KingsOfKings
𝕄𝕒𝕕𝕝𝕚𝕓 𝕚𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝔾𝕠𝕒𝕥
Felicia “Snoop” Pearson is running a few minutes late to a joint interview alongside her writing partner Ed Burns, so Burns fills the time with a helpful story about one of the few other instances of her truancy.
More than two decades ago, the actor Michael K. Williams had asked Pearson to accompany him onto the set of “The Wire” after she brazenly introduced herself to him at a Baltimore nightclub.
Burns, who with David Simon cocreated the landmark show that explored institutional failures, admired her distinct tattoos and gravelly Baltimore drawl. Williams and some of the actors vouched for Pearson as an authentic resource who would give the show additional credibility.
Burns had a spot on the show for her, he promised, if she limited any illicit activity and showed up the next week.
The day Pearson was to appear on camera, Burns said, he received a frantic phone call. “I didn’t know the car was stolen,” Pearson hurriedly began.
Through some deciphering, Burns discovered that Pearson had visited New York with friends for Pride Week. During the journey, they noticed a cop car’s flashing lights and pulled over. The driver of the car had no idea the vehicle he had purchased was stolen. Police searched Pearson, discovered a pocketknife and took her into custody. She did not make call time.
Burns reassured her that he would cast her again.
“Two weeks later, she was there,” he said. “And she was there on time, if not before, every time after.”
The investment kick-started Pearson’s reign as one of television’s most harrowing characters, a dedicated female street soldier in a drug dealing crew also called Snoop who was equal parts detached and calculating.
To form this character, Pearson reflected on the harsh realities of her east Baltimore upbringing, conjuring a fictionalized version of herself who the horror writer Stephen King described as “perhaps the most terrifying female villain to ever appear in a television series.”
“Sometimes I just go back and just hear my voice and I’d be like, ‘Damn, people really had to put the caption on their TV to really know what I was saying,” Pearson laughed, once she made it onto the video call and apologized for taking cold medicine that left her sluggish.
Talking about her first days on the set of “The Wire,” Pearson, then in her early 20s, compared the experience to being in a courtroom, with a mostly white crew judging her performance. The tension faded thanks to the cross-generational bond she formed with Burns, the nearly 60-year-old former homicide detective and middle-school teacher whose experiences informed the show that has come to be seen as one of the best of all time.
www.nytimes.com
More than two decades ago, the actor Michael K. Williams had asked Pearson to accompany him onto the set of “The Wire” after she brazenly introduced herself to him at a Baltimore nightclub.
Burns, who with David Simon cocreated the landmark show that explored institutional failures, admired her distinct tattoos and gravelly Baltimore drawl. Williams and some of the actors vouched for Pearson as an authentic resource who would give the show additional credibility.
Burns had a spot on the show for her, he promised, if she limited any illicit activity and showed up the next week.
The day Pearson was to appear on camera, Burns said, he received a frantic phone call. “I didn’t know the car was stolen,” Pearson hurriedly began.
Through some deciphering, Burns discovered that Pearson had visited New York with friends for Pride Week. During the journey, they noticed a cop car’s flashing lights and pulled over. The driver of the car had no idea the vehicle he had purchased was stolen. Police searched Pearson, discovered a pocketknife and took her into custody. She did not make call time.
Burns reassured her that he would cast her again.
“Two weeks later, she was there,” he said. “And she was there on time, if not before, every time after.”
The investment kick-started Pearson’s reign as one of television’s most harrowing characters, a dedicated female street soldier in a drug dealing crew also called Snoop who was equal parts detached and calculating.
To form this character, Pearson reflected on the harsh realities of her east Baltimore upbringing, conjuring a fictionalized version of herself who the horror writer Stephen King described as “perhaps the most terrifying female villain to ever appear in a television series.”
“Sometimes I just go back and just hear my voice and I’d be like, ‘Damn, people really had to put the caption on their TV to really know what I was saying,” Pearson laughed, once she made it onto the video call and apologized for taking cold medicine that left her sluggish.
Talking about her first days on the set of “The Wire,” Pearson, then in her early 20s, compared the experience to being in a courtroom, with a mostly white crew judging her performance. The tension faded thanks to the cross-generational bond she formed with Burns, the nearly 60-year-old former homicide detective and middle-school teacher whose experiences informed the show that has come to be seen as one of the best of all time.
‘Snoop’ Pearson Wants to Tell Her Story, With Help From a ‘Wire’ Friend
The actress known for stealing scenes in “The Wire” is teaming with series co-creator Ed Burns to turn her life story into a TV show.
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