Veterans' Circle

It was usually quiet when these gentlemen met to shake hands and to relive some moments of shared sacrifice. It was always the same – in amongst tress and seated around an oversized redwood picnic table. It began with twelve, and now the years had taken half of them away. Nevertheless, each Memorial Day remained theirs to remember the joys and the pains of their camaraderie.

Veterans’ Circle

Some hadn’t cried

up until then

Welled up feelings too frequent

now did abound

A first tear finds its way down

This deepest dam had been breached

Decades of storage released

overdue

Sixty-one years of burden

Questioning

Softly

Why me

some shared

was I the receiver of mercy

Given all of life’s allowances

Forty thousand others… forever stilled

Sitting in a circle

Men of dissimilar cloth

Unmistakably the same

Veterans all

 

Able to speak to veterans

Looks understood

Arms around each other’s shoulders

Comforting

Not needy men

though all in need

It was called the Forgotten War

Fought by forgotten men

each in their own degree

Had bourn witness

Tragedy seen without boundary

Questions forever remaining unanswered

With circle growing smaller

Ever smaller

Fewer left to be understood

Their proud country sent them to war

To a place called Korea

They so gallantly stood

-HK May 31, 2012

There's a Person in Here

Easy, there’s a person in here.

With no inclination to stop, they pushed their way past.

My mind’s eye: “MME”

There’s a person in here.

Who cares anyway? No need to look inside. Judgment is easy when derived by way of the superficial imprint of one’s human appearance.

Calabasas where lifestyles are those most only dream.

I had found a wonderful parking spot directly in front of the Corner Bakery for us and William & Sonoma, for her – the latter being of little consequence as far as I had been concerned. Eating, yes; cooking, not for me! This particular eatery on the other hand was not only a marvelous place for breakfast or lunch, but it also offered a senior discount. On the first day I became aware of the discount, it came as a little bit of a shock to me. I wasn’t in the habit of inquiring about senior discounts. It has always seemed ludicrous for a man as youthful and as virile as I am to have anything to do with the benefits of age. Asking for anything that depicted any form of decay was never part of my makeup. When a person is a modest man, he falls out of the habit of asking for things; people like that often times volunteer.

        

The Corner Bakery is the kind of a restaurant where you wait in a cafeteria-style line to place your food order. The people taking your order stand directly behind individual cash registers and the procedure is extremely convenient. We both ordered our breakfast and listened as the server repeated our order (in case a mistake has been made) before announcing the cost of the meal. It was at this point that my wife, who reads everything having to do with food, announces in a charmingly loud voice (sounding exactly like her Midwest Mother), “Make sure to get your Senior Citizen’s Discount.”

OUCH!

While I usually don’t embarrass easily, the smirk adorning the face of the woman in line with her husband directly to my right did make me a little self-conscious. Not knowing or understanding the prospect of me having a person within me, she blurted out to my wife, “Does he qualify to receive the discount?”

My wife, again, and as stylish as her own Mother would put it, dutifully informs the world that, “Oh, he qualifies.”

I immediately turned to the woman and her husband and said (as a quip), “Only when at least one of the partners has remained sexually active.”

No laugh followed. Not even a smile from either of them. The kid manning the cash register gave me a satisfaction wink.

The Corner Bakery proved itself during the ensuing months as an ideal place for me to refine my self-rewarding game of “There’s a Person in Here.”

I guess it makes me a strange sort of duck, or maybe not. After almost a lifetime of playing my own prescribed games of internal and singular participation, it probably won’t come as a surprise to anyone who knows me that I’ve decided to continue on within my own zone. Going along with the premise that just thinking about something will never cause another any harm, it frees me and allows for a great many of the mystical dreams and assertions I so greatly enjoy.

As an example, my reminder of the fact that there’s a person in here, serves my purpose of justification for the extremes my thought patterns allow. Like anyone else out there, I’m free to think anything I like. This allows me to internalize some of the most exaggerated concepts, as I said earlier, without hurting anyone else.

So there I sat, alone in a corner of the restaurant parked clearly within the sight line of the entry door, where all who entered were in perfect view. They took turns coming in and passing by my seat. Some slowly, some clamored, all with the latest electronics of the day. My coffee was particularly good that day. My thoughts were pleasingly mine, and completely internal.

LET THE GAMES BEGIN

MME

There’s a person in here.

Few if any looked back.

Even fewer returned the least of a passing glance.

I was playing my game again; observing all within my line

There for me to scold as I beheld them

Without gaining their permissions.

There’s a person in here.

What a truly great concept, don’t you think?

Oh, and just in case you’ve forgotten, please say hello to anyone who knows me.

Toughest Assignment

(Be Yourself)

The toughest assignment for an actor is to remain natural. As a young director, I was warned by mentors to try to avoid asking actors to be themselves. I was told that many actors haven’t a clue as to who or what they really are. In fact, I was told that many actors think they know who they are but are under a misguided conception of what their truth really is.

If you don’t want to discover and practice your individual truth, the chance of your becoming a professional actor will never come to pass. As an aside, while it may not make you happy to discover your truth as a human being, it will definitely give you a tremendous leg up as an actor.

In my travels, I have always been blown away when I’ve encountered an actor in an everyday situation. You know, I mean a chance meeting at some sort of function or whatever after which I come away with the feeling that this guy or gal came across as being on the shallow side. Some didn’t even have the ability to share their true feelings with me. When meeting that same person in an actor/director environment, I’m often times elated, as well as surprised, at their totally ability to tell the truth through the eyes of another. That “other person” I refer to is the character they happen to be portraying. What these actors don’t want to give in to is the fact that whatever they may think of as playacting is still a way of telling the truth.

Perhaps one of the greatest actors of all time said it as succinctly as any actor I’ve ever heard when he responded to the interview question: “What is your acting method?”

“Well, I just look the other actor right in the eye and tell them the truth. The truth was always evident in any role portrayed by that actor.” – James Cagney

Many actors who had the opportunity of being directed by Alfred Hitchcock were usually in for a big surprise when they discovered how little he offered in active direction. One day, when Cary Grant asked Hitchcock for some advice on how to interpret the meaning of a particular scene, Hitchcock responded with: 

“You’re here because you’re right for it.”

In his own way, Hitchcock was telling Cary Grant to be himself. And, that was the end of the acting direction. Hitchcock sought the truth and that’s what his actors gave him. During another Hitchcockian incident, a set visitor had the guts – or the stupidity – to endanger their life when he asked Hitchcock – without warning – to explain why he did not look at his actors during rehearsals of a scene. Mr. Hitchcock’s reply?

“I can hear what they look like.”

His response that day has become a major part of my professional career. For many years, I have earned my living listening to actors – being your audience and trying to hear the truth with my ears. If you tell me the truth, I will buy it from you and I will allow you to influence my life.

Just as a reminder, the Kalmenson Method was derived by means of a close study of one of the most successful actors who stayed the course in our industry for more years than I desire to call attention to.

Many of the attributes that the foremost talents have in common have become apparent to me. By and large, these actors weren’t what the general public liked to describe or hold in esteem as celebrities. These actors were – and still are – Journeyman Actors.

John Houseman expounded on his credo for success. He advised us to be journeyman actors, to practice and study our craft, to search for a way to grow everyday, to be an observer with your eyes and with your ears, and to find a way to tell someone – anyone – a story that they might believe.

Nothing we do is in the category of “winging it.” There is a prescribed method. We practice our scales everyday just the same way we’re asking you to practice your scales. Get the basics down. Get ‘em down so cold that ya don’t have to worry about where your fingers are going on the piano keys. Once you’ve achieved that, you will find that you will become very creative again which is, of course, all based on the truth.

Immigrant Heroes

No one loved American comic heroes more than our earliest immigrants. Across the board, almost without exception, the neighborhoods of our new Americans fell in love with the bigger-than-life characters who single-handedly were there, on this good earth, for the sole purpose of protecting them.

CIRCA 1930

At a time when little or nothing was known about birth control, each ethnic group took a special pride in their ability to procreate. The more kids there were, the more necessity for heroes and the widespread practice of hero worship.

First, the comic book depiction of these wonderful bully busters was quickly followed by radio, television, and then the movies.

As young kids in our neighborhood, we placed these gladiators on altars suitable for the greatest leaders the world would ever know. 

Superman, the Lone Ranger, and Batman were the most important protectors of their time. And the silver screen was alive with the heroic likes of Tarzan, Tom Mix, Hop-Along Cassidy, Roy Rogers, and even detectives like Sherlock Holmes, and the inimitable Charlie Chan. All took their respected places on our worship parade.  Amazingly, what began a century ago is still going strong today – look around you, there’s still Batman, Superman, and all the rest who were originated in and at a time when they were as purposeful as any army.

But, what the comics gave all of us was of the greatest importance. And, even more importantly was what the immigrant families gave themselves with those comics – a down to earth richness of purpose. Survival was the most cipherable drive of the day; to make it in the good ol’ USA was indeed a credo. 

And surely, what each and every family had was the family itself. No matter how the day went, there always seemed to exist a comic release. We talked about everything imaginable.

Most families didn’t have a phone. Word of mouth was never taken for granted. By that I mean that wherever you looked on the street, conversations were taking place. Often the conversations would be raging; arguments over who interpreted Dick Tracy the “right way.” What about that Captain Marvel? Who the hell cares about Tarzan anyway? The schmuck lives in a jungle -- but that Jane is some little shtick. If I had a wife like that, I too would be swinging from a tree…

The corner candy stores were the gathering grounds for all the neighborhood big shots. These were the guys who knew absolutely everything about everything. Without question, dependent on the age of those gathered in discussion, there were four main topics: comics, sports, the movies, and girls.

On December 21, 1937, the animated feature film Snow White And The Seven Dwarfs was released for distribution. History reports: it was an instant hit.  Adjusted for inflation, it remains one of the all-time box office smash hits. And, it wasn’t just a financial success – it took the residential neighborhoods by storm. Men, women, and children joined in on a seemingly never-ending discussion. Everywhere you looked an impression of the Snow White characters was taking place.

The main dialects in our area of Brooklyn were Italian, Irish, Yiddish, and a sprinkling of German. Try to imagine the humor in listening to a woman with a rather heavy accent delivering the Evil Queen’s lines: “Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the fairest one of all?”

At the film's opening, the Magic Mirror informs the Evil Queen that Snow White is now the fairest in the land. The jealous Evil Queen orders a reluctant Huntsman to take Snow White into the forest and kill her…

So on and so on… you get the idea. But now, a new ingredient to our corner -- music in all its glory! Snow White was not only being discussed, but it was also a living, breathing, neighborhood musical.

One of the first songs I was able to sing and whistle as a four-year-old child was….

The bottom line was simple – we talked to one another. What a concept, don’t you think? People actually having conversations. No phones, no televisions, and many families were not yet privy to radio. The neighborhood had a variety of service providers. The Iceman, the Coal Man, the Milkman, the Junkman, and many other men who, more often than not, could all whistle the tune “Whistle While You Work.”

Can you imagine a man dragging a block of ice up four floors? Coming into our modest apartment, setting a forty-pound block of ice in our icebox, and all the time smiling and whistling?

“How are you today, Mrs. Kalmenson? Have you seen Snow White?”

He spoke English, or American as many of them called it with a rather heavy Irish brogue. My Mother was one of those who was multi-lingual, but free of accent. As he left the apartment, he complemented my Mother on how wonderfully clean her home always was. With a charming lilt to go along with his handsome smiling face, it was communication at its highest level. Or, perhaps I should say “blarney.”

        

***

I find myself thinking, and mainly wondering, if there would have been any chance for me to be in this business of mine, if I were to have grown up in today’s era. Would I be able to recapture what I was never privy to? I think not.

Texting is not listening nor is it enjoying the charm of a beautiful smiling face. I grew up admiring the looks of women and the way they sounded whether mad, or happy. The charm of listening to this marvelous dialect of Beatrice Burke (my nanny) was the epitome of Ireland at its very best.

Always, it was the talk. The face-to-face talk. Looking into the eyes of the person you were communicating with and – think about this – sometimes not having to say a word.

My Father purchased his first automobile in 1939. It was a two-door 1937 Chevrolet. No power steering, no air conditioner, heater, or defroster, no power windows, and it held five people comfortably, regardless of what their dialect happened to be.