An Unlikely Duo: How a Legendary Actor and a Determined Young Dreamer Changed Each Other’s Lives
On my 24th birthday, August 31, 2011, I moved to New York City with no job, no college degree, one suitcase, staying at my buddy’s apartment in Brooklyn, with a dream of living in the big city. I had started a video production company in Hilton Head and thought, “Why don’t I try a little bit of the same here?” Those first couple of weeks, I cold-called hundreds of boat captains in Sheepshead Bay, retail stores, young business owners — anyone who might need a marketing video. But nobody said yes. Nobody returned my calls.
The city seemed vast and unyielding, but I was determined to find my place in it.
One day, while bicycling through Times Square, I decided I wanted to be an actor. I called my dad and asked for advice, and although he didn’t quite know how to process that, he called me back a few days later with a lead. He had Tony Lo Bianco’s business card from meeting him at the Thurman Munson Awards charity dinner years prior. He suggested I give Tony a call to ask questions about the business of acting. Googling Tony Lo Bianco, I saw his legendary career and felt a mix of awe and intimidation. Nervously, I dialed his number.
I was stunned when Tony answered and invited me over. So, on Friday, September 30, 2011, I biked from Williamsburg, Brooklyn, over the Williamsburg Bridge, up to Tony’s penthouse on Central Park West, dressed in a pink polo, khaki shorts and rainbow sandals; fresh off the boat from Hilton Head Island. I showed up with a yellow legal pad filled with questions about acting.
The grandeur of his penthouse overlooking the Jackie Kennedy Reservoir was overwhelming. Tony welcomed me in, saw the paper and said, “Don’t be silly. Put that piece of paper away. We don’t need those.” I was taken aback but intrigued by his casual dismissal of my meticulously prepared questions. But quickly realized he was a man that valued depth over formality.
Tony picked up a rock from the window sill and handed it to me as we sat on the couch. He said, “Ask this rock a question.” Perplexed, I asked, “Hey, rock, how’d you get here?” “How old are you, rock?” He replied, “What do you imagine this rock has seen in its lifetime?”
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We went back and forth, asking the rock questions for a very long time, Tony teaching me to inquire deeper and deeper. Tony was observing and learning about me by the way I asked questions to that rock. He saw my curiosity, creativity and thought processes through this simple, yet profound exercise.
We ended up hanging out for eight hours that day, drinking two bottles of wine, having two separate servings of pasta and missing six phone calls from my dad. (Dad was anxious that he sent his only child to hang out with someone the Hollywood Reporter said, “oozed criminal charm.” Hah.)
Tony and I didn’t talk about acting once. We just talked about life.
As I was leaving, Tony asked, “Chris, what are you doing for money next week?” I had been striking out with my video production efforts and didn’t have a good answer. Tony offered me some odd jobs around the house. That next Monday, I started my first job in New York City, doing simple tasks like cleaning script closets, organizing his phone book, getting email addresses from people and driving him to charity events.
Tony didn’t need the work done; he was looking for connection — and so was I.
These humble tasks were a pretext for the real work: building a profound, intergenerational friendship and becoming wonderful producing partners.
We’d go on to spend 12-14 hours together every day, six days a week, for the next five years, traveling around the country and putting on wonderful theatrical productions. Through countless hours of shared activities and experiences, we created a bond that transcended age and background.
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Tony, a 74-year-old legend, saw part of himself in me, a 24-year-old newcomer…just beginning.
Through our time together, he poured a lifetime of wisdom, perspective, pressure and challenge into me. He saw potential in me and took it upon himself to mold that potential into something extraordinary.
By the time I left working for Tony five years later, I was a different man, both professionally and personally. I learned how to walk, talk, think and negotiate like a New Yorker, directly from a Brooklyn tough guy and star of Academy Award-winning films. Tony’s commitment to his craft became my own as I embarked on my entrepreneurial journey, taking his energy and pursuit of excellence with me. From a naive young man with big dreams, I grew into a confident, driven individual, ready to take on the challenges of the city. Tony’s mentorship was not just about professional development; it was about becoming a better, more authentic version of myself.
The world needs more of this type of mentorship and connection — lessons from the past that continue to inspire and transform lives. Tony’s vehicle was acting; mine is speaking and facilitating, but our goals are the same: to bring people together and create a genuine sense of belonging.
It’s unclear who got more out of the relationship, him or me.
But what is clear is the positive impact we obsessed over bringing to the world, each and every day. Together.
Our story is a testament to the power of inquiry, the importance of human connection and the transformative potential of intergenerational mentorship. It’s a reminder that sometimes, the most impactful relationships are the ones we least expect, but they shape us in ways we could never have imagined.
For all of you creative leaders out there, I invite you to pursue the same:
- Seek and offer mentorship.
- Cultivate curiosity.
- Live authentically and passionately.
Years from now, as Tony has recently passed away, I hope someday, someone will say, “What this city needs is another Tony Lo Bianco!”