You Never Know: A Memoir

by Tom Selleck

His current hit was Battlestar Galactica. A kind way to put it was that the show was derivative of Star Wars. He’d also done Alias Smith and Jones, which was derivative of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. I dutifully read the script. My role was Harry Magnum. Between that name and the title, one could say that Glen’s latest idea was derivative of Clint Eastwood’s Harry Callahan in Magnum Force. Except it wasn’t that. It was more James Bond–ish. It’s hard to explain, but the whole story seemed to be watching itself. Harry Magnum owned a Ferrari and had a stewardess on each arm, and there were also a couple of Dobermans. There were lots of explosions but not a flaw to be found in Harry Magnum. For someone who would be happy channeling Murray Burns in A Thousand Clowns, this was a problem. “So, Bettye,” I said, “I read the script.” “And . . . ?” “I don’t like it.” If you added the circumstances under which it came to me, I hated it. “This isn’t right,” I said. “I won’t do it.” And I meant it.