Dustin Diamond - Behind the Bell: Behind the Scenes of Saved by the Bell with the Guy who was There for Everything

Dustin Diamond
Behind the Bell

Behind the Bell

Behind the Scenes of Saved by the Bell with the Guy who was There for Everything

Published by Transit Publishing Inc.

2009 Dustin Diamond

The reproduction or transmission of any part of this publication in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording, or otherwise, or storage in a retrieval system, without the prior consent of the publisher, is an infringement of copyright law. In the case of photocopying or other reprographic production of the material, a licence must be obtained from the Canadian Copyright Licensing Agency (Access Copyright) before proceeding.

ISBN: 978-1-926893-71-6

Editor: Timothy Niedermann

Cover design: Franois Turgeon

Text design and composition: Nassim Bahloul

Front cover: Wayde Peronto of Babboni Photography;

NBCU Photo Bank/ZUMA/Keystone Press

Inside front cover: NBCU Photo Bank/ZUMA/Keystone Press

Spine: Gary Null/NBCU Photo Bank/ZUMA/Keystone Press

Back cover: NBCU Photo Bank/ZUMA/Keystone Press

Inside back cover: Joseph DelValle/NBCU Photo Bank/ZUMA/Keystone Press

Transit Publishing Inc.

1996 St-Joseph blvd. East

Montreal, Quebec

CANADA

H2H 1E3

Tel: 1-514-273-0123

www.transitpublishing.com

Printed and Bound in Canada

I wish to thank Jennifer Misner, who has watched my many transformations both on and off stage. Without you my world would be dark, and with me being the darkest thing in it, it probably wouldnt work out so well.

Roger PaulWithout you this would never have gotten done. Thank you Roge.

Mark BridgeYou are a dirty rotten bastard... thank you so much. Smell my finger.

LoppyWithout you my face would never be down in the noodles.

Mr. Bungle, Frank Zappa, more metal bands than I can possibly list.

Everyone who loves horror, Halloween, and metal.

And all the supporters of this book.

If I missed anyone Im sorry. Its late, and Im tired... Scott The Radman Radmacher, Evan Spaz Hanson, Rob Timmy Simpson, Chad Gggilf Hunter Hooper, Eric American Oates, the Misner family, and many, many more.

For my fans you keep me going.

For my non-fansyou just dont know me yet.

For the man in my basement who is probably more than terrified rightsoon.

P.S. Oh yes, and I want to give it up for B.I.G. Give it up for B.I.G.

Hollywood likes to present itself through a glass darkly, with grace, poise, style, smoke, and mirrors. No question, there are still pockets of true dignity and elegance in Hollywoodauthentic, creative people, comfortable in their skins and honest in their dealings. But that shit is rare, my friends. Honesty is the Pink Panther diamond of Los Angeles, so precious, its practically a myth. And at the center of this mythology are those droll Hollywood tales of artistic whimsy, told with wit and charm at black-tie cocktail parties. Sorry to burst your bubble, but its all horseshit.

Im going to make an assumption, and its this: the majority of people reading this book will not be current or former child stars of hit television shows. They will be regular folks who grew up in relatively normal childhood environments. They will most likely have attended local elementary and high schools, spent quality time with fellow classmates and neighborhood friends, eaten meals at designated time in their homes, were disciplined by their parents, and, at some point during the week, sat down and watched kids like me and the gang at Bayside High on the flickering boxes in their living rooms. They may have watched those pixilated versions of kids very much their own age, representating archetypes they were all too familiar with in their everyday lives (even if they didnt know what the fuck an archetype was), and perhaps entertained thoughts such as, Wow, how lucky are those kids? Theyve got things so much better than I do.

Yes and no. Yes, we probably made more money at ten years old than you did. We met lots of interesting people, were recognized and adored for a window in time, and went on adventures that would not have been possible if we hadnt been serendipitously plucked from relative obscurity one day in 1988 after several rounds of intense auditions. But on the other hand, no, our lives were not better than anyone elses in the sense that we were far from the perfect teens we portrayed in Saved by the Bell. In fact, truth be told, we were all pretty fucked up.

Celebrities are people, too. Were flawed like everybody else. Were just on television or up on a movie screen, pulling down more cash (when were working). But as the warrior-poet Notorious B.I.G. once said, Mo money means mo problems. The reality (in this age of reality-everything) is that working on film and TV sets is very cooleven more cool when you see the finished product edited together, complete with special effects, etc.but underneath it all, its just a job. None of the highly paid, glamorized, and glorified stars illuminated up on that wall of your local theater or in your little box at home is any different from you as a human being. If you work as a plumber or cop or software tech or at the phone company (like my mom did) or as any of the other millions of people that actually make the world go round do each day, youre no different (and in some ways, youre better) than your favorite stars, who have been placed up on false pedestals to be admired and emulated by the masses.

I think a problem with us human beings is that we want our gossip, dirt, and scandal in great detail. But sometimes the details arent the best part of the story. What I mean is, details alone dont allow you see the whole picture. The questions are: Where does this information fit on a timeline? Why is it relevant? And what were the consequences of peoples actions as they unfolded? For example, Tiffani-Amber Thiessen went from sweet, innocent, loveable all-American teen to SBTBs set whore and Hollywoods pass-around girl. I wasnt a mouse in her pocket for each and every lay (thank God), but I can relate what I did see and put those reminiscences in their proper context.

A lot of the people I discuss in this book will not want to be depicted in the light I cast them in. Too bad. The things I write about are the things Ive seen, the things Ive heard from reliable sources, and the things Ive come to know since starting work as an actor in Hollywood at the age of eight. People are going to deny that these stories are true, but I lived through them with my eyes wide open, and now Im sharing them with you, fair reader. The stories actors and actresses do want told are the ones where they were honored with an award for their craft or chatted at a party with Tom Selleck and Jack Nicholson. Nobody cares about that shit. Not really. I believe that, at our core, what people crave most is to learn everything we can about others human frailty, because it helps make sense of our own.

Hey, Im putting myself out there on the block, too. Lord knows Ive done some stupid shit (some of it on camera). But I also view myselfand I hope you will tooas an outsider, looking in on a popular clique I was never really a welcomed part of, reporting all I saw in stark black and white.

I moved to Wisconsin several years ago to get the fuck out of L.A. I loved the work, and the perks were fantastic, but I never cared about the fame. You dont make real friends in L.A., you make transactional friends, friends of necessity. In L.A., you meet a lot of middlemen (and middle women). In many ways, Los Angeles is not unlike the idealized version of Peter Engels Bayside High, set in Palisades, Californiaexcept everyone in L.A. really was the actual star quarterback or captain of the cheerleading team at their real-life high schools with dreams of even greater stardom. So, each day from every metropolis and one-traffic-light Podunk in America a lot of hopeful, fresh-faced kids arrive in L.A., only to leave weeks, months, or years later, bitter and regretful as part of The Used. But like moths to the fame flame, they keep coming.