Stories I’ve Been Meaning to Tell You by Andy Romanoff; self published (c) 2023, ISBN 9781667-892849; available on Amazon.
SAN DIEGO — It’s a collection of misadventures that men might tell each other over a few beers, minus the expletives, but I kept wondering why Romanoff wanted me to read this.
It’s mainly a tale about his life of excess, petty crime, drugs, womanizing, fast cars, photography, celebrities, and trying to party like a hyped-up teenager beyond the years when most men have teenage children of their own.
Eventually, Romanoff settled down with a wife who probably is a saint, had two children, and much to his surprise was admitted into the corporate world, and even advanced, based upon his knowledge of cinematography.
He had become an expert on the use of a Louma crane, which can twist and turn its long arm and get shots from angles otherwise unavailable to movie producers. Steven Spielberg utilized the Louma in the movie 1941, but as production was coming to an end, Spielberg learned that Romanoff was nicknamed “Captain Gas” because he liked to party with nitrous oxide. After a night of excess with similarly inclined crew and cast members, a wasted Romanoff nursed a hangover inside the Louma control booth.
Spielberg came in. “Good morning Captain Gas,” Spielberg said. “Uh, good morning Steven… where did you hear that name?” Spielberg responded that a woman at the party had told him.
Romanoff knew that he was done. “Steven used the Louma again on Raiders [of the Lost Ark] but never again with me and never again took my call,” Romanoff wrote.
There are 45 chapters in the 195-page memoir. Chapter 43 is titled “A Turning Point” and it begins, “One year after Yom Kippur services I went to the beach and cried a little. If you’ve come this far you can see that many of my early days stories can be divided into two broad themes: stories of stealing and trouble, and stories of the drugged years… Eventually, though, I began to notice that things I had done in my life might have had consequences for others.”
No, he did not become ba’al teshuvah. But from then on, “I knew I had to decide who I wanted to be, and it wouldn’t be exactly who I had been.”
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Donald H. Harrison is editor and publisher of San Diego Jewish World. He may be contacted via sdheritage@cox.net