Tim Allen is still learning the protocols of stardom. On a promotion tour for his new book earlier this fall, he went on a talk show and laughed about the private plane that his publisher, which is owned by Disney, was flying him around in. Known for its thriftiness, Disney hates being made to look like a typical, money-burning Hollywood studio, and a few days after Allen made his remarks, he received a curt memo from headquarters. Never brag about Disney's use of corporate jets, the company's biggest star next to Simba the Lion was told; don't even mention corporate jets and Disney in the same sentence. Now, some stars might have thrown a fit -- or got their agent to do it for them. But Allen reacted like a chastened fifth-grader; he told Disney it was just a joke.
Good thing Allen didn't mention the new four-wheel-drive Porsche the studio just bought him. But then, the Disney comptroller can hardly complain. Allen has made a pirate's galleon of loot for the company during a year in which he has pulled off an unheard-of triple play. Home Improvement, his ABC sitcom now in its fourth season, is TV's No. 1-rated show, earning Disney $400 million thus far in the sale of reruns. His jokey autobiographical book, Don't Stand Too Close to a Naked Man, reached No. 1 on the New York Times best-seller list in October and is still riding high in second place (trailing only the Pope); it is the most successful book yet published by Disney's 3 1/2-year-old book division, Hyperion. Now The Santa Clause, Allen's first movie, is the surprise hit of the Christmas season, earning $71 million in its first 17 days and jumping to No. 1 at the box office over the Thanksgiving weekend -- surpassing Tom Cruise's fangs, Schwarzenegger's pregnancy and both generations of Star Trek.
It's a success story as heartwarming as one of those sentimental father-son talks on Home Improvement. Allen, 41, is hardly the most brilliant comedy star of his generation, though some might call him its most brilliant example of multimedia Hollywood marketing. But few superstars seem less inflated by their success. Allen still keeps a home in an unpretentious neighborhood in suburban Birmingham, Michigan, where he retreats for holidays and other family gatherings. He has been married for 10 years to his college sweetheart, who waited for him while he served more than two years in a federal penitentiary on drug charges. And when he throws temper tantrums on the set of his TV show -- "My set! My camera! My props!", he's been heard to shout -- everybody knows it really is a joke. In contrast to stories about some other sitcom stars, like Roseanne and Grace Under Fire's Brett Butler, those about Tim Allen's rampaging ego are all but nonexistent. "He just never lost perspective," says Bruce Economou, an old friend from Michigan. "When he first went to the Home Improvement stage, where they were building the sets, and the people from Disney were walking him through, they told him, 'This is all for you.' Tim looked at it and said, 'Well, if this show doesn't work, can I have the wood?"'