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| Jeffrey Boam |
By DONALD PORTER
Standard-Examiner staff
BURBANK. Calif. -- Mel Gibson and Danny Glover are standing in the corner, alongside Dennis Quaid. A set of still photos chronicling the demolition of a house in the movie "Lethal Weapon 2" is framed on the wall next to the actors, and bears the handwritten inscription: "Jeff, we did it. Next time, go easy. Love ya, Donner."
Jeffrey Boam sits in the opposite corner of the room, which happens to be his office, ignoring Mel, Danny and Dennis because they are made out of cardboard; the life-size figures are theater lobby advertisements for two of the movies he's written. And the set of framed stills is a gift from "Lethal Weapon 2" director Richard Donner.
You wouldn't be alone if you admjtted Jeffrey Boam's name doesn't ring a bell. But if you go to movies. you've probably seen it on the screen. Boam's job is done behind the camera, off the set, in an office at his home. It's where the 41-year-old screenwriter has penned such familiar movies as "The Dead Zone," "lnnerspace," "Funny Farm," "The Lost Boys," "Lethal Weapon 2" and "Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade."
I interviewed Bill Murray at the University Park Hotel in Salt Lake City. When I arrived in the lobby a few minutes early, I sat on a chair and opened my notebook to jot down a few topics I wanted to discuss when I was summoned upstairs; I was the first interviewer of the morning, with Chris Hicks (Deseret News) and Terry Orme (Salt Lake Tribune) to follow. After only a minute or two, I heard some one saying loudly, "Don Porter. Calling Don Porter. Don Porter, please report to (whatever floor it was)." It was Bill Murray standing at an upstairs railing. Apparently he got such a kick out of it, Chris and Terry told me he did the same thing with them.
By DONALD PORTER
Standard· Examiner staff
SALT LAKE CITY -- It's 10 a.m. and the first thing Bill Murray does is apologize that he hasn't been awake long enough to clear the cobwebs from his brain.
He ambles up the hotel hallway, baseball cap on his head, wearing a windbreaker, jeans and loafers. He extends his hand, looking straight into his visitor's eyes and leads the way to his suite. In desperate need of a shave, he dispatches his minions to score a razor. Something double-bladed, preferably.
Shortly thereafter, a photographer appears. Murray responds with dismay. "God," he exclaims, "I hate to have my picture taken." Immediately, he's up off the couch, searching through his luggage and eventually pulling a dark-colored sweater on over his white shirt. "Nobody told me I was going to have to get dressed for this interview."
