THE SCREENWRITER FOR 'TRAFFIC' SAYS HE DREW ON HIS PAST OF DRUG USE

HOLLYWOOD, Feb. 4 - There was the Christmas morning in 1996 that he
spent, pretty much at the end of his rope, awkwardly trying to steal
crack cocaine from a curbside dealer who pulled a gun on him. But
that was not enough to get him out of the junkie's life. Nor was the
time a dealer working out of an abandoned elevator shaft on the Lower
East Side of Manhattan put a knife to his throat. Not even when a
300-pound fellow inmate strung out on PCP chased him around a
Manhattan holding pen singing the theme from "I Love Lucy."

Not until a strange, dark kind of miracle occurred in July 1997, said
Stephen Gaghan, did he finally hit the wall and realize that he had
to change his life or die.

"Over one long, five-day weekend, I had three separate heroin dealers
get arrested," Mr. Gaghan said. "My dealer, my backup dealer and my
backup-backup dealer. I was left alone, and I just hit that place,
that total incomprehensible demoralization. That was the end of it;
up five days straight, locked in the bathroom, convinced there was
nowhere else to go, I had to kill myself, I'm going to kill myself. I
just couldn't take another minute of it."

You might have spotted Mr. Gaghan during the Golden Globe Awards
broadcast a couple of weeks ago, seated at the table right behind Tom
Hanks, grinning happily, never more so then when he won the award for
best screenplay for Steven Soderbergh's "Traffic," an ensemble drama
set in the world of drug smugglers, drug dealers and drug takers. Mr.
Gaghan is 35, thin, with a rough-edged look, a wide smile (only
recently acquired) and a loquacious nature.

Mr. Gaghan, who said he won his Emmy in 1997 (as one of the writers
for an episode of "N.Y.P.D. Blue") while in the thick of heroin and
cocaine addiction, and who is now considered likely to get an Oscar
nomination for "Traffic," said he had been cleaned up for three and a
half years. But now, he said, it is time to come clean about his past.

"There was one person I knew who had stopped doing drugs, and his
life seemed to be getting so much better," Mr. Gaghan said. "So at
the end of that five-day weekend I just picked up the phone and
called him. And he helped me." Mr. Gaghan has made references in
interviews (and in his Golden Globes acceptance speech) to friends
and acquaintances he made in the drug world. But until now he has
kept quiet about his own two-decade odyssey with drugs, a long slow
spiral that he said started at a fancy private school in Louisville,
Ky., and included several arrests, squandered opportunities and
accelerating bleakness until he found help to make his way back.

"People were asking me about where the movie came from, where I got
the characters and situations for `Traffic,' and I found myself
starting to speak in code," he said. He would talk about research he
had done in the drug culture, about unnamed acquaintances, but he
never admitted the core truth: that a lot of it came from his own
life.

"Part of the recovery process is a commitment to truth, and I began
to feel that I was not being truthful," he said. "The stigma and
shame of drug addiction is part of what makes it difficult for people
to raise their hand and ask for help, and I felt that by not being
completely honest I was, in a way, perpetuating that stigma."

Also, he said, so many people came up to him, especially after the
Golden Globes, to say the movie had given them some hope.

"If there is a message to the movie, I guess it's that drugs should
be considered a health care issue rather than a criminal issue," Mr.
Gaghan said. "And so many people came up to me recently, people who
had gone through the wringer, just the wringer, half-dead people who
came back to life, that I thought maybe saying a little bit about my
own experience, and the parts of `Traffic' that were borne out of my
own experience, might be interesting to people."

Edward Zwick, the film director and television producer, said that he
first met Mr. Gaghan four or five years ago, when the young writer
was on the steepest slope of his descent, and that he could tell Mr.
Gaghan was "in a slippery place." But he said he didn't know quite
how slippery or quite how steep until, while working with him on the
"Traffic" script (Mr. Zwick is one of the film's producers), it
gradually became clear that actual experiences were being drawn upon.

"You know, you sort of intuit things before you actually know them,"
Mr. Zwick said. "I've known a lot of other people in recovery, so
it's not as if it's mysterious to me. My father was an alcoholic, and
I went through that with him. I've been out here longer than Stephen,
and I've watched several people not make it. I doubt he's smug about
it, but the real triumph of Steve's life has nothing to do with his
screenplay or its reception. It has to do with putting his life back
together."

It started, Mr. Gaghan said, as it often does for young people, with
alcohol and marijuana.

"I remember, when I was writing `Traffic,' talking to top federal
drug-enforcement officials and having them say they read it and found
it very good and believable, except the scene where the girl
describes her resume," Mr. Gaghan said. It is the scene in which a
prep-school student arrested for drug possession, ticks off her
academic and athletic achievements to a disbelieving social worker.

"They said to me, there is no way this girl could be achieving at the
level you have her achieving at and be using cocaine," Mr. Gaghan
said. "I didn't say to them - maybe I should have - that the resume I
had the girl reciting was my resume exactly, at a time when I was
drinking, every day, and smoking marijuana and taking cocaine. The
only thing I changed is that, in reality, I had also been on the
all-state soccer team in Kentucky. I just had her on the school
volleyball team."

The point, he said, is that drug addiction can attack anyone, even a
high-achieving private-school student from a solid, middle-class
family in Kentucky.

"It starts out, you're running around with all your friends - hurrah,
you know. If you said to me, you're going to end up locked in your
bathroom thinking that police were spying from helicopters through
the skylight, I'd have said, no way. I'm going to an Ivy League
college, and I'm taking over the world."

Mr. Gaghan said many of his school friends also experimented with
drugs, but for most of them it was a short-term affair. They tried
it, didn't like it or got scared and backed off. But for him, it
became endlessly fascinating.

"It was always just a point of trying to take it a little bit further
than everybody else," he said. "You always end up finding lower and
lower companions. People fall out, and you end up with people who are
just right on the edge of criminals, people who can procure for you
the various things you need."

He was thrown out of school on the last day of his senior year,
eventually got his equivalency diploma and went to a small business
college in Massachusetts. There he hooked up with some Boston venture
capitalists and started a catalog company, Fallen Empire Inc., hoping
to make enough money to support his writing career and provide enough
money for booze and drugs.

One of his stories, "The Year With No Winter," was published in the
Iowa Review in 1990. But the business was a disaster. And when he had
lost everyone's money, he said, he simply ran away to New York: "I'd
get in trouble in one place, so I'd just flee to someplace else."

And the whole time, he was using drugs: sometimes more regularly than
at other times, two or three times kicking the habit for a short
while. His shift was steadily toward cocaine and eventually the
sniffable heroin that became popular among young people in the early
90's.

"Everybody was doing it," he said. "It was just the thing to do.
You'd walk around the East Village in your hipster boots, listening
to grunge music and being the prototypes of heroin chic. I don't
know, it's so embarrassing."

Though he didn't know it, Mr. Gaghan said, he was by this time a
full-blown drug addict. "I thought I was just having this literary
adventure, that I was really fine," he said.

The dependence was getting worse. There were seizures, bouts of
incontinence, a long, slow steady descent into mental and physical
squalor. The amazing thing, he said, is that outside of his drug
friends he was able to keep it a secret from others in his life.

"I worked very hard on the mask," he said. "The one thing that I
couldn't disguise was that I was getting arrested all the time."

There were some 20 or 30 arrests, he estimated, all over the country,
mostly for misdemeanor charges. "Even in my stupor, I realized that
there was a pattern forming," he said. There were three D.U.I.
arrests for which he was, miraculously, acquitted. But then he made a
big mistake.

"I used to buy drugs from these 14- year-old kids who ran their
operation out of an apartment on Eighth Avenue and 15th Street in
Manhattan," he said. "I went over there one day in late 1992. I had
maybe $4 worth of heroin in my pocket, and I wanted to buy a
half-gram of cocaine."

He bought the cocaine, left the building, walked around the corner to
Seventh Avenue and was caught in a police sting operation. This was
no small misdemeanor; this was heroin and cocaine. Mr. Gaghan
borrowed money from friends, used all of his own savings and hired a
good lawyer. (He kept it secret from his mother and stepfather in
Kentucky.)

Records of his Manhattan case show that he was arrested on Oct. 10,
1992, on felony drug charges and less than a month later pleaded
guilty to a misdemeanor charge of drug possession and was sentenced
to a conditional discharge.

Mr. Gaghan reacted the way he always did when backed into a corner in
those days, he said. He fled, this time to Los Angeles.

It was 1993, and the worst of his decline was yet to come, he said.
He worked for a while answering phones and reading books for a
production company. Then he stalked off on his own, hoping to make it
as a movie or television writer.

"I got 10,000 rejections. I was rejected on the phone by `Baywatch
Nights.' " Still, it meant he had plenty of time for his other life,
the one filled with cocaine and heroin. He lived the West Hollywood
life of a struggling writer, getting odd jobs here and there, up all
night much of the time, high or strung out.

"It starts out that you have a bunch of people around you, living the
same drug life, and then people start to drop off," Mr. Gaghan said.
"They die. They go into rehab. They disappear. Until finally you're
down to a real hard core, the iron men. And then after a while
they're gone, too. And it's just you, locked in the bathroom. I
honestly believe that out of the last 10 years, I spent 3 of them
locked in the bathroom."

There is a scene in "Traffic" in which Michael Douglas, playing the
young addict's father, breaks into the bathroom where she has locked
herself and her drugs. Mr. Gaghan said he knew that bathroom had to
be in the movie, because it was in his life.

By the mid-90's, despite the drug use, he began to get work. He had
jobs on various movie lots, wrote some television shows, even shared
an Emmy. But he was a drug addict the whole time, he said. "I smoked
crack in my office on the Universal lot, always with some heroin to
even it out," he said. "I smoked crack in my office on the Fox lot.
Oh God, what are people going to think when they read this? I will
never work in this town again."

Substance abuse, of course, is not a new story in the entertainment
industry, which is, if anything, more willing than most to forgive
such transgressions and cheer on those in recovery. The warm
reception that has been given Robert Downey Jr. since his release
from jail on a drug charge, and subsequent arrest on another drug
charge, is merely the latest case in point. Almost everyone in
Hollywood knows someone who has been down that road.

Mr. Gaghan said that at this point he was spending much of his money
on drugs. When he ran out, he tried to make do. Sometimes he could.
Sometimes he just sat in the locked bathroom, wondering if anyone was
noticing.

And then came the day he hit that wall - in July 1997 - and the
helping hand that led him to therapists, substance-abuse programs and
what he hopes will be a whole new life.

Mr. Gaghan declined to give the name of the person who saved his
life. It is a fellow writer and actor, he said, who is well known and
deserves his anonymity. He met a woman in recovery, a photographer
named Michael McCraine, and now they have a 9-month-old son named
Gardner. It's been 43 months since he hit that wall and found the way
out, he said.

As Mr. Gaghan finished his lunch one day last week on the terrace at
the Chateau Marmont Hotel above the Sunset Strip, a bright-blue
tropical bird fluttered out of the foliage onto the table's edge. Mr.
Gaghan gently laid out a French fry. The bird cocked its head, bent
forward, snatched the fry and whizzed back up into the trees.

"That was just insanely beautiful," he said. "I have this life now
where I am noticing all of these beautiful things around me."

One day last week he had three things happen to him: Paramount
Pictures gave approval for his next movie, "Abandon," a thriller
based on his own script, which he will also direct; he received a
nomination from the British Academy of Film and Television Arts for
his "Traffic" screenplay; and he received a call asking if he was
interested in writing the screenplay for the next Indiana Jones movie.

Not bad for one day.

"I'm happy now," he said. "No one who saw me a few years ago could
believe I would be here. I don't know if drug addiction is genetic. I
don't even know if it's a disease. But I do know one thing: you have
to treat it like a disease. Because if you don't, you die."