Tim Matheson. Jerod Harris/WireImage

Tim Matheson has spent seven-decades in Hollywood, and the multi-hyphenate is using his new memoir to dissect all the highs and lows of his career — from trysts with Kirstie Alley to finding his mentor in Lucille Ball.

Damn Glad to Meet You: My Seven Decades in the Hollywood Trenches, which hit shelves on Tuesday, November 12, details Matheson’s long-spanning time in the spotlight, from his first job on Leave it to Beaver to his current gig as Vernon “Doc” Mullins in Netflix’s Virgin River.

“I started to write a book about the making of Animal House, and then my publisher [Hachette Books ] responded to it, but said, ‘Well, we’d love to hear more about your career as well,’” he recalled exclusively to Us Weekly. “So I expanded it at that point to include seminal events in my life and tell of a larger story. That’s what started it all.”

While Matheson stepped on a set for the first time on Leave it to Beaver, it was his role as Eric “Otter” Stratton in 1978’s Animal House that truly made him a household name. Starring alongside acting giants like John Belushi, Donald Sutherland and Kevin Bacon, the film centered around two college freshmen who, after being rejected by the Omega Theta Pi House, lower their fraternity standards to pledge notoriously rowdy Delta Tau Chi House — which is at the risk of having their charter revoked.

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“This script was unlike anything I’d ever seen. It was a bit of sketch comedy, but it had racist, Sєxist and chauvinist elements,” Matheson admitted of the cult classic film, adding that he almost didn’t get the part. “They thought I was a cowboy or a surfer, not a preppy.”

Matheson, of course, did land the role — and his name just under Belushi’s in the credits — opening a gateway to a new level of fame and friendship with some of Hollywood’s most prominent faces. Belushi, Lucille Ball, John Candy, Chris Farley, Kirstie Alley and Dick Van Dyke are just a few of the actors Matheson has crossed paths with over the years, each one serving as an intriguing anecdote in his rich life history.

While some of his costars served as long-term mentors, others were tragically taken from him too soon. When asked how he was able to sidestep the darker side of fame, Matheson credited never being “No. 1 or 2 on the call sheet.”

“I always had to keep reinventing myself. I knew I had to work so hard. I really had to work so hard to accomplish what I needed to do on the set that I couldn’t waste time on the set or getting ready to be on the set,” he told Us. “There were movies where I’d go to Las Vegas and have some fun with some pals and stuff. But generally speaking, it never served me well.”

Reflecting on being “stoned” during acting class and getting a harsh wake up call from the teacher, he added, “It just didn’t enhance anything. It never helped me. It only sort of got in the way. I decided early on that [it was] not something that’s a good idea for me.”

Damn Glad to Meet You is available to purchase now. For all of Matheson’s best stories and biggest name drops in the memoir, keep scrolling:

Lucille Ball

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Ball became one of Matheson’s most influential mentors after they worked together on Yours, Mine and Ours, telling Us that she took a “genuine interest” in helping him as a young actor – but she always meant business.

“She was a tough task master and worked tremendously hard and never goofed around on the set, but took time between stakes to share with me her thoughts on the business and acting and careers and advise me on so many things and ask me, you know, how I was doing in my personal life,” he shared. “But that was between takes on set at work. It was always  tough — she didn’t care if you were 6 or 60, know your lines and speak louder.”

Matheson said that when he teamed back up with her to guest star on her show Here’s Lucy, she would often speak to him through the director. While moments were “embarrᴀssing” for the actor, Ball’s costars comforted him about her tactics, and Matheson learned that “business is a full contact sport” from working alongside her.

“That generation of performer always voiced their biggest fears. And I’ve seen professional golfers playing around together, and they are just so mean to each other,” he continued with a laugh. “They’re going, ‘Wow, you just hit that sucker.’ I mean, they just say horrible things to each other and then hit the ball perfectly, and it’s just the pressure is relieved in a funny way between them. That’s what Lucy was doing. It taught me to be tougher, not be so sensitive, not to be so stiffy and just  man up. It was a big lesson. One of the many that I learned from her.”

John Belushi

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Belushi starred in Animal House as John “Bluto” Blutarsky of the Delta Tau Chi House alongside Matheson, who called the comedian a “wonderful” actor and friend.

While Belushi died in 1982 due to a drug overdose, Matheson said the comedian was “clean on set” while filming.. “If he did anything, it was away from the rest of us, and he never gave any signs he was up to anything,” Matheson wrote in his book, noting that director John Landis made sure it was a “drug-free” atmosphere.

“We expected a colossal coked-up prima donna to arrive from New York to lead the Deltas. The exact opposite is what we got,” Matheson shared. “Everybody was in awe of the guy, and yet he proved so normal. Approachable. Genuinely friendly.”

Matheson and Belushi continued on as friends in the following years, with the Virgin River star serving as Belushi’s “mostly clean friend” who proved to be a “safe” space for the SNL star. “John couldn’t have been more gracious and generous, so fun, so smart,” Matheson wrote in his book. “But walking on the edge all the time.”

When Matheson and Belushi teamed up again in 1979 for Steven Spielberg’s 1941, “fame and lifestyle had taken their toll” on Belushi. “He wasn’t the same John,” Matheson claimed, but pointed out that he was still able to “shine” when Spielberg called “action.”

“There was nothing, I thought then, I could do to save my friend,” Matheson recalled.

Rob Lowe

One of Matheson’s most hilarious stories comes as a result of his history with Lowe, who he jokingly accused of “stealing” his and ex-wife Megan’s nanny. The duo — who worked together on Aaron Sorkin’s The West Wing — were both living in a Montecito, California community when Matheson’s childcare professional had to quit. Two weeks later, Matheson claimed he got a call from Lowe asking for her number, with Lowe promising the job would only be for “two weeks.”

Matheson learned a week later she had been hired by Lowe and his family — and she remained with them for five years. While he had no proof, Matheson jokingly hypothesized that the Brat Pack actor “stole” the nanny before even contacting him to call her.

When asked if Lowe would agree he swiped his nanny, Matheson told Us, “You’re going to have to ask Rob!”

“I sent him a copy of the book. I asked him, ‘Would you write me a recommendation if you get a chance to read it?’ AndI thought, if I was Rob Lowe and I read this, my recommendation would be, ‘Tim, I liked your book. No, I didn’t steal your nanny,’” Matheson said with a laugh, before noting that Lowe hasn’t been in communication. “I was hoping he’d write something like that, but I have not heard back from him. But if he didn’t [steal her], it was an interesting coincidence.”

Jackie Gleason

Matheson worked with Gleason on the 1969 film How to Get Away With Marriage, writing in his book that it was the first time he saw an actor who had their “own personal ᴀssistant.”

“‘Kid,’” Matheson recalled Gleason saying to him on set one day. ““You and I are the only ones here who know what we’re doing. Let’s get this show on the road and get outta here.’ … “It was such an honor,” Matheson recalled.

Van Johnson

Matheson worked with Ball and Johnson on the film Yours, Mine and Ours, where he said Johnson would often spend his time “berating” a “bunch of kids in front of the whole crew.”

“Learn your damn lines!” Matheson remembered Johnson yelling. While he and the others were hoping Ball would swoop in to save them, she never did. “She let the scolding and the tantrum continue. Young actors were being taught a lesson,” he said. “Someone had blown the line, and it had cost a hundred-plus people, especially Van, an extra 15 minutes.”

Dick Van Dyke

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In both his book and in his interview with Us, Matheson praised his Divorce American Style costar Van Dyke through and through.

“He always made you feel comfortable,” he told Us. “He always was very human. … He always was telling jokes and keeping it light and fun and relieving any tension.” Matheson recalled playing “ping pong at lunch” with castmate Debbie Reynolds while Van Dyke would “stand around and throw jokes” at everyone.

“It was like a family. I mean, they, in their own way, were creating the family that we were playing in the show,” Matheson continued. “And I just so appreciated them. It was my first movie, and it was just amazing.”

Matheson called Van Dyke “effortlessly funny,” noting that he loved watching him do “takes and scenes” because he was the “master at underplaying” and physical comedy. “I adored working with Dick,” he said.

Daniel Stern

Matheson did a play, тιтled Time West, with Stern, writing in his book that the Home Alone star “tried to murder” him on stage. The off-Broadway production, which centers around a sibling rivalry between two estranged brothers who have reconnected, required the duo to get into multiple quarrels and fights. However, what was meant to be acting turned into reality, according to Matheson.

“He wasn’t on drugs or anything; he just couldn’t turn off his natural look-at-me-everyone rowdiness,” Matheson wrote of being beat up by Stern every night. “Each performance, it got more violent. We had soft, safe props to throw, but some nights, I was getting hit with real glᴀss, toasters, and furniture.”

Although he promised it “wouldn’t happen again,” Matheson claimed the on-stage fights continued until he eventually fought back. After Matheson got a “tad carried away” one night when he strangled Stern with a telephone cord a “tad” too much during a scene, he insisted that his costar be fired for good or he would quit. While Stern was let go, they forced Matheson to finish the next few shows with him, meaning he took “beatings from a disgruntled, already-fired Daniel Stern” for another week.

John Candy

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Matheson and Candy worked together twice: in 1979’s 1941 and 1989’s Speed Zone. Matheson said out of all the actors in Spielberg’s 1941, Candy made him feel “the most welcome” and ultimately became a “surrogate” for Belushi after Matheson realized Belushi had “changed.”

In his book, Matheson recalled landing on a “routine” with Candy, who would lovingly poke fun at him and called him “Tim Matheson’s School for Actors,” often doing multiple voices and characters for the bit.

Candy died from a heart attack at age 43 in 1994. “Like many comedians, I think, he’d fallen into the Oliver Hardy trap of connecting his size and shape to the comedy,” Matheson wrote. “He smoked a pack a day, and according to those close to him, binge eating had become his response to any professional setback — which, for working actors, happens often.”

Chris Farley

Matheson called Farley “generous and kind,” crediting his part in Animal House for the late comedian’s soft spot toward him. He also noted that on the set of their 1996 comedy Black Sheep, Farley “smoked more cigarettes and drank more cups of coffee than anyone I’ve ever seen.” He claimed the SNL alum would drink a full iced coffee before “almost every take,” equally “20 to 30 cups every day.”

Farley died on December 18, 1997 of a drug overdose. He was 33.

Penny Marshall

Matheson claimed in Damn Glad to Meet You that he shared a friend group with Marshall for a while, and that one day she let it be known she was ”interested in becoming more than friends.” While the Hart of Dixie alum thought Marshall was an “amazing, amazing woman,” he simply “wasn’t attracted to her” — but didn’t want to upset the balance of things, so he “dodged” her real life relationship request  for weeks.

“She eventually cornered me on the idea, but I hadn’t yet learned to tell the truth. To be direct. As I had done most of my life, from my mom and my sister to my adult relationships, I had carefully honed the skill of playing peacemaker,” he wrote in his book. “And I was still playing peacemaker—at any cost.”

Eventually, he told her he was “in love with somebody else,” and while Marshall accepted his reasoning, the pair’s friendship was never quite the same.

Looking back, Matheson told Us, “I could’ve handled it better, perhaps.”

Kirstie Alley

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Matheson claimed in his book that he and Alley — who was in her “fun Wichita-gal-now-in-L.A. partying phase” at the time — slept together one night after she had been out with a “bunch of phone a——.” Matheson, meanwhile, had just slept with two other women earlier that night, but still invited her over. After “enjoying some postcoital conversation” while both laid naked in bed, Matheson said his out of town girlfriend walked in on them.

“Days later, Kirstie would tell me that she’d ‘willed herself’ to become invisible,” Matheson wrote of the awkward moment. Matheson then shepherded his girlfriend out of the apartment, who confessed she flew to see him on his birthday. The pair split on the spot. Alley, meanwhile, has “slinked out of the main house like she’d never been there.”

Alley died on December 5, 2022 after a short battle with colon cancer. She was 71.

The Beach Boys

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After Beach Boys cofounder Mike Love wrote “most” of the soundtrack for Almost Summer, a 1978 film starring Matheson, Lee Purcell and Bruno Kirby, Matheson took off with the band on tour to help promote? the movie.

Matheson lamented in his book about time on the road with the group, noting that “drugs were everywhere: pills of every color, coke, booze” as well as “groupies” that were alway surrounding them.

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Dennis Wilson, Matheson claimed, was particularly “crazed,” writing that the drummer’s “appeтιтe for everything was insatiable” as he was someone who would “screw a snake if he could get it to lie long enough.”

After two weeks of travel, Matheson said he felt like he “already needed to get to rehab,” pointing to a “bloated” body and “blurry” vision.

“I was running on fumes while the experts were just getting revved up,” he recalled, adding that Love’s “transcendental meditation” saved him. “I was toying with meditation at the time myself, and he and I would meditate together every day. Getting those few moments in the day of restoration is the only way I survived.”