Wednesday, April 27, 2022

Observations, Act II

Observations, Act II
A Continuance

        To sum up my self-inflicted anguish: there is one more glimpse into my life’s anxiety that may be worthwhile for some of you to hear. It was an unforeseen question delivered by my sixteen-year-old daughter that caught me off guard. And it offered me an understanding of what living life, caught up in a love affair with a subjective art form, is really all about.
        At the time, my main source of income was derived from the theater. I wasn’t setting any records. My wife still had to work. As a production stage manager, the money looked good, but the downtime between jobs was always a sour experience. Nevertheless, lack of money had nothing to do with my work ethic. I was proud of what I did, and amongst my colleagues, I was treated with a great deal of respect.
        My daughter's question to me was posed following a wrap party. The show was more than an average success for legit theater in Los Angeles. It was the director’s turn to say a few words to the cast and crew before we all said the usual tearful goodbyes. I never dreamed that he, the director, would begin his words with my name.
        The show that had come to an end was an extremely technically-challenging production. In those days, we didn’t have the advantage of computerized lighting cues. Everything, including the music cues, fell within the domain of the production stage manager.

        To make this a short story, I’ll just paraphrase our director’s remarks:
“Harvey Kalmenson exemplifies what the theater is all about. His reckless abandon of self, and his total devotion to the success of our play, have served as an inspiration for the redemption of my own creative dreams.”

        An applause of agreement and appreciation followed. I nodded my thank you to the crowd and stepped back, preparing to listen to the rest of our cast express their sentiments. It was at that moment that I caught sight of my daughter.
        She had moved away from her position alongside my wife and was now standing a mere one step away from me on my right. She stepped closer and it felt like the two of us were there alone. It was easily determined that she had been crying. I thought her emotions were over what the director had said about her father. My assumption was only partially correct.
        It was what the director had said that triggered the question to enter her mind. She was a totally confused sixteen-year-old that genuinely wanted to know:

"Daddy, if you’re so smart and all these actors love you so much, then how come you’re not able to make more money?"

           It was that single moment that shocked me into the reality of what I had gotten myself into. Forget the business. What I was in can’t be described as a business. All it is and all it will ever be can only be explained as a condition of the heart. At that moment, I became overtaken with my own misgivings. From the high of listening to what a prominent man had to say about me to the low of disgust that I had for myself... My excellence was due to the focus generated by self-indulgence and dedication to the subjectivity of a career that was selfishly downgrading the value of my family. That was the last professional job I would ever hold in any theater.
        Along with the starkness of my daughter's searching question, I was awakened to the realization my marriage had suffered irreparable damage. Now, not only between jobs, I was out there as an ill-equipped adult child trying to redirect his life.

        In retrospect, I find myself saying: “Big deal so you got a divorce. So you were out looking for a job. What the hell were you crying about? You had your health (still do) and you had all that theater experience to go along with your God-given skills.”
        But retrospect has one problem, my friends. Time has a way of healing our wounds. Pain-providing incidents have a way of becoming amusing with the passage of time. Nature has provided us with a built-in safeguard designed to keep us all from going nuts. It’s called time healing. All of us (if we’re normal) will ultimately numb out to the original painful discomforts of life.
        The original pain we feel, be it physical or emotional, usually comes to us by way of shock. It may hurt like hell at inception but as the years go by, we all have a way of forgetting. In my case, the pain I described to you a little earlier was fifty years ago.

        Today, I reflect and draw on it as another of life’s valuable lessons. Certainly, at the time I didn’t feel that way. Giving up being a participant in the theater was genuine heartbreak at the time. Looking back at it, I see a different picture. I see a guy who paid a very expensive fee for a series of life’s experiences remaining mine and mine alone forever. And what follows is a variety of my opinions, doctrines, dictates, amusements, lessons learned, and maybe some more of my privacy shared—dare I forget the changes I succumbed to, albeit unwillingly.

I'm praying for much more to come your way.

Please stay tuned in.
Harvey Kalmenson

Wednesday, April 20, 2022

Observations, Act I

Observations, Act I

As written, produced, played by little-known writer:
Harvey Kalmenson (da scribe)

Time: Early morning 5:00 am
Date: Probably summer, 1962.
Place: Not on a farm or ranch, unfortunately.

VO Actor: Da Scribe

Direction: Stream of consciousness, with a small degree of wonderment.

Is there anything ever really etched in stone…
Which may or may not remain that way?
Nothing
I would bet my money on…
Is what I have to say
Well maybe
Certain things…
Skin peeling…
Writing a book…
(And, oh yeah)
BEING able to say:
WHATEVER I want to,
(Cowardly) putting qualms out of sight,
Before any reader can get their grimy hands on it to make changes!
According to them
Making everything right

And now "Onward, Christian Soldiers"

Alternate observations & beginnings—
The same day, fighting with his thoughts for an alternative script...

Direction: While looking in a mirror while shaving.

        Writing a book for most people can be a tedious undertaking. "Marching as to war..." It’s always been that way. The thought process or the actual transference of thought to paper has always been easy for me to accomplish. Showing what you’ve written to strangers is another story— it takes courage, stupidity, reckless abandonment, or an unbridled ego.
        Truth be told, I’ve never considered it a real accomplishment. I don’t happen to feel that any God-given gift should ever be considered a personal accomplishment. However, considering what I have as God-given does qualify me as an ego possessor of some ilk.
        I love people with a near great sense of humor, and extremely thick skin, when I happen to be in the area. Personally, I make it a point not to speak for anyone of my deceptive ilk; not that I’ve doubted the world has ever had one other than da harv.

        Don’t you just hate the word: undertaking? There’s such finality built into it. About fifty years ago, when I was world-renowned for my lack of knowledge and general life perceptions, I took little notice of words that I recognized as having any degree of finality. Finality is far too final for a young guy out there trying to explain to himself: how the world works.
        It has become an interesting phenomenon observing my personal changes during the last fifty years. My most substantial growth came at a time when I had just come through substantial mental pain. What I did was learn how to play through it. At the beginning of my career (time as so many experienced before me), I was a constant bystander. I was on the outside trying to figure out how the hell I could get in.
        The harder I tried, the more distant my goals seemed to be. I share this only as an example of what living with pain was like for me. I wanted it, acceptance, so much that at times the pain of wanting was on the verge of becoming debilitating. Occasional industry work fed my soul and kept my desire burning.
        Beginning a career in show business and simultaneously becoming a newlywed isn’t a question of pain tolerance. It is more likely a display of insanity. If that mix doesn’t supply enough pressure for you, add a couple of kids to your recipe. At that moment in my life, I was married and the father of two young daughters.
        The jobs still weren’t happening frequently enough for me to claim that show business was how I earned a living. As a matter of fact, I was about to turn thirty years old, and it was still necessary for me to hold down two plus jobs while my then-wife also contributed by teaching dance classes for little kids. We were all working, but as far as I was concerned, my work was love-less. It was, in a word, work. Like many of us, not passion, not desire, nothing more than cold, hard survival.

Next Week:

Da Harv's
Observations, Act II

Wednesday, April 13, 2022

An Actor's Survival

An Actor's Survival

        Forever, actors have been keeping track of the bad times. They spend years lamenting over the return of the good old days. When, and if, those days really took place, is another story unto itself.

        What we know for sure is one simple fact: whatever the recorded time period happened to be, the actor—as well as the rest of this big human club we all belong to—is and will, without reservation, always be subject to constant change. Or does change ever really occur? All a person needs to do is take a minute to think about it.

The town criers,
the jugglers,
the court jesters,
the stage actors,
the silent film producers,
the radio producers,
the talking picture producers,
all in step heralded an end to
the burlesque (show)
and the vaudeville (show) producers


COMES NOW THE NEW (they think)
Electronic age:
The television,
And dare I forget… the producers?
And their latest hybrid, the soon-to-be-extinct cable.

        In our little world of voiceover, we exemplify change, but not entirely. In truth, we haven’t begun to experience more than a smattering of what our inventors have in store for us. In the old days, our voices were sampled on reel-to-reel tape—the improvement was a calling card presented on cassette. Then came the compact disk, and now, cyberspace. Those of us who work within the world of commercials must recognize that our industry, timewise, isn’t much past its infancy. Commercials, as we know them today, began making a substantive entrance in the late nineteen-thirties.

        What hasn’t changed is the heart of the actor. Producers and creatives still opt for the personal touch. Without a doubt, our population has increased. The more folks we have out there, the more folks there will be that decide to become actors. And so the good old days are still with us. Actors are frequently overheard saying that too many of them are competing for the same roles. That statement happens to be true. But that problem, although of great significance, has little to do with the advances in technology.

        So, what is the solution? There is none. A Broadway show producer announces a casting call. The next day, they’re lined up three deep around the theatre. One little girl is chosen for the role of “Annie”. I wonder how many young girls read for the part? And the beat goes on. The only remedy is peace of mind. Have the mindset of a warrior, not that of an industrial planner. Enjoy today, with the knowledge that you will be able to celebrate it at another time. You might even look back tomorrow, and refer to it as “the good old days.”

        Again, the facts are simple. If a person is able to make a living in this business, then that person must consider himself or herself blessed. I can’t imagine doing any other form of work. I can’t imagine anyone having to face each day, dreading what they have before them. Ours is not a thing to endure, but rather our joy remains before and after those vastly relished good old days of yesteryear, revisited for us to grab hold of and embrace as our present life to enjoy.

        When an actor is being called to audition on a regular basis, their mindset must be one of success and accomplishment. Auditioning for a voiceover is your work; it’s an opportunity. When you win and go out to do the job, or actually record it at home within your own in-house studio, the event from beginning to end should be considered one of the great advantages enjoyed by today's actors—especially not having to battle a freeway. Most sessions (the actual recording) are extremely pleasurable. On average, a single radio spot will require about thirty minutes of an actor's time. That, of course, doesn’t include travel time to and from the recording studio. In Los Angeles, it might take you up to two hours plus to get to the client's chosen recording studio. In our town, traveling from point A to point B is always a contest.

Enjoy the present
Fortune and creativity favoring the bold
From yesterday’s memories
This new road appears
A well-seasoned today
Being an attribute for tomorrow's success
And despite the vulgarity thrown your way
Bumpy roads slowing your direction
Relentlessly you trod forward
With goals established
Driving persistence gaining strength
With each step more and more vigor
Your roads have smoothened
This far gentler path revealed
Are these to become your destiny for tomorrow
Or will your satisfactions be lived
Within the forbearance
Of yesterday’s good old days

hk
Harvey Kalmenson

Wednesday, April 6, 2022

Work Ethic

Work Ethic

        I actually had an actor tell me that he really wasn’t concerned over social graces or work ethic. He even went on to question my veracity as a lecturer who would have the audacity of saying or thinking, “work ethic had little or anything at all to do with a person making it in voiceover”. When I questioned the actor about what he thought work ethic had to do with "making it" really meant to him, his answer would have qualified for removal from any of the "John Houseman” classes. “Let’s face it”, he told us, “all that matters is how much money you make.”

        While I didn’t agree with his appraisal of what constitutes success, I did make exceptionally good use of the establishment of his signature as that of a person with complete and total arrogance. “Fads may come and go, but excellence will always remain the ruler. Promptness and perseverance are two of the most necessary ingredients in order to triumph.”

        Work ethic means being on time. On-time means being early. It sounds so simple. It should be an easy enough regimen for any actor to live by. Oddly, there are many people from all walks of life who just can’t manage to be on time. You would think that every actor would know and understand what a tough racket we’re in. The strong are the ones having the best chance of survival. Those who come late are so noted.

        If I have to choose between two actors of comparable skills, I will always opt for the performer I know I can rely on. For me, being late is not an actor’s option. Late for an audition or a performance is an inherent sign of disrespect for one’s colleagues. Tardiness provides a director with an uncalled-for headache to go along with their normal burdens.


Da harv’s advice about lovelore:

And so, I choose to call you “yo-yo”
Quite valid for those venturing as an actor
Some may call you a caveman
With stone wheels on a bumpy road
“Yours, a road far too rough to hoe”

From Brooklyn, With Love

But up and down
In and out you go
And all-around town
Learning early on
Skills making folks laugh for you
Truly a yo-yo, no ordinary clown


Then one day after another
You came late again
The kids were not to be found
Your audience couldn’t wait
Their moms called them home
Never again Mr. Yo-yo
Another kid had come to town
Not with a yo-yo
Not as a clown
The new little boy
Stood early in the schoolyard
Beating on his drum
Waiting and watching
Teaching them all to march
To his cadence
Always on time
A bandleader teaching bandleader
Their parents all watching
Kids playing their instruments
Not as actors
Just a bunch of kids having fun

Harvey Kalmenson

Sunday, April 3, 2022

The Strike of 2000

Our own personal civil war
IT happened, and I was there and deeply affected by it:

The Strike of 2000

        As an aside from my honest intention of keeping personal opinions to myself, rendering only solutions that will assist and encourage actors on their path towards success, I, nevertheless, feel duty-bound to offer my observations regarding both unions, SAG and AFTRA (which are now one), in general.

        As a casting director who has seen as many as twenty-one thousand actors in a single year—yes, you read correctly—I found myself deeply caught up in the longest strike in the history of either guild. In short, the commercial contract that covers the relationship between the guilds and the producers had come to an end, with the result being the aforementioned strike.

Image: Google

        For a period of six long months, most of the commercial industry was at a standstill. This shouldn't come as news to anyone. I mention the strike as a reference point because I have so often been asked by actors, as well as by the press during a variety of interviews, what it was like during this great debacle. I‘d like to point out that I am, today, and have been for many years, a member in good standing in both the Screen Actors Guild and the American Federation of Radio and Television Artists (both have now joined forces under one single banner).

        What follows is a man making an observation of his own family. Usually, in a war, you find one side against the other. Ours, however, was not only a war against the other guy; it was also an ongoing civil war conflict festering as an abnormal cyst from deep within an organization of separated whiners. We were union members that were not united. We were outmanned and outfought by a vastly superior army. The so-called enemy was similar to a country with unlimited resources. Our troops were forced to buy their own clothing and rifles, and ammunition.

Written by da harv in July 2003:
Today, the producers remain in the same condition as our economy; showing signs of renewed vitality, but not yet in a full recovery mode. What has been a noticeable change is that today we are doing castings with a very noticeable amount of commercial voiceover work in non-union assignments.

Today, Friday, 18th March 2022:
        It is important to note that while we solicit all the major advertising agencies for casting work, we have never specified a preference for either union or non-union casting assignments. What I’m taking the opportunity to document is a simple fact of life: There has always been non-union work for actors, and it has strenuously gained its lasting—and gathering—momentum. Contrary to what either union would like its actors to believe, many union actors have and continue to put bread on their tables with honest money earned on non-union jobs. Since many of these men and women remain friends of ours, I will not ever divulge their names, nor give witness to who did or did not take part in non-union work during the strike period.

Note:
        During the six months of the strike, Kalmenson & Kalmenson's two fully equipped recording booths stayed constantly at full casting capacity, with a constant flow of simultaneously conducted auditions of both union-approved and non-union assignments. The most well-known advertising companies availed themselves of our services. To this day, high-rolling sponsors of the past decades continue doing their commercials without flying the union flag. The attitude of the producers became universally solidified when the unions chose to stick with a rigid set of rules during the strike negotiations. It was at this time that the producers discovered they could continue to produce their commercials with non-union actors, without too much in the way of sacrifice. While the non-union actors definitely had fewer skills to put on display, they quickly improved by way of experience. Many actors, who couldn’t get work because they weren’t union members were now able to secure work.

        There has never been a shortage of actors. Union or not. Specifications, whether or not the work is union or non-union, are of little or no importance to what we have included in our workshop syllabus. We are in the business of training actors in a specific acting craft. Work is work; the actor must continually study his craft. Whether our work is union or non-union, it will not, and must not, deter our actors from focusing on the importance of good study habits. Union or not, the excellence required in order for the actor to succeed will always be determined by each individual actor.

Harvey Kalmenson