My Life as a Furry Red Monster - Kevin Clash [18]
Jim had won countless Emmy awards over the years, and so had the show. Now I had one, too. When I stopped thinking of it as an individual award and started thinking of it as an award that I’d won as part of Jim’s team, I felt even happier. I couldn’t help thinking back to that night in Hollywood honoring Jim, almost three years to the day. So much had changed, but the joy of being a part of that group was intact.
Eventually, and especially after the creation of “Elmo’s World” in 1996, I turned into the Susan Lucci of the children’s television world—always nominated and never a winner after that first time. Since 1990, I had collected Emmys in the producing category, but I’d only won once for my work as a performer.
In May of 2005, I was in Negril, Jamaica, performing with Roscoe Orman (Gordon) at a beach resort on the night of the Daytime Emmy awards. Since I couldn’t be at the ceremony, I arranged for Shannon, my sister Anita, and my friend Danette De Sena (who also did casting for Sesame Street) to attend in my absence.
“It’s great just to get the nomination,” I told Shannon, bracing her for the probability that I would lose. “If I don’t win, it’s okay. You’ll all be there, celebrating the nomination together.”
Roscoe and I had just finished the show and were headed back to our rooms to rest when we bumped into our sound engineer.
“Congratulations, Kevin.”
I thought he was congratulating me for our performance, so I said, “Thanks. It was a good show. Thanks for your help.”
“I don’t work on your show.”
He must have read the question in my expression. “The Emmy. You won. I’m congratulating you on the Emmy.”
I was so busy with the show that I’d forgotten about the awards ceremony.
He pumped my hand, and Roscoe and I hugged. I started thinking about Shannon and Ne-Ne and Danette, wondering what the experience had been like for them, wishing I could have been there to share the moment. When I called my parents to tell them the news, Mom beat me to the punch. She’d seen the broadcast on television and was thrilled for me. She and Dad were also ecstatic about the fact that Shannon had been there. They’d seen her jumping up with Ne-Ne, Danette, and some of the Sesame Street gang, and my friend Emeril Lagasse had given Shannon a congratulatory hug.
“I can’t wait for Shannon to tell me all about it in person,” Mom said, reading my mind. I was so happy that I made more calls to family, friends, and colleagues. I talked for as long as I could, before I realized that Roscoe and I had dinner plans. I’m so grateful he was there to celebrate with me.
Later I remembered a conversation I’d had only a few months before with Frank Oz, during a shared cab ride. Like Jim, Frank was one of my idols, and one of the funniest men I’ve ever known, an accomplished professional with a stellar career. We had been talking about our work, about what a good life we both had, how fortunate we were to be doing something we enjoyed so much.
“You know what the best part is, Kevin? Yeah, I’ve done all these things I love, I couldn’t be happier with this as a career. But what means the most to me is what I’ve been able to do for my family as a result.”
I had only nodded in agreement then, but now I was saying to myself, “Amen to that.”
When I got back home, no one came over to my apartment to hang klieg lights, no one was wearing a ball gown or a tux, and no television cameras were there to capture the moment. But I was bursting with pride when Shannon told me about her night at the Emmys and how excited she’d been when she heard my name called.
Eventually, the award itself arrived and I pulled it out of the box. As I held it in my hands, I thought about my parents,