn't matter. Two days later production was shut down and 120,000 IATSE film and stage union workers were thrown out of work. Then I got a notice from SAG informing me of an endless list of TV shows and films that were being cancelled. This is why you see those weird live stream and Skype talk shows on TV, as they try to fill the airwaves with something to keep the shut-in population entertained.

I spent three days recovering from the job. They worked us like donkeys and every muscle in my body hurt. At my age it's getting harder and harder to do the physical stuff, but if I complain I won't get any work at all. Ron had made sure to lay in a supply of catfood for Peepers and buy toilet paper. But the larder was in tough shape. I warned him they would soon lock us down. So Pandemic Preparedness began. As I scooped up a couple of bars of bath soap I said to the stock clerk, Do you think this is too many? I want to leave enough for others." she stopped what she was doing and said, "Wow. You're the first person to even care. Everybody else is just grabbing all they can get. You made my day!" We ALL need to think this way, folks. Leave some for the next guy.

In closing I'll just say how ironic it was that I was working on such a scary horror flick when all this started to accelerate. I left the set and returned to a world where the real horror show was even worse.

Please be kind, share, call a friend, have hope for a better future.