Table of Contents
Summary of the Book
Sylvester Stallone had $106 in the bank when producers offered him $360,000 for the screenplay to Rocky.
They wanted the movie. They just didn't want him starring in it. He refused.
At that point in his life, Stallone had spent years living in awful apartments, working jobs he didn't enjoy, and trying to convince agents to give him a chance. $360,000 in 1975 was an enormous amount of money. The average home in Los Angeles County cost about $40,000.
But Stallone believed he should play Rocky Balboa, and he was willing to lose the deal.
I knew parts of story before reading The Steps. I didn't know all of the details, which is partly why I wanted to read the book.
Stallone grew up in a violent household. His father beat him, and his mother told him things no child should ever hear. An injury during his birth left him with the distinctive face and speech that later became part of his identity. As a young actor, those same characteristics were reasons people gave for refusing to hire him.
He worked cleaning lion cages at the Central Park Zoo. He worked in a deli and as an usher in a movie theater. He lived in apartments so small and unpleasant that he sometimes had to find creative ways to make them tolerable.
He also spent about a week and a half in a New York jail called the Tombs after an altercation while working at the deli.
The book follows him through those years, including the many screenplays he wrote before anyone was interested in producing his work.
When he finally wrote Rocky, the first draft took approximately three days. But the character wasn't right. Rocky wasn't particularly likable, and Stallone kept revising the screenplay until he created someone audiences would want to root for.
The movie became the highest-grossing film of 1976 and won the Academy Award for Best Picture.
It's quite a story, of course, but that is not what interested me. I found myself more interested in the deli, the agents, the cockroaches, and the hours he spent studying movies than in the night he won the Oscar.
Why I Read the Book
I'm 51 years old. I grew up watching Rocky and Rambo, and I've always liked Sylvester Stallone.
There's also a personal connection. I went to high school with his son Sage. We were friendly for a little while, and I was saddened when I learned of his passing.
I enjoy autobiographies, especially when the author spends time on the years before becoming successful. I've read Kevin Hart, Will Smith, Dave Grohl, Matthew McConaughey, and plenty of others.
I teach through lived experience, so I'm interested in how other people describe theirs.
I went through a federal investigation, was convicted of a crime, and surrendered to Taft Federal Prison Camp in April 2008. I came home in May 2009 with a book I'd written called Lessons From Prison.
I thought the book could help people preparing for sentencing or prison.
The problem was finding someone willing to read it.
I began walking into law firms with copies. I'd introduce myself, tell the receptionist I'd served time in federal prison, and ask whether an attorney might be interested in my book.
Sometimes I'd get a polite response. Other times it was obvious the person wanted me to leave.
I didn't know which offices might eventually lead to business. I had to keep introducing myself.
When Stallone described what he did after finishing his shift at the deli, I immediately remembered those visits (more later in report!).
What I Learned From the Book
The childhood he survived
Stallone describes his mother telling him that she wished a coat hanger had been more effective or that falling down the stairs had accomplished what she wanted.
Imagine hearing that from your mother.
His father was physically abusive, too. The family lived in difficult circumstances, and Stallone grew up with very little encouragement.
One account of his childhood describes a small apartment in Hell's Kitchen where the family put a piece of plywood over the bathtub so it could serve as a dining table.
I had a hard time imagining what it must have been like to grow up that way.
Stallone believes his childhood contributed to his determination to succeed. He wanted to prove people wrong, including his parents. You can infer if not for that upbringing he would not have made it, had the success he had.
As I read the book in Barnes and Nobles in Calabasas earlier this month, I couldn't help but wonder how someone could be treated so terribly, especially a child. I presumed in some ways his treatment mirrored the upbringing of people I served time with a long time ago.
What I appreciated was his willingness to discuss it in detail, including things that must have been painful to revisit.
I thought about my own reluctance to discuss the conduct that led to my conviction.
For a long time, I was more comfortable discussing the circumstances surrounding my crime than describing what I did.
I attended a meeting where people were considering an investment, and I kept my mouth shut when I should have spoken. I worked with colleagues to protect commissions. Later, I lied to the FBI.
When I first began writing about my case, I didn't always describe them as clearly as I do today. I spent too much time on the people around me.
I eventually became more comfortable discussing the ugly parts of my story, even though it still feels odd talking about such failures.
Stallone's willingness to describe his childhood reminded me how much more interesting and useful a story becomes when the author goes all in, holds nothing back. Defendants would be wise to follow his lead.
Six p.m. to 2 a.m.
Stallone wanted to become an actor, but he needed money to live.
He found a job at a deli where he could work from approximately 6 p.m. until 2 a.m.
Those hours allowed him to pursue his goal of meeting agents: he wanted to meet one a day.
I loved that part of the book. He'd finish working at the deli, rest, then find an agent's office, and walk in with his headshot. Sometimes he was rejected immediately. Other times someone might talk to him for a few minutes.
He kept doing it.
I recently read Raj Shamani's Build, Don't Talk. Raj described his own commitment to cultivating one new contact every day.
I found it interesting that two people working in completely different industries had adopted such similar habits.
I remember walking into law firms after prison and realizing that the receptionist had no idea what to do with me. I wasn't an attorney and I wasn't there to hire an attorney. I was a convicted felon carrying a book I'd written in prison.
I'd ask whether someone might be willing to read it.
At first, I probably spent too much time telling people about my experiences. Over time, I learned to pay closer attention to what the attorney wanted to know.
Some wanted information about prison conditions. Others had clients preparing to surrender and wanted to understand what those clients might experience.
Those conversations helped me understand where my experience could be useful.
I still think about that when someone tells me they're coming home from prison and can't find work.
One man might spend all afternoon submitting applications without speaking to a single employer. Another might call someone working in an industry he's interested in and ask what qualifications he needs.
I understand the fear of rejection, but knew I had to try. In a small way, this part of the book reinforced that I did it the right way, as best I could. In sum, I didn't quit, as hard as it was.
Woody Allen wouldn't look at him
Stallone tells a story about an audition involving Woody Allen.
He showed up hoping to get a part, but he was told he didn't look tough enough. According to Stallone's account, Allen wouldn't even look him in the eye.
Stallone left, went to a store, changed his appearance, and slicked back his hair.
Then he returned looking considerably more intimidating.
He frightened Allen and got the part. The takeaway is he did not just move on, he took another approach, which is what people in crisis must do. Try something, test it, try again, test it. See what works.
Another example he describes another audition where he was told he didn't have the right appearance. He insisted he was right for the role and asked for another chance to audition.
He literally left the room, stopped, walked back in and told them he wanted to do it again. I admire the resolve, he got the role.
In many ways he reminds me of some friends who were pro baseball players. Some would never take a day off, let alone a week to recover. When I asked why they would say, "I do not want to look back on this time with regret, say I did not give everything. This is my window."
Stallone heard that he didn't look right for a part, went out, changed his appearance, and returned. He always gave 100%, no matter what.
Twelve cockroaches in the toilet
This may have been my favorite story in the entire book.
Stallone had been living in a building where he shared a bathroom with approximately ten people.
He eventually moved into a motel infested with cockroaches. He convinced the landlord to take less so he could move in.
He describes walking into the bathroom and seeing about twelve cockroaches in the toilet.
Twelve.
And he thought the place was wonderful.
He finally had his own bathroom and Stallone was thrilled, grateful, called it is his palace. He was always grateful...
I can have a great month in business and spend too much time thinking about one thing that went wrong.
Seventeen years ago, I was walking into law firms hoping someone would read my book. I didn't know whether I could build a career after prison.
Today I have a business and opportunities I couldn't have imagined then.
Sometimes I need a reminder of how fortunate I am.
Apparently, Stallone needed only a private bathroom, even if it came with twelve cockroaches and somehow not complaining that he showered with clothes on, because he could not finding joy that he was forced to shower with clothes on, because he could not afford to go to the laundry mat.
His education at the movie theater
Stallone worked as an usher at the Baronet and Coronet Theatre in New York.
He could have spent his shifts waiting for the movies to end.
Instead, he watched them closely, learned, more from the bad movies than the good ones. He studied the dialogue, the actors, and how directors constructed scenes.
He even brought a tape recorder into the theater so he could listen to dialogue again and again and again: he was immersed in learning, as you must be, as I was in prison.
Consider the movies he was watching during that period: MASH, Love Story, Billy Jack, The French Connection, and Patton.
He was getting an education while working as an usher.
One story associated with those years involves Francis Ford Coppola.
Stallone witnessed Coppola's disappointment following a screening of The Rain People, a film that failed to attract the response the director had hoped for.
Coppola was devastated.
A couple of years later, Coppola directed The Godfather.
I found that story fascinating because Stallone wasn't yet a successful actor watching another famous director struggle. He was an usher who wanted to work in movies, watching a filmmaker experience a painful disappointment.
Years later, both men would be associated with some of the most recognizable films ever made.
Stallone was also writing constantly.
At one point, he used an old record-album cover as a makeshift desk while working on screenplays.
I loved that image.
He's living in a miserable apartment, doesn't have a proper place to write, and uses whatever he can find. He always found the good. No complaining.
I've thought about my time at Taft when reading these stories.
Michael Santos encouraged me to read, write, and document my experiences while I was in prison.
I began doing that, and eventually I had material I could use when I came home.
I didn't know that writing about prison would become part of my career. I certainly didn't know that I'd eventually build White Collar Advice.
I was learning how to write by writing.
I also remember people in prison who spent their time studying subjects they hoped to pursue after release. Others talked about writing books or learning something new but never began.
Stallone didn't wait until someone hired him as an actor to begin studying acting.
He was learning while selling tickets and cleaning up after moviegoers.
That detail meant more to me than almost anything he wrote about becoming famous, etc.
Edgar Allan Poe and the bookstore
Stallone was also an enthusiastic reader.
He spent time in bookstores reading material he couldn't always afford to buy. He became particularly interested in Edgar Allan Poe and the way Poe wrote about fear, obsession, and troubled characters.
I enjoyed learning that Stallone had such an affection for Poe. I know nothing about Poe but plan to study his wiki page.
When people think about Stallone, they probably picture Rocky running through Philadelphia or Rambo carrying a weapon.
I didn't picture him standing in a bookstore reading Poe.
I was reminded of Walter Isaacson's biography of Elon Musk. Musk read constantly when he was young, particularly science fiction and books about science and technology.
There are plenty of things about Musk that people can criticize, but his interest in reading and learning is something I've always admired.
Stallone's education didn't come exclusively from a classroom. Much of it came from watching films and reading books while trying to support himself.
I wish I'd approached my three years under federal investigation that way.
I spent too much time worrying about sentencing and too little time studying the system I was about to enter.
By the time I surrendered, I'd wasted years when I could have been writing and preparing.
A week and a half in the Tombs
Stallone describes an incident at the deli involving a confrontation with a man connected to a trash company.
The argument escalated. Stallone was accused of threatening the man with a meat tenderizer and a knife.
He ended up in the Manhattan House of Detention, known as the Tombs, where he spent roughly a week and a half.
The conditions were frightening. The jail was overcrowded, filthy, and violent. He describes the experience as a wake-up call.
I was particularly interested in that part of the book because I've spent time in federal prison and have spoken with thousands of people who have been incarcerated.
People sometimes describe a brief period in jail as though it automatically changes someone's life.
I don't believe incarceration works that way.
I've known people who served years in prison and came home making the same decisions that led to their convictions. I've also known people who used their time inside to reconsider how they wanted to live.
Stallone describes how his time in the Tombs affected him. He wanted to avoid returning.
When I was at Taft, I had to confront decisions I'd spent years excusing. Prison didn't magically fix those problems. I had to work on them.
I wrote about my crime, read books, and spent time speaking with people who helped me get better.
I was interested in hearing Stallone describe what happened in the Tombs because he didn't pretend it was a pleasant experience.
It frightened him. And he remembered it.
The screenplay he sold for $100
Before Rocky, Stallone sold a screenplay for approximately $100.
He later regretted the decision.
He'd spent time creating something, and once he sold it, he no longer controlled what happened to it.
I found that story especially interesting because of what happened when producers later wanted to buy Rocky.
This time, Stallone had a condition, he wanted to play the lead.
The producers initially offered him $60,000 for the screenplay. Then $75,000. Then $160,000. Eventually the offer reached $360,000.
They still didn't want him starring in the film.
He walked away.
I can understand why the producers were reluctant. They were investing money in a movie, and Stallone wasn't an established leading man.
I also understand why he wanted the role.
He'd spent years being told that his face and voice made him unsuitable for acting.
He had written a character who was overlooked, underestimated, and desperate for a chance.
Who better understood Rocky Balboa than the person who created him?
There's another detail about the screenplay that I found interesting.
Stallone wrote the first draft in about three days, but Rocky wasn't yet the character audiences came to love.
He had to keep working on him.
The early version didn't have the warmth or decency that eventually made Rocky appealing. Stallone revised the character rather than assuming his first attempt was good enough.
I've seen something similar happen when people write sentencing narratives.
A person may produce twenty pages describing what happened in their case. They include their childhood, career, family, and circumstances surrounding the offense.
But after reading it, I may still not understand what they did or why they made those decisions.
I've written drafts like that myself.
When I started writing, I had to become more specific about the investors, the meetings, and my behavior: all the bad stuff I did.
Stallone went back and changed Rocky until he became someone audiences could understand.
That took more work than writing the first draft, which proves good writing is good editing and the earlier you start the better...
The face and voice nobody wanted
Stallone's facial appearance and distinctive speech came from an injury during his birth.
Agents and casting directors told him those characteristics were problems.
They didn't think he looked or sounded like a leading man.
Then Rocky became a hit, and those same characteristics became inseparable from the character.
I thought about that when I remembered how frightened I was of discussing my felony conviction after coming home from prison.
I knew employers and other people might judge me because of it.
I couldn't change my criminal record.
When I began visiting law firms, I had to introduce myself as someone who had served time in federal prison.
It wasn't fun, I hated rejection, but the experience was directly relevant to the work I wanted to do.
I don't want to compare a birth injury with a criminal conviction. Stallone didn't choose his injury. I made decisions that led to mine.
But his story reminded me of the years I spent worrying about how people would react to my past.
Eventually, I had to embrace it, talk about it, own it...
How This Book Will Help Me Moving Forward
The image I keep returning to is Stallone leaving the deli, then walking into agent's offices. He didn't know whether anyone would meet with him.
He was probably tired from working all morning. He didn't have much money. Most agents had already told him no. But he went anyway.
I remember walking into law firms after prison with Lessons From Prison and hoping someone would take a few minutes to hear what I had to say.
Stallone's years at the movie theater also made an impression on me. I particularly enjoyed the story about Coppola's failed screening, knowing that The Godfather was still ahead of him.
I think about the videos I've filmed that attracted almost no attention. I've put hours into some of them.
Sometimes I thought a video would be excellent, and hardly anyone watched.
I can study the opening, the title, and the way I told the story. I can ask someone why they stopped watching.
That's more useful than spending the afternoon complaining about the number of views.
I also want to keep reading and writing.
Stallone was reading Edgar Allan Poe and studying films while trying to become an actor. I was introduced to reading and writing habits in prison, and those habits eventually helped me build my career.
I wish I'd started earlier.
I've also been thinking about the twelve cockroaches in the toilet.
I told my family that story because it teaches perspective. Stallone had so little that a motel bathroom full of cockroaches felt like an improvement.
I have a good life today. I sometimes forget how uncertain everything felt when I came home from prison in 2009.
I want to appreciate that more.
And then there's the decision to turn down $360,000.
I wouldn't encourage someone to turn down a substantial offer simply because Stallone did. He took an enormous risk, and it happened to work out.
I enjoyed learning what he had done before the offer arrived.
He'd worked at the zoo, the deli, and the movie theater. He'd written screenplays that went nowhere. He'd been rejected by agents who didn't like his face or voice. He'd lived in apartments with cockroaches and studied movies using a tape recorder.
He had years of work behind him when he walked into that meeting with the producers.
I spent too much time during my own investigation waiting for a better outcome without doing enough to prepare for what might happen.
I can't change those years.
Today, when someone facing sentencing tells me they're waiting for the judge to decide what happens next, I think about the work I wish I'd done before I surrendered.
I could have been writing about my case, studying what I was about to experience, and developing material that might help me.
None of that would have guaranteed a different sentence, but I would have entered sentencing and prison stronger, in many, many ways.
In sum, I recommend the book.
Justin Paperny
Written by
Justin Paperny
Founder White Collar Advice
