Are 'paying dues' a thing of the past?

Hollywood, politics: No experience necessary?

By BRIAN LOWRY

Reality star Kate Gosselin is entering uncharted waters.

Commuter-heavy California residents are being treated to a radio bombardment on behalf of gubernatorial candidate Meg Whitman, who, like the current governor, did not see any background in politics -- or apparently, even voting on a regular basis -- as a prerequisite for the state's highest office.

Without weighing the merits of the former eBay CEO's candidacy, this attitude that apprenticeships are for wimps -- unless Donald Trump chooses them -- is quintessentially in keeping with one of the Golden State's biggest and most glamorous industries.

In Hollywood, as in politics, the idea of "paying your dues" is seen as a step required only of lesser mortals. The common connection is this assumption that anybody can do it -- or at least, that on-the-job training is a perfectly reasonable expectation, even for the highest-profile positions. Those who feel stardom is rightfully theirs often frown on intermediate rungs on the ladder, preferring to jump directly to the top.

Billionaire businessman Ross Perot set the modern standard with his colorful third-party run for president in 1992, as he talked about managing government the way one would a corporation. Whitman is employing a similar philosophy -- that running eBay is adequate training for overseeing the U.S.' most populous state -- as is former Hewlett-Packard chief Carly Fiorina, preparing a possible Republican bid for one of California's Senate seats. Her website has already been lampooned -- rightfully so -- for including the phrase "Carlyfornia Dreamin,'" which sounds designed more to sell an operating system than a candidate.

This idea of equating corporate and political experience has always seemed tenuous at best. Indeed, even Arnold Schwarzenegger has regularly appeared frustrated and flummoxed by the machinations of California's near-unmanageable government, despite his frequent sloganeering about terminating its problems.

Still, once somebody becomes accustomed to starring roles -- either onscreen or in the boardroom -- cutting teeth in the state senate, on city councils or even as a mayor doesn't appear especially inviting. And given that a wealthy candidate like Whitman has the advantage of throwing her own money into helping pay for all those radio spots, she has a ready line tapping into the mother's milk of politics.

Many dreaming of breaking into showbiz employ a similar strategy, and not just the rich who experience an itch to make movies -- and usually wind up getting fleeced. Go to any producer "boot camp" event and there's a steady stream of people eager to create their own series, wanting to leap straight to executive producer status as opposed to working their way up.

Reality TV, meanwhile, has minted an entire class of the newly famous who have managed to extend their 15 minutes of fame, from "Jon and Kate Plus 8's" Kate Gosselin -- whose existence now relies on her TV celebrity, despite the loss of her husband and ampersand -- to Elisabeth Hasselback, who parlayed a stint on "Survivor" into her co-hosting role on ABC's "The View."

Established luminaries in other spheres, moreover, are regularly afforded the opportunity to try their hand at acting or broadcasting, whether it's NBA stars like Michael Jordan and Shaquille O'Neal, or gridiron heroes from "Brothers" star Michael Strahan today back to Don Meredith and O.J. Simpson. And just as fame means bypassing method acting classes or the equivalent of out-of-town tryouts, football player Tiki Barber and former first daughter Jenna Bush Hager skipped the customary small-town TV station gigs before graduating to correspondent spots on NBC's "Today."

Frankly, those who have put years into the trade ought to be a trifle insulted by this. Baseball players don't expect to go directly from pickup games at the local park to hitting major-league curveballs, but in politics and showbiz, novices think nothing of facing off with opposition party leaders or treading the boards with Pacino and Streep.

It also remains a particular mystery why anybody would covet higher office in California -- a place where the term "putting out fires" has taken on a distressingly literal bent.

Yet in a state where action heroes can become policymakers and disgraced politicians find second acts as reality stars, supporting roles don't hold much luster. They don't call it "political theater" for nothing, after all, and even in the circus, everyone longs for their moment in the center tent.