Friday, September 23, 2011

What Gets To Me?




I guess most of us have one thing or another that gets to us no matter how many times we see or hear about it. I mean it’s difficult for me to keep from tearing up when the nightly news comes on and we see a group of returning soldiers being greeted by wives, girlfriends, mothers and children. An athlete openly thanking a parent for their help along the way is another of those moments. Emotional sincerity is the deciding factor.

In my mind there isn’t anything that can rival the sincerity of a genuine thank you. That’s not to say each time I receive a thank you note, or an in person thank you, or just a quick phone call of thanks, I begin to cry like a baby. Some offers of thank you have a greater impact on me than others. Usually these are the ones received unexpectedly.

It was close to thirty years ago. I had the position of being the in-house voice casting director for “Sullivan Bluth Animation”. At the time they were a major player. I considered myself to be a lucky man to have the job. Of course, anytime I’m able to work in this subjective creative world I’ve chosen to exist in, I consider myself lucky; make that read "very" lucky. It worked out to be three years of almost complete enjoyment for me. It was a creative, exciting, and extremely challenging organization to be involved with. Some of my many assignments were more challenging then others. For me, as a professional, the most difficult assignments are those where the completion and project budgets are always in doubt. It’s almost exactly like building a house. Nothing is more expensive than making changes while in progress, or shifting from one project to another. The possibility exists for never completing anything. Having a series of films being worked on, without a supposition in place regarding a final outcome, can and will most likely spell disaster. There was a short period of time at Sullivan Bluth, when I do believe I had my hand in three projects at the same time. One incident will remain etched in my memory bank.

The late actor “Buddy Hackett” had been cast to play a lead role. We recorded him. In my opinion Buddy had done a superlative job. He was paid handsomely for his efforts. A few days later, I thought they were kidding me when I was asked to bring Buddy back, at full pay to redo his entire role. All concerned parties, (far too many of them), seemed ecstatic with his work on the second go around. Inwardly, I felt his first recording session was equally as good. The way it turned out none of it mattered. ” Hackett's work never made the screen. For whatever the reason, we recast the role with Charles Nelson Riley as the replacement. Even though I was the casting director, no mention was made of why Don Bluth and his cohorts were dissatisfied. And the strangest part of the entire incident was the film in question was placed on hold after it was nearly complete, in favor of another film they felt would do better at the box office. In either case, management or lack there of, was horribly mistaken. Everything they tried during the era in question failed miserably at the box office. It certainly all boils down to the same old cliché, "the audience will let you know what you have.” Without exception my colleagues at “Bluth”, yours truly included, felt we had a far better product than the gate receipts provided.

Four best moments remain in my minds eye, which occurred during my tenure at Sullivan Bluth Animation.

1. Early on the New Years day morning following our working together, I received a phone call from Buddy Hackett; very short, sweet, and to the point; "Hello Harvey, this is Buddy. I just wanted you to know you’re one of the nice guy’s I worked with this last year. Thank you,” he said, and hung up abruptly.

2. Larry Dobkin, at age eighty-three, after telling me of a first hand experience with Cecil B. Demille while filming “The Ten Commandments”, then taking my hand and saying “Thank you for bringing me in to audition Harv. It means a great deal to me.”

3. Hans Conreid, during the month before he died making it a point to come by the office for no other reason than to say, "Thank you Harvey."

4. And finally from a little boy, who remains unknown, but not unthought-of .

It was at Sullivan Bluth, when against my better judgment; I complied with management’s wishes, and proceeded to conduct field auditions of little children. Along with my production assistant we dragged our recording equipment to nursery schools around the city. After three weeks of sheer drudgery, management relented to my wishes and we began bringing kids in to audition in house at our studios. These were five and six year old children being submitted by way of agent representation. Two weeks, and four hundred children later I was ready for the "looney bin". Finally the in-house auditions came to a merciful end, I thought. Somehow we had missed a few kids who still remained in our outer reception area. I dutifully went out to where they were waiting and told the parents we’d be bringing their children in to record in a few minutes. The first two kids were in and out unceremoniously. The third and final child to audition for me, created far more than I had anticipated. When he entered the recording area, I felt a smile come across my face. Here stood a six-year-old little boy, dressed in slacks and a smart looking shirt and tie. His very blond hair was perfectly cut in a crew. This kid was destined to become a football line backer. I could tell from his lantern jaw, broad shoulders and overall countenance, this was a young man who had future hero written all over him. His audition went well enough. I dismissed him and he was gone in a flash. Thank God it was over. I was totally exhausted. The amount of extra talking it takes in order to direct most children can take it’s toll; especially when you’ve had weeks of it without a break. I was leaning against a wall taking a breather when out of nowhere here comes the kid, running down the hall like a linebacker straight at me. He stopped directly in front of me. I leaned over in order to hear what he had returned for. Now I was at his eye level. Without warning this little guy puts his very strong little right arm around my neck and kisses me on the cheek, and says all in the same motion, “Thank you for the help mister.” He was gone in a flash. At the end of the hall he turned as he stood at his Mothers side and waved goodbye to me. It was an overpowering incident. It caught me off guard as well as in a state of complete exhaustion. I turned away from my production assistant, but not before catching sight of him showing how he to was touched by the genuineness of this little boy.

And so on and so forth, through the years I have discovered more than I probably deserve,the many ways a thank you can be rendered. A wink of the eye; a quick smile, a handshake, and in some instances a tear being shown by the head of state, for the entire world to see unashamedly.


A Favorite Thank You


It was the beginning of the war for Great Britain. They found themselves at the mercy of Adolph Hitler and his band of Nazi tyrants. While the USA had not yet entered the conflict Sir Winston Churchill and Franklin Delano Roosevelt had been in contact and both were aware of the dire circumstances, which existed for the world’s future.

In August of 1941, Prime Minister Winston Churchill and President Franklin D. Roosevelt met secretly for their great “Atlantic Conference”, off the coast of Newfoundland. “The Atlantic Charter” was conceived, seventy years ago. And to further implement the ever-growing bond between our two countries, FDR dispatched his personal envoy to Britain, Harry Hopkins, during a special dinner with Churchill, took the floor and quoted from the Book Of Ruth:

“ Whither thou goest I will go, and whither thou lodgest I will lodge. Thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God,” he declared, dramatically adding “even to the end”.
Churchill wept openly.

As do I whenever I reread of the incident.

Tuesday, September 20, 2011



A Little More From The Old Guy



Another incident popped into my mind about a visit with the Old Guy. As usual he began with a statement, which would have come across to an untrained ear as totally out of reasonable context.

I had long since become a trained listener. I’m one of those people who get a variety of oddball clues from apparently nothing. Perhaps it was cultivated by the melting pot of humanity I was raised with. Immigrants had their own language cultivation systems in place almost from the instant they set foot on land here in the United States. As an example, the Jewish immigrants change their Yiddish language into a combo of English, as we know it, and Yiddish as they spoke it;”wellah” a thing called “Yinglish”. They brought a special music and lyric to conversation. The sounds always struck me as funny. The East side of Manhattan was like a continual stand up comedy routine. Initially the players had little idea of how funny they sounded, especially when they co-mingled an assortment of dialects. The most entertaining for me was the sound of a person with a heavy-duty Irish brogue, conversing in Yiddish. In other words, actually speaking “Yiddish” with an authentic Irish accent.

You folks, who think you’re good at dialects, try doing an Irishman with a Yiddish accent. As a point of fact, I heard “James Cagney” as a lark, at a private party, speaking perfect Yiddish with an Irish brogue. As if doing those two things simultaneously wasn’t enough of an accomplishment, Jimmy without missing a beat, added a perfect impression of “John Wayne” to the mix. And at that same party, a gentlemen named “Hermes Pan”; Fred Astair’s choreographer, pointed out to all of us, the fact, Jimmy could do all of this while dancing an Irish jig. If you think I’m making up this story about James Cagney, think again. And while you’re thinking find someone like the “Old Guy” to talk to.

He grew silent for a few moments. I’ve learned when it happens to stay patient, another image of the past was taking shape. The Old Guys next assessment:

“Those bound to forget have forgotten; those who remember; will never forget.”

And as I gazed at him, (the) from whence it came will remain without my understanding. The name of a restaurant popped into my head. It was during an evening of adventure, at the old “Frascoti’s” restaurant, on Wilshire near La Cienga Blvd. in Beverly Hills. I believe I was about twenty-three years old at the time. Following a show run through I had been working on; a rather attractive woman offered me her business card and suggested I come by her place to end the evening. It turns out she was the recently widowed, newly inherited owner of the “Frascoti’s restaurants. When I arrived at her Beverly Hills restaurant it was already one in the morning. The year was 1956.

It turns out the lady had spent the entire evening inviting people to her restaurant. At 2AM it was a large, well-oiled entourage, which left her restaurant, en route to an area, which is now known as “Trousdale Estates”. To this day I can’t imagine why in the world I was invited. Other than being in the same business, it would have been a more likely scenario if I were there as a parking lot attendant. Never the less, make no mistake, I was there, and the event helped to shape my future. I learned during the evening, the bigger and more successful they are, the nicer they are.

Fifty-Five years ago; It was 1956


The United States presidential election of 1956 saw a popular Dwight D. Eisenhower successfully run for re-election. I doubt if Eisenhower had ever been to “Frascoti’s”. That of course means, I was one up on the president of The United States. …And in the event you’re wondering, “Frascoti” was named after a township in Italy.

As a reference to who was in attendance on this evening in 1956, I’m duty bound to mention the previous year 1955.

“Marty”, (1955) Paddy Chayefsky cinematization of his television play was originally presented in 1953 as a 60-minute TV broadcast, with leads played by (1)Rod Steiger and Nancy Marchand (2). It was the only film based on a TV drama to ever win Best Picture award. (“Steiger” came across to this young guy (me) as a man who was in the process of impersonating himself. My first thought after meeting him was; he’s just like Rod Steiger.)

As a feature film, Marty was one of the biggest 'sleepers' in Hollywood history, from the independent production company of Harold Hecht and actor Burt Lancaster (Hecht-Lancaster). It’s $340,000 production budget yielded over $5 million in gross proceeds. Marty was nominated for eight Academy Awards, Including best actor (3) Ernest Borgnine, and Best Screenplay (4) Paddy Chayefsky. (These two people appearing in the same private social happening, in retrospect, would most likely be deemed as highly unlikely today.) I’ve never seen any other individual in my lifetime that smiled more than Ernest Borgnine. As an aside…I never spoke directly to either of them. It’s difficult to speak when your mouth has dropped open and remains in awe like freeze for an entire evening.

Oh, did I mention (5)Humphrey Bogart showed up with this attractive (6)tall girl, just staying long enough to give (7)Cagney a hug, and compliment him about having so much to do with starting the Screen Actors Guild, back in 1933.

“So, the piano played, and the guests stayed.”

Surprisingly, the talk did not center on Ernie Borgnine, or Paddy Chayefsky, and how they had scored the year before. That was far too shallow a conversation for this group. The crowd was zeroed in to the present; to what was happening then, and what was about to happen within the movie industry during 1956. My comment today, simply, they really knew what they were talking about.
1956 Top Grossing Films (U.S.)

Rank Title Leading Star Studio Gross

1. The Ten Commandments Charlton Heston, Yul Brynner and Anne Baxter Paramount $43,000,000
2. Around the World in Eighty Days David Niven, Cantinflas and Shirley MacLaine United Artists $23,120,000
3. Giant Rock Hudson, Elizabeth Taylor and James Dean Warner Bros. $14,000,000
4. War and Peace Audrey Hepburn and Henry Fonda Paramount $12,500,000
5. The King and I Deborah Kerr and Yul Brynner 20th Century Fox $9,000,000
6. The Searchers John Wayne Warner Bros. $8,500,000
7. Bus Stop Marilyn Monroe 20th Century Fox $7,269,000
8. High Society Bing Crosby, Grace Kelly and Frank Sinatra MGM $6,250,000
9. The Girl Can't Help It Jayne Mansfield and Tom Ewell 20th Century Fox $5,878,000
10. Written on the Wind Rock Hudson, Lauren Bacall, Robert Stack and Dorothy Malone Universal $5,712,000

“Those bound to forget have forgotten; those who remember; will never forget.”

So another of The Old Guy’s word gestures, as I refer to them, has come to pass. Nothing of utmost incredibility to challenge ones mind set. I guess anyone in my position in life who forgets an evening of his past, similar to the one I just described, has some faulty brain waves, or a lack there of.

Each and every time the Old Guy offered a word, it served me as a hand reaching out. There are those who preach the gospel of our industry; then there are those who have lived and shaped, and given me an indescribable wealth, which money could never purchase.

***

Thursday, September 15, 2011

This Old Guy




When I least expect it a guy or gal comes in for an audition and without warning brings with them a slice of life I wasn’t at all planning on. Sure I conduct my auditions on schedule; the show must go on and all that sort of thing applies, but somewhere along the way a word or a gesture allows for something special to occur; humanness finds its way between the cracks of our commercial world of puff. There, in an instant or two, I am permitted the pleasure of another man, or woman’s sentiments as they regale over a truth; nothing by design; merely stemming from a mutual need I would guess. No hand signals are given; to the casual observer, what appears in our scene is a "busy as usual" director, trying to stay within his allotted time frame.

On this particular day the guy who stood there before me required, during the "then happening" event, a listener, in this case Harvey Kalmenson, to capture the meaning of every word he spoke. I never felt the pressure of a comprehension test to follow. It was the sheer importance of the man himself, which dictated the importance of my attention to what he was willing to share.

I rarely break for lunch, and almost never have a lunch companion. On this day, lunchtime had long since come and gone. In fact I was more or less on my own for the rest of the afternoon. Man or woman, an experience being honestly shared with an individual in their tenth decade of life is a titled happening to be treasured by the listener; in this case Harvey Kalmenson.

Oftentimes people of a rare vintage offer openings, seemingly without direction. They might name an event, like an occurrence, which took place many years ago in a foreign land:
”I remember how she trembled when finally it was over; Florence was the first lady to swim the English Channel.”

Summer in a very hot San Fernando Valley venue, and without warning a conversation begins on a fog-ridden day across the pond; swimming history occurred on August 8, 1950, when Flo swam the English Channel in 13 hours and 20 minutes, breaking the then-current world record held by American swimmer Gertrude Ederle. Before I could ask the guy what a sixty two year old happening had to do with today’s, he was away and running. This was going to take awhile...


The Old Guy

“If ever you’d like to hear about 1932, I think there could be some substance to what I have to say."

Now that caught my attention. As a matter of fact, it demanded it. I treasure books; films; magazines; presenting documentation of those who came before me. Having a man, who for many years has been a respected community leader, willing to personally take me to an era by way of his first hand living experiences, is, and was of unrivaled magnitude!

In 1932 our Old Guy (or Gal) was age nineteen.

The Old Guy

“I’d like for you to try to assimilate the era, Harv. By that I mean…think about all the things we didn’t have, you and yours take for granted today. Few had phones; many dreamed about having a radio for the family’s entertainment; my source for assimilation was verbal communication, newspapers, magazines, books, and the rarity of an occasional movie.”

I settled in and prepared to participate in the afternoon as a listener. While I’m a devout lover of the abstract, I couldn’t quite get a handle on what his reference to assimilate meant for me as an individual who was not yet an inhabitant of the days the Old Guy had lived in; especially as a thirteen year old.


Assimilation Through The Eyes of a Thirteen year old

The Old Guy

The 1932 Olympics took place in Los Angeles, California. The Coliseum held fourth as a magnificent mainstay of the games. History documents this as possibly the worst worldwide economy ever. Can you imagine the desperation? The USA was the only country in the world to bid for the 1932 Olympic games. Talk about a bleak outlook; six months before the Games were to begin, not a single country had responded to the official invitations. The world was mired in the Great Depression which made the expense of traveling to California seem nearly as insurmountable as the distance. Many of the spectator tickets had not been sold and it seemed that the Memorial Coliseum, which had been expanded to 105,000 seats for the occasion, would be relatively empty. Then, a few Hollywood stars (including Douglas Fairbanks, Charlie Chaplin, Marlene Dietrich, and Mary Pickford) offered to entertain the crowd and ticket sales picked up.

Only 1,300 athletes participated, representing 37 countries. And if you think times sounded bad…try this on for size: The United States presidential election of 1932 was taking place as the effects of the Wall Street Crash of 1929, and the Great Depression were being felt across the country.

In 1932 President Herbert Hoover's popularity was falling as demonstratively as our current president's. The voters felt he was worsening the depression through his excessive spending and protectionism. Sounds familiar, doesn’t it?

But just when you think things can’t get any worse, even the emotions of a thirteen year old boy can be shaken to their core. Poverty hit our household, along with the calamity of what being forced into adult realizations can do to a very young man.

The Olympic games seemed of little importance to me. It was a first time, first hand experience. I had never seen my Mom ill before. Who cared who the President of The United States was? My Dad struggled to bring home enough money to feed the family. No longer dressed in his banker's garb, he had become a common picker; leaving in the wee hours of the morning at the beginning of each new week, and returning when there was enough money to help support us. I sold newspapers, and delivered prescriptions for the local pharmacy. The friends I had in those days were all in the same boat. Survival was the name of the game. Financially, nothing seemed to get better. The next seven years allowed me to reach manhood. At age nineteen I was completing my second year of study at Los Angeles City College. We were all studying diligently. There was togetherness about LACC. None were on a free ride. Even our conversations were a conscious learning experience. It was a twenty-four hour a day, around the clock effort. Not what most would think? We were dedicated to not falling short. The talk was of events; of the world; of our campus colleagues; some who preached of the most unholy doctrines. One day we had a guy who spoke of a new group called “The Aryan Nation”. He claimed to be its founder. It was the first I’d heard of “Adolph Hitler”. It turned nasty that day. There he stood in the center of our new campus. Until that very moment I had never heard his form of venom. He singled out some of my friends, not aware we were part of the fledgling drama department. It was far too much to take. We took a stand and moved him bodily from the campus, to the cheers of the lunchtime student body. I can remember feeling good about the stand we took and how together we became proud of being young actors. Unfortunately it wasn’t the last we saw of the imbecile. He went on to become a well-known hater. The rest of us completed our two years at the school, and moving forward into what was then still a rather sleepy Los Angeles society.

September 4, 1929, Los Angeles Junior College opened its doors for the first time with over 1,300 students and 54 teachers. It later changed its name to Los Angeles City College.

Notable alumni, many cut from our cloth.

Entertainment Industry Performance:

Bob Arbogast, radio broadcaster and voice actor
Pete Arbogast, radio announcer
Alan Arkin, actor, Academy Award® recipient
Billy Barty, actor and founder, Little People of America
Brenda Benet, actor
Tommy "Butch" Bond, actor
Albert Brooks, actor, comedian and director
Diana Canova, actor
James Coburn, actor, Academy Award® recipient
Clint Eastwood, actor; producer, Academy Award® recipient; director, Acad
emy Award® recipient
Mike Evans, actor
Al Freeman, Jr., actor, Emmy® Award recipient; educator
Morgan Freeman, actor, Academy Award® recipient; producer
Debbie Shapiro Gravitte, actor, Tony Award® recipient
Deidre Hall, actor
Mark Hamill, actor
Michael Harris, actor
Allen “Farina” Hoskins, actor
Jackie Joseph, actor
Margaret Kerry, actor
Wallace Langham, actor
Ruta Lee, actor
Tony Maggio, actor
Whitman Mayo, actor
James Mitchell, actor and dancer
Dickie Moore, actor
Wayne Morris, actor, WWII ace
Shelley Morrison, actor
Stephen Nichols, actor
Jeannette Nolan, actor
Hugh O’Brian, actor, Golden Globe Award® recipient
Rosie Perez, actor and choreographer
Donna Reed, actor, Academy Award® recipient
Maggie Roswell, actor
Alexis Smith, actor, Tony Award® recipient
Louise Sorel, actor
Robert Vaughn, actor, Emmy® Award recipient
Stuart Whitman, actor
Cindy Williams, actor and producer
Esther Williams, actor, Golden Globe Award® recipient
Paul Winfield, actor, Emmy® Award recipient
Jo Anne Worley, actor
Aron Kader, comedian
Production_Nick Grippo, caterer and author
Gary Stockdale, composer for television shows
Ray Aghayan, costume designer, Emmy® Award recipient
Rudy Behlmer, director and author
Charles Burnett, director and writer
F. Gary Gray, director and producer
Michael Lembeck, director, Emmy® Award recipient; actor
Karen Moncrieff, director
Albert and Allen Hughes, directors
José Quintero, directo
Ray Harryhausen, producer, director and special effects artist; special Academy Award® recipient
Bruce Kimmel, director, producer, writer, actor and composer
Mimi Leder, director, Emmy® Award recipient
Gene Roddenberry, producer and screenwriter
True Boardman, screenwriter and actor
John Milius, screenwriter, producer and director