He Was "Grrrreat!"

For close to 25 years, Lee Marshall has been a part of our lives here at Kalmenson & Kalmenson. As an acting student, VO actor, and forever a friend, we will affectionately remember him always as the voice of "Tony the Tiger.”

Lee passed away Saturday, April 26, 2014.

We had the honor of casting the voice of this animated American icon, "Tony.” And then, we had the joy of learning that Lee, a Kalmenson graduate, was the choice.

Rest in peace, Lee.

Cathy & Harvey
On Behalf of Everyone Here in Our K&K Family

Positive Thinking

There are times when I wonder why I write a blog. Many years ago when I first picked up a pen for profit I was told in no uncertain terms to prepare for criticism. At least then I was being paid, and somehow indecision regarding the validity of my work didn’t seem to get to me quite as much as it does today. There were times when I was working for a newspaper that I wondered if anyone was actually reading what I had to say. It was like I was writing an obituary column for those readers who had already died. No wonder they didn’t make comments.

I can remember early on, about thirty years ago, when I was a guest on a radio talk show, and found myself wondering whether there was anyone listening in to what I was saying. The host smiled and said with a sly wink, “Wait until we open up the phone lines for questions and comments”. It was then I found out the real importance of them having a producer who also functioned as a screener: Some of the callers were really screw loose with what they had to say. One of the kids at the radio station called it pounce time. I found out quickly what he was getting at. There are people out there who devote their energies towards indiscriminate attacks on whomever they can find who isn’t in a position to retaliate. These are the unpaid critics, the "wannabes" that don’t begin to have the talent or the fortitude to make it on their own. (There was a time delay, so luckily most of these nut jobs couldn’t get through.)

Today there exists a new and equally parasitic clutter the creative world must deal with. They are still categorized as critics, and their psychological thrusts are the same as most those other bygone eras produced. But today’s rock-throwers have far greater capabilities than ever before in the history of communications. All a person needs is a computer, a phone, a screen, and an acidic condition in order to render their dissertation to a world in waiting. About one year ago I was cajoled to venture fourth into the wide world of “blogdom”. In doing so I promised myself I would not take to heart any really mean spirited critiques any of my readers might offer. Admittedly, my promise to myself at times is hard to live with.

***

One Hundred Blogs Later

Writings, scribbling(s), statements of what have become lived in facts...receiving things from people, often the reality of tainted distortions of the real truth, or the truth as they perceive it. I try not to let another human beings misgivings about life, as they have lived it, get in the way of my attempts at remaining positive.

The majority of people offering their personal sentiments regarding my opinions, as I continue to scribe, have been positive in nature. Many have thanked me for reminding them of what they themselves know to be true. Most are reflections of little tidbits from my own past, which helped me during my own down times.

I doubt if we can uncover very many folks in the entertainment business that have reached a noteworthy degree of success without experiencing first hand a pitfall or two, or three, or four, or more. My own are numerous.

If I were to ask a person what gave them the right to vote for someone other than who I voted for, I believe I would instantly earn the title of one of the world's most boorish men. But what about an obviously bitter old person, who was never at any point of creative acceptance in their life, questioning why I have the nerve to write a blog, and further going on in asking if I’m seeking out a new career. To this person, I felt duty bound to offer my thank you. I will forever feel indebted to you for offering your boorish direction. You have given me the fortitude to go on with an even greater display of positiveness than ever before. Bless you for taking the time to let some of the vindictiveness seep from the core of uselessness that has centupled as you continue your creative condemnation during the remainder of your senior years.

I’ve Been a Cheerleader My Entire Life

My God…I’ve been a cheerleader my entire life. That statement isn’t an attempt or a continuance of a hopeless endeavor at me gaining praise. I just do what I do because I do it. But there are times; as a matter of fact there have been a few times when I find myself asking “What the hells wrong with you Harv? Give it up…leave it alone already.” One of those times occurred not more than a week ago.

A (not yet) star with an attitude walks briskly from the set of a film many would die for. (Isn’t that a stupid statement? I mean if one dies, they can’t actually play the part anyway.) Today, my situation is quite a bit different from his. I can’t remove myself from the project I’ve been hired to direct because I’m the designated entertainment committee. I’m the one charged with the responsibility to keep things going; to cheer the ingrates on to new and loftier heights than even the wildest supposition of their self imposed entitlement might demand or require. Fortunately for me, in general not too much bad attitude finds it’s way into our world of voice over. Most of the veterans who make it; those who are able to exist on what they earn as a voice over artist; rarely if ever put on a pout face. The newbies, those who make it into me for the very first time to audition, usually have been forewarned about the dos and don’ts practiced and expected by us at the Kalmenson & Kalmenson ranch. What it all boils down to is nothing more than common courtesy. Just as I don’t appreciate an actor with bad manners, I try to set an example for my own Kalmenson teammates. A hectic day isn’t an acceptable excuse for being rude. And rude is the word, which covers a wide variety of poor taste. Hectic comes with the territory. Hectic is our accepted parameter of our life in voice casting. Ignoring the needs of the people sending us the casting assignments would be tantamount to running our business with the snail-like dispatch of derangement necessary for those seeking an end to their business world. Without a doubt we are guilty of catering to those who are helping to place bread on our table. Likewise, without actors, we don’t have a business. These two salient points demand an unequaled display of social grace by all concerned parties. By this I mean, the actors coming in to audition for us, and we the people who endeavor to keep the clients we have in a constant state of the "happy camper" mode. In other words, we need whom we have, and we know whom we need. To ignore either side would spell ultimate disaster.

The Ignorish People

The little known or publicized country of “Ignoria” has a reputation for boasting about how his or her people and leaders pay little or no attention at all to anyone, including their own “Ignorian” citizenry. Hence, the new and revised Kalmenson dictionary of refined letters has coined the word: ignorish;one who pays absolutely no attention to anyone or anything of a productive vain; as in, it was a non productive vain and or attempt.

Another common use of the word ignorish would be: Most politicians are ignorish.

Actors as a special breed must never be, or become ignorish. Ignorish actors usually suffer banishment.

A Penny For Your Thoughts

Remembering back a few years ago, when I started on my journey into never-never land, kind of makes me cringe today.

Without the foggiest notion of what acting was truly about and armed in my own personal cape of blissful ignorance, it was high gear all the way, until the money ran out. What I was fortunate enough to have had was a series of teachers with the magic ability to convey a message here or there that managed to make it through my extremely thick cranium.

Each of us has our own special button that is often difficult to uncover, especially at a young age, and even more difficult when the button is part of the male makeup.

There’s an old saying, “a penny for your thoughts.” When I was a young guy that was a common question. I can remember being out on a blind date and having that question asked of me. I happen to be a person who doesn’t have any qualms about sharing what might be going on in my head. In this particular instance it wasn’t a good idea or the correct thing to do under the circumstances. Nevertheless, my (still blind) date asked and I said, “This wasn’t a good idea for either of us, was it?”

What followed was my first real experience with a very uncomfortable extended silence and a distinct change of climate. What she did for the balance of the evening is commonly referred to as “the cold shoulder.”

(Fast forward.)

Years later, as I stood alone, stage center with a group of my workshop colleagues seated as the audience before me, I recaptured that “cold shoulder” moment and relived the question: “A penny for your thoughts.”

Our instructor had called upon me to, without words, portray a man experiencing an uncomfortable two minute period of silence, then upon her command, display a completely comfortable presence, while remaining alone, center stage.

I was able to become comfortable by reflecting upon feeling the relief after dropping my blind date off at home at the end of the evening.

It even included what I felt was a very cool thing that happened during my questioning following the two minutes. One of the students asked me what I was thinking about during the comfortable presence moments that brought the hint of a smile to my face.

Our teacher pointed out that often times reflection can stimulate memories that allow for more than one single attitude. It’s kind of like walking and smiling at the same time. That two-fold display of a cultivated attitude drawn from our memory bank opened up one of the most powerful sourcing tools that an actor must be able to call on.

Reflection upon one single moment can stimulate any number of feelings, either sequentially, or in an untold number of bizarre or surreal sequences. All are slices of life. Almost all happenings may easily be referenced from our vast memory bank. All (usually, that is) with one dominant exception. That exception is our own personal memories of physical pain. Nature has provided the human animal with a turn off that enables us to forget severe physical pain. The condition is an automatic one.

(Certainly there are people who can vividly reflect on physical pain, but they are the exception.)

So now the question comes up, what to do when the scene calls for our actor to show suffering being caused by severe mental or physical pain?

At first, our actor may struggle with his or her memory bank. They easily recall the twisted and broken leg suffered during a high school football game, or gymnastics. While they may recall the circumstances, the scene they are playing lacks the genuine truth that he or she was striving to deliver.

Our actor requests the teacher’s help. The teacher responds with, “We’ll discuss it again tomorrow.” Our teacher then hands out the homework assignment. It requires each of us to view the movie, “Brian’s Song.” The next day our teacher asks that same actor to recount the scene he had struggled with the previous day, but this time to think about the travail that occurred for Brian Piccolo when he discovered, as an athlete at the top of his career, that he was sick with an incurable and life-ending illness.

The result was our actor being able to reflect on Brian’s predicament. What came forth was a beautifully truthful slice of life. Our actor had reflected through the eyes of another.

And finally, that leads us to the question of how do we, as actors, develop the skill of being able to reflect through the eyes of another. My answer to that one is contained in my favorite word: Empathy. Understanding, awareness, being sensitive, and feeling and experiencing the thoughts of others without becoming subjective. And while it is my favorite word, it has become my fervent belief that it is also the most important tool an actor has within his arsenal.

Were it possible to make all the luck in the world happen for each of you, as opposed to it being merely a sincere salutation, then I would choose to say to all of you, “All the luck in your world. The world you have been able to choose and genuinely embrace for yourself!”

Blog Anniversary

Hey, happy anniversary, da harv. This blog is number forty-five. In just one short year I’ve had the audacity of taking up the amount of time is required for you to read sixty-six thousand and five of my written words. One could say what makes this fact tolerable is that my writing is similar to the ingestion of small quantities of poison. In small doses, a person may build up immunity. Since my average blog boils down to approximately fifteen hundred words per dose, I guess the fear of expiring while reading what I have to say most likely won’t occur, or be detrimental to your health. However, if you should experience a light-headedness, which lasts for more than four hours, stop reading immediately. But not to worry, it will not have any effect on me continuing to write. You see, since none of you are paying me to write this stuff, and so few of you are willing to admit your reading my work (anyway) I really don’t worry about agree, or disagreement with what I have to say.

And speaking of agreements; I made one with myself many years ago, when I laid down the sword and picked up a pen.

And so, if you’re interested in methodology, carry on.

Every Day (24/7)

Each and every day I view something cut from a new cloth. A new commercial predicated on a futuristic theme of what it will be like five hundred years from now, or maybe tomorrow.
I find myself challenging the presumptions being asserted to by people who are just like myself, no more, but many a great deal less. Now doesn’t that sound contemptuous of me? Sound like? I mean there’s no question about it. While in general, I do get along with people pretty well, the number of those I can’t stand to be with or listening to is growing at a faster rate than I can keep pace with.

(I can’t call it an alarming rate because I have long since discouraged my conscious or subconscious from allowing the norm to be either shocking or alarming. I do however admit to more than occasional surprise over mans indignity towards fellow man.)

It’s getting more and more difficult for me to remain a totally honest man. I will admit to not being politically correct or incorrect for that matter.

(In my humble opinion) Voice over remains the most unbigoted theatrical profession in existence today. Short, tall, fat, skinny, ethnicity, or degree there of, it doesn’t matter. As casting directors, we follow a pattern set forth by the people who hire us. They set out the guidelines of what they are in search of and we attempt to bring in the most skillful actors or actresses we can find. I might add, void of all humility, at Kalmenson & Kalmenson we’re exceptional at what we claim we can accomplish.

It should be noted, the brightest pennies may be found amongst the Los Angeles acting community.

But actors oftentimes find themselves in an unwanted bind. There are topics not to be discussed in open forum. Discussing political preferences is one of the big no-no’s in Hollywood.

But we also find within our community a deep fear. Many actors find themselves watching what they say around certain people. What some refer to as "political correctness" is an impossibility for me to live with. I am not a restricted man. By that, I mean I follow my heart. I am a professional director. That’s what I do for a living. I am paid to tell and give people my professional opinion. Regardless of their preferences or what God endowed them with. I get a script, we call in the actors, and they read for me. As an example, tomorrow we will be bringing in Portuguese men to read for a deodorant commercial, which will run in Brazil. If the Hollywood Reporter says Harvey Kalmenson was telling a group of Portuguese guys what to do in a rather strident fashion, well then so be it. Who cares if I was politically correct? I don’t! I resent that portion of Hollywood folks who think because they have supposedly arrived at some form of pinnacle in their careers, they're allowed to restrict the livelihood of others! These folks should reexamine their stance; their pinnacle may be a precipice. Backing who you feel will be the best political candidate seeking office will have absolutely nothing to do with whether or not you are called in to audition at Kalmenson & Kalmenson.

Almost without exception, every actor finds himself or herself in search of the magic, which will propel their destiny to the stars.

To Make It:
◊ You must be able to read well.
◊ You must be an accomplished actor or actress.
◊ You must be flexible enough to cope with the whims of the industry.

Leave your political bent at the doorstep!

An observant reader may have noticed I made no reference to gender, age, race, or creed. I will admit I am guilty of having spent a little more time with some of the drop dead beautiful women who have come in to audition for me. But they too arrive in all races and creeds and, by the way, good looks will not hamper ones career at Kalmenson & Kalmenson; not whilst I still breathe unassisted.


"If you'd like to thank a veteran, vote!" - hk

Valuable Lies or Assertions

Confucius says:
(or maybe he didn’t)

“Women who really don’t like to do it should marry a very old man.”

(Those women); They’d be best served however if their search for a marriage partner stayed clear of any resemblance to my family lineage fowarded on by my mother's side.

Long before the advent of Viagra, or the advice emanating from your television set suggesting you visit a gal named “Cialis,” or recommended substances referenced as "sexual enhancers," my mother's side of the family had as its stem a very long line of Romanian gypsies. Mom's people found their own special way of adding delight to their already spitfire lifestyle. Medically, they all defied scientific reason for their extreme longevity.

My mother's father, Sam Siegel, spent the greater part of his adult life chasing down any and all of the opposite sex he deemed available. In his mindset, I do believe that meant anyone who could walk unassisted. As Sam Siegel spoke no English, he did his philandering almost entirely by making use of his animal magnetism and a set of the most piercing green eyes ever seen in the borough of Brooklyn. Samuel Siegel emigrated from Romania to the United States some time in the late eighteen hundreds. He was one of eight children to make the long ocean cruise. It was this same Sam Siegel who managed to teach a seven-year-old child to play cards; specifically “Pisha Paysha,” and “Casino,” the games of his choice.

Pisha Paysha - (Yiddish) a card game for two players one of whom is usually a child; the deck is placed face down with one card face upward; players draw from the deck alternately hoping to build up or down from the open card; the player with the fewest cards when the deck is exhausted is the winner.

Cassino, also known as Casino, is an Italian fishing card game for two, three, four players in two partnerships, or even theoretically five players. It is the only one to have penetrated the English-speaking world, via Italian immigrants to America. First recorded just before 1800 (1797), it seems to have been heavily elaborated in 19th century American practice. It is mostly played by two with a standard deck of playing cards, being the object of the game to score 21 points by fishing up cards displayed on the table. It is very similar to and probably descended from the Italian game, "Scopa."

Sam’s closest friend was his next-door neighbor and barber, an Italian immigrant who, like Grandpa, was unable to speak a word of English. Their life together was family, food sharing, non-stop smoking, drinking, and playing cards. How in the name of hell they were able to pull it off, I’ll never understand. While Grandpa was able to converse in an assortment of eastern European languages, Jimmy was strictly Italian speaking. (I never knew Jimmy’s last name. To me he was always “Jimootz”; that’s what Sam called his friend, and so to was how I referred to him.

'Til the day he died, Sam called his card games “Kerosene” and “Scopa.”

Since he was illiterate in the English language, he became dependant on those around him for what was thought to be a correct pronunciation. His source for up to date information was word of mouth from the relatives, and a literary dose from the Yiddish newspaper “The Daily Forward.”

Even at seven years of age, grandpa relied on me as his teacher. In many ways, I became far too advanced for a child of seven; if you get my drift. But when it came to numbers, my grandpa Sam could cipher with the best of them, regardless of the coinage, denomination or the country's realm. Sam knew money. In retrospect, I can see now what a great contradiction he must have been to his Jewish immigrant friends.

From the time the Siegel clan landed on the shores of these United States of America, the total assimilation began. They strove to learn the language and to take part in the cultivated dream almost all of them shared. Why Sam resisted learning how to speak English is a difficult thing to comprehend. Perhaps because he was so surrounded and inundated by people there at his beck and call, speaking English was not a necessity in order for him to survive. From day one in Brooklyn, New York, the capitalist approach fit him to a tee. Work hard, make the money, raise a family and be free to worship and take part in whatever you wanted to, with one exception: Socialism. This was in itself the most difficult thing for the newly-arrived family to understand.

Many of those eras' immigrants were skilled with needle and thread. The sweatshops became a source for survival for many of the neighborhood families. The ability to run a sewing machine wasn’t a useable trait for any of my grandfather’s siblings. They made it by buying and selling used furniture, and ultimately graduating into the world of collectibles and fine antiques.

It was not yet the turn of the century when a less than sophisticated populace struggled with much of the pain they had first experienced in Europe. The difference between Europe and the United States was enormous for the Siegel family. They quickly learned how to play the capitalist game. They all worked long hours, and still managed to play hard. None of them were remotely interested in anything resembling what they had run away from in Romania; especially not anything that smacked of socialism, or communism.

The Daily Forward

The publication began in 1897 as a Yiddish-language daily issued by dissidents from the Socialist Labor Party of Daniel DeLeon. As a privately-owned publication loosely affiliated with the Socialist Party of America, Forverts achieved massive circulation and considerable political influence during the first three decades of the 20th Century.

I found out from an older cousin, the two reasons for Sam Siegel reading the Daily Forward. One, it was printed in the Yiddish language, and two, Sam could make good use of it for lining the birdcage he always seemed to have. (Another of those things I can’t tell you too much about. He liked canaries. What can I say?)

I know for sure my grandfather didn’t agree with the newspaper's editorials. One of the English words he picked up along the way was “bullshit.” I always knew when he was ready for a card game. He’d finish reading the paper and I'd hear him say, “Bullshit.” Consequently, I find myself doing the same thing. While I never turned into a skilled card player, I did master the use of the word “bullshit” as passed on to me by Sam Siegel.

If you could see my face as I write this piece, you’d perhaps understand what fun the old guy brought with him.

And as one final recollection I offer another visual :)

Late one afternoon on an early autumn day I headed over for a card game with you-know-who. As I arrived at his house; the first level of a two-story building, situated on top of his two furniture stores I found Sam and Jimootz on the top level of the stoop, holding court (having a party) with four rather attractive older women.

It turned out, the ladies had each brought a sampling of their own cooking to the party for the boys (Sam and Jimootz) to enjoy. They welcomed me as I was simultaneously given a heaping plate, and motioned to sit down. It only took a moment or two for even a very young kid to figure out, these partiers were having a great time while not being able to converse in the same language. I guess a genuine smile is an effective communication skill regardless of the language.

Many years later, I became privy to an article having to do with life expectancies; the differences between men and women and the era they lived in. Low and behold right there before me was the year 1940;the year of Sam and Jimootz’s party on the stoop in Brooklyn. And here are some of my discoveries:

* Women considerably outlived men (perhaps explaining the number of older women who seemed to always be around my grandfather).

* Most men had very long and arduous workdays. Few of them could spend their days sitting on the stoop.

… and about the movies you might be interested in the following:

(1940)

* February 7 - Walt Disney's animated film Pinocchio is released.

* February 10 - Tom and Jerry make their debut in the animated cartoon Puss Gets the Boot.

* May 17 - My Favorite Wife is released.

* May - A reproduction of "America's First Movie Studio", Thomas Edison's "Black Maria," is constructed.

* July 27 - Bugs Bunny makes his official debut in the animated cartoon A Wild Hare.

* October 15 - The Great Dictator, a satiric social commentary film by and starring Charlie Chaplin, is released.

* November 13 - World premiere of Walt Disney's Fantasia, the first film to be released in a multichannel sound format (see Fantasound). The film also marked the first use of the click track while recording the soundtrack, overdubbing of orchestral parts, simultaneous multitrack recording and lead to the development of a multichannel surround system.

Top grossing films (U.S.)
Rank Title Studio Actors Gross
1. Fantasia* Disney/RKO Deems Taylor $98,000,000*
2. Pinocchio* Disney/RKO $84,000,000*

Academy Awards
* Best Picture: Rebecca - David O. Selznick, United Artists
* Best Actor: James Stewart - The Philadelphia Story
* Best Actress: Ginger Rogers - Kitty Foyle

And so it proved out as not just a memorable year for a very impressionable child, but arguably the beginning of the major animation industry as we know it today.

And so, all of that being said, if I were reading the aforegoing piece and I didn’t know the author, perhaps there would be a degree of wonder over what it all, or part, had to do with acting, or specifically voice over. Well, the bottom line for me is a simple one. Reflection, pure Stanislavski, and recapturing moments of what I refer to as “silent joy.”

“Silent joy,” is what comes to me when I float or sometimes even charge back to an era of complete calm. Like so many children of the depression, our parents and grandparents took the brunt of the suffering. But to most of them, the life and times of the depression lifestyle were far less painful than what most of them left behind in what they all referred to as the "old country." These turn of the century brand new Americans lived, bred, and bore the children of our greatest generation ever. My creative skills stem from much of my “silent joy.” What a blessing to recapture moments to serve me well.

Sum and Substance

“Sum And Substance”: An often-used phrase; it’s probably an impossibility to come through any of today’s school systems without hearing this popular mathematical term. In fact, simply stated, it’s nothing more than the aggregate of two or more numbers being determined by plain and simple addition: (like) The sum of 6 and 8 is 14.

But the above has to do with school, when simple rules prevail; when one and one must add up to the sum of two; and when it doesn’t, if you’re the student presenting the alternate answer, the outcome will be a grade certainly in the fail category. As a matter of fact… in the real world, true incorrectness brings with it the same results as any remedial study being taught in our schools today. A wrong answer is just what it is: a wrong answer; that is, unless you’re attempting to be:

A) A "PCer" (politically correct).
B) A politician making a speech.
C) An actor in a play where the outcome doesn’t make any sense at all.
(or)
D) Someone who tries to make rhyme or reason out of any subjective form; including acting.

It appears to me, what applies to us in order to live any form or even a modicum of a successful life, would be the ability to understand the spoken and written word in the language of one's heritage.

Within the confines of what I have chosen to pursue, a career of being a director and educator, it occurred to me many years ago the language of my heritage was not completely singular.

My substance is the body of words created by every language I become privy to, and therefore the sum of which generates an ability to honestly communicate with those experiencing the intention of my given direction.

As an example, I could compliment an actor by saying, “You’re the summe,” from old French, or “summa” from the Latin; but instead I choose to say, “You’re the top.” The actor, in turn says thank you without knowing he or she has benefited by no less than the heritage of three or more languages.

Without belaboring my point regarding heritage, here’s another short example of what can be gleaned from the origin of a word or phrase. An actor about to read for a role in a play is given a side to study. The side, in addition to the lines he or she will be reading, contains a short description of the scene to be played.

The person who wrote the description must have been a lawyer, or a politician. After reading the breakdown, our actor was thoroughly confused. It read: "Jeb expresses his opinions based on his broadly comprehensive gist of the situation."

Da harv’s translation: Jeb’s simple substance was his many years of telling it like it is. He reckons it’s the truth! In this case, "reckons" and "sum" are synonymous.

Note: You've heard cowboys say the phrase “I reckon it’s the truth.” What you’re hearing is far more than singular. It’s Old World French, as well as Latin, as well as South West. And guess what… it doesn’t stop there.

ORIGIN: Old English (ge)recenian [recount, relate] ; related to Dutch rekenen and German rechnen ‘to count (up).’ Early senses included [give an account of items received] and [mention things in order,] which gave rise to the notion of ‘calculation’ and hence of ‘coming to a conclusion.’

And so I write of sum and substance as my own personal way of clearing what separates fact from fiction. I listen as closely as I can to what each of us as individuals deem of importance.

If you are an actor by trade and your substance is what is offered as the truth, regardless of its origin, then and only then will the sum of your performance bear with it the quality of the success you may seek.

Travel Fare

I’m in my eighteenth year of going up and back every workday from my home in Encino to Burbank. A conservative estimate makes it thirty five hundred round trips, to date. While I love my work… there have been a few times when I really didn’t feel like going to Burbank, for one reason or another. Only once did being ill keep me from the starting gate. In actuality, I did make it to the starting gate. I just couldn’t move when I got there. It was one of those twenty-four hour flu things that take no prisoners. You’re hit, and down you go. Missing one day out of eighteen years isn’t too bad an attendance record. “Ya’ think.”

Psychologists say seventy-five percent of who you are is attributable to the environment you were raised in. I’m inclined to agree with that premise. I often heard my father expound:

“If you’re the owner, being sick isn’t a consideration. There are a great many people depending on you to be there; letting them down isn’t an option. Not when you are the entertainment committee.”

My father believed in team play, at every level. He felt every employee was helping to put bread on his family's table. If he wasn’t there, and the factory had to stay shut because of his absence, the financial burden to others would have been unconscionable. Dad’s responsibility was to family and team. Everything else was of little or no consequence to him. My mom was somewhat jealous over the relationship my Dad had with his employees. While I was only a little boy at the time, I never the less had a handle on my father's methods. I described him as “Good King Charlie.” He definitely lead. His factory wasn’t a democracy. The plus side of the way he ran everything was that there never seemed to be any confusion about what assignments were to be conducted by what employee.

In the 1920s, there was no such thing as medical insurance, or in many cases, paid vacations. People were glad to find work.

It kind of sounds like the workers of that time period could all identify with what we go through in our industry. You get a job, you complete the job, and you’re out there looking for work again. And even if the bosses love your work, there’s never a guarantee you’ll be called back to work for them again.

My father's realm began in 1920. At the time, he was an energetic eighteen year old. He had been in the United States some sixteen years and working since the third grade. In that era, there weren’t any laws concerning child labor. Everyone, without exception, worked together to support the family. At the end of each week, his family members, boys and girls, would report in to their mother, presenting their pay envelope. In those days, there was no such thing as a paycheck. Workers were paid in cash. Grandma would count the money and then give back to each of her kids enough money to cover them for the next week. Most of dad’s schooling was a product of his curiosity as a gifted self-taught scholar.

Even as I write a descriptive of my own father, I find it almost impossible to understand what he and his family were subjected to in the early part of the twentieth century. To get an idea of how it was, go around the house or apartment you’re currently living in and disconnect all of the electric appliances, perhaps with the exception of a single electric cord, which would most likely be hanging down from the center of each room. In the early 1920s, even a radio was an extravagance.

I personally find life to be so ass-backwards at times. So often I’ve day dreamed about having my dad around today, for me to conduct an in-depth interview. I’m sure many of you share the same feelings. What a joy it would be to have the guy in this world that you most admired, respected, and trusted right with you at a time of deep need. Think about the relaxation of knowing the person you are sharing thoughts with is completely, one hundred percent on your side; you’d be playing in life’s game with much less tension and anxiety. My only disclaimer would have to be: Little chance would my father understand my pursuits within the entertainment industry. I know he would have felt life to be tough enough without making it any more difficult by attempting to survive in the art world.

Scenarios like these are part of my thought processes, simply because I have a need to do so. I have a need to gather some extra strength from time to time in order to help cope with some of life’s indignities.

Just about every aspect of this “No Business” comes with a guarantee of highs and lows. Sometimes they come only a few seconds apart. It’s like the love of your life tells you in the afternoon how much they care for you. That same evening you find your clothing out on the street. Don’t try to figure it out. There’s a big sign which reads: “No Comprehension Allowed.” Love is like our subjective art form; I mean it’s for sure "No Business." Humiliating, ain’t it?

As a writer I would receive rejection notices, which should have come with a warning: This notice should not be read directly after eating.

I remember seeing my ex-wife standing there with the tears rolling down her cheeks as she read what some punk had to say about a book I had submitted to their publisher. The review was the worst one I had ever received. I don’t think anyone could actually write as poorly as how that woman described my work. Her words were cutting and cruel. It took five full years of trying before I gave in to the acknowledgement of failure as a professional writer. In my mind, I had failed myself, and my family.

Once again, my father's words echoed:

“Kids don’t ask to be born. It was your idea to bring them into this world. It’s your responsibility to provide for them.”

It was the personal credo he followed for his entire life. In my father's eyes, your children, family, and your employees, were part and parcel of an accepted obligation that went with life’s territory.

An old experienced and rather famous actor told me I was going through a first hand condition of the heart. He was the one who assured me it was a personal thing. Many others had counseled me not to take the rejection personally. I never could understand how to do that. In each and every one of the many positions or just plain jobs I’ve had in this “No Business,” I’ve always taken everything personally. I don’t mean to tell you that any form of rejection cast me into an uncontrollable state of depression. It was mainly a buildup of things which caused the greatest damage. Pounding the pavement in search of work can be hazardous to one's mental health.

There were times, after a turn down, that I would question my inner being as to whether I would ever work again. How could it not be personal? Actor, writer, director, editor, it’s all personal. Transfusing life into a subjective art form is a very personal endeavor. When the folks say they love your work, the sounds of their voices don’t seem to hold on long enough; it’s so fleeting.

They dislike your work and it’s etched there forever.

Admittedly, some may take it harder than others! Failure isn’t a dignified thing to be tolerated.

“Most men shrouded in a cloth of indignity will rarely experience true happiness or success. Although success is one of life’s fleeting indulgences, the shame of losing one’s dignity may last for a lifetime.”
Hk/2010

Each of us has a God-given right to stay in pursuit of our dreams, or leave them in whatever gulch we inhabit at the end of the race. If a human being keeps trying, they earn the respect of all those who have themselves experienced the turmoil of their creative fight for survival. Those who have never experienced combat should never be allowed to sit in judgment of those of us who have. Having a family to support while striving for survival in our “No Business” is as personal an adventure as any man may encounter. In my opinion, not taking rejection seriously will only add to and increase one's chances for continued failure.

“There’s nothing dignified about failure. But providing for another fellow's welfare, or attempting to ease another man’s pain by offering a moment of entertainment, is for me the most dignified human attribute anyone can muster. And so, those of us who remain in search of what ever is to ultimately be our God given calling, within our “No Biz,” carrying on might even be considered our obligation.”
- Carrying on,
(I’m) “At A Party”

Imagine this scenario: You’re at a party with a group of friends and acquaintances. While you do know many of them personally, quite a few are being introduced for the very first time. Those who are recognizable figures within our industry will hands down become the most sought after people to be introduced to. “No Biz” people are really liked by those of the so-called normalcy group. (You see, it’s a given that none of us are normal.)

Now that I have set the scene for you, I’ll get down to the nitty-gritty. The fact is… da harv loves statistics. I love doing my own homemade question and answer survey.

Here’s a sample of what I’m talking about. I’ll ask a group of partygoers what would be their least favorite occupation. Of course the answers will vary a great deal, dependent on the makeup of the people in the group.

Recently, I found myself sharing my time with a group of folks who all were members of the same industry, our business: "No Biz." It was a forty-plus crowd. All of us had in common the early days of struggle in one aspect of entertainment or another; some were extremely recognizable performers, while the vast majority were behind the scenes industry notables.

NOTE: A notable is anyone who makes a living.

For least favorite, there was a variety of expected answers. Creative people across the board disliked the idea of working a prescribed nine-to-five job. Attorneys and undertakers were mentioned. Some said doctors because they couldn’t stand the sight of blood. Many of the answers were predictable, until a very well known female personality literally opened a dam when she called out:

“I wouldn’t work for the f---ing IRS if they paid me a million dollars a minute.”

Let the games begin. The around the room agreement was beyond belief. People took turns recounting stories of actual experiences they encountered while being audited that were almost hard to believe. It was an evening of one-upsmanship. I listened intently to each and every word. The stories being told were not exaggerations of the truth. It was as if the IRS was a separate country, at war with us, and we were paying by way of our tax dollars, in order to keep them solvent enough to win the war against us.

Many of us at that party had undergone or were currently going through an IRS audit. A number of people telling the stories had experienced the ultimate indignity of having been forced into bankruptcy. Without exception, each of us had a track record of paying large sums of money to the tax collector, and our history of charitable contributions is enormous. Without exception all of us had given of our time and energy in support of our country's needy. The problem is, by and large, what you may have done in the past is meaningless to our IRS. They audit us, and we pay to defend ourselves from them.

Try this one on for size: Internal Revenue reports in a February 2010 issue of The Wall Street Journal: "Americans spend 6.6 billion hours each year on tax preparation; at an annual cost of $194 billion."

The party consensus: Internal Revenue was considered to be nothing more than a heartless entity of faceless, humorless, parasitic vultures, which derive enjoyment over the suffering of others.

Not one of us at that party would ever choose to be an IRS agent. All of us at that party took what our government was doing to us, by way of IRS, as a very personal affront.

Here’s the most interesting point of fact derived by listening to people recount their IRS audits and aftermaths:

Believe it or not, most of the people at the party who underwent an IRS audit had a similar outcome. I was surprised to hear, across the board, they found it monetarily to their advantage to pay the amount the government was asking for. All of them had high powered tax attorneys and or CPAs advising them of not only the costs of defending themselves, but also counseling them regarding the deliberately disruptive nature of the IRS agents themselves.

I take what our government is attempting to do to us as one of the most personal affronts in my lifetime.

“A fighter in the ring with hands tied tightly behind his back, will undergo far less punishment by rolling over and allowing them to count him out.”
-Hk/2010

Creative Formation

“It’s all in the feeling process.”

Hk










The statement contained in the box above was placed in a box by me in order to describe the person who made the statement. Said person is of course a complete dummy. Voice over is as competitive an acting craft as any other.

Each and every successful actor who has ventured my way shares an evolutionary process in common. Each has found a way to continue their individual growth process.








I don’t choose to call what I have "tricks of the trade," at least not at this moment in time.

Tomorrow my true thoughts may again change for the umpteenth time; not that I go with the latest breeze in order to establish a life’s direction. Rather, I experience and learn from where a breeze may have dropped me off for a visit.

And so it appears the older I have become, the more of life’s places became renowned as I visited by way of a vast agenda of experiences, I would never have had the capacity to imagine, or even contemplate within any dreamlike state.

So, consider my observations as part of a breeze, which happened to blow your way. If you allow my breeze to take you in any particular direction, then I pray for your journey to be as beneficial as my intent was when first we visited.

“A breeze, which carries you on, hopefully to unreachable heights For you may enjoy its warmth, smoothly glide within the actors process of shear delights.” Hk

***

Who’s to say exactly when an experience may or may not have a destined effect on a person’s life?

If you’ve ever experienced a moment When you knew That particular moment Was creating with permanency Indelibly who you were destined to become You will identify with the truth I am about to share with you. I pray you carry on! Hk

PROCESS

It was much more than a mild zephyr, which bore the brunt of responsibility for carrying me from my homeland and friends. I was a boy of nineteen years of age; perhaps with the same mental equivalent God gave to a shovel.

Korea, the country, and its people affected what I was to become. While I had long since known the verities of the bug that had bitten me as a child, I was not yet thinking in terms of an ultimate goal in the creative world. The Far East, and its inherent danger, provided me with a better understanding of what the other guy is all about. It took what had been placed inside of me and brought it out with great dispatch. While empathy became my tangent to build on, my extreme sensitivity began its cultivation with the first in-person sights of human pain and suffering. It scared the shit out of me. (The foregoing was literal, and will be a remembrance for the balance of my life.)

Although I grew up being made aware of the Holocaust, and seeing first-hand the tattooed identification numbers on the arms of distant aunts and uncles, this experience was firsthand. It didn’t require explanation. Seeing children wandering aimlessly in search of something better; with their eyes hollow and daunting, straining to merely stay alive, becomes a lifelong etching; part of the process. Adding to my mortality recognition was the massive sobering effects of these children in despair. The block upon block of destitution and despair was overpowering.

I had never seen a child without shoes openly begging to anyone who would listen for help. All the movies I had ardently studied as a child instantly took on new meanings. It wasn’t "play" acting, it was the real and painful thing. These weren’t talented little kids playing a part. These were spoiled products of what some men choose to ignore on their quest for power and position. Everything in those first moments of my placement was in the extreme; stillness and quiet, and then coupled with sound blasts of unbelievable decibel levels.

Our miserable stop-and-go train ride bringing us further north also continued our personal visualization of human devastation. None of us could stand the sights. None of us were able to turn away. And at each small station we saw the sights of life coming to an end, and the broken bodies of children with final hope no longer their option.

It was during this time period I recognized the compassion being shared by my fellow troopers. I am convinced that nowhere in the world, will you ever be able to find more caring individuals than those who are members of the United States military.

From day one in Korea, we shared whatever we had with the street urchins. Each company area had an unofficial, adopted family. While it was against the rules and regulations to provide for Korean civilians, when it came to the children, many of our officers not only turned their backs to what was happening, but also took part in what transpired. Rules and regulations never kept any of us from trying to help those kids. That goes from the generals on down the line. We shared no color barrier, nor station-in-life restrictions. (Political correctness had not yet been invented.) We were all taken by the punishment war had brought to these homeless orphans.

All of us shared in the belief we could provide some positive emotion for these kids.
And make no mistake; provide we did. We knew our efforts on the childrens' behalf would have to be curtailed. What began with us having a couple of kids hanging around became a private nursery. We had reconstructed a bombed out farmhouse and were subsidizing a Korean family to take care of running it. It was amazing how resilient the children were. Overnight they seemed to be perking up.

(I have to tell you about Calvin.)

I don’t recall how in the name of hell we were able to get our hands on a piano, but we did. Before long Calvin (easily the largest human being in our army) had the piano tuned, and began organizing his own personal “Sunday Come To Meetin Quire.” Before long, Calvin was joined by a variety of guys, who could play a variety of instruments. Sundays at our nursery were something to see. New Orleans jazz and spirituals being rendered by as improbable a group as one could imagine. Hearing Calvin and his kids singing “Carry Me Back To Old Virginie” was a thing of beauty.

After six months of living in North Korea, I was thrilled when our outfit was transferred to Seoul. From way up in the mountains to the confines of an overcrowded city, my life was about to change again.

After a brief stint with an engineer company, I was able to qualify for our group’s baseball team.

For the uninformed, sports in the service is a big and important thing. Since in those days we were mostly a draftee (civilian) army, the teams were equal to what you might find in a professional league. We figured out that our baseball team would have been the equivalent professionally to athletes in a class B minor league.

Our team was housed in dormitory style at the University of Seoul. In those days, there weren’t very many students. The war raised havoc with the universities' enrollments. It boiled down to a student body of very rich Korean kids, and one American soldier -- that would be me. (Yes, you read right.) While it only lasted for five short months, I enjoyed every minute of it.

Sleeping in an actual building instead of a ten-man “MASH” squad tent doesn’t take a lot of getting accustomed to. The army took great care of us. We slept in each morning, worked out twice a day, and played league games twice a week.

Though the baseball season ended all too quickly, what followed was even more good fortune. As a reward for playing on a winning team, I was put in charge of a massive engineer supply point. And though my rank was only that of Corporal, the job came with the automatic provision that the man in charge (again that would be me) was assumed to hold one rank higher than anyone who entered the supply point in order to conduct business. The army’s theory was in actuality a sound maneuver. The reason for it insured against anyone holding a higher rank than I did, ordering me to give them whatever supplies they asked for.

Along with the some fifteen American soldiers assigned to my supply point, a contingent of forty Korean men were there daily to provide help with a number of back-breaking jobs.

(Some would wonder what any of this could possibly have to do with acting. Stay tuned.)

While Korean laborers aren’t exactly a made-in-heaven theatrical starting point, they did provide a once in a lifetime learning experience. These forty men were just that: men. For whatever the reason, I was instantly able to identify with them.

The Koreans introduced me to their ancient culture. I was living and breathing in a “period piece.” It was a domestic comedy and tragedy all taking place with me directly in the center of a whirlwind. I doubt if I will ever be able to place an intrinsic value on my Korean life’s experience. The Korean people enabled me to learn and feel more deeply than I could ever have imagined. I find myself easily sharing a variety of working relationships with Korean people today. We have cast and directed many pieces, which were translated from Korean to English. Having lived in Korean, and gone to school there has been and will continue to be part of my personal process. As a matter of fact, it’s not just the actors; our attorney is a first generation Korean American man.

Though my given name is Harvey, I am usually referred to as da harv. That moniker was coined by a couple of my wife’s erstwhile relatives during one of our many trips to Chicago. They (her relatives) reasoned that since they already had “da Bears, da Bulls, and da Cubs”, it was most appropriate for them to have a “da harv.”

Appropriate or not… the name stuck. Today, even our clients refer to me as “da harv.” Not excluded are my wife, my children, and my colleagues at work. In a way, it’s nice. Often I too refer to “da harv,” as if he is a separate entity. Somehow, I’m more comfortable being able to put blame on "da harv" as opposed to Harvey. So with that in mind, if you have a problem with my writing… blames it on da harv. The idea for writing this blog was suggested to me on more than a few occasions by a variety of actors who counseled: “da harv should write a book.” Book or blog, they both begin with the letter "b."

During this blog I have taken you along with me to a few places where a breeze or two have taken me. I choose to refer to my travels as part of the process. Each word I offered you brought back an instant memory of a day or moment in my life’s process. And during these personal recollections I am able to convey my truth without stress about it’s delivery. You see… I’m not playing a part. I’m sharing my process with you. The method is not dead. The process takes time if the audience is to be the benefactor.

And with finality:

“He can’t act. He can’t sing. He’s bald. He can dance a little.”
Movie Executive.
About Fred Astaire’s Screen Test, 1929.

“Feel the breeze!”

You and the Director

The on going question: What kind of a director was he to work with?

The question I ask, not as a director, but as the educator would be: What would you do if there were no directors to work with?

“Most actors who have not studied the acting craft of voice over will go up in a puff of smoke.”

An actor without training won’t be able to get a handle on what the director is asking for. Inexperienced actors are caught up in the circumstance of not even understanding that the recording booth demands a certain degree of etiquette be practiced.

On the director’s side of the glass, we find that most directors have almost no training at all. By that I mean, formal training. That fact has always been difficult for me to comprehend. Why would anyone who desires to be able to compete and win at a casting assignment be guilty of placing a totally inexperienced person in the booth to do the directing?

So now you have the conundrum: Actors without training mixed with directors without training. Hard to believe, isn’t it? Yet it happens to be the case, more often than not.

***

I have often said that directing commercial voice over auditions is the singular most difficult assignment a director can have.

Examine the plight of the experienced director. Experienced, that is, in other forms of theatrical presentation. For the sake of conversation, I’ll use the theater as an example.

Our director, man or woman of today, usually enters the theater after graduating from a college or university having majored in theater, in one way or another. They have picked up a degree in some form of communication. They have learned all about the language of the theater; what you call things, and what things are called. They have developed study habits and methods for portrayal of a particular character or characters.

Now, as an actor, they find themselves looking at a script that doesn’t apparently have a beginning or an end.

The director having worked for an agent or an advertising agency is at an even greater loss concerning what to do, or what to tell the actor to do. They usually get started by the director just having the actor do the first take on their own without direction. From there, a great many of the auditions proceed downhill.

As a casting director, I’m rarely given the assignment of selecting the winning actor. Again, that is the job of the advertising agency producer, writer, and in most cases, both of them, along with the commercial sponsor.

As the director, I am in a comparable position to that of the actor, having to create something based on usually sketchy information. Many times, we receive a variety of directions from the ad agency. The writer sees it one way, the producer another, and often the sponsor (the guy who pays the bills) is diametrically in opposition to the both of them. So we have a great deal in common. Aside from wanting the best performance possible, the actor and the director attain the best results when they find a way to work as one. This, of course, is a lot easier said than done.

The director’s job is to ask the actor to do something that he knows the actor can do. It is of importance for the director to know what the actor is uncomfortable with. All of this is a moot point when neither of them (actor or director) has any idea of what the others' skills are.

Note: Self-direction is a topic to be discussed.

In the Los Angeles marketplace, unlike other parts of the country, most auditions are conducted in your agent’s office. Briefly, it’s a situation where the advertising agency sends their commercial scripts and character breakdown directly to the agents. They (the agents) do a casting call from their stable of players. This means that as an actor, you are subject to being called in for auditions based on how your agent sees (hears) you.

The word for you is “Signature.” If you’re a Mr. Macho, white collar or blue, don’t be surprised if that particular signature translates to beer or trucks where your agent is concerned. For women, a comparable call might be for a sexy feminine approach for the sale of perfume. This too could be referred to as your signature.

At Kalmenson & Kalmenson, we take great pride in our attention to talent detail. Thousands of data entries have been compiled as an in-depth reference for our casting team to draw on. In our classes, a major thrust of the curriculum is to assist in the uncovering of your signature. In a way, it’s just the same as your written signature. With the latter, people who correspond with you can immediately tell if the signature is authentically yours. With the voice we have the same awareness of signature recognition.

I think it’s important to separate style from signature. An actor may have a soft-spoken approach or a certain way that they phrase. That is what we refer to as "style." On the other hand, when we say "signature," we are referring to your individual truth.

Whether a particular director is classically trained, or a person who has managed to pick up some skills along the way, what matters to them, consciously or not, is the basic question: Has the actor grabbed them? Has some special interpretation been presented as just what they’re looking for?

Regardless of the breakdown. The printed, or verbalization of their direction.

Perhaps an example will help to clarify?

(This was an actual call.)

The call was being put out on behalf of a hospital specializing in the care of the terminally ill.

The advertising agency producer specified that they were looking for actors, men and women, well into middle age who could honestly convey the importance of a hospital of this nature.

We, in turn, relayed our choices to a vast group of agents, and after our careful consideration of each idea, we individually hand-picked a bracketed selection, representing a range of creative interpretations of the given creative spec. The auditions were well-directed and uploaded within a day. Some twenty-five men and woman came in to audition for this role.

Their voices and ethnicities were made up of a wide variety of choices. All of them were experienced voice over actors. All had outstanding skills.

The bottom line will help to prove my point. The essence of truth casting was accomplished. The signatures of each actor came across as clear as a bell. Warm, friendly, homespun, city dweller, and farm worker. Garage mechanic, schoolteacher, and just your neighbor next door. Our casting conveyed the message that terminal illness could be the concern of all people. In my estimation, they could have thrown a dart at our end result. The casting and direction was impeccably sound. We had nailed it. How would they ever decide who was going to get this job? Who would be the actor they would choose?

It came down to two of them winning instead of just the one they had originally consigned for us to find. One man and one woman who had both experienced a close family member being taken away after a long illness. Both of these actors weren’t acting at all. They were telling the truth. For sure you must convey your signature, if it is truly yours as the truth.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch… what about you and the director?

Whether it’s at your agent’s office, or at a casting service, or even at the advertising agency, your assignment is to make the very best from the direction you’ve been given. Etiquette is extremely important. Please make it a point to look at your director when you speak to him (or her) and conversely, the same would apply when they’re speaking to you. At this point, an actor needs all the help available. A director’s facial appearance might even be an assist. In general, try not to be a pain in the ass. For the life of me, I can’t figure out why any actor chooses to be an annoyance to the one person in the best position to help them.

So there you are. You’ve arrived a full ten minutes before your call time. With script in hand, you find a place away from the rest of the actors. Now it's time to study the script, so you can go in there and ace it. But then you get your first look at the script direction. There it sits on top of the page. You’re not to be an announcer, though it clearly shows you reading the role of announcer. It says for you to be one-on-one, warm and friendly, and to be internalizing (stream of consciousness).

What you have is a common occurrence: Contradictory directions. I use this as an example in order to point out the importance of the director, if for no other reason than to function as the live and breathing human being right there in front of you. Use your first take as an opportunity to meld with your director. Make the director feel that you are being responsive to him or her.

Your job is to wait for the director to tell you what comes next.

And now it's experience time. The more experience you have the smoother your trip will become. Just as there are no two actors that share complete similarity, I feel the separation in director style is even greater. In my opinion, I think you’ll find the fewer the number of words a director uses, the better their direction becomes.

Biblical Terms for the Professional Actor

I’m so guilty of living in the past that there are times when even I can’t stand it. My love of the old movies, as I watched them as a kid, remains and will always live on in my mind's eye and in my heart's throbbing. I grew up believing almost everything I saw on the big silver screen. If they smoked, I smoked. If they fenced on a sailing vessel against whatever pirates had attacked, then I too established myself as a master of the saber. When Tyrone Power swung by one arm as he held Maureen O'Hara in the other, then I too longed to do the same. William Powell and Myrna Loy dressed in evening ware as they sipped incessantly on martinis, smoked cigarettes and stayed up until dawn everyday - that was the envy of my neighborhood. Whatever and whomever was on the screen was to be our portrayal of that day or week or month. We lived and became the stars. All of us knew every players name, and quite often were able to memorize all of their important speeches.

Humphrey Bogart, James Cagney, Edward G. Robinson; they were all bigger than life. They were life. What was then remains with me now. What has changed for me is simply stated: Nothing. I can vividly recall sitting there in a darkened theater with my dad alongside as we watched and listened to Gary Cooper as Lou Gehrig, in “Pride Of The Yankees,” proclaiming: "Today I consider myself the luckiest man on the face of this earth,” as we all, including my father, fought back the tears. I was Mickey Rooney in “Boys Town” being put in his place by Spencer Tracy. And the cowboys and their horses being able to gallop all the way from one town to another as Roy Rogers fired at the bad guys while facing backwards as he rode. But of all of the thousands of actors I watched and portrayed, none were able to sustain the mark left permanently and indelibly on me as did Peter Lorre. There was a short period of time when I became Peter Lorre. I studied his every move. He was my favorite sniveling bad guy. I loved when he got slapped around by Bogart, or in his hushed voice attempted to convince the world of how honest a man he was. None of my friends ever wanted to be Peter Lorre. I don’t know, he just really got to me.

And then each of my favorites took turns as leading men and women on all of my favorite radio shows. I was in heaven. I knew what they looked like, so it didn’t take much in the way of imagination for me to see them once again before me doing their thing.

From age eight to age thirteen, actors took charge of my most impressionistic period of life. I never dreamed I was ultimately going to meet them, let alone enjoy the thrill of directing them (not all but many). As a young kid, I wasn’t yet aware of the role the director played. The fact is, I wasn’t even aware there was such a thing as a director. In short order, I was about to find out. Between ages sixteen and eighteen many of these same actors began to once again enter my life. This time they were live people like me; laughing, joking, and breathing just as the normal folk do.

***

What follows comes as a result of many years of practical application. The academic being turned into the reality of life in a variety of venues, where having a director is essential to the success of the project.

If I were required to choose between a formal education (school) and a practical education (learning as you attempt to earn a living), my selection, unequivocally: The practical. Every venue is different. Every group of players is different. Every audience is different from night to night, even if it’s the same play being repeated. Trial and error must be gleaned during application under fire. There will never be a replacement for experience. Whether it is acting, directing, producing, writing, or choreography, the practical application of one's skills become finely honed during the game.

“Listen.” The word for every creative being, today, tomorrow, and forever; “Listen.” Hearing this word a thousand times will not be wasted on who you are today, and with the utmost certainty who you are destined to become in the creative world. Of the thousands and thousands of actors whom I have directed during the course of my latest thirty years on this planet, the most successful professionals have a marked similarity: they are the most ardent and attentive listeners to be found anywhere.

Without the ability of being a good listener, one loses the ability of becoming a superior learner. Learning is synonymous with experience. I use the term “superior” because in order to make it within any subjective art form, a person must excel; be excellent, be outstanding, be skillful, be talented, be preeminent, reign supreme; stand out, be the best, be unparalleled, be unequaled, be second to none, be unsurpassed; call it superior, if you like. And with all your striving, and all your hard work in order to establish yourself with recognized preeminence, there will always be those out there ready willing and able to point out how lucky you are. To those out there, who have judged you as being lucky, I offer them my condolences over their obvious comatose existence. Those out there dependent on luck have an obvious inability to listen and learn. They will never lead as a director, create as an actor, nor lead their troop of dancers across a stage. They will never cause an audience to feel what they feel, or hear what they themselves listen to.

As a voice over artist you must recognize the fact, although your audience happens to be in their own home or car, they are still your audience. You must still cater to their needs and wants. In this case your forever word is “responsive.” The printed directions will help you to listen and cater to the obvious and not so declarative needs of those within the sound of your voice. But it isn’t a case of what you want to do or say. As an actor, you must be responsive to the needs of the listener.

A good director understands the foregoing. He or she has the valuable aptitude of being an exceptional listener. I, of course, mean as a director who listens to the actor, and not praying for what they are going to ask you to do next.

Following as precise a direction as my experience will allow, I switch from being the director, and tune into the actor, listening as closely as I can for their responsiveness to my needs as their audience. (The director becomes the audience.) They speak; I listen. I speak; they listen.

Here is a brief review of what I feel to be the most substantive notes coming from my foregoing eleven hundred words.

“Listen and then be responsive.”

Regardless of what you are preparing to creatively accomplish, take a moment to hesitate before diving in, and remind yourself of those important success ingredients: “Listen and then be responsive.”

On stage, or in the wings, listen and be responsive.

Preparing for an audition, listen and be responsive.

You come home to your wife and children, listen and be responsive.

… and for me and da harv; when God talks, I try to listen and be responsive!

The Voice Over Audition: History + Pursuing Excellence

Many of our younger thespians are unaware of what transpired prior to their entering the commercial voice over world. Others are in search of the most beneficial way of continuing their pursuits of excellence as a talent. When I’m asked what it was like a few years ago, almost all are surprised at my history lesson.

While these are two separate subjects, they never the less are of equal importance. The history lesson is presented as I lived and participated in as it was taking place. The help I will be offering is my own personal opinion.

Circa: 1974

Sponsors (the ones paying the bills) hired advertising agencies to publicize extol - the outright benefits of buying anything and everything. Print adds and radio were the two main vehicles for telling the sponsor's story. But television was moving quickly into the leading position. Both radio and television had the spoken word as a prime purveyor for what they had to say; albeit, much of the verbiage was considered to be “puff” verbiage, which was deemed to be less than accurate. A good example of puff was certainly the language used in all of the cigarette commercials. Can you imagine telling people about all the singers who smoke Lucky Strike cigarettes because they didn’t irritate singers' throats? They claimed the reason was the fact that “Luckies were toasted.” As they also pointed out, most doctors smoked Lucky Strike “two to one.” If you’re wondering what that really means, join the club.

Doing a network TV cigarette voice over commercial led the way to some enormous paydays for the actors.

In those days, the procedure for conducting an audition for a voice over commercial was quite simple.

1. The advertising agency contacted a commercial voice over agent by phone, or by posting a casting call breakdown through one of the published services.

2. They’d describe the type they were looking for and the agents would submit names to the advertising agency producer.

3. The producer would select by either voice recognition from a past experience with the actor, or by listening to the actors voice demo reel.

Early on, actors all had demo reels of their individual work. Most of these reels (or tapes) were about three minutes in duration.

4. The actors, who were selected by the advertising agency, were then given an appointment to come to the agency and be auditioned and directed by the producer of the spot.

5. The more well-known voice actors were oftentimes booked by the advertising agency without actually having to take an in-person audition.

In the beginning, the agents spent their days mostly on the telephone.

Agents worked at their desks. None of them conducted in-house auditions. It was a much simpler time. But all was about to change.

In my humble opinion, what transpired was a needless and detrimental acceptance of what many thought had to be. Our unions were void of cognitive perceptiveness. While many new venues were being developed, creating vast avenues for product, the union constituency were the last ones in the pecking order to garnish the full extent of the monetary rewards.

Circa: 1977

It was about thirty plus years ago, when one of our more famous agents (who will remain nameless) came up with the less-than-bright idea of bringing the actors he represented in-house to audition for voice over commercials. He pointed out to the advertising agencies how it would be free of charge. The audition would cost them nothing. What a concept. The advertising agency could actually send a script to this guy (agent) and, without charge, get back a (reel to reel 7.5") tape of the actors and actresses reading the exact script they would in turn use for their on-air commercial TV or radio advertisement. It also sounds simple, doesn’t it? The scripts were mailed to the agent, the agent brought in his talent, auditioned them, and sent a tape back to the advertising agency. Stay tuned.

Make no mistake, across the board, the experienced professional journeyman actors absolutely hated it. Voice actors were accustomed to reading for the man doing the hiring. Most of the agents' sound equipment, if you can call it that, was less than professional. The common statement heard around town from the actors' point of view was a total disdain for what their agents were up to. I heard many of the actors say how their agent had no idea about how to direct.

In the beginning, this in-house process was exclusively used in Los Angeles. The agent who was responsible for all this never reasoned out that he wasn’t going to be the only agent offering this economically illiterate format to the ad agencies. Think about it. If one of this agent's actors was chosen by the advertising agency to do their radio spot, the agent would earn, at 10% in those days, around twenty dollars. A trained monkey could do the math and discover auditioning folks for radio spots was a complete financial disaster. I mean… you can’t turn on a light bulb for twenty bucks, let alone pay a staff member to stand there and direct the talent.

And now here’s the real pretzel logic. The news of the in house auditions spread like wild fire. No one can surpass an actor’s ability to spread word of mouth information.

Overnight, every agent of near substance was in the game.

(As an aside, I was brought into Abrams Rubaloff & Associates, the then industry leader, to build perhaps the very first full service recording facility in Los Angeles. I experienced the actor’s comments first hand.)

The talent had zero reservations about what they felt about the new system. They pointed out to me: New York and Chicago weren't doing in-house auditions. In essence, we were removing the actors from a face-to-face audition with the man who could hire them. The whole idea was unsound. It was foreign territory for everyone involved.

What had begun as a single agent auditioning six, seven, and maybe ten actors for the commercial at hand quickly turned into total warfare between all of the Los Angeles agents submitting talent. Since the advertising agency no longer needed to spend their time setting up their own in-house auditions, they began indiscriminately sending their scripts out to every voice over agent in the city. The so-called initial brainstorm became a tornado of as many as one hundred and fifty or so actors reading for the same role.

The only thing that helped to keep the situation reasonably sane was the time frame. The commercial scripts we were receiving from the advertising people came to us through the mail. In most cases, we had around a week to get the finished audition back to them. It was a bad third-party process. Rarely did I have the opportunity to speak with the person who wrote the commercial we were auditioning.

I mentioned earlier how we recorded on a reel-to-reel setup, using what was known as tape. That’s correct, an actual box containing an audition tape was sent or hand delivered to the advertising agency or production company.

Enter our trained monkey to figure out:

A) The recording tape cost money

B) The box to package the audition in cost money

C) The delivery cost money

On one particular early morning, I was the designated tape box audition deliverer. The advertising agency was in a high-rise building on Wilshire Blvd., an area known as the miracle mile.

It was a common practice to get to an advertising agency office in the AM before they opened and leave our audition package in either their building mailroom or at their front door. In this instance, I chose the front door drop-off. At their door, I counted no less than fourteen jiffy bags, all containing the audition tapes of our competition.

That day served as a very enlightening experience for me.

Our Abrams Rubaloff audition consisted of eight actors. If each of the other fourteen offices had submitted the same number, it meant one hundred and twenty actors were vying for the same radio spot.

As a young and perhaps hopelessly naïve crusader, I attempted explaining the actors' position to AFTRA and also to the Screen Actors Guild; all to no avail. I actually felt I was working on behalf of the actors we represented. Frankly, I felt disheartened over the whole event. I wasn’t guessing. This was plain old-fashioned arithmetic. The handwriting was on the wall.

An actor knows what they’re getting into when they enlist in our subjective life form. But blatant disregard by the agents, who represent you, and the unions you belong to, is the same predicament we’re in with most of our politicians. Talking a good game and playing it are two entirely different things. My exact words to both guilds were the same: “It's not fair for an advertising agency to command subservience by the actor.”(I don’t think they understood what the word subservience means.) The fact is, one hundred and twenty actors got in their cars, and read for a commercial they had very little chance of winning. As I tried to explain to our guilds, “You’re looking at the tip of the iceberg.” Well … it is no longer the tip. Today’s iceberg is buoyed by just about every hamlet privy to electrical current.

The Wonders Of Science

The winds of change were upon us. It took about four years, when, without warning, little brainless electronic conveniences crept up on us. The romance was about to be removed from an entire industry.

The fax machine; we all celebrated.

(Wow, No more slow mail)

The cassette; Wow, we all celebrated. But wait a minute,

We still recorded on tape, but now we were required to transfer to cassette.

Da harv was a little annoyed.

They still sent us the scripts, but now they always seemed to get to us at the last minute.

Da harv was a little annoyed.

Every time I turned around, it seemed like we were all celebrating about one more magic gadget being added to our rapidly growing impersonal attitudes.

Da harv was a little annoyed.

More scripts coming to us faster and faster; we celebrated. So did every agent in the city.

E-MAIL; we all (really) celebrated.

The biggest strike in our history; we commiserated.

No one celebrated.

The home studio; many of the agents no longer do in house auditions. They send the scripts, which are sent to them by e-mail to the actor's home. The agent doesn’t have to go through the audition rain dance.

The winner may be heard celebrating, while nine hundred and ninety nine wonder what the celebration is all about.

But here’s some good news. The economy has forced many of the advertising agencies to reduce their staff size. The number of actors auditioning is beginning to show signs of shrinking. The smaller staff size won’t allow enough time to do all that listening.

I believe we’re experiencing a gentle return to the work of the quality actor. Of course, that’s usually why we’re hired as casting directors. Since the advertising agency is paying us by the hour to cast their voices, it’s a rarity for the numbers of actors we bring in to become of gargantuan proportions. It goes without saying, the smaller the casting call, the higher the degree of talent. We’re hired to find quality acting skills. That is always our intention.

(And) So the universal question, as always; How to become a quality voice over actor? Please stay tuned. I might be able to help.

Workshops & Coaches

In general, actors have the very best handle on the good, the bad, and even the most ugly of what’s out there professing to be the actor’s helper. The larger the city, the more good and bad helpers you will find. I call them the in and outers. These are the folks in our business who find themselves in a struggle to make a living. They turn to coaching.

What I suggest first is the most tried and true method for finding help in a big city like Los Angeles. “Word of mouth.” Actors talk to one another. While advertising can be a marvelous signpost, that’s all it is. Read the sign, and then ask an actor or two if they have had experience with the people whose name appears on the signpost.

The really good workshops have a tendency to stay around for long periods of time. The bad ones disappear quickly. Word of mouth works both ways.

When an actor calls a workshop inquiring about what they have to offer, and his calls are consistently being answered by a machine, and no one gets back to him that very same day - well, for me that isn’t the kind of a place I would like to trust my career to. It may be a workshop that you’re calling about, but it must be run like a business.

For me personally, I wouldn’t think of signing on with a workshop, unless it was recommended by an actor or two whom I respected. Agents are also good authorities on where to go for education. Even if an agent does not represent you, they will usually be amenable when it comes to making workshop suggestions.

Before calling a workshop have your questions prepared in advance. Ask for printed informational material about the workshop you're inquiring about. It’s important to know how long they’ve been in business, as well as their qualifications. How many different kinds of classes do they offer? It’s important for you to be studying with a like group of people. By like, I mean at similar experience levels. What I’m getting at is that you obviously wouldn’t want to be in a beginners voice over workshop group if you happen to be an actor with twenty years of experience in the theater.

Note: In the above paragraph I have bolded the words voice over, because in a variety of theatrical classes, having a novice or two in the group may be a distinct advantage.

The workshop representative should be amenable to giving you a reasonable amount of telephone time. That representative must be knowledgeable. Too often a person who is acting as nothing more than a telephone receptionist will handle your call. When your career is at stake, you should expect a great degree of caring to be displayed by the people running the workshop in question. Never settle for second best. Los Angeles is the home to the finest acting coaches in the world. Just ask another actor. They’ll know where to find them.

TIPS

* Once you sign on and enter a voice over workshop environment, do so with a total commitment.

* Honor your choice of this particular workshop as the very best in the world.

* Consider your ultimate achievement as a process. You are a work in progress (forever).

* Do not expect an overnight epiphany of success.

Every professional musician practices with his or her instrument each and every day. As a voice over artist, your instrument is your voice. Being the best reader in the world will not diminish your chances of success.

Read out loud each and every day. Newspapers and magazines are a must. I’m referring to the articles they contain as opposed to the advertisements. A voice over actor must be comfortable with a cross section of verbiage. Whether you’re interested in an article's subject matter or not, you may one day be called upon to read for a commercial containing the same or similar content as the one you dislike. Your job is to be comfortable with whatever is thrown at you during an audition. The more you practice, the easier it will become. An actor doesn’t have to be a doctor to read medical terminology. Don’t limit yourself.

Good luck!