Tin Cup. The Three Amigos. Cannonball Run. Tombstone. Revenge of the Nerds. Southern Arizona has a glittering Hollywood legacy as a friendly, versatile motion picture location.

I was lucky enough to be onscreen in the comedy Stir Crazy, starring Gene Wilder and Richard Prior. Along with a buddy, we reported to the Tucson Rodeo Grounds early one morning to answer an ad for 500 extra actors.

We were first in line and grabbed seats in the front row of the arena. We were rodeo "fans" and our "role" was to do whatever Director Sydney Poitier told us to do. The scene being filmed was the prisoner’s rodeo where Wilder takes on an angry, big-horned bull.

For nearly six hours, all 500 of us sat quietly in the hot sun. The boredom was only broken by short periods of "action" when Poitier gave us the cue to cheer or boo.

We were "paid" in free hot dogs and soda, and a chance to be on the silver screen, which my friend and I were for a very brief wink.

As part of our Public Relations program when I was at Tucson Electric Power, we had pledged to help Old Tucson Studios and the then-existing Tucson Film Commission. "If feasible," we would support their work with the movie industry because it brought jobs and money to the local economy.

Our Vice President led this effort, as he had business contacts at the Commission.

It was during the filming of Cannonball Run, starring Burt Reynolds and Dom DeLuise, that we were called to duty. I took the call from a Film Commission executive who had an odd request.

The cast had been filming outside of Tucson and was headed into the city for a few days. Several cast and crew members would be staying at the Arizona Inn and he needed a small favor.

As he explained it, Reynolds had driven his customized van to Arizona for the filming. The van had over $30,000 in expensive electronics, stereo equipment, and other valuable movie star necessities.

"We are concerned that the van might get broken into or stolen if he parks it on the street," said the exec.

I understood, but didn’t see TEP’s role in this.

He continued, saying he had walked the Inn’s property and found a solution. There was a little easement-like alley off the street. From there, they could drive the van around and park it on the hotel grounds, close to Reynold’s room.

"But there’s a utility pole in the way. Can we get that pole moved, then put it back when we leave town?" said the film official. "And I need an answer today and the pole moved tomorrow morning."

I had no clue if we do that, but before I could respond he added, "We’re willing to pay, it’s that important. How much to move the pole?"

After I wrote down the details, I called upstairs to my VP. As I explained the situation, he fell into hysterics. Gently, I reminded him that he was the one who had promised to help "if feasible."

"What do you want me to tell him?"

Without giving it any thought, he blurted out, "$10,000! That’s two crews to move the pole, and two crews to put it back."

"Are you sure? Shouldn’t you talk to the guys in Engineering first?"

"Roger, you don’t understand. There is no way they’re going to pay $10,000 to move that stupid pole. Now, go make the call."

Back at the Film Commission, they were grateful and relieved. They thought it would cost more, since similar "move it now" requests in California and other movie locations had cost $20,000 to $25,000.

When I told my VP they had accepted, he let out an agonizing, "No!" I quickly excused myself to run back downstairs, knowing that he had to go down the hall and tell Engineering he needed a pole moved for Burt Reynolds.