THE GREATEST HOLLYWOOD MEMOIR EVER WRITTEN:

Lowe never made it as far as Cruise, but he was right there beside dozens of figures who helped define our culture. Through his stepfather he was invited onto the set, in 1976, to watch an effects sequence from a movie he was told was going to be some sort of “Western in space” — Star Wars. He rode a plane — Flight 77 from Dulles to LAX — with the 9/11 terrorists who used that trip as a dry run two weeks before they hijacked the same flight. Less momentous, he once saw Chris Farley eat two giant porterhouse steaks for dinner, placing an entire pat of butter on each bite. One of the first friends Lowe made when, as an adolescent, his mom moved them from Ohio to Malibu (then peopled by middle-class hippies and surfers) was Emilio Estevez, whose dad was off in the Philippines shooting a Vietnam movie. Lowe first met Emilio’s dad, Martin Sheen, on a Halloween night when the old man jumped out of the bushes, Captain Willard–like, in full camouflage gear, brandishing a baseball bat and issuing crazy threats. It was pure coincidence that Sheen would later be hired to play the president beside Lowe on The West Wing.

That show had a cultural impact, just as Lowe’s early efforts did. He points out that The Outsiders (1983) not only kicked off a new genre of all-teen movies after a decade in which young people were largely relegated to background parts but provided a raft of new male pinups to star in them: Matt Dillon (who was already somewhat established) plus then-unknowns C. Thomas Howell, Patrick Swayze, Ralph Macchio, Estevez, Cruise, and Lowe. Proud of his efforts in that film (even though his climactic scene at the very end was simply cut out), Lowe nevertheless has a knack for undercutting showbiz hype with dry wit. And he’s well aware of how fortunate he has been. Auditioning for Class, Lowe had to win the part over another hopeful:

My competition is an actor who is one of those guys who gets white-hot overnight and is in the mix on a number of big films. He has everyone in Hollywood talking, and I just hope he doesn’t get this one. His name is Raphael Sbarge.

But I haven’t gotten to the most important aspect of the book: how Lowe learned to be a man, a husband, a father — a person as opposed to a celebrity. He was presented with more temptations than most of us can imagine, allowed himself to be led down a path of self-destruction that proved irresistible to many of his contemporaries, then found a way back. Once a pretty boy/party boy, he became a grounded family man of deep commitment and contentment, a process that required a personality overhaul. That story is worth a column in itself, so I’ll get to it in a follow-up piece.

Read the whole thing.