Giving Away Some Secrets

I feel I know everyone reading my work well enough for me to be just a little bit presumptuous. I mean presumptuous about what I might ask you, as if you and I were sitting here face-to-face.

I never know how people are going to digest what I write, or if they even bother to chew on it at all. It amazes me how subjective writing is. It goes right along rivaling the rest of the arts.

One person loves what you say,
One person hates what you say,
One person couldn’t care less
And some don’t understand
And won’t get it anyway.

Some will read a line or two and comment:
“What the hell is he talking about, and who does he think he is, saying things like that?”

At my stage of the big game, I have no qualms about what I might or might not share with those individuals I care to share with. I used to deliberate about every word and sentence I set in ink. Then, one day I realized the idea of me thinking my deliberations would make it easier on me was sheer folly and totally presumptuous. Some may be capable of reading minds; I am not one of them.

Is what I do merely the result of “having a big mouth?”

I often carry on as if I was back in school, acting up, and out as the class clown.

And it isn’t just me.

Many of my colleagues were similarly labeled early on during their formal education experience.

“Class Clown”; recognize that one?
But, what about the rest of the story;
What did we look like?
What was our background?
Were we really happy kids, or merely troublemakers?
Were we already aware of what our career pursuits would be?
How come most of the kids who worked the room as class clowns were boys?

NOTE: Class clowns come in all colors, sizes, shapes, ages, and ethnic origins. The punishments inflicted on class clowns does vary, dependent on an assortment of factors: Affluence of clown, region, country, neighborhood, type of school, and most importantly, how much of a tight ass their teacher is (was). In many countries, the teacher is armed with sticks or paddles and are permitted to inflict corporal punishment.

The predominance of class clownery takes place during the school years between kindergarten and twelfth grade. Most college class clowns restrict their work to after school hours. Clowning during a college class may become dangerous to the clowns well-being.

I chose not to refer to myself as a class clown. I considered myself, early on, to be a humorist.

Somewhere along the way, at the movies during a double feature, a short (that’s what they were called) between films featured a lecture by Robert Benchley. His sneer and disdain for generalities, or for the general public, caught my fancy. Benchley was known as one of the great humorists of his era.

The term "humorist" captured me. I adopted Benchley's disdain as I would share my thoughts with my class and teachers. For some reason, my teachers didn’t appreciate me talking down to them. In later years I found out I was guilty of role reversal; teachers are the ones who are supposed to talk down to kids; or so they thought.

One teacher in particular used the term "ridicule" as she described how I spoke to her, while I was once again summoned to our school principal's office. I stood in disbelief before him.

When he motioned, it was my turn to speak. I felt it to mean it was my turn to defend myself, and so I did. I pointed out, with a display of angelic demeanor, that it wasn’t my intention to show any disrespect. It was just that I determined our teacher had misused a variety of words during one of her many lengthy dissertations. The principle dismissed me from the meeting, along with his allowance of how he would deal with my situation later on. The teacher wasn’t very happy. I, on the other hand, found the whole adventure quite humorous. As I explained to my buddies, who gathered around as I held court, “Hey, I’m in the third grade. What are they going to do to me?” My fellow humorists agreed.

As I get older, I find myself recalling periods of my life as opposed to a single event, although I recall those as well. As an example, the trials and tribulations during grammar school brought back recollections of growth as a humorist during the third, fourth, fifth, and sixth grades. It was during this most elastic of times, what was to be my future began to evolve. If there was a school happening which might require a student being in front of a group, I was their man.

Public School #233 was housed in a four-story building, and like most Brooklyn, New York schools had a large basement boiler room, equipped with a series of small vacuum machines used to clean the chalk build-up on the classroom erasers. Being selected as the boy in charge of cleaning erasers was a position of honor. When I walked down the halls with chalk dust on my face and clothing, I was the envy of every kid in the school. It was during that period when I first made use of a thing I referred to as the “Nicholas Brothers” strut. (They were a well known song and dance team, who usually performed wearing tuxedos.) My strut came long before John Travolta’s.

The eraser position only lasted for a short period of time probably one year. I recall it must have been the third grade. The gig was a good one, but it didn’t have any lines for me to deliver. It was my first real experience with improvisation. I created my own stuff as I went along. Even then, all of us wanted speaking parts. Come to think of it, there weren’t any audiences down there in the school boiler room. It was my introduction to playing to a bad crowd; talk about a lack or responsiveness!

Then came the real start of the big time; I was appointed the “Captain of the “Clean Up Guards,” and it was still only the fourth grade. I was in charge of twenty students. We each had an appropriate school armband. Damn, I looked good! Each and every afternoon, I would move my team of twenty from one end of the school to the other. My job was to instruct them in the correct procedure to follow. In actuality, I would order them around the school; barking out commands similar to what I had heard “Charles Laughton” deliver in the movie “Mutiny On The Bounty” as he ridiculed his seamen, including Mr. Christian, as portrayed by Clark Gable.

I was on a roll. Just one short year and then the biggest part of my young life: “Captain of the Public School 233 Safety Guards."

Each morning, I was the first to arrive at school. I entered through my personally assigned private entrance, and checked in with the school custodian. I then proceeded to the school entrance and raised our American flag. Each and every day, regardless of the weather, I was there by 6:20 every morning.

And then, the piece d’resistance, I would lead the entire student body in the pledge of allegiance. It was my very first voice over and will remain, to this day, the best one I have ever done. With the flag positioned down stage right, with the students all on their feet and at attention, I stood there center stage facing the flag, and then the students all as one placed their right arm across their hearts as I began to say the words: “I pledge allegiance to the flag." They all joined me. I mean to tell you, this little guy became a giant.

Sometimes, the best and most creative work is done without a monetary reward. In my case, if it came down to it, I would have paid them for the privilege and fun I was having. Not bad for a twelve year old humorist, wouldn’t you say?

So… which sort of clown were you? If you have a tidbit you might like to pass on to the rest of us, please be my guest.

The carrying on by yours truly began early on and has continued relentlessly. Thank God. It has been my salvation.

The ability to laugh and share my amusement with those around me is a heavenly gift.

Those without the ability to find life’s humor are destined to live with far less zest.

Directors Note: "Zest" is a great word for giving direction to anyone, especially yourself when involved with self-direction.

Zest: An enjoyably exciting quality

PIQUANCY *adds zest to the performance*

Keen enjoyment: RELISH, GUSTO.

Your character: “Has a zest for all they may do or attempt to do.”

It beats the hell out of directing an actress to be "perkier" or for an actor to merely add something to his performance.

Love and laughter is a blazing combo to experience at least once; to live and play your life with total honesty.

A true love, and an honest laugh; as powerful a duo as any scientist has ever discovered.

“To cheat oneself out of love is the most terrible deception; it is an eternal loss for which there is no reparation, either in time or in eternity”
-Kierkegaard

Let the secrets begin.

Not to worry or concern yourselves with what I might say. Nothing I scribe would justify criminal indictment. What I intend revealing will be nothing more than the firsthand experiences and words adapted to my life’s ambitious endeavors. I’ve taken from some of the best minds, as recognized by some of the best minds.

Entitlement, as understood by Harvey Kalmenson, was discouraging at best. That is to say, for the particular time period I existed in. The year was 1972, a little more than thirty-eight years before this current day. Being in charge of things had disappeared from my life. School captaincies were long a thing of the past. I could begin listing everything which had come to an end, but it wouldn’t add to your repertoire of mentally worthwhile storage. It was my turn at getting introduced to what so many before me had weathered: The disillusionment of a marriage and simultaneous career revulsion.

Synopsis: An end to my marriage and an end to my job.

It’s not my intention to offer any stories about what I was going through. I’m going to share what got me out of a desperation mode and into the position of entitlement that I have remained in for the past thirty plus years.

“If you don’t feel entitled to win; you’re correct; you’re not entitled to win!”

My strengths were my sense of humor and the integrity instilled in me by my father. It never deserted me, not even for a minute.

“Without integrity, nothing matters.”

“With integrity, nothing matters.”

An actor with integrity will never be limited to predetermined heights. If the truth were told, it will unearth worldwide ovations.

I was searching for my truth; nothing more or less. The problem for me was I had little or no idea at all about what I was searching for. It was like playing a card game for the first time. Unless you’re unconsciously lucky, you won’t have a prayer of winning.

It wasn’t that I was sitting back. I continued to make the rounds; not just show biz venues, but rather anyplace that looked like it could provide a few bucks for my survival. I was beginning to feel like the consummate outsider. Time was passing with dizzying speed. The financial pressure was building as the search entered its third year.

… And then; Give me an AMEN my BROTHER!

The laureates reentered my life. The men of letters who always manage to break through even the greatest of human stupors, with the survival abstractions only they could supply.

Each of us has our own individual buttons. For me it was rediscovering some verse which years before had little or no meaning in my life.

Late one evening as I began packing my belongings in order to move to an even smaller apartment, I came across a package of books. One of them I had previously discarded as not being for me. I was to quickly change my mind as the reading of it changed my life. The book was simply titled “Love,” written by Leo Buscaglia. Leo became my companion and my spiritual enabler.

That evening when I opened the book, it was with no intent of reading it. A biz friend who thought it would help me to get a handle on what was going on had given "Love" to me. It was three years since the book came into my possession. I randomly opened the book to page one hundred and forty eight, and read:

“… And we ourselves shall be loved for a while and forgotten. But the love will have been enough; all those impulses of love return to the love that made them. Even memory is not necessary for love. There is a land of the living and a land of the dead, and the bridge is love, the only survival, the only meaning.”
-Thornton Wilder

For whatever the reason, Thornton Wilder got to me in that moment. Exactly what I understood his words to mean was of no consequence.

But before I go on, permit me to tell you about my friend and mentor, “Leo Buscaglia.” Nowadays all you have to do is Google him. You’ll find many essential facts describing this world-renowned philosopher. He has written more than a dozen best sellers. His book “LOVE” was the first. The back cover best sums up this wonderful human being's handle on life. I feel it will be a creative lift for anyone searching life’s subjective form. It reads:

“If you feel something, let people know that you feel.
Love is like a mirror. When you love others you become their mirror and they become yours.
Real love always creates, it never destroys.”

“Live now. When you are eating, eat. When you love, love.
When you are talking with someone, talk.
When you are looking at a flower, look. Catch the beauty of the moment!
One does not fall “in” or “out” of love. One grows in love."

"Love is open arms. If you close your arms about love, you will find that you are left holding only yourself.”

While my friend, Leo Buscaglia, is no longer with us, his words remain forever. Of the many who have accepted my recommendation, none have come back with anything less than accolades over the simplicity and value of Leo’s message.

Without feeling entitled, one can never be so blessed.

I doubt if any profession more exemplifies human need than ours. I was at the top of my professional skill level while simultaneously being at the lowest financial corridor a man could possibly fit his body through.

Each evening I read and reread what Leo Buscaglia had to say. And each night I wrote about what I had read, and attempted to tie it into what I presumed had placed me so low on life’s Totem Pole. The process of self-analysis went painfully on for six months. And then I found myself continuing to read everything Leo had written.

I guess, as they say, "Timing is everything.” What I ultimately found myself doing was merely going with the flow. I stopped objecting and began earnestly allowing the words to sink in, delivering a form of true meaning.

And as I said earlier on, I was going to give up some secrets. In essence, all I thought a long time ago, as my secret to be stored away, for no one else’s eyes to see, was nothing more than a visit to another of life’s subterfuges.

As I continued to look around me, I felt new beginnings as many of my former foibles were being cast away.

I recommend Leo Buscaglia’s book to all who may search, and continue to search, as I did.

If you’ve forgotten, the name of the book is, “LOVE.”

"And by the way, say hello to anyone who knows me."
-HK, 2010

“Poetry, God & Shakespeare” (PG&S)

Broad statements are so much fun to make. It’s probably impossible to make a broad statement without causing some form of human reaction. As a matter of fact, causing reaction is what I do for a living; I either cause a reaction or stimulate an attitude in order to convey the meaning of what the writer may have had in mind (if at the time of writing their mind was still functioning).

There are some I’ve met (too often for my liking) who use the term "boring" as a comment. Many of these folks are as unaware as nature might allow. “Like you know, da harv, I never could get into poetry. It always seemed so sissy to me."

Usually a remark such as this crowds our stadium - filled with those who claim to be merely the average man or woman. In truth, the classification “average” would also be at the bottom of my intellectual barrel.

“The best laid plans of mice and men/oft go awry.”

Robert Burns

Many who recognize his poem (and song) “Auld Lang Syne” hardly considered it a sissy way to bring in a new year. By the way… you dare not refer to him as sissy, this famous man, "The Bard of Scotland," while visiting his homeland, or especially not if you’re hoisting a pint or two at a local pub.

I can’t imagine referring to Robert Burns as a sissy. Besides… I have long since forgotten the dolt who referenced this renowned man of letters in such an unbefitting manner.

And speaking of Laureates, Shakespeare is another of the masters many ask questions about. Most folks who respond negatively to this particular Bard do so out of a position of fear and ignorance (not necessarily in that order). They don’t understand what he was saying, nor why he chose to say it the way he did. And I also offer today’s world of great impatience as the possible cause of misinterpretation, or no interpretation at all.

Those of you busy and enraptured by the speed of your thumbs;
Now sending thoughts worldwide to chums

No worries over penmanship
No spelling, or serious dwelling

No knowledge of wells
For a quill, you know as a pen

No need to dip, and spread the ink
Of course it did allow him
This greatest of scribes
Time to think.
hk

And then we have my old friend God. He really doesn’t care if you understand him or not. All he’s saying is: “Trust me. Have some faith, will you.”

NOTE: God's statement is italicized, because I know it to be true!

DISCLAIMER: The following may not be suitable for anyone other than Harvey Kalmenson.

What follows will usually not apply to the very young; either chronologically or by their lack of maturity, managed during the better part of their life on this planet.

Dealing with pleasure may become equally as disconcerting as coping with some of the seemingly poorest hands a guy could be dealt.

“The problems of victory are more agreeable than the problems of defeat, but they are no less difficult.”
-Sir Winston Churchill

Both pleasure and pain have one important thing in common (or maybe, more than one thing): Both will not and cannot exceed one's lifetime. Stretching a point, both pain and elation are relative to the individual who’s experiencing either at the time.

"You know what… that’s too damn deep for me." Perhaps this will help to explain:

It’s All Relative

A) She said:

“I had the best breakfast this morning. You can’t imagine.”

Perhaps an out of work actor who just got paid an unexpected residual. Who amongst us can identify?

B) He said:

“That croissant was real shit. It actually ruined my day”.

The complainant;
He’s probably a politician who hasn’t had to audition for work in twenty years. He demands they give him his money back even though your tax bucks paid for his croissant, in the first place.

(So) Relatively Speaking

Loss or gain
Elation or pain
Ease or strain
Loose and cool
Blowhard or fool
Hanukkah or Yule
Preemptive or exempt (ive) - no such word
Tiger or lamb
At peace or you’d better scram
Don’t bother me
I already gave
I’ll take a look
I think I can
That other guy, he laughs all the time
Does he ever cry?
His wife is such a beauty
No wonder he never cries.
But he’s not very attractive
I get why they talk about her lies.

(And perhaps this might be a good time to summon, by way of quotes, the help of an old mentor, Sir Winston Churchill.)

“If you are going to go through hell, keep going.”

“A lie gets half way around the world before the truth has a chance to get its pants on.”

“You have enemies? Good. That means you’ve stood up for something, sometime in your life.”

“It is a good thing for an uneducated man to read books of quotations.”

+

“Laugh though your heart is breaking.”

When you feel your heart is about to burst, and you wake up the next morning and find the sheets aren’t covered with the blood caused by a massive heart explosion, consider what da harv does next:

(Once in a while you will stumble upon the truth. Most of us manage to pick ourselves up and hurry along as if nothing has happened.)

Choose to hunt for the inevitable spark
In the most dismal of times, when least expected
When a body seems too tired for the hunt
From your helpers with no form of derision,
Glean from life’s losses, betrayals, and victories,
All scribed earnestly,
With only your betterment at heart,
Your chin to once again be lifted skyward
By more than family;
These three:
“Poetry, God & Shakespeare”

For within these three
All being sought
Are rightfully found
An abstract meaning of sight and sound
When your needs be
Questioning of questions
Allowing allowances
In search of; to be in search of
When not knowing;
Within itself brings strife

Thoughts become subsequent to your day
Stretching unrestricted
The faith you seek lifted from pages
Stimulating its way
From all what was the past
As life presents to you; at last

The proper, improper, and the unseen
The songs, the prayers, and the abstractions,
Clearly, the kindness and the mean

Without prescription
False remembrances become true
From ones self
Faith begins to stir
Friends will meet again
Reintroduced
By Poetry, God, and Shakespeare
The past, your present, and future
Today and from within all the ages,
Permit me to remind:
It is yours, truly to glean, if it be your will.
The spark is there
You’re free to astound!

hk, January 2010

“The farther backward you can look, the farther forward you are likely to see."
-Sir Winston Churchill

While most of what I write about is stimulated by the times we live in today, almost everything I offer an opinion on is done so as the result of experiences gleaned from everyone I have ever met or read about. That, of course, has nothing at all to do with whether or not I liked or disliked the people or the books of my past.

Many people read only what those they admire or agree with write. I salve my need to know with what transcends my love or displeasure for an individual’s life concepts. In simpler terms, the biography of a former or current dictator, along with someone whose political bent is
vastly different from mine may often be found on the nightstand adjoining my bed. I get a kick out of justifying why I dislike someone; just about any depiction of a historical event provides me with an enormous growth potential.

Through the years, the variety of world and local personalities I have read about have provided a divergence of information I would never have been able to find within the confines of my formal education. That isn’t to say I believe going to school is a waste of time. I think the combination of both a formal education, and a good, wholesome sprinkling of life’s experiences are the ideal menu for expansive learning. If I did have to choose between the formal worlds of academia and that of practical learning and application, I would hands down go for the practical land of experience. But if you have the formal schooling, your own reading initiative, and the real life experience of seeing it come to life there before your own eyes, you will find yourself in “hog heaven” - as we say down home in Brooklyn, New York.

Early on, I found many of the people I was reading about were becoming my most intimate of heroes and heroines. Their escapades took me along for the ride. Some of the biographies were written by people who had devoted a good part of their life doing research on the characters I was becoming aware of. It was an endless quest. Some of the famous names of yesteryear had numerous literary recollections of their lives.

When the movies began doing the same life stories I was reading about, I became doubly interested. (It was at this moment in time I became aware of literary license. Much of what was being depicted on the silver screen wasn’t remotely accurate.) Often they made nice guys out of the socially unacceptable, and turned a variety of average everyday kind of folks into heroes of unbelievable magnitude. It was early on when I discovered how few people were sharing my verve for reading. Many folks actually believed what they were seeing on the screen. I.e., they felt Ronald Reagan was a perfect George Gipp. In actuality, Gipp was a guy who played football for Knute Rockne while not really attending Notre Dame. He was a big time drinker and gambler. Rockne epitomized 'winning at all costs.' The movies didn’t tell it that way at all.

Mickey Rooney was a far more likeable guy in real life than the real life Thomas Edison, the genius he portrayed on the screen. While Edison may have been one of the great inventors of his day, in real life he was also one of the great anti-Semites of the era. This fact of life was what enabled some Jewish refugees to get a foot in the door and become the giants of the film industry. It's all documented, if you choose to read about it. Mr. Edison was horribly short of funds when he was in the process of developing his version of the movie camera. Since he refused to deal with Jews as his hard money source, the immigrants did it themselves. The movies did little to spell out Edison's true private life. What the producers did was typical of the times; they told the best American adaptation of heroism they could mold. Their goals were to produce moneymaking films. Telling it like it is was often placed on the back burner. Apple pie and a glass of milk was how Edison took nourishment, according to the movie adaptation.

By the way, another point of fact, which never made the big screen, was any mention of Edison's close friend Henry Ford. In the thirties as Ford developed his vast automobile manufacturing empire, he was not bashful about his open display of hatred for the Jewish people. It became so blatant, it began to affect his company's success. In order to sooth the national complaints Ford was regularly receiving, he took out full-page ads, apologizing for his anti-Semitic statements. The published statements of his apologies had little effect on his lifestyle or the friends he kept; including high-ranking members of the now powerful Third Reich.

In general, it was an era when the reportage was weak at best. The movies were what served as our documentation of the wars, the discoveries, and the wonderment of the American people.

The early World War II films helped to bolster the determination of the young and the old. Without reservation, all of us displayed a degree of pride, being constantly cultivated by the power of our American film makers. Truth be told, the Hollywood set had a patriotic job to do, as requested by the then president of the United States; number thirty two, Franklin Delano Roosevelt. History reports, the president had sealed all information from being reported to the American people by the press. In the beginning of the war the news of our defeats would have severely damaged the will of the people on the home front. Across the board, each and every studio head answered the President’s call. Every movie made heroes of every man and woman serving our country's war effort. I wonder if that will ever be the case again? In those days, defamation of our country’s character was out of the question. Each movie theater began their shows with a film clip of the American flag rippling in the breeze, full screen. The audiences, without exception all cheered and applauded. What a far cry from today. Even as a child of seven, I stood at attention and saluted. I still do!

Guidance: Sound Design and Demo Production

“For professionals only. Should not be attempted at home (alone)!"

When producing your voice over DEMO, precautions must be taken.

• Hopefully you’re working with folks who have been doing sound editing and direction for enough years to become proficient at their craft. Ask about their credentials. Who have they worked for? This isn’t a time to have someone conducting experiments with you as the guinea pig.
  
  
• Years and experience go hand in hand. During the course of my career as a sound editor, designer, and director, one word prevails, as the single most important factor in producing anything of value: “Preparation.”
  
  
• Your demo is your calling card.
  
  
• It could turn out to be the single most important commercial project of your professional life. (Or not.)
  
  
• Music and sound effects should never be the star of your demo presentation.
  
  
• The intent is to provide a showcase for your work, not an entertainment provided by production values.
  

(Here’s where it often becomes confusing.)

• The purpose and importance of music and/or sound effects, whether they are natural or manufactured, is for those enhancements to push your voice forward. By push, I mean showcase.
  
  
• Music or effects must never detract from an actor’s message.
  
  
• While the creative sound designer’s goals are established before the actual recording of your demo, they must never be etched in stone.
  

NOTE: I doubt if anything ever comes out exactly the way you thought it would before you began. Changes are a very natural and vital occurrence.

• During PREPARATION, nothing must be taken for granted.
  
  
• While the sound designer must be free to create, he must also have a complete understanding of what you intend to accomplish.

Questions must be asked and answered:

• Are you comedic, dramatic, the kid or neighbor next door, a parent or grandparent?

• Who are you? In other words… what is your signature??

• What is (are) your strengths (attitudes, roles, styles, pacing, monologue, dialogue, etc.)?

• What will they hire you to convey? Are you against doing announcements of certain products?

• Silence can be a marvelous background for an important message.

• Where a message is placed in order of appearance on your demo is of equal importance.

• Your first sound byte should represent the truth of who you are.

And so it behooves you to understand:

Sound editing is a subjective art form!

Studio Ambience
Each spot should be given a slightly different studio ambience. We do this to avoid a built-in sameness, and to avoid alerting the listener to the fact that yours are not real commercials.

Music Selection
Music can help a mood, signal change, create a helpful regional quality, add suspense, while at the same time not detracting from your voice or the meaning of the commercial message. Vary the music tempo.

Sound Effects
Whether mechanical or human, sound effects provide an assist in getting the message across, and can provide a degree of humor without detracting from the actors’ intent.

Your Choice of Material (Scripts)

Don’t select dated material. If the year happens to be 2010, you wouldn’t want to do an advertisement which ran in 1990. Good judgment is the key.

Don’t choose a commercial which is currently running and has a recognizable actor as its spokesperson.

NOTE: The celebrities you hear on current campaigns are specifically selected because of their name value, and the demographics of the consumers the sponsor is endeavoring to influence.

i.e.: There is only one Michael Jordan. There is only one Hannah Montana. Professionals will all instantly know you borrowed from them.

The same cautions would apply to your background music selections. Unless he was your uncle, George Gershwin did not write “Rhapsody In Blue” as background for your demo. Many kids today refer to it as the “United Airlines song.”

And down the road a piece, as you become a true professional, and have a stronger command of your personal signature and truth, you will discover a need to modify, and sometimes even find cause to completely change your demo. One of the essential ingredients for a new demo would be the use of actual commercials, and or dramatic pieces you actually were paid to do. The number one choice in my opinion for a new demo would be to include spots which are currently running on air. Nothing is better than to have someone out there recognize your work.

Bad Dialogue Partner

You enter the audition booth only to find that your dialogue partner is a dud; a guy or gal who can’t read, can’t act, had garlic for dinner the night before, and is in favor of paying more income tax.

At first you might want to say, “Oy vey, why me God?” Then you realize that God had nothing to do with it. Being the wonderful person and actor that you are, you also recognize that if God was involved, you might have been blessed with an actor who could match your great skills.

The fact is you showed up for the audition expecting to be paired with the very best. If what transpired came as a surprise to you, then my voice-acting friends, you allowed for the surprise to occur. It’s kind of like the mail order bride. You don’t know what you're getting until you're in the process of getting it. If you get to your audition early enough, chances are the casting director will be glad to tell you who your dialogue partner is scheduled to be. Rule of thumb around town has it working out this way: You will most likely be paired with the next actor to show up. If you have not worked with the actor who you are paired with... make it a point to attempt the use of the following procedure:

• Introduce yourself to the actor you’ve been assigned to read with. I’m always amazed when two actors are willing to begin reading a script together and neither of them found it important enough to know the name of the actor they were about to collaborate with.
• Try to keep the powers that be from rushing you into the booth to begin your audition.
• Try to rehearse with your partner. In most cases, the two of you will have enough time to step away from the audition area in order to study the script.
• Pick up on your partner’s speech patterns. If you're introduced to a hyper-type fast talker, chances are they will be that way during the audition.
• On the other hand, if you find that your partner is a slow and deliberate type, they will more than likely also be prone to leaving big spaces between speeches. That translates into slow cues and way too much air space, especially on radio spots.
• After reading through the script with your partner, you will quickly be able to ascertain that you’re the one who must take charge. It is at this point where your ability to practice good social graces must be put to use.
• Under no circumstances should you ever show discomfort or impatience with your poor reading partner.
• Be inventive.
• Uncover places where your improvisational skills can be put to use.
• Always let your partner know what you're up to.
• Usually, the poor reader will also be inept at understanding or performing improvisation.
  

The single most important point I can make as a director is to drive home the importance of not compounding what is obvious to the person who is conducting the audition. Don’t sacrifice your acting ability. Every director since the beginning of time has had in common the desire to cast and direct actors who always made it a point to listen and react to the actor or actors they were playing a scene with.

• Don’t be the actor who is guilty of merely listening for a queue!
• Don’t be or become the actor who isn’t listening!
• You can’t react to any incident if you can’t hear the incident.
• If the actor you are playing the scene with is slow with their delivery, you must find a way to fill the spaces that our inept actor leaves for you.
• Ask the audition director for permission to improvise or add or change words.
• Try not to show discomfort with your partner.
• Don’t look through the glass while rolling your eyes in an attempt to gain sympathy from your director.
• When the audition has been completed, do not ask if you can read again with another partner. Shake hands with your lunkhead collaborator and say good-bye, and leave the booth. The person conducting the audition is well aware that you’ve been a great sport about the debacle that the two of you just shared. Can you imagine how frustrating the situation was for your director? The two of you now have more in common than you did before the audition began. Your pro behavior has probably done more for your career than winning that commercial could have ever accomplished. If you can spare the time, you might hang out for a few minutes following your problem audition.
  

In our studio, on many occasions we have asked an actor if they could help us out by staying and reading again with another partner. What we would usually say to you is that we think we’re going to be short an actor. Can you hang out for a while? We make it a point to practice what we preach. We will never criticize an actor’s performance with another actor. We will, however, religiously make it a point to go along with our casting directors critique with any and all performers. All of our audition directors are required to review the performance of each and every actor that they audition. It is all part of our rating system. It isn’t unusual for one of our directors to mention what a truly gracious effort one of you might have displayed during what could have been a very trying experience.

And again we present you with another wonderful word. Experience. Have you noticed how I always find a way to get back to it? Experience. That audition that could have been even more nerve-racking turned into another of your growing, living color reflections. It’s yours, and only yours. You were the other actor in that booth. You’re the one who can now share that truth with the world. Don’t ever let it turn into a bad audition because you happened to be teamed with the clueless.

… And there is the case of just plain rotten chemistry between you and your assigned partner.

(Now this could suck.)

… You enter the audition booth only to find your dialogue partner is a winner; you think. The guy or gal is a great reader, they’re known for great acting skills, and they never would consider eating anything with garlic in it the night before an audition; and from time to time are heard complaining about the excessive income taxes they are being forced to pay.

You think, 'I really have it made this time,' especially after your soon-to-read-with-partner greets you with a warm handshake.

You’re in the booth. You and your partner are ready, willing, and able to knock the socks off your director. You have rehearsed together and agree how perfectly suited the two of you are for this script. As a matter of fact, you think it would be a good idea if the auditions ended with you and your partner. After all, why waste time auditioning anyone else for this puppy?

But wait, what’s happening here?

It’s "Oy vey, why me God?" time again.

But this shouldn’t be the case. Your partner is a well-known seasoned veteran performer.

(Once again, God had nothing to do with it.)

By the way, not to worry, you’re still a wonderful person, but by the same token, equally as confused as you were when God presented you with a dud in our first scenario.

So what happened? (Nothing good.)

The answer may be summed up with two words: No chemistry!

Re-cap; I’ve seen it many times. We cast the best actor and actress in town to read opposite one another on a commercial script and all agree they would be letter perfect. It was just made for the two of them.

So, here’s what has transpired: The best casting team in the world cast the two best actors in the world to come in and be directed by the best director in the world; all subjective assessments, I might add.

If what I have described ever happens to you, just chalk it up to experience. I’ve had some of the best men and women in our business go through similar situations. Theatrically speaking, it serves as an explanation of why it often takes so long to cast a legit play. Good Chemistry is magical. Poor chemistry between well-traveled players is oftentimes hilariously funny. We’ve had some marvelous laughing jags take place at our studios.

Note: I have made it a practice never to save out takes. Out of context, almost anything we might say could turn out to be hurtful.

I will, however, share this one with you:

The two men in the booth were extremely well known; one was an Oscar winner, and the other a household name. After the first take, one of them asked me if he could say something. I, of course, agreed. He looked up and without hesitation flipped me the finger. The other actor responded with,” We sure have turned this one to shit, haven’t we.”

The three of us began to giggle, turning to uproarious laughter, bringing tears to our eyes.

The bottom line was, they knew and I knew the chemistry just wasn’t there. Everything was right, except for the performance, which smelled bad.

We three have remained friends, as well as working colleagues.

They were early
Not the least bit surly

He was a total gentleman
She was pure and girlie

Both as famous in voice over
As two could ever be

I was their director
Equally well known in town

There’s was a match
To be described as heavenly

Only success drawn from their sound
Until the reading began

But what they did was putrid
And chemically speaking

All within hearing
Began freaking

As if no actors could be found! Hk

How was it?

I always wonder why.

“The farther back you can look, the farther forward you are likely to see.”
- Sir Winston Churchill

There are times when I’m positive I must be driving most of my colleagues bananas. Some things never change. I see, and then I ask; I hear, and then I ask; I read and of course… then I ask, usually with a degree of wonderment, the where and whence of almost everything. Most of the time, I’m talking to myself. It’s kind of like stream of consciousness. Often, the actual question is a rather common one: “Did you ever wonder why?”

I guess I have taken “practicing one's craft” to extremes. I know for sure my constant wonderment and comparison process is shared by many of my colleagues.

When I search through a past era, I see establishment; people like you and me, with daily common travails and joys, each of their conditions in various degrees of consequence to be bourn by others, cut from a similar cloth. Change their clothing, bringing them forward to meet us, and you still have people administering to their own current life’s condition. You will always remain with antagonist and protagonist, even if you happen to be talking to yourself.

No two actors or producers had a better grasp of the human condition than the two young men who joined forces to form the “Mercury Theatre;” it was August of 1937. One of the first plays they produced was “Julius Caesar.” Theirs was a theatrical first. Their actors were attired in the current contemporary clothing of the day. And so, they not only looked back to a past condition, they brought it forward to the audience's daily visual ties. It was considered at that time to be pure production genius; Orson Welles and John Houseman had a way of doing that. Theirs, as pure and as impure as life itself, would dictate. They looked back and sought the excitement of the future. The costumes were present day.

They reversed the process by bringing us all into the future when they shocked the entire country with their presentment of “War Of The Worlds.”

Note: It was also known as “The Mercury Theatre Of The Air.” In December of 1937, it became “The Campbell Playhouse”(as in Campbell Soup). Most of the writing chores were taken over by two of the founding stalwarts, John Housman, and Howard Koch.

“The Campbell” début show was “Rebecca.” It was followed by Bram Stoker’s, “Dracula,” followed by “Treasure Island,” “A Tale Of Two Cities,” “The Thirty Nine Steps,” “Abraham Lincoln,” and “The Count Of Monte Cristo.” It was the precursor for the many radio productions which followed.

The Broadway theatre and the movies of Hollywood supplied a plethora of top flight performers; insuring a steady increase in the ratings.

Being a big name actor did not guarantee an automatic booking. Orson had complete and total right to refuse any of the casting selections. Undoubtedly, Orson enjoyed making selections from the likes of Hans Conreid, Margaret Sullivan, Katherine Hepburn, Burgess Meredith, Helen Hayes, Madeleine Carroll, Laurence Olivier, Gertrude Lawrence, Joan Bennett, Lionel Barrymore, and many more stars of the era.

By reading about their common exploits, my wonderment was stimulated to the point of no return. Past became present and the present experienced the future, all theatrically by wondering why, searching and asking questions, developing and doing real life character breakdowns.

Questioning and reacting with what I thought to be the proper show of wonderment was part and parlance of what my life had been, what it was, and what it was to become. Curiosity didn’t kill this cat; it provided constant energy. Keep in mind, I was just going with the flow. I had no idea of what I was doing, or what I hoped to accomplish. It has been this way from as far back as I can remember. Perhaps the same curiosity bore the responsibility, which stimulated my reading habits. Reading proved to be an inexpensive learning and entertainment vehicle. My public library card was the key to just about anyone’s kingdom I cared to question.

The world’s best biographers were at my beckon call. It pleased me to find out the human condition was in existence long before Harvey Kalmenson came along. The biographies of great people forced me to uncover my personal naiveties. I had been under the impression that the greatness of man guaranteed graciousness. After all, if he or she was a genius, they had to be liked, even adored by everyone. All agreed without reservation, Orson Welles was a boy genius. But as I discovered while reading his life’s story, there were some who couldn’t handle working with or for him because of his micro managing bent. His attention to detail apparently could drive lesser men to distraction. It never seemed to bother any of the other creative true geniuses Orson worked with. I would have given anything to hear a conversation between Hans Conreid, Burgess Meredith, and John Houseman in discussion over what would be the driving force behind what a character should be thinking at a particular moment. Well, all we can do is read about them, while imagining what might have been. I guess I am in the minority - one of the few who got to work with each of them as individuals; Orson and Burgess as actors, and John Housman as a teacher.

Conried was born Hans Georg Conried, Jr. in Baltimore, Maryland. His mother, Edith Beyr (née Gildersleeve), was a descendant of Pilgrims, and his father, Hans Georg Conried, Sr., was a Jewish immigrant from Vienna, Austria. He was raised in Baltimore and in New York City. He studied acting at Columbia University and went on to play many major classical roles onstage. Conried worked in radio before breaking into movies in 1939, and was also a member of Orson Welles' Mercury Theatre Company.

Once Stanislavski became part of my life, the questioning became time consuming. Between Sigmund Freud, and Anton Stanislavski you begin to understand how and why I was a touch confused. Both of these gentlemen used reflection in order to get a handle on things. Sigmund helped you to look back and place blame at the origin of your problems, while Anton used all the world and people as cause and affect. I found little or no joy while reading any of Sigmund Freud, on the other hand, I will never stop marveling at the Stanislavski process.

The question of why I was reading never entered my mind (at the time). Was I reading because of the enjoyment factor, or was I striving to propel myself past my personal ignorance and inadequacies? The more I read, the more I realized how little I knew.

But for sure, a vast dam with unfathomable depths had been discovered.

At age twenty-one, I didn’t have time for fiction. It was one biography after another. I had a system. I would make notes about all the worthwhile and meaningful characters, which were mentioned in any particular biography I was currently reading, and proceeded to check out biographies of their lives. Regardless of the era, actors' names appeared on a regular basis.

(Nothing appears to have changed; heads of state, as well as everyone else enjoys hobnobbing with the show biz crowd; that is as long as you don’t move in next to them, or are seen dating their daughters.)

I was reading and asking questions about real people. My discoveries were of enormous consequences on my future as a member of any truly creative team.

(Speaking of creative people...)

I will never forget the first time I sat in on a table reading of a new play. Listening to the writer, the producer, and the director immersed in a character breakdown, brought forward some unexpected emotions in me. (I’m about to say God) My God, these were people, like myself, asking each other questions, and then offering evaluations concerning the answers they were just given. It became loud, and charged with a sphere of emotions unrestricted by what we refer to today as “Political Correctness.”

Within each new play, and within each new audience we have a constant representation of the past. The playwright has long since done his or her delving. Each of our players is charged with the responsibility of presenting them with something insightful. Being in the present during the depiction of a former era cannot be accomplished by use of a single equation. Creative form is a development; a process. The older and more experienced I become, the more I find myself a believer in the “Stanislavski “ process.

“Where will they delve in order to derive a magic substance?
How will they reflect upon the past, and still covet the presence of the moment they’re in?
Perhaps in recalling the past, as if it were today; regaling over what once was; blushing over a moment; sharing a tear; or being so alone and inward comprehension of a depressive state of being is more real than any audience might expect.”
Hk

And so the Stanislavski beat goes on. Method is a process. Reading and asking questions is part and parcel of the process of continual growth, some refer to it as studying one's craft, or being an actor.

***

"How was it?"
An eight year old Reflecting

How was it we were always able to find something to laugh about? It wasn’t just my family. It seemed the entire neighborhood where I grew up was filled with people seeking out the humor in and of life. It was a time when it was easy to frown, easy to cry, easy to disparage the very best efforts of anyone and everyone. But that wasn’t the case for us. We were all fun loving children at play, while our parents and older relatives paid close attention to the important and life changing moments of our time, known as World War II.

To an eight-year-old boy it represented a time to develop one's pride in his flag and country. As the men returned, each of our neighborhoods found more reasons for smiles to return, and laughter and frolicking to take its proper place. Most of the guys were treated as returning loved ones. I can’t remember any talk of them being heroes, other than in the movies.

Today, I find myself in a condition of wonderment. What happened to our spirit? Where is the real pride in our country? Why are we constantly being reminded of all the things we might have done wrong as a people?

As a child, my thoughts were usually about all the good provided by this great country of ours. In the streets we played all the favorite kids games: Cops and robbers, kick the can, cowboys and Indians - oh no it’s not politically correct to say the word "Indian." I’ve had it explained to me, but I still don’t understand. I never had anything against Indians. As a matter of fact, one of my favorite icons while I was growing up was the Lone Ranger's sidekick Tonto. Even that gem was recently taken from me when I was advised the name Tonto meant something really bad in another language.

My dad, may he rest in peace, would think we’ve all lost our minds. Poking fun at one's self was one of his most favorite things to do. Dad loved playing with the sounds of peoples names, especially all the Russian and eastern European names. Dad would take the most American of names and add a ski, or a vitch, or a combination of the two. A name like Smith could easily be turned into Smithskivitch. But, always in fun, never as a form of ridicule being pointed at an individual.

He (dad) never meant harm. He never harmed. We listened together to the rhythms of our times. Streets were part of neighborhoods. Neighborhoods meant people. There was nothing strange about it. Schools, schoolyards, playgrounds, barbershops, movie houses, churches, synagogues, grocery and hardware stores, the shoemaker, and many, many more.

We kids learned from each other; often we learned our lessons the hard way. None of us reasoned we were growing up in a bad neighborhood. Our commonality was just that, our commonality. Our differences were what constituted our sameness. Sure, the Italian, Irish, and Jewish neighbors had different dialects, but the similarities were massive. It appeared as if each family set out to deliberately crowd the streets with more children than their next-door neighbor could tolerate. Every inch of blacktop or concrete was occupied. The term birth control meant the couple wasn’t married yet. I mean there were brothers and sisters all over the place. Having a big family was what it was supposed to be. A family like mine with only three kids stood out from the others.

While we might have been a mixed bag of eight-year old boys, running, hanging out, and learning about sex (school yard fashion) we all had one massive similarity. Each of us was experiencing some form of religious training, whether we liked it or not. I never heard the word "atheist" until I became a grown up. If it was mentioned during my earliest reading exploits, it went unnoticed. Don’t get the wrong idea, we did have some harsh words being thrown around from time to time; usually one group might have difficulty understanding why there had to be any other religion other than theirs in existence. To me, a schoolyard to play in was a good thing regardless of what sect happened to be running it.

The “American Idol” of our day was “The Major Bows Amateur Hour.” (I never knew the guys real name. He was just Major Bows.) Adults and children alike would be ardent fans of the show, just as they are with American Idol today. The show was on once each week, and each week they would crown a new winner. The prizes were like next to nothing. Every kind of act imaginable was on the show. There were singers, dancers, impersonators, comedians, and people who played every kind of weird instrument in existence. I think back and smile about our family sitting and listening to the radio as the good major introduced a contestant who was going to tap dance for all of us.

Question: How many of you can reflect on a time when you and your family shared a cramped space in an apartment, sitting around a radio listening intently to a person tap dancing, or playing a musical saw, or believe it or not tapping out a number on his own hollow head? If ever there’s a call for an actor to play the part of a kid listening to a radio with his family, I could help bring some truth to it.

WRITER'S NOTE: If you gained nothing from what you just read, I really can’t find anything to apologize about. Just add it to your reflective tank for another day when the role calls for you to be contemptuous over me being bold enough to share my own personal, unsolicited enjoyment with you.

How dare me do that? I honestly thought I was giving you something.

I guess I was thinking about another Winston Churchill quote:

“We make a living by what we get, but we make a life by what we give.”

… And speaking of giving, I wonder how many actors realize their presentment and their characterization goes forth to another who becomes a receiver - one who will determine the depth of their life’s involvement at that moment in time.

Forever they have been known as they are known today: They are your audience. They are in your present. And though your character and time frame may be from another day or century, your receiver - the audience is in your present. Keep them there and you’ve got it made.

And speaking of the present, I must tell you about the most beautiful orange in the world. I never did get to see the orange. I’m merely telling you what was told to me, without solicitation I might add.

One extremely busy day at our studio, I was involved with a complex audition. We were hired to find the voice of a talking toilet bowl. The script had the toilet telling us of how he had been maligned in the past. It seemed the children in his household were calling him names, and poking fun at his discoloration. Some of the kids, believe it or not, were refusing to sit down on him. Anyway, I think you get the picture. Although we weren’t doing Shakespeare, I never the less continued my arduous task as if we were preparing for a New York opening. Actor after actor, from early in the morning until late in the day expounded on the benefits of a product which would make your toilet a pleasure to sit on.

We were approaching the end of the audition when the last actor scheduled, offered a reading I wasn’t prepared for. “I know you’re into gardening,” he began. I looked up from my console, through the glass, and gave him some form of affirmative motion to get on with it.

“I left it outside, but I wanted to tell you about it. I know you’re very busy, but my orange is the most orange orange I’ve ever seen. Its skin glistens when the light hits it. My children love to look at it. Even the neighbors come by to see my beautiful orange.”

He grew silent. I looked up and he had this marvelously angelic look on his face. I said without hesitation, “Okay, you can read it that way.” And so his orange became our talking toilet. And our talking toilet became the most beautiful toilet in the world.

Stanislavski would have been proud. Who knows what Winston Churchill might have thought?

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!”

Dealing With Direction

“Meet and Respect Your Director”

I talked Did they listen?
If so, did they think with caring?
Was there an understanding?
Of what I was sharing?

I was their man, of national toot
Not a chance of disrepute
In all honesty, after my introduction
I expected, nay, warranted a salute!

Good, bad, sad, glad, mad, happy, snappy, crappy, nappy, lappy, lippy, snippy, dippy, lead, plead, greed, bleed, smell, dwell, yell, kvell, heavy, light, mean, delight, please, thank you, I don’t care, neat, sloppy, well aware, I told you, scold you, hold you, revere, steer, hear, discover, like, dislike, stand close, lover, joy, annoy, wonderment, dismay, detached, ignore, attentive, pray, brag, gag, lag, ole!

And now for the second question. Oh, the first question was, “Has da harv really lost it?”

Well no. Ask yourselves: “Could you perform if those were the directions that you were given?” Let’s say you have before you possibly the most beautiful flower in the world. Would you need someone to explain what you should be feeling if you were asked to describe that flower? Or your child looks up at you as they take your hand to cross a busy street. What were you feeling at that moment of endearment? Then a friend calls in need of your shoulder. Could you receive that call? Could you be the friend that was calling? Can you merely display joy over being quiet? Well, all of these are questions that actors must ask themselves.

All these are the questions that we all as human beings must deal with on a day-to-day basis. All of these are situations that will appear as the mainstay of commercial copy—your script. And all of these are situations and reactions to situations that a director will be asking you to portray.

You will have ten, twenty, thirty, or sixty seconds to tell any and all within the sound of your voice how you feel at any moment of life’s natural impact. The fact of the matter is that the true job of the director is to function as your audience—to listen with the intent of ascertaining whether or not you have painted with the kinds of strokes that will allow your audience to feel and understand with you. The director is not providing an acting workshop.

What does it mean when a director asks you to pull it back some? Perhaps your strokes are too strong, your colors too vivid. Your performance is just that—a performance. Perhaps all that the director should say to you is a simple: “I don’t believe you.” Or maybe ask you the question: “Who the hell are you talking to?” Each year, we find that our commercial listening audience requires more by accepting less. Less in the way of footwork; more in the way of truth. If our audience could totally have everything they want—have it all their own way, what would they ask us to do? They would ask that everything we say in our advertisements were totally the gospel. That all we said was the truth.

Isn’t it an interesting state of affairs when you consider that every citizen would like their political choice their candidate to be a completely honest individual?

All of us seek the truth, whether it’s buying a new car, or a wonderful boy/girl relationship, the truth wins out. Those of us who can convey their honest feelings and emotions will more than likely manage a great deal of success in our world of voice over.