The Academy Follow We are The Academy of Motion Picture Arts & Sciences and we champion the power of human imagination. Jul 27 · 6 min read Divine and Jerry Stiller in “Hairspray” (1988) Meeting Divine: A “Hairspray” Story As told by Jerry Stiller In honor of Hairspray’s 30th anniversary, the Academy hosted a reunion with the cast and crew, hosted by Barry Jenkins. Below is Jerry Stiller’s recollection of the relationships he built while working on the lm. In 1988, I was asked to play a role in Hairspray, which was lming in Baltimore, director John Waters’ hometown. Sonny Bono and Deborah Harry were also in the lm. I agreed to do Wilbur Turnblad, the husband of Divine. Pia Zadora played a ‘60s beatnik and Ricki Lake played my daughter. The word “crossover lm” was heard in the industry. The script had all the makings of a sleeper. John Waters introduced himself. He was then 41 years old. He joked about his pencil-thin mustache. “I think I saw it on some actor in a B- movie and decided to try it,” he told me. He was funny; I liked him. I’d chosen to be here, in a John Waters movie. It was like nothing I’d ever done. “You’ll have fun,” John said. “See you on the set.” I was getting into costume and makeup when I met Glenn Milstead, known as Divine, for the rst time. He too was getting ready to shoot our rst scene. He was wearing a housedress and adjusting his wig. “How’s Anne?” he said in a very soft, womanly voice. I knew immediately we’d be perfect together as husband and wife. Divine and Jerry Stiller in “Hairspray” (1988) “We’re ready to shoot,” someone said. The Hardy Har Joke Shop actually existed. It was in a blue-collar section of Baltimore and sold things like dribble glasses and cans of doggy-doo. That day, it had been commandeered for our shoot. I sensed this was one of Water’s favorite scenes. He conded that the Hardy Har owner had been told to stop selling snot. He hadn’t been given a reason. But the owner said he could get a fresh shipment if someone needed it right away. John put his hand up to his nostril as if to demonstrate. “Do you want to meet the guy?” Waters asked. “I’d rather not,” I said apologetically. “I always feel a little funny about meeting people I play.” “I understand, “ Waters replied. Divine, Ricki Lake and I squeezed tightly into a doorway as the last- minute lighting changes were made. The scene dealt with Divine and myself—mama and papa—describing the wonders of the whoopee cushion to our recalcitrant daughter, whose ambitions lay in other areas. Ricki Lake and Divine in “Hairspray” (1988) “Lock it up,” said Dave Iselin, the cinematographer. “Speed. Sound rolling. Action,” Waters said. One take was all John wanted. I thought I could do better, but John said he had everything he needed in a single take. The six-week shoot was fun. Lots of location shots around the city. Baltimoreans lined the streets awaiting Divine’s entrance. When we emerged from a trailer, the mostly blue-collar fans applauded. It was like a Hollywood movie, only on the other side of the tracks. When we wrapped, the cast and crew had a nal lunch together to celebrate. Divine and I sat next to each other. ”I can’t wait to meet Anne in New York,” he said. “We’ll have to get together,” I said. “I’m so nervous, “ Divine said. “I’m going to Salt Lake City tomorrow to do my act for the Mormons. I know they’re going to stone me.” “Not at all,” I reassured him. “They’ll want to laugh. If you have any problems just say you’re a friend of Donny and Marie.” “What do you mean ‘friend’? I’m one of them. Donny, Marie and Divine Osmond.” About a year later the lm was released, John asked me to do some publicity, so I shuttled to and from radio shows, touting Hairspray. I was invited to the press lunch for Divine at Spy magazine and when I arrived, the room was lled with people. At two separate tables sat Divine and John Waters. The tables were crammed with food: breads, salads and wine. Waters saw me and stood up and gave me a big hug. Divine, at his own table, sat there smiling. A ridge of blond hair circling his scalp gave him the appearance of a Trappist monk. My own hair had turned pink. It had not been dyed in a month and had oxidized. “What happened to your hair?” Waters asked. “It’s pink. It’s changing color as you watch it,” I said. A scene from “Hairspray” (1988) A couple of weeks later I was at my health club when a phone call came from producer Stanley Buchtal. “I’ve got some sad news, Jerry. Divine is dead.” Shocks of disbelief rippled through me. I saw Divine as a class person. The guy had nally found stardom, and had been rewarded unfairly. He had been in Los Angeles shooting an episode of Married With Children. Divine should have been celebrating his triumph and now, without warning, he was gone. I took the Amtrak to Baltimore for the evening wake. We passed through Philly before train pulled into Baltimore. Baltimore Film Festival producer George Udel and his artist wife Joan Erbe picked me up at the station and 25 minutes later were in the Ruck Funeral Home in Towson. The place was lled with people and decks of owers. Divine once said jokingly, “When I go, I want lots of owers. Give them in lieu of a donation to a worthy charity.” His request was granted. To left and right of the open casket were lines of oral arrangements. I walked to the casket and stood there a moment. Waters and his assistant, Pat Moran, came to me. We hugged and then looked at one another and said nothing. “I saw the picture the other night in New York,” I told Waters. “They told me you and Divine were there the night before.” “It’s a big hit,” Waters said. “Yeah. What a way to celebrate.” “I’m glad you came,” Waters said. “I had to. Where’s his mother?” “Right there,” Waters said, pointing to a gray-haired lady standing next to a man in a wheelchair. “That’s Glenn’s father,” John said. I went over to them. His father looked up and I shook his hand. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Mr. and Mrs. Milstead,” I said. “Jerry, he really liked you,” Divine’s mother said. “He said you were always there for him.” There were owers and balloons from Whoopi Goldberg, along with a note: “You get a good review and this is what you do?” From Married with Children came a message: “If you didn’t like the show, you should’ve just told us.” I took the Night Owl back to New York at 2:30am. Twelve hours later, Joe Grifasi and I were doing “Brush Up Your Shakespeare” at Symphony Space, an event honoring Cole Porter. The number went well. I did it for Divine. Portions of this story have been shared from Jerry Stiller’s autobiography “Married to Laughter” published by Simon & Schuster. Watch highlights an evening with the cast and crew of Hairspray, featuring writer-director John Waters, cast members Ricki Lake, Deborah Harry, Mink Stole, Clayton Prince, Pia Zadora and Colleen Fitzpatrick. Hosted by Oscar-winning writer-director Barry Jenkins..