In Defense Of Nepo-Babies

The family lore held that he was from Hartford, Connecticut, just like us. He was a distant cousin on my dad’s side. Maybe he’d changed his name?

One thing was for sure: I was related to the scarecrow from THE WIZARD OF OZ.

Maybe this says something about what kind of kid I was - read: a dork - but I was very excited by this fact. I remember giddily explaining it to my second grade teacher, Mr. Moran. Ray Bolger, the man whose scarecrow mask set permanent lines into his face, was my great-uncle.

Or great-cousin? Once removed maybe?

See, the reason none of this was ever very clear is that, as you’ve probably guessed, none of it was true.

Ray Bolger’s dad was from Fall River - my family didn’t move to Massachusetts until the 90s. Ray’s grandparents? Off-the-boat Irish - so much for Hartford. It turns out the scarecrow story was a bit of family lore that didn’t pan out. Apologies to Mr. Moran for the inadvertent deception.

This all got disproved when I was little, long before I ever considered going into movie-making. But if it never had been disproved, I wonder…could I have been a nepo-baby?

There ain’t a shred of Hollywood in my family tree - if there was, maybe I coulda snagged a gig on a Ryan Murphy show by now. But if there was, if I was some distant relation of some powerful showbiz supremo…

Well, would there really be anything wrong with that?

Emeril Lagasse was a big part of my childhood, so I had a blast when clips of his show started going viral the other week. I watched Emeril Live every night. I even convinced my dad to make a Turducken for Thanksgiving.

And when we look back - doesn’t Emeril suddenly seem like a massive historic figure? Cooking used to be something done by housewives and strung-out semi-pirates. Now it’s gone from ‘dirty trade where you work with your hands’ to ‘celebrity-minting media pathway’. I don’t know how that happens without Emeril - there are no TikTok recipe hacks or NYTimes Cooking without this guy yelling ‘BAM!’.

So, when those clips started spreading around, I took the opportunity to go down a nostalgia rabbit hole. And while I had a blast watching Emeril work the audience into blood-and-circus-level-hysterics by saying ‘stahhch’, I was surprised to find myself drawn in by someone else. Another Emeril Lagasse, in fact.

His son. E.J.

Now this, ladies and gentlemen, is a classic nepo-baby. E.J. Lagasse didn’t just grow up rich, didn’t just follow his father - maybe the most famous chef in America at one point - into food. He took over his dad’s restaurant at 19. Now he’s living out his dream of being a chef.

Silver spoon, meet mouth.

But also? E.J. Lagasse’s revamped version of his father’s restaurant, Emeril’s, was ranked #20 on the list of the 50 best restaurants in North America. He won two Michelin Stars. He’s 22 - the youngest chef ever to win two stars.

E.J. Lagasse may be a nepo-baby. He may have started with a helluva leg up. But he is also deeply gifted and, if GQ profiles can be trusted, very hard-working. I have a sneaking suspicion he would be a successful chef even if his father hadn’t convinced me to splice a turkey, a duck and a chicken into one unholy mass.

The thing that drives me crazy about the nepo-baby discourse is not exactly the nepo-baby discourse itself. Are there people in Hollywood with positions of immense privilege and power who got there solely because they’re related to someone? Of course. Is that fair? Of course not. Does it keep happening? Of course, it does.

What bugs me is that we don’t seem to apply that criticism fairly. There’s a lot of brouhaha about this actor’s mom or that actor’s dad. But if our issue is nepotism, we oughta look at the rest of the industry too.

I’ve been lucky enough to work on a few Hollywood shows - series with beloved actors and millions of dollars and Emmy nominations. And you know where I’ve seen the most nepotism? It’s not in the cast.

It’s the below-the-line crew.

Hollywood is a blue-collar industry. If you visit a big set, you’ll notice that nine out of ten guys1 are middle-aged men from Long Island. There are stars there, sure. But most of the people on set are union members who commute from a suburb, drive a truck and do a trade. And, like in any other blue-collar business - I’m writing this within a short walk of Gringer & Sons (appliances), Figlia & Sons (HVAC), and Russ & Daughters (tote bags, mainly, but also bagels) - there are a whole lot of folks on a movie set whose dad brought them in. Some are even working with their dad.

Why do we get so upset when an actor is the child of another actor, but not when a teamster is the child of another teamster? No one is talking about nepotism when the third generation grip is working. They’re talking about who’s moving that C-stand and whether he’s doing it quickly and safely.

But when someone’s daughter decides to act…watch out. Why does that prompt such a different reaction?

Maybe it’s because the existence of nepo-babies shatters the Hollywood Dream we clutch to when things are hard. Turns out the industry’s not a meritocracy. Turns out a lot of hard-working, talented people never make it. Turns out a lot of people who aren’t as talented, didn’t have to work as hard, do. Let’s be fair - who doesn’t struggle when they realize that?

Or maybe we get so angry because people don’t think of acting as a trade. It’s normal when tradesmen hire their kids - but actors? Actors are supposed to be chosen ones, plucked out of malls by talent scouts because they have some special something. They’re not supposed to be people who learn a craft, maybe even learn it from their mom - they’re supposed to be people with a gift.

Maybe we just feel this way because they’re visible. I can name a whole lot more stars than I can teamsters, and I bet I can name a lot more teamsters than the average person. No one jostles for exclusive photos when the Key Grip has a baby.

Or maybe we reserve our bile for people who get the jobs we dream of. I don’t know a lot of tweens who dream of being a gaffer. But what tween doesn’t want to be a movie star?2 Does finding out someone’s kid got a cushy gig hurt more when it’s a job we dreamt of? And isn’t that a shame? Shouldn’t more kids want to do the vital, honest, difficult work that below-the-line folks do?3

And sure, it’s probably also the money. The box-office bonuses and high-end perks. I’m sure there are a lot of third-generation teamsters who are doing well, and god bless ‘em, but are they doing ‘annual vacation on a super-yacht’ well? Plus, a lot of nepo-babies don’t need money. Your dad has a super-yacht already - why not give someone else a chance?

Maybe it’s all these things at once, or a thousand others beside. I don’t know. But I know the whole thing makes me sad - because it sure feels like the thing everyone’s saying when they complain about nepo-babies is this:

OK, but I don’t care about those below-the-line tradespeople. They’re not famous, they’re not rich, and I don’t want their jobs.

When I was younger - shortly after my Ray-Bolger-bubble popped - people used to sneer at South Shore Vo Tech, the local trade school. That was where you went if you did poorly in school or smoked pot or mouthed off to a teacher. So much for college, everyone said - you’re gonna be an electrician. I’m not exempt here - I did it too. And so it is with the full force of my guilt and regret - the two most powerful forces in an Irish Catholic mind - that I say this:

What assholes.

There were hard trades being taught at Vo Tech. Good lives being formed. Real dignity and intention and effort and accomplishment being honored. I went to some fancy schools - I know that’s not the case everywhere. South Shore Vo Tech was doing a good and honorable and wonderful thing. Screw the little elitists who wanted to look down on it.

Sure, they weren’t always flashy or sexy jobs being taught there - but they were trades where you had to work hard, where safety and ability mattered most. Good, respectable work. And, yeah, trades where having an uncle in the business sure helps. But let’s be honest - if my electrician happens to be the son of an electrician, my focus isn’t going to be his parentage. It’s going to be on how well he performs his trade. I think that’s a respect I owe him.

Shouldn’t we do the same thing in Hollywood?

Nepotism is visible in a lot of places. And it’s obviously unfair and wrong. But when we kick off our nepo-baby discourse and train our spotlights straight on actors and directors and ‘above-the-line’ people, it seems to me that we’re inadvertently revealing our priorities. We’re showing that we don’t care about below-the-line folks as much as we should. And that kinda breaks my heart.

So maybe we should lay off the nepo-babies a bit - after all, actors are tradesmen too. Or, at least, let’s shine our spotlights on the below-the-line folks, folks whose work deserves as much respect (and payment!) as the big stars. Regardless of who their parents were.