Bits and Pieces: My Mother, My Brother, and Me

by Whoopi Goldberg

“What do you mean?” “Listen, I ask for a present for every film I do, something I can remember my career by,” she told me. “You’re going to put all these agents’ and managers’ kids through private high schools and the best colleges. You’re going to pay for the plastic surgery for the different faces of their various wives. Because of your career, you are going to take care of a lot of people. So ask for a nice gift in return. Don’t be piggy about it, but it’s okay to ask for it.” I listened to her, especially when she said, “A career goes up and down like this.” She waved her hand like the dips and peaks of a roller coaster. “Your career is going to be a little different because you are black. You should have something that will remind you in the hard times that you were an actor in films. Something that you can look over at and say in ten or fifteen years, ‘Yeah, I was here. I know because these guys gave me this piece of art, or this jewelry, for doing this movie.’ It doesn’t have to be something ridiculous in price. Just enough. It doesn’t hurt anybody. It comes out of their budget.” I pointed out that that might work if you’re Elizabeth Taylor. But she was right, and she fought for everything she ever got her whole career. She made it part of her contract. She gave a lot and expected something to keep. So that’s what my agents and managers did for me. I currently have my art collection and a lot of the things I have because ET told me they would be a chronicle of my ca...