Personal Profile: 6/6/96

Gillian Anderson, like most people, started her journey by being born in a hospital on August 9, 1968 in Cook County, Chicago -- The Windy City -- with large (or were those broad?) shoulders. Soon, after giving up all hope on the Chicago Bears, Black Hawks, Black -- I mean White -- Soxs, Cubs and the Bulls (Of course that was the pre Michael Jordan era) Gillian and her family headed south to the sunny beaches and hurricane-prone island of Puerto Rico. Why and where in Puerto Rico I don't know -- you'll have to ask her. I think it had something to do with a job -- which is always a nice thing to have, especially if you like eating. Although it wasn't Gillian who had the job, I think it was her father. I do believe it is illegal for a 2 year old to work, even in Puerto Rico.

After successfully avoiding a major hurricane, surviving the heat/humidity and possibly even picking up a few good dirty words in Spanish along the way, the Andersons moved to London, England. I guess they really wanted to meet the Beatles. Gillian spent the next nine years in England before returning to the States and for some unknown reason choose Grand Rapids, Michigan to call home. Of course the nine years in England weren't a total waste, even though she had bare witness to one of most horrific crimes of the century -- The Beatles broke up. God, the sorrow! God, the therapy bills (I still haven't quite recovered)! She did come back after all with a cool accent and not to mention a taste for punk music. Hey, that stuff has a way of growing on you; one day you're normal, then you put on a Sex Pistol's CD and BAM! you get a nose ring, wear combat boots, dye your hair many different colors, and walk around giving people 'the finger.' I know it happened to me once, minus the nose ring of course (okay, and the hair) but I do wear combat boots and I have been known to give 'the finger.'

In Grand Rapids, Gillian attended City High School, graduating in 1986, and like most American youth from her generation had absolutely no clue what to do with her life. Although she did say something about wanting to become something that's name ended with an "ology," i.e. Marine Biology, Archeology etc... It wasn't until after probably being really bored (come on, let's be real here, Grand Rapids isn't exactly hot spot USA) that she tried her hand at acting. Acting, in her own words, "saved her life," (yes, and that's the only quote from her in this profile but I'm sure if she ever reads this there will plenty of quotes from her -- mostly along the lines of, "Blanking bleep! Who the blank does bleeping think she blurbing is! Writing bleeping blank about me! Bleep!") and whatever other aspirations she might have had soon evaporated. So began the long and winding road (Hey, isn't that a Beatles song?) of her acting career.

First stop? You guessed it, more school. Gillian returned to where it all began -- Chicago, but a much happier Chicago. Michael Jordan now lived there. In Chicago, Gillian studied acting at DePaul University's Goodman Theater and earned a Bachelor's degree in Fine Arts. Eventually someone (an agent, but not with the FBI) noticed that she indeed could act and offered to represent her, but she would have to move to New York. Well, thanks to Henry Ford and his invention, Gillian, at the ripe old age of 22, loaded up her car and made a bee-line straight for the Big Apple -- New York City, the city that never sleeps. But I've never been there so what bleep would I know? In New York, Gillian was able to put all that education and training in acting to good use as a waitress. I think it's some kind of law Moses brought down from the mountain just for actors: Thou must wait on tables before becoming an actor (or in this case an actress, if you want to be politically correct).

Gillian's first success came in 1991 when she won a Theater World Award in an off- Broadway play, 'Absent Friends.' Followed by more waiting on tables and a low budget feature 'The Turning' -- which is a now classic by the way, even though it isn't a very good movie, it's still a classic 'cause she's in it. Gillian did one more play, 'The Philanthropist,' before doing what most theater actors say they would never do, but do anyway -- she moved to LA (It's another one of those laws that Charlton Heston, I mean Moses, brought down from the mountain... only these start out with, "I will never do.").

Ah LA, the movie Mecca of the world, home of the Lakers, Kings, Clippers, Dodgers and... hey, wait a minute! All the football teams left! Living in LA sucks -- earthquakes, smog, traffic, the LAPD, no football -- but it would especially suck if you were an actress who didn't have a job, like Gillian. So the next step in the long and winding road (there's that bleeping song again) was making an audio tape version of Anne Rice's novel Exit to Eden (I bet you thought I was going to say Interview with a Vampire). Then it was time to break another one of those "I will never do" acting rules again. This time it was the "I will never do TV" one and Gillian promptly began doing auditions. After several auditions, Gillian landed her first TV role: a guest spot on a very, very, very short-lived series, "Class of 96." It was a good thing, too, or the Fox big wigs wouldn't have anything to watch while endlessly debating if Scully should have big tits or not. Shortly thereafter or sometime soon (I'm pretty sure it's a blur to her too), her last unemployment check arrived. But it didn't matter -- because karma works -- Gillian found out that she got a new job as Special Agent Dana Scully on a new TV show, "The X-Files."

At first nobody noticed The X-Files except for people like me (who, with no social life, were stuck at home and damned in TV hell to watch Urkel for the rest of their worthless lives). Ah, but karma struck again -- this time, for me. The Fox Network slated a new show for their Friday night line up: The Adventures of Brisco County Jr. (which nobody watched, but I liked anyway) followed by The X-Files. Slowly, especially during the summer when it was rerun season and people were bored bleepless out of their minds (some even thinking about spending time with their families instead of watching TV), The X-Files started amassing a following. It started out as a cult hit -- that's what you call a show whose ratings suck but sells merchandise and has a huge internet following. The X-Files slowly made the jump from cult hit to mainstream TV when, after winning a Golden Globe for best drama series and being nominated for numerous other awards, America went on-line. Of course, two unknown actors got caught up in all this madness and became virtual Gods, I mean stars (okay, everyone get up and stop your groveling). Their names are already etched in sci-fi folklore -- see, Clyde Bruckman was right! Scully will never die.

From here everybody knows the rest, but I will go ahead and write it anyway. After a very long courtship (a whole four months), Gillian flew to Hawaii and on the 17th hole (I think it was the 17th hole) of a golf course, she married Clyde Klotz. It was New Years Day (January 1, 1994) and the ceremony was performed by a Buddhist Monk. Clyde Klotz worked as an art director for The X-Files during the first season but now works as freelance artist. Ah, but what came next was the biggest and best surprise of all -- the real reason why Scully was abducted by aliens. On September 25, 1994, Gillian gave birth to her pride and joy (no, not a Stevie Ray Van song) Piper Maru. Piper is the light in Gillian's life, the apple of her eye, and also a permanent fixture in The X-Files studio. Yeah, and they hang her next to Chris Carter's surf board and David's red speedos! I bet she even looks forward to playing the "daughter of the flukeworm" role in a future episode someday.

So finally this long and winding road brings us to the present (Yes! That dang- blasted song can finally stop playing in my head, but unfortunately another one will start soon so I should wrap this up or the new song might leads us to paths down which we don't want to go). Gillian, Clyde, Piper, Cleo and any other pet or person they may have picked up along the way currently make their home in the forever rainy but lovely city (and home to The Cunucks, just in case you were curious or thought I might not know that one -- hey, I get 'The Sporting News' and read it even) of Vancouver, British Columbia. 1996 seems to be turning into a great year for the cast, crew and production staff of The X-Files. As the show will be entering its fourth season and getting a new time slot (What, did Fox Network finally come to its senses and realize that this show might actually be good and give it a better night, or do they just hate me and want to make my life miserable by taking the only thing worth watching on Friday night and moving it to Sunday when football is on?!). But the most important thing -- awards. Well, Gillian is finally getting them and that is all that matters. This year The Screen Actors Guild (SAG) awarded The Best Actress in a Television Drama to Gillian Anderson -- and there was much rejoicing. See some of these award people do have brains (and you thought they were all mindless fools who just Christmas-treed their ballots like the people that vote for the Oscars!).

As I said, this brings us up to the present and there is no more to write because it hasn't happened yet. So I will end this profile fulfilled satisfied -- now that I have gotten it out of my system. Just in case you were wondering, the new song reeking havoc on my poor little brain is the much hated and despised song by parents from around the world, the theme from 'Barney.' So it is good a thing that this profile is over. If you have any comments, hate mail, or the name of a good shrink, please do not mail them to the poor person that printed this. It was not their fault -- I held them at gunpoint until they promised to print it. So leave them alone and mail all complaints to me, Dunny, at dunny62@hotmail.com And if by some strange and unknown reason Gillian Anderson actually read this, I've moved. Unless of course she liked it -- then and only then will I fess up and say, "Yeah, I wrote this."