United Talent Agency: Jeremy Zimmer

This interview of Wisdom from the Top was recorded in 2020. From Luminary and Built It Productions, it's Wisdom from the Top.

Stories of crisis, failure, turnaround, and triumph from some of the greatest leaders in the world.

I'm Guy Raz. And on the show today, Jeremy Zimmer, the CEO of United Talent Agency.

As a leader, knowing your people and understanding their story Getting to see where they're from and giving them a sense that, that you connect with them on that level. I do think that's really, really important. And if we can do that with our clients and we can do it with our colleagues, we can make them feel that, you know, we're looking, that we're seeing them.

How Jeremy Zimmer went from parking lot hustler to building one of the biggest talent agencies in the world. In Hollywood, there are 4 big talent agencies that dominate the industry: William Morris Endeavor, Creative Artists Agency, ICM Partners, and United Talent Agency. Almost every single artist you love is probably represented by one of these agencies. Behind the scenes, they are pulling the strings and making the connections that spark many of the most celebrated albums or films or TV shows.

The agency world is a complicated place.

It is. The talent agency world is cutthroat. And to be successful as a talent agent, you need a special competitive fire. You need to be able to think quickly and creatively. And most importantly, you need to have the energy to constantly hustle. It's hard. So to become one of the top agents takes a lot of determination. Jeremy Zimmer is one of the people who started at the bottom and worked his way up to heading one of those big agencies, United Talent Agency. And under his leadership, UTA has seen its roster of artists grow. UTA represents everyone from Issa Rae to Timothée Chalamet and even me. But the reality is no one saw this coming for Jeremy, not even Jeremy himself. He had a pretty difficult childhood. His parents split when he was young. His dad lived in Los Angeles and his mom in Connecticut. And Jeremy didn't have a great relationship with either of his parents. And when it came to school, He really struggled.

It was just really hard for me. And, you know, I would, I would always start every, you know, new— every new year with the best of intentions and the new notebook and the dividers, the whole thing, the way all the other kids did. But inevitably, by October or November, I'd lost my notebook and I was out of the— out of the plan.

You did manage to get into college. Even though your grades weren't good, you couldn't— you got into Boston College or Boston University?

Yes.

This is in the late '70s?

This is in 1978.

So you must—

I mean, clearly you're a smart guy. I mean, you must have done well enough on the test to get in. And you get there, and you last a year and a half.

You know, I got off to a very bad start. You know, I got to school and I immediately found some kids who liked to party the way I liked to party. I decided that I was going to spend more time focusing on that. And then I had to go to summer school. And by that time, I just gave up. And I started, you know, I was living in Boston for summer school and it was a brutal hot summer in Boston. And I was first, I got a job working as a busboy at the wine bar in Cambridge. And I'm going back and forth at night on this little motorcycle I'd bought. And, you know, always getting, you know, I'm working at a wine bar, so you can imagine the way I would, you know, I was the dishwasher. So every half-empty glass of wine, you know, I would just finish. And then I got a job actually working for one of the parking lots opposite Fenway Park.

I loved parking cars.

Hmm.

You know, people are coming into Fenway and they're coming in from all over. You know, they're coming from Vermont and Maine and New Hampshire and Connecticut and out, you know, Western Mass and all over the place. And you're, yeah, come on in, da da da. And so I had this one lot and I figured out if you reversed, if you adjusted the way you put the cars in, you could fill the lot up with an extra, you know, probably 20% more cars. So we started doing that. And then we came up with this thing where I would stand in the street in front of the lot, and I would put a lot full sign up when the lot was only a third full. People would come up and say, "Excuse me, but it doesn't look like it's full." And I would say, "Well, I'm sorry, but we we like to reserve a number of spots for our special reserve customers. And these are people who've been parking with us for a long time, who we have a real relationship with, and they want to know they can get a spot. So we well, how much does that cost?" And I would say whatever the price was at the time. Oh well, I'll happily pay you that. So then we would start. Upcharging, and I would, you know, put the money in that I was supposed to put for the car, and then we would split the rest with the guys who were working in the lot. And so now we're, like, really making money, and I, I just thought it was the greatest thing ever.

Yeah.

And, and this company that I was working for at the time, VIP Parking, started getting a lot of other lots and valet services, and I started working a bunch of them and would have different guys working under me at these different lots and valet stations and You know, now I'm like a, you know, young manager managing a bunch of different locations with a bunch of different people working for me. Wow.

All right. So you're doing this job. It's going great. But what, what happened?

Well, it's going great and it's not going great because I'm also, you know, I'm opening up a lot at 5:00 in the morning. I'm closing down at midnight. And I'm also using a lot of drugs to keep going.

Wow.

I was living with my girlfriend at the time, and she was sick of me and sick of the life I was living. And, you know, she was a nice girl from Connecticut, and we'd, you know, I'd sort of followed her to Boston because she was going to Tufts. And next thing you know, she's living with this guy who's now flunked, you know, flunked out of college, working in parking lots. She's like, what happened to this guy? And so she threw me out, and I moved into— there was a Ramada Inn in Kenmore Square. I moved into the Ramada Inn, which was like right next door to one of the lots we had. And I'm living in the Ramada Inn with my dog, dog. And, you know, my life is really not at all the way my life should look. And it was sort of cascading downward as I, you know, running around town collecting money, parking cars, doing this, doing that. I had no real plan. Although I thought, you know, in the back of my head, I thought, I'm going places. I'm—

Yeah.

I got, you know, I got guys working for me. I'm making money. You know, I've got a wad full of cash in my pocket all the time. You know, I'm standing out in the street, you know, on Commonwealth Avenue, sort of, you know, I felt like I was like, you know, orchestrating the heartbeat of Commonwealth Avenue in my mind, you know?

Yeah. I mean, this is amazing because it is sort of foreshadow what you would go on to do, obviously not in an illicit way, but as a dealmaker later on. I mean, you are essentially doing a version of that in the parking lot. You are You know, upselling customers on premium parking and coming up with all these kind of ideas to generate money.

Yeah.

You know, which is a form of—

right.

I mean, it's a—

it's entrepreneurship in a certain way.

Yeah. And you're also trying and you're also, you know, constantly making people feel good and feel secure. And, you know, you learn like there was a restaurant actually, which, you know, was— I was at called Joseph's Aquarium, and that was down on the waterfront. And, you know, all the local sort of, you know, big shots would show up. So government officials would show up, and the local sort of mafia guys would show up. They'd show up in these big Lincolns or big Cadillacs. And, you know, they'd get out of the car and they'd go, make sure you keep me up in front, kid, because that was a sign of status. Like, where your car was parked and was your car available the minute you walk out was a big status sign. So Oh, yeah, you got it, Mr. Ah, you'll be right up in front. And you'd come out and they'd give you a $5 tip. And that was understanding that serving people and making them feel good about how you recognize them and acknowledge them is a part of delivering a service. And that I was very natural at.

This is sort of— and I don't know the details of it, but it's just Mind-blowing. But apparently you got stabbed on the job.

I was working at Joseph's Aquarium and—

This restaurant.

This restaurant.

As a valet.

Yes. And it was the lunch shift, and I went down there to count the receipts. And I was standing there in front of the restaurant with, you know, counting the receipts, making sure the money from the night before was there, whatever it was. And this kid just walks up to me and Shows me his knife and says, "Hey, give me all your money." And I had you know a pocketful of money, and I was like, you know, come on, get you know get the F out of here. And he just stabbed me, just like that. Like there was no discussion, conversation, threat, reasoning, nothing. There was none of the normal stuff that you would think would occur before someone actually did something like that. He just stabbed me and ran away. And I remember just walking into the vestibule and the cashier was there. And I said, you know, I think you gotta call an ambulance. I've been stabbed.

Wow.

Wow.

So I was taken to the hospital. I was in the hospital for a couple of weeks. And then I went home to my mom's house in Connecticut. And I just said, oh boy. Like, wow, how did this happen? I was home living back at my mom's house, recovering with really no options. Because to me, the idea of going back to college did not feel like an option.

Yeah.

I didn't think going back to work in the parking lots after this was the right idea. I knew this needed to happen in a weird way. And I really believe that sometimes the worst thing that happens is the best thing that happens. If you're open to that. And this was what needed to happen. I needed some power greater than myself to intercede in my life. You know, it's so strange because I believe what I'm about to say to be true. And that is, I remember as the guy was holding the knife to me, I had almost a conscious thought of, you know what?

Fine.

I can't handle this anymore. Let someone else take care of me. And I really believed that that was a surrender at that moment. And he stabbed me, and I knew I didn't have to be in charge of my life anymore, that my, you know, my mom—

Hmm.

That there would be other forces at play, whether that was a higher power or just that my mom would be forced to sort of Reckon with what was going on with me. You know, I just couldn't handle it. I was too young and too confused to manage the life I was living, and I didn't know how to put it back together again. And my grandfather called me and he said, wow, you've really, you've really screwed up your life. And I said, yeah, I have. He says, well, are you ready for some help? A friend of mine, uh, runs the William Morris Agency, and I think I can get you an interview there. Would you like that? And I said, honestly, I don't even really know what that is, but yes. He said, I want you to get a, a suit and a tie, and I want you to get dressed nicely, and I want you to go see this man, and I want you to say yes sir and no sir and be polite. You don't have to be a wise guy. You don't have to show him how smart you are. Just be a polite young man. And I went to see this, this man, Nat Lefkowitz, who was then the chairman or co-chairman of the William Morris Agency. He was, you know, older at the time. And he just started asking, so you're— and I don't even remember the question he asked me. I was just, yes, sir. Yes, sir. And he was like, are you interested in working here? I said, I am, sir. And he said, okay, I want you to meet with this fellow down the hall. And I go down the hall. There's this fellow working down the hall named Steve Pinkus, who it turned out was also his son-in-law. And Steve Pinkus had this huge picture of Secretariat on his wall. He goes, "You see that? That's Secretariat." I go, "Great." He goes, "It's my client." And I'm thinking, "What? How do you represent horses? Like, what does that even mean?" But oh wow, that's great! I love horses. Da da da da da. And the next thing I know, I get a job in the mailroom.

This was, of course. I'm assuming this was in New York, based in New York.

Yeah, it was based in New York.

And, and I should, I should clarify, this is the entryway into big agencies still to this day, I think, right?

Yeah. Still to this day, the agency training program starts in the mailroom.

And but the mailroom really actually was a physically challenging job, I'm assuming, in, in the late '70s, early '80s, because there was a lot of mail that came in.

We actually had mail. Yeah.

And really, literally, it was that it was like You would stand in the mailroom and just, just put, sort mail and put it into the different cubbyholes for the different departments.

Yeah, you would, you would, the mail would come in and you would put it into people's things and you'd fill up these, these mail carts and you'd go or walk around the office delivering people their mail. And then, you know, there was no email or any of that. So the way people would send out memos to the company or to different colleagues was they would send down the copy of the memo with a distribution list, and then you would Xerox copies and put it into the thing and deliver 'em.

Yep. Yep.

So what you were was you were at the center of communication. It's like you were living in the server of the agency. So you saw what was going on and who was communicating what to who and why and when and all that kind of stuff. Or if, you know, the publishing group had a big book they were getting ready to auction, suddenly they'd send a book down and we need 12 copies of this 600-page manuscript in 4 hours. And suddenly you're like, So you realized, wow, something's going on. Look at this book we're doing. I wonder what this is about. And you became aware of the workings of the agency.

Yeah. I mean, you could imagine in a day and age of social media and instant mass distribution of information, I imagine even then there were pretty strong confidentiality agreements because you could access to to these memos and things, right? Like, you probably had to— they had to make sure that it was going to stay quiet.

Yeah, there was a real connection and pride to being part of that system, and you really wanted to get out of the mailroom, right? And in order to do that, people had to really trust you and think you had something to offer.

So how did you get out of the mailroom?

So there were— when you're in the mailroom, you would always be aware of what desks What secretarial people might be moving around, because that would create an open desk and a chance to get out of the mailroom. And you would sort of try to focus on the departments you were interested in being in. I initially was interested in being in the publishing group, so I sort of had this vision of myself as a publishing agent, you know, and I saw myself in like a tweed jacket and, you know, suede patches. Maybe I'll start smoking a pipe and I'm going to sit and read novels and do that kind of stuff. It was an image completely disconnected from reality because I certainly didn't have the attention span to be a publishing agent, most likely. But there was no opportunity for me in the publishing group. I tried and they just— I couldn't connect with the right person there.

Sure.

And then I found there was an opportunity opening up where there were 2 young agents, one in movies and one in theater, who were going to be given the chance to share an assistant. So I interviewed for that job. In fact, I interviewed with the 2 guys, and one of the guys I was interviewing with, he had this tiny little office, and he was sitting in his chair, and his chair was broken. It was wobbling because there was something wrong with the chair.

Yeah.

And I was able to figure out what was wrong, that it was missing some ball bearings. So during lunch, While he was out of the office, I went in the storage room, took ball bearings out of another chair, and replaced the ball bearings in his chair, and just left a note for him saying, "Hey, by the way, I noticed your chair." Ba ba ba ba ba. And he he chose me to become his assistant.

So you fixed his chair, and he said, "All right, you're hired. You're my assistant." Yeah. And by the way, was the center of gravity for agencies at that time? in the early '80s still in New York, or was it in LA?

It was certainly— it was really in LA, especially for movies and television. So, you know, we were definitely not the center of gravity, and it was hard to— you know, the buyers were all in LA, and the center of the agency's practices were in LA at the time.

So as an assistant doing things like scheduling and and doing whatever you needed to do, but obviously, I'm assuming, with your eye towards becoming an agent yourself.

Yes, very much so. You know, I was— it was challenging because, you know, again, I wasn't a great— I was not a great assistant, but I was a hustler. So I was, you know, constantly trying to figure out ways that I could impress people, but at the same time, I had these secretarial responsibilities which were very challenging for me.

So how were you able to make that transition from being an assistant to actually running your own clients?

Well, I did a bunch of— I connected with a lot of different things during the time, but I really— the key was there was this interesting moment where, you know, because back then, if you made a movie, your movie would be distributed. If it was distributed by a studio, the studio would own it. But if it was an independent movie, It would be distributed, it would be in a theater for a couple of weeks here or there, and then frequently nothing would happen. And the guy who ran our department was a guy named Marty Bauer, and he had a client named Dick Pierce who had made a movie called Heartland, which was this beautiful movie that had been financed by either PBS or the National Endowment for the Arts or something. It's a beautiful little movie.

Hmm.

And no one sees it. And I think PBS has the right to put it on PBS, but it's just sitting there. And I actually see it and go, you know, we should try and do something with this. So I start calling distributors around New York and find a distributor who actually says, wow, I love this movie, and puts it in a theater and it gets good reviews and it runs for a little while. And then we own the rights. And there are these companies starting called Home Box Office and Showtime and, and Select TV and Z Channel and You know, it's the very, very beginning of pay TV.

Yeah.

As the cable systems start to have these pay TV channels. It's the very, very beginning. And I start calling these guys and sending them 3/4-inch copies of this movie Heartland. And because the studios won't sell them anything, these guys are desperate. So they're like, oh yeah, we'll take that. And now I'm suddenly selling Heartland, or licensing Heartland around the country to these different pay TV distributors. And then I start looking through the rest of the stuff that's somehow associated with William Morris. Turns out there's a lot of movies that have been made independently. They're just sitting around and never been exploited. And this becomes a great opportunity. And I start actually making money. And people are like, wow.

Because these cable— pay cable channels, presumably the studios didn't want to sell them films because they saw them as potential competitors. But you figured, out that actually, if you could get independent films that were not owned by studios, then you could make deals with these cable networks. Yeah.

These things are just sitting there, and they'd had no distribution or limited distribution. They'd been on TV or whatever. And it's before videocassettes.

Yeah.

So, there's no home video of any kind other than regular old TV. Wow.

So, you were really— I mean, it's I mean, this was kind of a creative kind of niche that you were kind of building there, right? I mean, it sounds like no one was really kind of interested in doing this, and you thought, hey, maybe I'll try this.

Yeah, it was an interesting moment. And at the same time, I was, you know, connecting with some young writers and starting to work with different writers of the agency. So we had, you know, we had theater clients who wanted to work in movies, so I was helping them get their work exposed in movies and doing different stuff like that.

All right. So you're there, and clearly you have ambitions and hustling. And I guess you realize by, you know, '83, '84, the action's in LA. That's really where you've got to be. Is that sort of how it happened?

Yeah, it became clear to me, and my mentor Marty Bauer moved from William Morris in New York out to William Morris in LA. And I was— so now I'm sort of in the East Coast office, and I know there's more stuff going on in LA, and it feels like that's the right thing. And I'm being recruited by ICM, by Jeff Berg, who was the head of ICM at the time, and he really wants me to come to ICM.

How did they even know about you?

You know, I had met Jeff through the book world somehow. And more importantly, it's a pretty small community in New York. And I was running around, you know, trying to get my nose into stuff. And Jeff got to know me, and he offered me a job to come work in the New York office. I said no. He offered me a job to come work in the TV department in the New York office. I said no. And then he offered me a job to come out to LA and be his assistant under the condition that I go back to college at night. And I was like, I'm definitely not doing that. So then finally, after about 5 years at William& Morris, he said, okay, come out to LA and be an agent here in LA.

So you get out to LA, '84, and you're working at ICM. And was ICM at that point kind of the The 800-pound gorilla in LA? Was it— was it, uh—

You know, ICM was in a tough spot because CAA had really started becoming more dominant. They were super aggressive. The culture of ICM was very disjointed. William Morris was weakening, and their sort of big star guys, you know, some of them had left to go— some of their young, best young guys had left to go to CAA.

Hmm.

And everyone was very aggressively trying to steal each other's clients and do whatever you could. And CAA, because they were very well run by Mike Ovitz, who was a very strong leader, had become very effective. And ICM, although they had a lot of really good agents, they were— they did not work in unison at all. So it was very hard to, you know, work together, to focus on selling each other's clients, to put things together, 'cause everybody was kind of doing their own thing.

I guess when you— I mean, one of the kind of big projects that you took on was that you got was Dead Poets Society. You represented the writer of that film.

Yes. So my assistant came to me and said, hey, I read this great script. It's on the slush pile, or whatever they called the unsolicited material, and it's really great. I think you should read it. And I And she says, it's called Dead Poets Society. I was like, I can't imagine a less commercial title. And I read the script, and I just fell in love with it and began the journey of trying to get that movie made. And I gave it to a producer that I knew then named Steven Haft, who fell in love with it. And we started trying to put the movie together.

And the writer's Tom Schulman. Right, of the film.

Yes.

So you represented him. This film becomes obviously an enormous hit and a hugely influential movie, really one of probably Robin Williams' best roles ever. Just beautiful film. But I guess there was some tension with Tom, right? I mean, as your client, is that right?

Well, it was interesting because Tom, you know, we did that, and I also arranged for him to write What About Bob? and to write Honey, I Shrunk the Kids. And, you know, his career really soared very, very quickly after Dead Poets Society became a script that everyone was talking about.

Mm-hmm.

And Tom and I were really good friends, and we played golf every week, and we did this and we did that. And, you know, I don't really know exactly what was going on other than He really wanted to make a deal with the Zucker brothers, and he wanted to make a deal to work with them and and become a writer-director with them, sort of supervising him. And and I I didn't think it was a good idea. What I didn't realize was that behind the scenes, the Zucker brothers' agent was trying to sign him and tell him that he could become a big director and blah blah blah blah blah, and that he should leave me and. I don't remember exactly when it happened, but I think it was, you know, months before he was nominated for Academy Award, he fired me and went to CAA.

And was that all over the trade press?

You know, when you— when you're an agent, you get fired, you assume that not just the trade press, you assume that every single person in the world, every waiter, everyone knows that you just got fired by your biggest client. Certainly that's how it feels. Because what we do as agents, the connection you have to your artists, it can be really, really painful to lose a client.

By the way, when you went to ICM, right? Because you had moved out to LA, if I'm remembering the story right, because your mentor, Marty Bower, moved out there. Did he—

No, he moved out to William Morris, but he couldn't bring me. William Morris didn't want me to move out.

So he didn't feel betrayed that you went to ICM?

No.

Okay.

He was fine with it, but it is what it is. But clearly you kept in touch with him because in 1989, you decide to leave ICM for an agency that he started.

Correct.

Right? Bower/Benedict Agency. I'm assuming the Benedict is Peter Benedict, who's also at UT today.

Correct.

I mean, when you decide to leave for Marty Bower's agency, which I'm assuming was much smaller than ICM, Did that feel risky to you? Because I mean, ICM, big deal, big, big, huge influence. Bower Benedict, I'm assuming not as many people knew about it, or maybe they didn't have as big of a client base, et cetera.

It felt a little bit— not so much risky. It felt more of a— I'd been in this battle where ICM is battling with CAA, and we're not were not particularly winning. They're taking a lot of clients over and over again. I'd lost Tom Schulman, who was a very good friend and a very important client. I felt like, wow, this is just not going well. You know, I just felt a little overwhelmed. And that was also, you know, accelerated by my own issues I was dealing with. I was still, you know, it was the '80s, and I was still doing what people were doing in the '80s. I was had recently gotten married, and I had the pressure of a new marriage and the pressure of trying to build this company. And I was about, you know, getting ready to have a kid. And, you know, a lot of stuff was going on, and I felt under siege.

Hmm.

I had this vision of like, this is going to be much more relaxed. I'm just going to work with my writers and, you know, work on scripts and, and, and not worry about all this other stuff and just focus on A handful of clients and sort of like a gentleman farmer agency is how I thought of it. I got there and very shortly looked around and said, wow, what are we doing? We're not in the business in the way we need to be in the business. And suddenly all those gears started going about how are we going to build this and how are we going to get better? And we got to recruit more agents and we got to get this and we have to be more in the middle of the game.

So, I mean, how did you do that? I mean, you're a small fish in a city of 3 big agencies, right? There was CAA, ICM, and William Morris.

Yeah. I just looked at the landscape, and I believed that there was an opportunity for a 4th agency, a 4th major agency. I believed that there was a large underserved class of important writers and young directors who the agencies didn't care enough about. And I believe that if we super served those writers and those directors and treated them like stars, we could quickly build a large agency.

And just for clarity, Bauer Benedict basically merged with another small agency, I think called Leading Artists, to form United Talent Agency in 1991.

Right. We formed— we merged with Leading Artists, and they were a really good agency focused in television. They had some cool filmmakers and writers, but they were mostly a television agency, and we were mostly a movie agency. So it was a very complementary fit from that point of view.

And did the other agencies kind of ignore you or kind of laugh at you or just didn't think much of you?

What they really did was they descended on us to steal our clients and continue to destabilize us. Right.

Which I guess is what war is all about.

Yeah.

Look, we get it. That's the way it was being played and we expected it. And to some degree they were successful.

What was the kind of the early, an early turning point for UTA that you remember where you started to feel like, okay, we can compete here?

Well, we had a lot of different successes and a lot of different, you know, we had ups and downs consistently for the first many years of the agency, because as much as the thesis of our company was the right one, the construction and leadership was unclear. So there was a lot of internal strife because we merged these 2 companies with very different cultures, different mindsets, and we never spent any real time thinking about how we were going to all get along. But at the same time, we managed to Represent Sandy Bullock as she became a star and represent Jennifer Lopez as she became a star and represent Jim Carrey as he became a star and represent Brian De Palma and Larry Kasdan and some big, big filmmakers and then Night Shyamalan and on and on and on. But the real problem was we had just— the culture of the agency had not been— although it was defined, it wasn't really being supported.

And from what I understand, you guys pretty early on kind of focused on, like, less-known, younger, indie-style directors like the Coen Brothers and Wes Anderson and Noah Baumbach and people like that who I guess were, you know, not making the blockbuster films.

Right. The idea was, let's treat these guys like big studio directors and try to create opportunities for them and bring them into the mainstream more quickly than they might— than the kind of attention they might get at a larger agency.

Did you feel—

I mean, given that the other agencies were kind of focused on the traditional big box office Hollywood films, which presumably are super lucrative, right? I mean, that's what the engine of a lot of these studios and even agencies. Did you feel like you guys were better off focusing on, like when you started out at William Morris, getting these independent films and selling them to HBO and Showtime in their nascent days? Did you take a similar kind of approach focusing on sort of the peripheral things that maybe the other agencies weren't focusing on?

Well, we made a big commitment at the time to Sundance. At the very early days of Sundance, we were there. We became sponsors at Sundance. We were, you know, in at Sundance in droves for a number of, you know, Blood Simple was there with the Coen brothers.

Yeah.

And, you know, we were there with David Russell and his early movie Spanking the Monkey. And sort of it was an on, We really made our presence known there as, this is going to be a festival where we're really going to try to be dominant.

As the agency kind of took flight, eventually Will Ferrell and Ben Stiller and Dave Chappelle and Jim Carrey and all these huge stars became your clients. Did you start to see yourself as maybe heading it up at some point, or did you— did that start to kind of enter into your plan?

Well, that was probably part of the problem, is that from the very beginning, even though these guys formed agencies and they— their agencies merged, in my mind, I, I was running the agency, right? You know, I had an outsized ego. I really felt that I knew best, and I knew what we needed to do, and I was willing to be as aggressive and consistent as we needed to be in order to grow. And so I had a very, very big voice, and I was very, very consistent in trying to get my ideas across. And at the beginning, it was kind of easy because Marty Bauer, who was my Mentor was happy to rely on me, and— but what it did really was it helped to exaggerate the schism between the two entities that were trying to merge, because it became our way versus their way. And that, you know, that really kept us from being as good as we could be for quite a while.

And you think that that had to do with you?

I was definitely a big part of it.

So before we talk about how you resolved this, let's talk a little bit about how you were, because I think to be a successful agent, you have to be— I mean, if it is a war, you have to be aggressive. You can be kind and you can be considerate, but you have to be aggressive. So I guess you were doing what you thought you had to do. To build up a successful business, right?

Yes. But, you know, along this whole time, you know, there's also the reality of humans and the reality of me as a human during that time was, you know, I was scared, aggressive, feeling that if only I can get what I need, I'm gonna be okay. And if anybody's gonna stop me from getting what I need, I'm gonna have to do whatever I can to get Through them. Yeah. I was not very aware of how my behavior impacted other people.

Would somebody have described Jeremy Zimmer as an asshole at the time?

If they were being kind, yes.

Wow.

I mean, I was an asshole and I was an animal and I was, you know, always felt I had the right answer and I had to be heard. And if you didn't agree with me, it's because you didn't understand me. And if you didn't understand me, it's because I hadn't said it loud enough, enough times, or you were just incapable of being smart enough to understand what I was saying.

Would you lose your temper?

Yes.

You know, it's interesting because when you were in your early 20s, you were depressed. I mean, you went to therapy. You were at a low Clearly, that experience has made you more empathetic now, but it sounds like during that time period, maybe that you weren't drawing on that experience, or maybe you were kind of suppressing it. And, and I don't know, I sound like an armchair psychiatrist, but what I mean to say is that it's surprising to me that you weren't empathetic at the time, given what you had gone through as a younger man.

Yeah.

And I don't— I mean, if only it were like that. That, you know, we go through these traumatic experiences and we are able to immediately process them into empathy and understanding for others. I just don't think that's the way it works. I think, you know, at least it wasn't the way it worked for me, you know. So to me, life became about preservation and protection and getting what I needed. And since I couldn't rely on anyone else, I would have to rely on myself.

What was it that, that helped you understand that you were like this and that you needed to change?

You know, it was several more years before I really went through enough pain to begin to become willing to really look at myself As the problem, you know. The common denominator in every broken relationship I had was me. Till I was able to acknowledge that, you know, I was going to just be doomed to keep repeating history. So I went to see yet another therapist.

You knew that you had to do that.

Yeah. And he said, "You know, I've listened to your story and da da da." I don't think I'm gonna help you unless you're willing to go to Alcoholics Anonymous. And I said, well, I don't know about that. He goes, well, you know, that's really your decision, but for me, I'm not gonna treat you if you don't do that.

Wow.

I thought this guy was a real dope because, you know, I'm a pretty exciting young guy and a pretty good prospect for him. And wouldn't it be good for his business to have me? You know, these— this is my ego, like, really?

Yeah.

What are you, crazy? But he was very resolute and said, look, you know, at least commit to going to 90 meetings in 90 days. See what happens. And I was like, I don't know. Let me think about it.

And when was this? What round?

Do you remember what year?

1996.

1996.

Okay.

July 4th weekend. And I'm with my daughter, who at the time is 6 years old. And she's with me at the— and I'm staying at this beautiful hotel, and I have a really nice room, and I have a brand new car, and I have this beautiful girlfriend, and girlfriend's playing with my kid in the pool. If you take a picture of that life, you would go, wow, what a great life. But I'm sitting there at the pool, and I'm halfway through a drink, and I'm thinking, I have never been more unhappy.

Hmm.

I have everything I ever wanted, and I'm Miserable. You know, I just sort of put the drink down and said, okay, you know, I need, I need a different, I need a different solution. And I went to AA the next day, and I went to many more than 90 meetings in 90 days, and I sort of committed myself to that journey. And as part of that, that journey combined with, you know, being in therapy with this guy, I really started to attack my own demons and, you know, where they come from and how they drove me and the way I thought. And, you know, it's been a fight. It's been hard.

I mean, it sounds like that process, which is ongoing, we should be clear. I mean, it doesn't— it's not just something you fix and it's solved, right? It's something you work on all the time. But you had to do that to actually become a leader. I mean, you were a leader, but to be somebody that people would trust and would feel loyal to and would want to work for, you had to do that.

I had to do that, and I had to be willing to face my own stuff. And look, the company had other problems which I had to face as well and which we had to face as well. But we never would've enjoyed the success we're enjoying now if I hadn't been willing to deal with my own toxic personality.

When you were officially named CEO of UTA in 2012, you'd played a leadership role, obviously, in the company for a long time. Did you feel like I mean, you had worked for other people. You had worked for Jeff Berg and others and Marty Bower. And you'd seen other leaders. What did you want to— how did you want to lead? I mean, do you try and cultivate warmth? I mean, do you try and— are there things that you try to do to be an empathetic leader?

I try and I struggle. At first, for a long time, I'd run these staff meetings. And, you know, people were terrified. And I would, you know, go after people in staff meetings. And, you know, it was a long— it's been a long, hard journey. And still, you know, the Zimmer eye roll, the way that in a meeting people will say something that I don't think is particularly on point. And, you know, some—

Yeah.

My eyes will roll in a certain way that makes people, you know, feel bad. And I really try to work on that. And that's one side of what I work on. On the other side, and this goes all the way back to my grandfather, because when I worked with him for those years in New York and we would drive around and do different things, no matter where we were, in a cab, in a hotel room, wherever it was, he would always talk to the people who were driving the cab or doing this or doing that and try to understand something about them. He was interested in people's stories. And, you know, as a leader, knowing your people and understanding their story And getting to see where they're from and giving them a sense that you connect with them on that level. I do think that's really, really important. And if we can do that with our clients and we can do it with our colleagues, we can make them feel that we're seeing them. And I think that's a really important part of leadership is taking the time for that.

When you think about Your trajectory, I mean, college dropout and working as a parking lot valet and not a whole lot of direction, right? You kind of got this Hail Mary from your grandfather when he, when he said, hey, I can get you an interview and that's it. But you really ran with that and now lead one of the Big 4 agencies that you helped to build.

Does it—

when does it— do you ever have moments where you're like, God, just insane, just totally insane the way that worked out? Or do you— are you not surprised by it?

I have a lot of moments where I really am grateful and I can't believe this is happening and wow, I can't believe this is my life. You know, weirdly, I'm not surprised by it because it all sort of felt like, well, wait, of course this is going to be what it's going to be. And when I was a kid, I had no vision at all. I never remember ever thinking, one day I'm going to be somebody, I'm going to do this. And I don't know if other kids think that. I had no idea. I had no plan. I had no direct ambition. I mean, I think in 7th grade I said I wanted to be an oceanographer. I don't even know if I knew what that was. But I sit here today going, wow, look at how things have turned out. And I'm so grateful. And honestly, now for the corny portion of the program, but my 19-year-old daughter made me this collage for my birthday this year. And she just took— cut all these pictures out with different pictures of me with every single one of my daughters, my wife, and then all of my daughters and We put this collage together, and it's on my desk, and I'm just looking at this right now and all these faces and all these moments and us in an ocean and us in a pool and us together and me dancing with my daughter at her wedding and me dancing with my daughter at her high school graduation and all these different moments. And I'm just going, wow, you know what? Somehow or other, I put this life together, and I'm really grateful for it. You know, I'm surprised, but I'm mostly just really, really happy and, you know, try to do the right thing and express that gratitude through my actions.

Jeremy Zimmer, CEO of United Talent Agency. Hey, thanks for listening to the show this week. The music for this episode was composed and performed by Drop Electric. I'm Guy Raz, and you've been listening to Wisdom from the Top from Luminary and Built It Productions.