Agents

Agents.

(Necessary, but not necessarily evil.)

* The “commercial talent agent;” you will by necessity have to be in a working relationship with them.
* Without an agent, the voice over artist has little chance of success (in Los Angeles).

It may be of interest if we begin by understanding what an agent actually is, and then examine the relationship between the actor and his or her agent.

Here’s what “Merriam-Webster” has to say:

* One that acts or exerts power

* A means or instrument by which a guiding intelligence achieves a result

* One who is authorized to act for or in the place of another:
a. Representative, emissary, or an official of a government
b. One engaged in undercover activities: spy
c. A business representative

As an aside: I know a few agents that fit the description for all of the above!

Each city has a slightly different approach to how business is conducted. Los Angeles, for a wide variety of reasons, remains uniquely singular. I guess what they say about us is true; we are different at this end of the country. Our town is geographically spread out. It isn’t like New York or Chicago, where a person can walk down the street of a certain location and be privy to just about every major player in the advertising game. Los Angeles stretches out over an area of more than one hundred miles. Then there are the outlying communities that support a myriad of advertising agencies.

New York and Chicago have always been the advertising capitals of this country, and the world for that matter.

A Little History:

The very first signs of significant change came back in the late thirties and early forties when radio began to take hold. Before that, it was the print media that handled the advertisers desire to get their respective products better-known.

All concerned, excluding the advertising agency producers, underestimated the enormity of an industry that was about to change the face of both the advertising business and the future of just about every kid who had the slightest inkling of becoming an actor.

But before we modern folks came along, there were:

Wine, Beer, and Cigarettes (a dream come true).

Every brand had a song, and every school kid could sing, and tell you the benefits of how mild a cigarette could be.

My favorite little cancer stick was “Lucky Strike.” After all, they didn’t “Have A Cough In A Carload.” The label on the pack attested to the fact they were toasted. Many of the old timers would actually discuss the attributes of the different brands of cigarettes. I do believe more doctors smoked “Luckies” than any other brand; at least that’s what they said on the radio.

The first era lasted for about fifteen years. Each radio show had an announcer who did the commercials, many of which were of two minutes duration. Then of course, the jingles; all sung with the benefit of a full big band behind them.

The Pace Picks Up:

With the fifties, and the advent of television, came the need for more and more actors. Up until that time period, such a thing as a commercial talent agent was non-existent. Actors had theatrical agents representing them. These same theatrical agents displayed little or no interest in the commercial field of representation.

As a matter of fact, in the early days (prestige wise) many legitimate actors shared the universal feelings that doing a television commercial was beneath them.

The early sixties brought with it the blossoming of the commercial talent agent. All it took was the magic word "residuals."

(And in the event you are unaware of what the word residual means, you probably should not bother yourself with going any further in your pursuit of a career as a commercial actor.)

Seemingly from out of nowhere, agents began popping up all over the place. Many of them came into it because they were ex-actors who had failed.

(In the early sixties, you could have staged a pretty good musical comedy, with a cast made up of folks who had recently become agents.)

It was during these very early days that the field of voice over was actually established.

In the beginning, the main reason for the voice over was economics. It was easier to add an explanation tag or voice to the substance of the commercial body than to have the on-camera actors act out the motive or sell. In very short order, the production company along with the ad agency creative types latched on to the many plusses that were being enabled by use of the human voice. Since the voice over was part and parcel of the postproduction makeup, it enabled the production company to operate at the location of their choice in order to do the filming, while the necessary additional dialogue could be done at a later time.

Along with the advent of color, larger screens, and better sound, we were on our way.

Since the vast majority of location shots were staged outdoors, the California climate, especially Los Angeles, rapidly secured us as the geographical capital of the commercial production industry.

We had the climate that allowed for more days of outside location work, and coupled with the strength of our Hollywood community of viable talent, ensuring an over abundance of actors for the newly formed talent agencies to draw from. The advertising industry had no choice: If they wanted to film commercials without worrying about inclement weather, Los Angeles was the right place for them to be.

And while all this commercial filming was going on, low and behold our population was increasing simultaneously. Doubling and then tripling the number of people in our country, concurrently had the effect of pouring gasoline on a fire. The more it grew, the more growth potential was uncovered. As new industries were born, so too was the need to advertise them.

At the same time that television displayed its unbelievable prosperity, so too did the forgotten giant radio. Drive time radio became an advertiser's dreamland. With two working parents as opposed to one single breadwinner, the number of automobiles at drive time hours skyrocketed. The agents all, across the board took on representing more actors to cover the demand. Many actors were now making a very handsome income by doing radio commercials.

While radio rarely afforded the residual plus of television, it consumed product at a never before experienced volume.

At the onset, agents began by representing a mere handful of actors. There were just a few actual commercial talent agents in existence, compared to today’s hard to believe enormity. In today’s marketplace (just Los Angeles proper), there are some thirty commercial talent agents (offices). That means agents running offices. The number of sub agents that they employ would probably be in the neighborhood of one hundred and fifty. The union allows for each agency to have a company name, and to hire sub agents to work for them. They are all signatories of the Screen Actors Guild and the American Federation of Radio and Television artists. And accordingly are restricted from any work done for any production company and or advertising agency who is not a signatory of said guilds. In other words: The agents should not be doing non-union jobs.

The agents contract with either of the guilds allows for a maximum of ten percent, as the factor to be used as the maximum percentage when calculating the agent’s remuneration.

Work that is derived under the auspices of SAG is subject to the ten percent being calculated on the actor’s gross earnings. Work derived by the actor under the auspices of AFTRA is subject to the ten percent being calculated as an add-on figure. Add-on meaning that whatever the actor’s fee would be for the commercial, an additional ten percent would be added on top.

Note: The ten percent figure that is understood and commonly used by most of the industry is also misconstrued as being a state regulation. Each state has its own rules and regulations as to the remuneration an agent or manager may charge as a percentage of the actors gross. The 10% figure is what is currently the agreement between the guilds and its signatory members (agents).

Editorially speaking… I feel in general the agents earn every cent they make. The business has changed and continues to change as you read this missive.

Actors and agents aren’t immune to the trials and tribulations of what our nation experiences both cyclically, and without warning.

But make no mistake; there have been a variety of mistakes, which were made by agents, actors and the guilds that, by the nature of things, cannot ever be corrected.

“Oftentimes, when a tide rises to a new and higher level, those who are in the water may not notice, especially if all they attempt to do is stay afloat.”

Work stoppages for any reason, including act of God, will, by their nature, become the cause and effect for unredeemable monetary and emotional loss.

As a guild member, an actor, agent, casting director and emotionally involved bystander who has experienced no less than three prolonged work stoppages, I declare myself worthy of my own personal journalistic comment:

Not working sucks!!!

The agents were of little or no help in any of the strike negotiations. They could, and should have been. Some had reasonable and viable possible solutions to each of the three sanctioned strikes.

During one of the strikes in particular I found myself wondering why SAG or AFTRA wasn’t bringing in or attempting to enlist the help of some of the industry heavy hitters to assist in the negotiations. (I also wondered where the big named celebrities were hiding out.)

“The Actor”
So strange is it, often actors went forth without friends.
“What manner of man,” People asked,
“Would dare to venture out.”
Seeking to be loved
Desperately traveling to foreign lands
Exposing and re-exposing themselves to the taunts of
Their patrons
Ever wanting only love and approval
Always hoping for people to understand.

“The Agent”
And one day
As our actor who no longer had the will to try
Disapproval had engulfed him
He found no energy left to cry.
On the horizon a buffer appeared
A new form of being
Lodged with personality
Charged with enthusiasm
Loving our actor
Never thinking of himself
Straining for our actors welfare
And asking only 10% for their share

By: hk

Admittedly, I never considered myself to be a good agent. At face value, and succinctly stated… here’s my background in a nutshell: Business and Theatre. I’ve been working with, and for actors most of my adult life. The predominance of my experience, and strength (if you will) tends to be on the creative side of my personal ledger. As a writer, I found it difficult to support my wife, my two children, or myself. As a casting director, animated feature film director, and educator, I have managed to gain more than a modicum of renown and respect.

The above assertions, are made by me, and are as subjective as you may will them to be.

Trying To Figure Out The Agent's Position:

It has been twenty-five years since I was an agent. A lot has changed, and a lot has remained the same. The agents receive the same ten percent for securing the actor’s work (toil) and nothing else for whatever (trouble). Agents in general still work long and arduous hours. Agents still do a lot of handholding; some actors are needy; some actors are greedy; some actors are seedy; some actors are needy, seedy, and greedy all wrapped up in one presumptive package. These are the actors who bear the full responsibility for the increase in single malt scotch sales in the Los Angeles area.

Okay, the point is, and I’m sure you get it, I feel agents earn their money, and then some. I have zero complaint about how hard the commercial talent agents work. My question is: Why do they unnecessarily work so hard -- especially the older, bigger, and more successful agents?

My problem has to do with numbers; specifically the number of actors who compete for each radio job.

The current problem is not one which just popped up. It began twenty-five years ago when the agents first decided how great it would be to offer the advertising agencies free auditions. The scripts were mailed to the agent; he or she would record their actors and send a tape of said audition back to the ad agency. In that era, a radio paid a total $200 + 10%,($20). I can remember distinctly asking the agent who was my boss what his thinking was. I mean, we were averaging ten to fifteen actors per commercial audition. It took about two and one half hours to conduct the audition. If one of our actors were selected as the winner, our cut would be $20. My exact comment to my boss was, “You can’t turn the electricity on for twenty bucks.”

At an agents' association meeting, one of the most prominent agents took the floor when it was his turn, and stated without equivocation, “In-house auditions being conducted by us for radio commercials could be our ultimate downfall. We should stop doing in house auditions for radio commercials immediately. If the ad agencies want auditions, they should bring the actors into the advertising agencies and conduct them, themselves.” (Or hire a casting company.) He was voted down. His colleagues didn’t want to risk stimulating the ire of the ad agency producers. To this day, I doubt if any of the advertising people give much thought regarding the well-being of the working commercial voice over agents.

Not much has changed procedurally. Agents still conduct auditions for radio spots. But now we have two more culprits to deal with: online casting services or "banks," and the actor with his or her own in-home recording studio facility.

As casting directors, we are privy to the inside workings of all the latest phenomena. We draw from an acting pool from all over the country. Today, national television spots, more often than not, means we are casting from acting pools originating in all of our major cities.

The numbers of actors auditioning for a radio commercial are often staggering and beyond belief.

What that notable agent professed, twenty-five years hence, has gathered such alarming momentum, that even his brash predictions seem mild today. He was correct then, when he called for his colleagues to stop doing in-house auditions for radio commercials. His assessment of the industry's future was right on. It isn’t too late for change. Some things can still be benefited by reverting to the good old days.

Now What Do I Do?

Taking a page from “Mission Impossible,” your goal, if you choose to accept it, is to make your heart sing. Sing with the joy of knowing you are attempting to succeed, with no thoughts of odds, or predictions.
-- hk

It's your bed, my friend. Stop calling it a business. It isn’t a business. It’s a condition of the heart, your heart. Your assignment is to keep it beating, loud and strong. So, you’ve taken a class or two, and now you find yourself with the actor's time-honored quandary: Now what do I do?

“You weren’t pushed. You either waded or jumped in. You’re in the water now, so swim you bastard, swim.”

Don’t you dare cry. We don’t cry in voice over. What we do is read scripts out loud. We whisper, shout, blare, cajole, advance, retreat, run, jump, and laugh; and that all might take place within a sixty second time frame. It’s going to be your life’s work. We industry insiders refer to it as an audition. If this happening takes place on a regular basis, consider yourself lucky. Most actors complain about not being called in to read (audition) often enough.
If you’re a newbie, just starting out, you won’t have a problem with anyone ever calling you in to audition.

So what do you do now?

Let’s talk football. Here’s our scenario; your team (you) are in possession of the ball. It’s fourth down, and there are yards and yards to go for a first down. The clock is dangerously close to its last tick. If you go for it and you aren’t successful, the game is over. You won’t ever have the same opportunity to get back in the game. If you punt -- kick the ball away -- you’ve lost your final chance to score. With either decision, you’ve lost your chance to win. It's go for it or punt. Go for it or punt. Go for it or punt. Hmmm, what to do? It’s too late, as in “Too Late For Dreams.” Yours!

While you were deliberating over what to do, another, perhaps more erstwhile individual made the decision for you. They kept in the game, kept possession of the ball (for sure longer than you did) and got an unforeseen brake. They tripped, fell, and landed at the feet of a fellow human that was just looking for a “klutz” like them.

“KLUTZ”
a clumsy, awkward, or foolish person.
DERIVATIVES
ORIGIN 1960s: from Yiddish klots, ‘wooden block.’

Or, in the event you are one of those men or women who have no idea of how the game of football is played, perhaps a page from the books of Sholem Aleichem would be easier for you to understand.

In the very early nineteen hundreds, Sholem Aleichem advised the thousands of peddlers on New York’s east side about keeping the door open. It was like our fourth down scenario; if you kick the ball away, it’s the same as closing your shop door. In either scenario, you’ve lost all chance to score. No matter how bad things get (even if it’s snowing and the drifts have blocked the entrance… begin shoveling) someone might be out there trying to get in. Ergo, keep your store open.

I thought you might like to know:

Sholem Aleichem was the pen name of Sholem Naumovich Rabinovich, the popular humorist and Jewish author of Yiddish literature, including novels, short stories, and plays. He did much to promote Yiddish writers and was the first to pen children's literature in Yiddish.

His work has been widely translated. The 1964 musical "Fiddler on the Roof," loosely based on Sholem Aleichem's stories about his character Tevye the Milkman, was the first commercially successful English-language play about Eastern European Jewish life.

I rather doubt if anyone in our business has been privy to more wonderful success stories than I have. I’m actually smiling as I recall many incidents when out of the most seemingly absurd situations, the smoke cleared and a brand new star was born.

Please be advised... many of the newborn stars were very long in the tooth at birth.

(They waited forever for the first break. Imagine if they hadn’t waited; they had closed the store, or punted away the opportunity to hold on to the ball. It would have been one less klutz discovered.)

I must take a moment to admit some lack of graciousness on the part of da harv. I’m guilty. I regularly admonish some of my newbie actor friends regarding their lack of professionalism when taking an audition (with me). It’s not only in my pet peeve category, but also an insulting disregard for those of us who attempt to follow some form of track towards possible or continued success. I want everyone to make it. I root for every actor to make it, even though experience has shown me how few end up being able to support themselves, let alone a family. And that in itself is cause for my most strident of admonishments.

The audition is what you do for a living. Don’t take it for granted. It might change your life.

Professionals arrive at the theater with enough time to put on makeup and prepare for the curtain. If your audition is set for a prescribed time, then it’s your responsibility to be there early enough to study your script and be well-prepared to go in when summoned.

But if I had to spell out my own personal recipe for success, if I was truly put on the spot, if I were only allowed to offer you what I considered the most salient point of all, I could do so without hesitation or equivocation.

The following is what Harvey Kalmenson religiously observes, as his way of life, and adherence to the single most important ingredient for personal and team success in any and all walks of professional life.

As gathered from the writings of Albert Einstein:

“Whatever your choice to do in life, make sure to be the very best at it. No ingredient should ever be inconsequential or overlooked as too small a substance not to be included in your observance of the highest possible work ethic. If you happen to be a match maker, be sure to manufacture the best matches to be found anywhere.”

You may not be the biggest box office draw, but you can be the best actor in the world. That is, if you commit to practicing you’re given craft. I have bolded the foregoing sentence because it denotes the strikingly similar mutuality that every successful athlete and actor has in common: Work ethic.

A friend of mine described an occurrence which took place while he functioned as executive producer on a commercial shoot involving, the one and only, Michael Jordan. I was told Jordan was a gem to work with but did have one special request; a full size regulation basketball hoop and standard be put in place so Mr. Jordan could practice a variety of shots. Wow! Can you imagine, the best player in the history of the game, at the very top of his physical skills, still striving for increased excellence? It kind of sounds like Tiger Woods. I guess they both fell into the trap of seeking a higher degree of excellence by practicing their chosen field. I wonder if either of them read what Albert Einstein had to say? Or maybe it's because they both had dads who shared the same beliefs?

Then there was a particularly small, forty-seat little theater on Santa Monica Blvd. in West Los Angeles, where a very young da harv was diligently practicing something or other. I guess it was a Thursday evening (but please don’t hold me to it) and I was concerned about who was going to fill in during a short sequence of our play, where a piano player was required.

It was almost curtain time and still no piano player. Then, with about fifteen minutes to spare, here comes this smiling, effervescent human being, coming through the drawn curtain and introducing himself to all of us. “Hello everybody,” he said, while shaking hands with anyone who had a hand available. “I’m Jack Lemmon, and I got a call you needed a guy to play the piano.”

I never realized our regular piano player had friends in as high-up a position on life’s ladder. In retrospect, the really cute part about this incident was the fact Jack Lemmon was always looking for a way he could be practicing his craft. Little theater was never little when the quality of a Jack Lemmon was there seeking excellence.

Why not imagine the likes of a Jack Lemmon being part of your team’s production? Whether it’s a play or a commercial audition, it will always be big-time theater if you make it so by seeking the highest personal excellence you can attain. Call it practicing your craft, or adhering to your very own high degree of personal integrity.

All of that being said, if I had to choose one other single thing each and every aspiring voice over actor could do in order to attain their own personal success as a talent, and as an above-average human being, it would be summed up succinctly: Networking. Get out there with the people who some would refer to as the competition. You are your own driving force for success. Each and every person you meet will aid in your achieving your goals and aspirations. Go to meetings. Shake hands and hug. Networking has worked since the beginning of time.

I am reminded of the book by Ernest Hemingway entitled “For Whom The Bell Tolls.” Hemingway took the title from John Donne.

Do with it what you will.

Meditation XVII: No man is an island...

"All mankind is of one author, and is one volume; when one man dies, one chapter is not torn out of the book, but translated into a better language; and every chapter must be so translated... As therefore the bell that rings to a sermon, calls not upon the preacher only, but upon the congregation to come: so this bell calls us all: but how much more me, who am brought so near the door by this sickness... No man is an island, entire of itself... any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind; and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee."

Like hitting a home run, and as you trot around the bases, all is quiet. You stop, look around, and discover… there’s no one in the stands. No teammates to share your glee.

"One, who knows you, introduces you to one who doesn’t.
You tell the man whom you just met, how you aspire to the artistry of voice over.
The next day that man calls to say he liked your voice so much he told a friend about you.
That would make three, who have discovered your island.
And all you are duty bound to convey is a simple thank you, and have a nice day."
Networking, by hk

Your daily reiteration must be networking.

Please notice the words "must" and "networking" in the previous sentence are bold. Straight from the shoulder and as pointedly as I can make it; without networking, actors chances are diminished, almost to the point of no return. Few make it without friends or just-met acquaintances.

“Doesn’t luck play a big part?”

Yes, luck does come into play. Yes, you heard da harv say it. I love having a run of luck. But remember… if my door is closed, I can’t get lucky. Good days or bad, my rent must be paid, even if it comes before I eat.

An actor says to me, “Boy did I get lucky.” “Where were you, and what were you doing when you got lucky?” I always ask. Almost always, our lucky actor happened to be out and about when the lucky incident took place. Most of the time it had to do with networking. It never has to do with sitting home waiting for your phone to ring. (Now-a-days it’s easy to take a cell phone with you. Don’t be a klutz; make sure its charged.)

And, when you finally get a gig, it doesn’t mean it's time for you to relax. Quality-wise, you just moved up a notch. The folks you meet who are part and parcel of the voice over work you just got may also be in a position to hire you again. Make them a part of your networking. I’m referring to everyone.

Be like Jack Lemmon; shake hands and ingratiate yourself. Consider every recording studio as a fertile venue; they’re for the sole purpose of meeting and greeting people to add to your personal networking farmland. From the parking lot attendant (if there is one) at the recording studio, to the young receptionist who checks you in, to the engineer and or anyone who is there and breathing. Shake a hand, shake a hand. Smile and look a new networking possibility right straight in the eye, genuinely smile, and shake a hand firmly (then wash your own). Get the names of the folks you meet and make sure to write them down. That parking lot attendant might be another actor, just like you, who one day will remember your cordiality. And the young receptionist may one day be in a position to hire you. Everyone you meet is of substance. Don’t ever ignore a person deemed to be in a lesser position of authority than the producer or director.

Here’s a da harv revelation: My entire career (by the nature of how it began, took hold, and continues to bear fruit) has at its nucleus, the most powerful force known to man. Networking.

Actors sharing with other actors. People telling people in an effort to help people. It sounds so corny. Amazing how so many success stories sound corny at inception. The bottom line has been and will remain, simply as I can reiterate. Networking.

World War II

Expect, feel an emotional twinge, reserved for those with hearts large enough, to relive a moment in time, which changed the breath and shape of our country, and the world.

It was an era of endless tests, developed at the end of our country's worst crisis since the Civil War, and a depression of such penetrating scope, many thought we as a people would never recover, let alone survive. As Americans, we found ourselves unprotected from elements far beyond anything even Mother Nature may have deemed to be possible. Man's inhumanity to man was about to reach an apex far beyond reason. Japan, Germany, and Italy; No troika of evildoers known to man would carry forth the devastating carnage, promulgating a world suffering of such immeasurable magnitude.

Though it all began many years before, our official date was: December 7th, 1941. Not a single human being, friend or foe, would be exempt from some form of life-changing correspondence.

Yes, it was World War II. But it was an epic of never before reached Godless sanctity. It was:

Beyond All Boundaries

***

Under the auspices of Phil Hettema of The Hettema Group, Susan Beth Smith of Matilda Production Services, LLC contacted Kalmenson & Kalmenson, seeking our voice casting services on their project: “Beyond All Boundaries,” a documentary produced by executive producer Tom Hanks.

They were moving right along towards the completion of this World War II documentary, being created for the World War II Museum in New Orleans, LA.

It was the beginning of what Cathy and I would describe as a whirlwind of joy and excitement.

Occasionally, thank God, a project comes along, managing to cancel out any negative feelings one might have cultivated, questioning his or her reasoning for existing in the world of a subjective art form. This one came in a package containing all the merits you pray your life pursuits might someday uncover. Bringing with it a chance for our work to be recognized, understood, and perhaps even praised.

Mr. Tom Hanks is far more than merely a celebrity name. Unfortunately, we never got to meet the man. That’s not to say we didn’t feel his tremendously positive influence during our voice casting. Tom Hanks, as well as the entire production team, believed in what they were working on; the story of World War II, and a generation of Americans who sacrificed in order for future generations to prosper and to live in a country striving to practice what their Constitution preached.

Chris Ellis painstakingly scribed the real life utterances of men who faced up to inconceivable fear. Each of our actors dug deeply from within themselves to truthfully and simply state what few before them ever experienced. Nary a syllable or a word missed the darkness of each minute being desperately lived by boys, not yet men, but soon to be our fathers and grandfathers.

Quite often during the voice casting process, the depth and scope of the project is not recognized. This one was different from the very first moment we began. Our conference call with the production team, headed by Doug Yellin, kicked off a prideful spirit, which endured as we steadily moved towards completion.

On Friday morning, November 6th, Cathy and I boarded a plane to New Orleans to be part of the production team celebration of Tom Hank's “Beyond All Boundaries.” We didn’t figure it was going to be a life-changing experience.

New Orleans is a piece of work; all of us Angelinos fit like a hand in a glove. Once you get past the environment, which is probably as dominant as any place in the world, you’re ready for the happiest food experience ever. Any stay in New Orleans for more than a couple of hours will guarantee weight gain.

We stayed at a hotel a mere two blocks from the New Orleans World War II Museum. It helped to ease the burden of an 8:00 AM call time for a private showing of “Beyond All Boundaries.” That would make it 6:00 AM in Los Angeles. Our hotel wake up call came through right on time at 4:00 AM Los Angeles time. Oddly enough, neither of us was anything but all stoked up for the event. All this having been said, neither Cathy or I ever expected what we were about to experience.

The museum is a magnificent adaptation of a World War II setting. The photos on the walls of the most prominent Hollywood stars of the era, is in itself a stand-alone event. The duplication of the Stage Door Canteen and stage is authentic. And certainly the fighter planes hanging from the ceiling is what every kid would love to see. But, you know what? I’ve seen all of that stuff before. As a veteran, I’ve actually experienced many of the weapons first hand (no, not during the second World War).

What we got was almost overpowering. There, assembled in the same staging area, at 8:00 AM New Orleans time, was a family being introduced to each other for the first time. We were not a dysfunctional family. We were a creative group of people, at the top of our game, hand-picked because of our professional record of impeccability. Everyone belonged, each freely displaying an egoless degree of entitlement. Everybody was talking warmly with everybody else. We exchanged congratulations, one to another, all of us gaining in natural vitality, moment by moment. Royalty was everywhere, yet aristocracy was nonexistent. I’m sure I have never been photographed as many times in as short a period of time.

I believe it was Phil Hettema who called us to order, signaling show time. We entered the brand spanking new theater together as a group of colleagues and friends reaping our personal continuum of excitement. I swear to you, my feet never touched the ground.

Deep red upholstery covered the two hundred and fifty perfectly positioned seats, arranged in a concave grandstand configuration, allowing for an ideal site line from anywhere in the house. The technical amenities of the theater are far too numerous to offer in this narrative. Let me just say, it was sheer genius. The site, the sound, and the fourth dimension supported the marvelously scripted documentation chronicling what was hoped to be the war to end all wars.

The theater darkened as we sat back in anticipation. What caused the death of sixty-five million human beings was about to be more vividly exposed than most could have ever imagined.

No better voice could have narrated the story, “Beyond All Boundaries,” than Mr. Tom Hanks.

I sat there alone within myself. By that I mean, without pause I found myself deeply involved; in fact more deeply involved than I had bargained for.

Each of the familiar voices we had cast were now much more than the actors in a movie. I was listening to an ensemble of truth. I was being taken on a trip to a time period in our country when every family had been touched by the world wide human suffering, and merciless degradation touching and penetrating the thickest of skins. The dimension of sound became increasingly more real, emanating from every corner of the theater. Men marched across the stage; the audience murmured with the unanimous belief that the figures were part of a live action segment, when in actuality it was one of many ingenious effects. Scene after scene, we were engaged in World War II. I felt the chill of winter as the Battle of the Bulge was reenacted. Tanks rolled at us, the sounds of men screaming for help, the snow falling on us in the theater, commands being shouted. And then total silence followed by an instant move from Europe to Guadalcanal in the Pacific. Flame throwers and burning bodies, then suicide planes diving into our ships. And back again to a German prison camp and our men freeing the remaining tortured souls. Swiftly to our people back on the home front, working day and night, all helping to support our men on the front lines. And then blaring at us was the end of the war; the end and a beginning. Never before had the world experienced the likes of such a monumental demeaning of the human spirit, and simultaneously the universal exaltation of the human spirit rising up to a very new God-given stratosphere. And then it was quiet for a moment. The World War II soldiers and sailors marched across our screen, followed by an equal number of men and women who took their places in front of the older generation. The older generation saluted the new who returned the salutation. It was the greatest generation passing on the guard assignment to the next. Without warning it was over. The theater was dark for a moment or two. We gathered our emotions and wiped away the tears as we all applauded the work we had shared in creating!

Man, were we charged up! Outside the theater it was congratulations time once again. But this time it was just a little different. I found myself thanking people for their work on the film. People would come up and interrupt a conversation to say, "Thank you Cathy and Harvey for your work on the film." "Rewarding" would be the all time understatement. "Euphorically stimulated" would be putting it more aptly. But our day in the sun was still very young. The accolades and the celebration were about to move (would you believe) to new heights. It was time for brunch.

After a short stroll, no more than a block away from the theater we entered a two-story building and moved upstairs to a private room, which had been reserved by the Hettema Group. Phil Hettema was there to greet each of us individually, and to graciously request we enjoy our celebrity worthwhile repast.

So there we were, about one hundred and twenty folks genuinely enjoying each other. After about forty minutes or so, Phil Hettema came to our side of the room. He asked for our attention, and preceded to compliment every one of us for the work and creativity we brought to the production. Each of us was mentioned by our first and last name. Cathy and I were extremely taken by his overly generous evaluation of our importance to the project.

Early on Monday morning, November 9th, we answered our 4:00 AM wake-up call and were on our way back to Los Angeles.

All who toil in a world of subjective art must be allowed at least one day; a day in the sun.

Veterans Day Parade

My truth be told, from age nineteen on, I've never missed the observance of Veterans Day, nor inwardly enjoyed my pride over being one. It’s a big and special club. I became a member way back in my nineteenth year. What can you say about the inner workings of a nineteen-year-old boy… who was about to become a man?

Although it may have taken awhile for me, today I clearly understand. Becoming a man was what my newly joined club was all about. It was known as the United States Army.

Many today speak of patriotism and heroism, and just about every kind of “ism” known to man. However, most who speak the words have little to reflect upon. When I became an official club member, without knowing it, I was taking my first steps towards walking the walk. It’s a very private thing, requiring many years of cultivating. Today, admittedly my pride in having served this country of ours is a vital part of who I am.

Yes I was in the army, and yes I am proud to say I'm a veteran. As I write and reflect, capsules of my transition to manhood’s beginning moments return with an immediacy, which only the purest of truths could stimulate.

***

In the beginning we were referred to as recruits. And God were we an ugly-looking bunch of guys. The military set out on a goal of having us all look and act the same. Mainly it was the shaved heads, which was the most distressing. Except for the boots, none of us had anything that fit well. We were one hundred and twenty bedraggled what-is-its. Cold, wet, sick, and on the verge of hallucination due to sleep deprivation, another unpleasant ingredient was added to the mix: they began yelling at us. When I asked why I was being yelled (make that screamed) at, the man doing the screaming looked at me with more disdain than I could ever direct an actor to do, and without skipping a beat moved directly in front of me, his nose literally touching mine and shouted, "Give me ten!" I had no idea what in the name of hell he wanted; certainly I didn’t have that much money on my person. “Are you a deaf, 'cruit?” (short for recruit) he bellowed. I began to respond to him about my excellent hearing, when without warning he demanded, “Make that twenty.” Fortunately for me, one of my buddies in the back yelled out, "He wants push-ups." I complied. That was my erstwhile entrance to the infantry / combat engineers basic training indoctrination.

NOTE: I lived.

After four weeks we were a different group of guys. Our physical condition was superb. We were learning the real meaning of teamwork as taught by the military. As they repeated over and over again, “There is a right way, a wrong way, and the army way.”

***

Fort Lewis, Washington; it was a typical February day, chilly and wet. Our company of men had completed the first few weeks of basic training and had been assembled, along with four other companies, as part of our first battalion size (about twenty five hundred) parade. There we were, a group of mostly southern California guys; cold, wet, and experiencing being more miserable than any of us could have imagined. Without exception, all of us had colds.

Nothing mattered to them (our leaders). It was parade day, and we were going to parade regardless of the weather, or how sick we thought we were. Of course the premise was a simple one to understand: War knows no standstill. Sick or not, sleep deprived or well rested, hungry and thirsty, bone weary, lonely and missing your mom, your dad, girlfriend or wife and children, the war as presented by an enemy will go on as scheduled. It’s a show with performances continuing until, and when finally some form of fade comes to pass. Then and only then will the vigilant be permitted to rest, seeking recovery. For many, recovery will never be their option.

There we stood, waiting in a cold mist for the next earth-moving command to be given. Like so many before us, as American soldiers we always found ways to laugh and clown under the worst of circumstances. Most of the time it was nothing more than poking fun at each other. Someone grabbing a guy's rifle and passing it around from one soldier to another. As children we used to call it "keep away." It was nothing more than pure adolescence.

And then my moment of transition arrived; without warning, the unexpected.

The booming voice of our sergeant major brought our meaningless mass together in no more than an instant. We became a solid block. Twenty-five hundred men became an imposing figure. We were at attention. The battalion commander appeared and marched to the center of the parade grounds, standing at attention before the sergeant major, who still remained facing us.

The commander was himself an overpowering figure. He was taller than any of us, and carried himself the way his West Point credentials required. He was a full bird colonel. The emblems glittered on his shoulders as he viewed us as if inspecting the most powerful group of warriors ever seen on this planet. We were taken by our leader's presence.

Our sergeant turned a sharp about face and reported to the colonel, “All present and accounted for as ordered sir,” he bellowed and saluted simultaneously. The colonel returned his salute, and the sergeant moved to a side position, taking his place and becoming one of us. Again the colonel did his review. His eyes inspected all of us with an amazing display of pride, which I had never before experienced. At a seemingly precise moment the sergeant was once again in front of our body. He shouted, "Parade rest!" and as one unit we snapped into position. The sergeant again moved aside and our colonel took charge. The man’s presence was nothing short of inspiring. All was still as the colonel prepared to speak. Then it came: “Men, you are about to experience what only a very select group have ever had the privilege of experiencing.”

At that moment the battalion color guard appeared. To the beat of a single drum they marched into position on the parade grounds. If you can visualize the configuration of a football field; place the color guard at one end of the field. The colonel would be directly behind the guard. Next to enter was the Fort Lewis Army marching band. They took their position directly behind the color guard and in front of the colonel, and our twenty-five hundred man battalion. (What you had was a football field shape, taking up about five times the area.)

“Today you will be representing your country, the United States of America. Are you ready?"

As one we responded with, “Sir, yes sir!”

“Then give them hell, men!” he shouted.

The chills came in waves. What might seem cornball was anything but. The band struck up with John Philip Sousa's Washington Post March, and at the precise moment the colonel bellowed again, "Give them hell, men!" He turned and signaled as if he was conducting a cavalry charge. We marched as one.

And then the final emotional wave, which has remained with me all of my life. I caught sight of our American flag leading our way. To date my chest has never expanded as much as it did on that very chilly day. The chill was gone, along with the young boy. We had exchanged a variety of mild indifference into unabashed pride in one's self, and one's country.

An interesting thing happened on our way back to the barracks following our parade experience. We weren’t the same group of young boys messing around as we did before the parade. That’s not to say our sense of humor had left us. The very next day we all returned to kidding around and still playing our schoolboy tricks on one another. But as this day wore down there were conversations about some unexpected feelings. For me personally, I never totally shared up until now what a life changing experience it was.

For those of you who have visited with me on Sparks St. in Burbank, you will recall our flag flying proudly in front of our door. It’s there every day that I am there.

This coming Wednesday, November 11, we pay tribute to our veterans. I pray you share my pride.

The Actors' Daily

“Each alone must seek out another

Then the two join hands as friends
Providing the rhythms of a new parade
And on it will go, and grow
For only friendship will ease the vacancy,
Experienced by those of us
Within our selected art form”

HK

I grew up hearing my father's words and deeds. His doctrine was simple: “plant, harvest, and never extend your hand looking for something to be given to you free.”

From age nineteen to my current moment of ripeness follows, as sequentially as possible, in order to help in understanding, why and how I entered, developed, and maintained my position in the world of commercial voice over.

Some will say that being in a certain place at a certain time is all the reason a person might need in order to determine their life’s pursuits. It isn’t my intent to agree or disagree with that supposition. All I intend doing is presenting some thoughts about what carried me from one point to another while chasing down answers concerning the who, what, why, when, where, and how of what turns out to be one of the more subjective art forms relative to modern times.

“One day if ever I wish to leave this creative world, I so love... It will be then that I consider really writing a memoir of things I have seen and heard with my own two eyes and ears, without the worry of recounting incidents which might endanger or hurt another mans family or friends.”
- Bill Cullen, as shared with da harv, circa 1979

When Bill Cullen was experiencing his days in the sun, he was undeniably one of the most recognizable figures in these United States. Like many, our family considered him to be one of us. It was the days of black and white small-screen television; with all of us gathered around, taking pride in the fact we each knew everything about everybody who came into our homes to entertain us.

Perhaps you might imagine my excitement when I was about to direct one of my favorite people of all time, the one and only Bill Cullen. At the time, I was working for a commercial talent agency of great prominence (FYI, they’re no longer in business). It was one of the most amazing meetings of my life. Enter Bill Cullen. My boss, not a very thoughtful guy, neglected to tell me about Bill being handicapped. Make no mistake, Bill Cullen's handicap was strictly physical.

All the years I had enjoyed watching him every single week on the tube, I never figured out they were shooting him from the waist up. Bill was always seen seated behind a table or standing behind a speaker’s rostrum.

In reflection, I enjoy thinking back to all the ensuing meetings between Bill and myself. I ultimately became his private coach for a six-month period of time. The lesson I learned: in voice over, a person can be whomever they are capable of portraying.

For the actor seeking out a career in voice over, the only handicap is the actor him or herself.

If you can manage to tell the truth while reading another man's words, you’re on the right road to success. Sounds simple, doesn’t it? The nice thing about telling the truth is we all have the capability of knowing truth from falsehood. If you as a human being perceive something to be the truth, then that’s what it has to be.

Bill Cullen paid tribute to me one day as he recommended me to coach a very well-known actor friend of his. We were sitting together at a table at the Palms Restaurant, when the actor showed up to join us. Bill handled the introductions, and without verbally breaking stride said to the actor, “This is the man I was telling you about. Not to worry about any smoke being blown up your ass.”

Thirty years after that incident, the most active and the biggest money earner in our world of voice over, Don LaFontaine, stood there in my recording room. He had just completed reading for something or other, when, without warning, Don looked straight at me through the glass and said in his own inimitable fashion, “You know why you’re successful Harvey? Because you don’t blow smoke up anyone’s ass!”

It was Bill Cullen, and thirty years later Don LaFontaine who delivered the very same appraisal. But the thing I must honestly report was, I learned the truth lesson long before those gentlemen offered their words of praise.

My dad offered to a then little da harv, “Look the bastard right in the eye, when you shake hands, and for God's sake tell him the truth.” It’s a glorious thing to know in this day and age of second-by-second change in communication methods, the good stuff; the social graces which the real ladies and gentlemen conduct themselves in accordance with never changes.

Next time you’re on mic, tell the truth, even if it happens to be stream of consciousness.

While Bill Cullen is no longer with us, many of his dear friends still manage to endure. Most of them, which I choose to write about or mention fleetingly during my descriptive, have magic about them. Like Bill Cullen of my past, Orson Bean remains a working part of today. People would tune in to visit with Orson and to experience the radiance of his smiling truthfulness. Orson is another of the old guard who refers to me as lad. The fact, this lad happens to be a grandfather is not a deterrent. I guess once a lad, always a lad.