'I Was An Extra On Law & Order!' by Leslie Gray Streeter Palm Beach Post Online December 3, 2003 Credit goes to Liz for finding this! [clipped for relevant Elisabeth parts] 8:20 a.m. Welcome to the big time. Now sit there, shut up and stay awake. Wrangler Red asks first the jury members and then the folks in the gallery to follow him onto the show's courtroom set, which looks almost exactly the way it does on TV, except much smaller. We're told to take our seats and to refrain from talking. I'm shown to the front bench behind the prosecution table, where Sam Waterston and Elisabeth Rohm's stand-ins are sitting. Besides the stand-ins, who are the same hair color and wearing the same color as their famous counterparts for lighting reasons, I notice a few other examples of TV magic: The painting that appears on-screen behind the jury box is, at least for now, missing -- there's just a white panel. There are microphones and extra people just off camera. And the light that appears to be streaming in behind the judge's bench is actually a large light shining in through the fake window. Soon the stand-ins leave, to be replaced by the stars. Character actress Roma Mafia -- you might recognize her from FX's Nip/Tuck -- is playing the defense attorney on today's show. Sam Waterston, who plays prosecutor Jack McCoy, and Elisabeth Rohm, who plays Assistant District Attorney Serena Southerlyn, enter the room. Waterston's much cuter in person, and Rohm's wearing a killer pair of higher-than-high heels. As someone fixes her hair, she and Roma Mafia commiserate on the difficulties of finding good shoes in a size 9 or 10. I feel her pain and want to chime in, but remember that we're not supposed to speak unless spoken to. I'm also a little nervous about Rohm, because a couple of months ago I wrote that I didn't much appreciate her contributions as an assistant D.A. I wonder whether she saw the article. She really has gotten better, and she does seem nice. I'm just hoping she doesn't turn around and pop me one. They rehearse the scene -- a lot. Repetition is a fact of life on a television set. If somebody flubs a line or the director doesn't like the take, you've gotta start it all over again. Waterston catches a jury member yawning and sweetly but firmly explains that, while he appreciates how tedious the day is going to be, it's imperative that they stay do their best to stay awake. The juror in question perks right up. Someone yells, "Action!" I start scribbling in my pad, because that's what an obviously dedicated and experienced court reporter like Candis Heiland would do. I actually covered court back in my days as a news reporter, so I know the trick is to catch as much detail as possible and not let anybody catch you yawning -- especially Sam Waterston. "Hey, you look like a real reporter!" says an extra who's sitting next to me on the bench, watching me taking notes. Tee hee. 10:55 a.m. The waiting is the hardest part. Several hours later, I know the attorneys' opening statements so well that I could deliver them. And my butt is beginning not to enjoy this hard wooden courthouse bench. But as monotonous as this is, I'm having fun watching Waterston and Mafia get better with each take. We take a break, and the extras are herded back to the holding area. I scoot back to grab my spot on the couch before someone else takes it. But I'm there for only a few minutes when Audrey Davis, one of the show's publicists, tells me that Rohm has a few minutes to talk to me. Psyched but nervous, I'm led to a small and cozy dressing room where Lis, as she's called, is waiting with Venus, her new Doberman. Not only does Rohm not sic Venus on me, but she's amazingly nice. If she's read my story, in which I called her character ill-defined and vague, she doesn't mention it. She does say that she takes all of her bad press "with a grain of salt." Actually, Rohm says that her character was intentionally introduced as a blank slate, "because we wanted to create a situation where (Jack McCoy) was the mentor. (Eventually) they've begun to butt up against each other. Serena was a kid, and now she's an adult." She adds, "I think I'm more popular than I was last year." A former cast member on the WB show Angel, Rohm has been a part of two shows with major fan bases. But she swears she never gets mobbed by fans -- "I'm very private, and I probably don't give the impression that you can. I wish they would! I love to hear that what I do counts. We all need that kind of validation." We chat about her background (born in Germany and raised in New York, she has dual citizenship); her singing lessons and aspirations to do more theater; how she feels about her co-workers ("I love Sam Waterston"); and how even successful actors still get star-struck ("I almost choked when I met Sidney Poitier"). I get up to leave, but not before having a heart-to-heart with the very friendly Venus, who licks my face and leaves a slobber spot on my shirt. The publicist quickly dabs the spot with water, and it dries right up. Lis apologizes profusely, but I don't mind. I figure Venus was just acting in retaliation for those mean things I wrote about her beloved owner. We're even. 12:40 p.m. My brush with greatness. We're herded back onto the jury set. I'm starting to get hungry. They put cookies out in the extra holding area, but no hot food. And I'm told this is as good as it gets. Sue tells me other shows she's worked on feed their extras better -- "On Third Watch, they've got hot biscuits!" Fortunately, we're starting a new scene, which means a different camera angle. Which means... "You're on camera!" Lis Rohm whispers to me. Yikes! I'm suddenly paranoid. Do I look all right? Is my Afro crooked? Am I going to do anything that requires the director cutting my weird-looking self out of the scene? I take a deep breath and go back to my fake note-taking. I'm enjoying this episode, which has something to do with a surrogate mother, a rich couple and, as always, a dead guy. I won't reveal the whole plot, but there's a doozy of a plot twist that's revealed in one of the scenes I was in. I won't say what it is. But it's good. So far I've been intentionally vague with the other extras about why I'm there. But I'm outed as a reporter when someone from the show's public relations department comes to take a picture of me and my new friend Lis Rohm, who taps Waterston on the shoulder and tells him I'm a reporter. "Oh, so you're the infiltrator!" he says, grinning and shaking my hand in his very firm grip. "I heard about you!" Breathe, Leslie. Breeeeathe. I tell him I'm from West Palm Beach, and Waterston tells a funny story about his uncle, who used to live here, playing piano in the lobby of The Breakers, even though he was neither the piano player nor a guest. I decide at that moment that he's my new Law &Order crush, and not Jerry Orbach, who plays Detective Lennie Briscoe. I'm sure this will come as a great shock to Mr. Orbach, who has no clue who I am. Waterston is not only a powerful storyteller and a firm hand-shaker, but also a gentleman. When Juandra, one of my fellow extras, starts coughing uncontrollably in the middle of a scene, he says, "Someone help this poor woman!" which gets Roma Mafia to offer Juandra her bottle of water. "I thought I was gonna lose my mind! I was trying to muffle it," Juandra says later. 2:55 p.m. Now it's time to say goodbye... Back on the set, we sit some more. My feet are falling asleep, and I can't shake them, lest I draw attention to myself and get moved to a less-visible spot. I've seen a couple of other extras be shuffled around today, and I'm determined to stay on the first row or pout trying. In front of me, Waterston munches a cookie before proceeding with a new scene. He's so adorable. He's also... blocking my shot! Arrgh! They shoot some more, and about 15 minutes later, the director announces that Lis Rohm is leaving for the day. Everyone claps. The extras are again sent back to the holding area, where Red tells us they might be shooting the gallery section of the courtroom again... or not. I take the opportunity to visit with a cute stand-in named Terence, who'd recently worked as a stand-in for a British actor named Linus Roache on a Julianne Moore movie called The Forgotten. Terence used to be a trader on Wall Street but is now "doing the things that make me happy," like acting. Terence is higher up on the extra totem pole, because he's in SAG, but like the others, he says he's waiting for his big break -- "You won't see me do much more extra work." You won't see me doing any more extra work either, because at 4 p.m., Red announces that non-SAG folks are done for the day. I'm pleased not to be sitting any more but bummed to be ending my brief time as an actor. I'm also apparently so punchy that I accidentally turn in someone else's paperwork. I need a nap. Before leaving, I find out that, sadly, the digital picture taken of Lis and me didn't turn out. But one of the PR guys takes my picture in the hallway, in front of a sign with the familiar red-and-blue Law & Order sign. Later, in my hotel room, I have the surreal experience of watching an episode of L&O -- not the one I've just shot, of course. I see some of the same people I had just worked with, including Sam Waterston and Lis Rohm. It's weird seeing how different the courtroom scenes look now that I've seen how much goes into shooting them. But I'm even more excited by a glimpse of one of the bailiffs, whom I saw earlier on the set. And that guy in the front row scribbling in the pad... he's a reporter! This gives me extra hope that I'll be on TV and that the people who are gathering at my home tonight to watch won't nudge me and say, "You got cut, you loser!" To me, however, I might be a loser with no screen time, but I'll always be Candis Heiland, court reporter extraordinaire This article is the intellectual property of the Palm Beach Post and its author. It is transcribed simply for fan purposes. No copyright infringement is intended. :: Back up ::       2008 Rohm with a View. Rohm with a View (lis-rohm.net) is an independent publication and is not endorsed by Elisabeth Rohm, her management or any related companies. Opinions expressed here are not necessarily those of Elisabeth Rohm or her management.