What's Below the Surface: My Day with Pete Phillips
By:
Barry Coen
November 16, 2006
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| sometimes
the top isn't high enough |
Walking into Pete's apartment, I didn't see him
at all. Instead, draped over the top of a recliner, I saw a washed
out tee shirt from the Church of the Assumption Community Festival.
It's a white shirt, and the breast emblem is composed of faded shades
of blue. It looks over-worn; it's been beaten and used, but still
holds its shape and maintains its general function.
"I only washed it once," says Pete, as
he enters from the kitchen, "Looks pretty bad though, huh?"
The shirt, recently worn, is still used. Despite the shirt's condition,
it's still a popular piece in the wardrobe. From spending a day
with Pete, I'd guess he can relate to the shirt quite well.
We meet at 8:00 AM, as Pete tosses a messenger bag
over his shoulder and heads out the door for work. "Karen let
me borrow this one weekend when I interviewed at a music magazine
in Philadelphia. I tried to give it back to her a dozen times, but
she never took it. I just kept it when we broke up. Is that wrong?"
Before I can even answer, Pete shrugs off the question and goes
on his way.
Once outside the door-- exchanging salutations with
Mary, an old woman in a walker waiting for her mini-bus to an adult
daycare center-- groups of women and men crowd around him. They
maintain a distance of respect, but are obviously big fans of his
work. "For some reason I have a great way of attracting dudes
who don't seem to like anybody but me. I just worry because they
like me so much," says Pete.
The ladies are another story, it seems. Pete walks
on with confidence and an oblivion to the women around him. He acts
as if he's grown out of such needs as gawking over women. "I
suppose I have, but that would make it sound like I gawked at one
time. Now it's different. I have a strong ability to attract women
in existing relationships. They're very quick to assure me that,
if single, I'd have a good chance."
The compliment does nothing to boost his self-esteem.
He cites Greg Kirschner, long-time friend and collaborator on such
adventures as Little Caesar's and Foam Soap, and his interpretation
of the words. Greg explains that second place means first loser,
so you're still at a loss. "Sometimes though, I like to think
it means that women in relationships know what counts and can tell
I have it. That's what I think when I'm feeling good anyway,"
says Pete.
And Pete feels good all the time. Just this past
year he's written two feature-length screenplays and hopes to be
"doing something" with them in the near future. He's also
maintained a good standard of living in a fairly depressed area.
The sun barely shined during my stay with Pete, but it really didn't
matter. The light of positivity from Pete was enough to brighten
the space and warm me up.
When we arrive at Pete's office, at a company that
did not sign a release to be mentioned in this piece, he was obviously
a star. He sang hellos to dozens of people and showed an interest
in all of their lives. Even more people came to him with various
questions and he had reliable answers for them all. "I don't
know what I would do without this guy. He's a lifesaver on so many
levels. Whether it's a technology problem or a home problem-- even
a fashion problem-- he's always willing to lend an ear," said
Scott Haim.
Pete had another story to tell. "I'm really
glad to help so many people, and I enjoy it a lot. Sometimes you
don't get that sense of appreciation though, ya know? Sometimes
you like to hear, 'Good job,' or 'Keep it up.' But I guess work's
not for that. Maybe the paycheck is your appreciation. Sometimes
it's not enough though," says Pete.
When lunch comes, I expect a seat at a fancy local
restaurant with white table cloths and shining silver forks. Not
Pete Phillips, though. The fame hasn't gone to his head at all.
He exploded onto the scene five years ago, but still keeps in touch
with his old life. At his apartment, we have some salad and sandwiches.
It felt strange to have my food prepared by a star, but I couldn't
rightfully stop him.
"Don't worry about it Barry. I know what it's
like to be the working man. Sometimes you have to let others do
for you, so you don't forget what it's like to have others help
you out. We all need some help once in a while. No one likes a loner,"
Pete says, placing my meal in front of me. "Whether it's baking
a cake or sending a little card in the mail, you gotta let special
people know that you care."
But it's not always so easy for Pete Phillips. Despite
his stardom and charm, there are still a few who resist joining
his force. Some days it plagues Pete, but not today. His passive
attitude keeps him very down to earth. "Maybe some people are
suspicious because I'm better than they can imagine. You know, 'too
good to be true, must not be,' which I can understand. I myself
have a hard time trusting people who don't curse or don't say bad
things about others once in a while."
Pete has cut down on the bad things about others
as of late. In his fourth year his website updates have taken a
bit of a decline. Entertaining videos will come down the line on
occasion, but the absence of written material is quite noticeable.
Casually, Pete admits that he can't be on all the time, "Even
the Beatles had time in between records."
Time is treating Pete quite well. In between his
updates he has spent more time with his wife, Trudy, and their 7-year-old
son, Leroy. My day comes to an end hearing a tale of Green Eggs
and Ham, laying on an Aerobed and sharing the room with Leroy.
Pete reads the final lines with gratitude for something a bit higher
than Sam-I-Am. "I do so like green eggs and ham. Thank you.
Thank you, Sam-I-Am."
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