| Let's go. Up the two flights of stairs to an apartment that dazzles the eye. What would you like to see? Stained glass, you say? Ah, over there, there's a piece of stained glass that Kim's boyfriend, A.C. Weary, finished off. Paintings? Oh, there are a lot of those. An antique chest? Right over here. A glass table, you say? What about a glass table with a nursing bottle hinged to it? That's right; where else would the pet rabbit drink from? The water bottle, custom-designed for him, is under the glass coffee table. Mind you, this is a paper-trained rabbit. There's the Bentwood rocking chair, and the marble fireplace, and the handmade banquette with comfy pillows. Most of these things have been bought at that wonderful "store," the street. Or should I say taken from the street? Whenever Kim's live-in boyfriend is in town, he drags her out into the road to scavenge through other people's dreck. The results have been spectacular. They've saved headboards, bookshelves, tables and chairs that otherwise would have been lost forever. Lovingly, A.C. redoes and refurbishes; he sees the one outstanding feature in an otherwise badly flawed piece of furniture. Amazingly, he makes them look great. In the middle of all this adopted, rescued --- stuff --- stands the lady of the house. And she couldn't look or act more unpretentious if she tried. Kim Zimmer looks like a teenaged leftover from some "Gidget" movie: no makeup, her hair in a pony tail, faded jeans, an Indian madras shirt, and crazy multi-colored socks. She appears ready to get into bed with a cup of tomato soup and tuna fish sandwich and read or watch the soaps. Not bad for a windy, rainy day like today. Who would know that she's the Nola Aldrich of "The Doctors," dressed each day in tight pants and low-cut blouses to seduce even the tamest of men? Being with Kim is being sixteen again. Sitting on the floor, our knees tucked under our chins, eating lots and lots of Triscuits and cheese, is a throw-back to the days when we girls would sit around for hours and dissect the largest news of the day: "Don't tell anyone, but I saw Bobby and Sue cruisin' around in Steve's new car. What do you think that means?" You know, the conversations. This time the conversation is lot more thoughtful and intelligent, we no longer pretend to have all the answers we did at sixteen, but the feeling is the same. You can't help but feel comfy and at home with Kim. She's a laugher, a party-er, a fun loving person who spices up her humor with intellect and sensitivity. As we laugh about our ultimate dreams, Kim says, "I have been saying for as long as I could remember that I want to be...Kim Zimmer --- LIVE at Caesar's Palace!" She cracks up, half-recognizing that she's made an awesome admittance, and half, because at this point, she knows I know, she can do it. "Caesar's Palace is my ultimate goal because you have to have a name before you could play at Caesar's, dahling," she imitates in her Zsa Zsa Gabor voice. "I say to myself, 'Do you really want that much fame?' And then I say, 'Yes.'" She laughs again, then munches on a piece of German sausage. Kim readily admits to liking the glitter and gild of Hollywood. In fact, at times, she feels she would have been better suited to Hollywood during the thirties and forties when stars were Stars. "We don't have any real stars anymore like Hepburn, Bogart, Tracey, Bette Davis or Jon Crawford," she laments. "If I had been around, I would have thrown big parties at my mansion in the hills." Her face dazzles as she elaborates the tale: "I'd want all those press people there, and all those other 'wonderful people,'" she waves her hand at the imagined witty and talented others. "You know, Spence and Kate never came to parties, they weren't very social, but they would come to my parties. I would see to it that they came to my parties," she deadpans. She continues to weave the story, laughing at her own exaggerations, very much enjoying the scene she's created. "Oh, and all the beautiful women would wear these beautiful shoulderless gowns and they would all admire my talents." She continues until both our stomachs are hurting from too much laughter. Growing up in Grand Rapids, and then Ada, Michigan, Kim was a little girl who always had big dreams and high achievements. Both her parents were athletes, and taught Kim to play sports at an early age. She and her sister were the only children, but being the youngest one, Kim was treated as her father's son. She got everything little boys would get: mini-bikes, baseball bats, footballs and motorcycles. "I was a real tomboy. I still am," she admits. In high school, she suddenly became a "girl." She was a cheerleader, member of the homecoming court, Junior Achiever, and first runner-up in the Miss Michigan contest. Few weeks went by when Kim Zimmer's name wasn't in the local newspaper, but inside the bubbly facade she was miserable. "I was always trying to be one of the girls, and I really wasn't. I was trying too hard at being a normal person." Although she dated a lot of boys, most of them were older and not from her school. There was a lot of jealousy, and Kim was not well-liked by her contemporaries. "I would go home a number of times in tears, but no one knew it," she recollects. While her sister went through high school as a cheerleader, too (and semi-professional dancer), the similarities end there. Big sister got married fresh out of high school and still lives in Michigan. "As kids we fought tooth and nail, but now she's my best friend and greatest supporter. There's no jealousy at all on her part, although she would love to be doing what I'm doing." Kim's acknowledgment that she was "different," grew during two years at a local college. She had specifically gone to Hope College because she wanted to be near the family she was to close to. But they knew, as she did, that one day she would finally have to take off. "I've always been so wild," she laughs. She left for San Francisco's American Conservatory Theatre, not knowing a soul in the school and feeling very lonely. One classmate was Margaret Klenck, who Kim later found out was working on OLTL. The American Conservatory Theatre was not exactly what she thought it would be, though they did teach her technique. "They stripped you down to raw meat and try to build little 'ACT' robots out of you," she says grimly. "I always fought them because they were really making me lose my natural instincts as an actress. I'm an instinctual actress; I like to do things moment by moment." After her stint at school ("I had enough of classes"), Kim decided to go to Chicago and start acting. She had heard too many tales of unemployed actors in New York and Los Angeles, and refused to starve. "I heard there were a lot of good money jobs in Chicago. At that point, I was sick of technique and classes in the theatre. It just wasn't fun anymore. I wanted to do musical comedy." Gleefully, she says, "I wanted to go out on the road with a light industrial show and sing and dance about products." Which is exactly what she did. There were also a lot of dinner-theatre engagements, and one, in particular, with Ricardo Montalban, proved invaluable. "We did a very pleasant show together called 'Accent on Youth,' an old 1930's bitter-sweet comedy. Older-man-falls-for-younger-woman sort of thing," she remembers. "Well, Montalban probably taught me more in the little time we were together in that show, than any individual teacher ever could or did," she says adamantly. Chicago was also the meeting place for Kim Zimmer and her agent, a man who immediately took her under his wing. Thanks to him, she was working within two weeks in the Chicago company of "Godspell," and shuttling to New York for soap opera auditions. Quickly, she landed a two-month part on OLTL while still residing in Chicago. She would fly to New York to do OLTL and back to Chicago in the evening to for "Godspell. When it became hectic, Kim was released from her "Godspell" contract and moved in with boyfriend, A.C. Weary, who was already established in New York. Not long after that, Kathleen Turner (Nola Aldrich) left The Doctors and Kim replaced her as the show's best bitch. Surprisingly, Nola has changed. Now she is sympathetic. "The one thing I wanted to get across was that I wouldn't play the role the way Kathleen did. She did a great job, she was a great bitch, but the character needed other colors," Kim explains. Then, laughing, she says, "I think the writers decided to make Nola more sympathetic when they realized that I could cry very easily. Honest to God, they know audiences love to see people on the tube cry." Kim zooms into the kitchen and returns with more bags filled with diet soda, Swiss cheese and sausage, which we stuff into our mouths. In between eating, she tries to convince her rabbit to join us. Her cooing sounds, usually reserved for babies, don't work. Kim insists the rabbit is quite friendly, although there hasn't been any evidence of his warmth. He only seems to come out from under the couch when food is available. Girls will be girls, and we continue to eat and tease the rabbit, then inevitable subject pops up: men. Kim's relationship with A.C. has been progressing nicely for the last six years, although it is not the most conventional of romances. They live together --- sort of. That is, when he's in town. At present, he's working on a nighttime series in California and so only comes to New York every three weeks or so. When he does, he shares residence with Kim. A.C. is at the point in his career (after his own stint on OLTL) where he'd like to establish himself as a nighttime actor, and that kind of work is obviously available in Los Angeles. The couple met in Michigan, where they were both doing summer stock. Although Kim was very attracted to A.C.'s humor, it took a long time for them to get together: "We were so sick of everybody telling us we were the perfect couple, that it was actually drawing us further apart," she muses. "We came together one evening when we were skinny-dipping and he tackled me on a sand dune. We rolled down the dune," she smiles knowingly, "and that's where it started; it was really romantic." Other than lust, Kim says she loves the way A.C. motivates her, not only in her career, but in everyday life. "He's a real inspiration to me. I'm basically a lazy person who won't go to other auditions. But he'll call me and edge me on: 'Did you call your agent today? Did you ask him if he has anything for you?' That sort of thing." Kim and A.C. recently returned from a skiing trip to New Mexico with friend Richard Dean Anderson. Kim admits that it's psychologically hard for her to just pick up and take off. In order for her to go on this vacation, A.C. had to leave her flight information, tickets and five one-hundred dollar bills, all neatly arranged on the kitchen table. "If I can get somebody to do that for me, I'll take the trip." In the three years they've supposedly lived together, Kim estimates that she's only spent about a year of actual living time with A.C. "I miss him, more than I ever missed him before. The only good thing about this whole setup is that our relationship is always brand new whenever we see each other." Although a wedding isn't in the immediate picture, Kim does plan on marrying her lover "someday." "Other men bore me very easily," she admits. Her parents, she says, understand that her career comes first, but A.C.'s folks would like them to legalize their relationship as soon as possible. And then there's children. "I want to have kids very badly, I love them. As soon as I feel more secure about myself and my career --- you know, I'm not planning on doing soaps forever --- we'll get married and have kids." Introspecting for a moment, she says, "See, A.C. is twenty-nine years old and he wants children soon, whereas I'm only twenty-five and I could wait a couple more years." In the meantime, Kim is trying to get a club act together. She's a wonderful singer, particularly good at torchy, blues songs. She already participated in a successful nightclub act at The Fives with castmate Larry Riley (Calvin Barnes) and OLTL's Steve Fletcher (Brad Vernon). Yet, as appealing as a solo act is for Kim, it's also terrifying. "I'm a real good performer and I need an audience to work really well." She thinks for a moment, then, "I think the reason I haven't out the act together yet is because I'm afraid of failing. I want to be a huge, smashing success," she emphasizes. Kim finds her rabbit and coaxes him out from under the couch with a bit of celery. As he sits in her lap, soaking up the motherly love and attention, I ask her how she feels about her good friend, Kim Zimmer. She chews on a carrot, then smiles. "Oh, we get along pretty well." Her face turns serious and she scrunches up her eyes: "There are certain aspects of myself that I don't like, but I can overcome them. For instance, I see a very subtle anger that other people see in me. At times, I don't know where it's coming from," she admits. "It's not a vicious anger, it's just something that happens to me, facially." Kim ponders her 'angry-look' for a few seconds, then smiles with satisfaction. "But in the end, I really like Kim Zimmer; she makes me laugh." |