REPS’ GREAT REP

Each year at this time I make ready to travel to Seattle, or more specifically, Bellevue, Washington, to celebrate the golden age of radio with the members of the Radio Enthusiasts of Puget Sound (REPS) as they hold their twentieth annual Showcase. This wonderful tribute to OTR, or Old Time Radio, provides me the opportunity to watch, act in, and direct recreations of those great shows from the past. I’m telling you, the thrill of seeing and meeting many of the performers from those actual days of network radio is quite gratifying for a long-time OTR lover like me. Plus, their reputation as a intimate and friendly gathering is well-known.

I first attended the REPS Showcase in June 2010 bringing along with me the legendary radio writer-director-producer Norman Corwin (then 100 years old). I interviewed him before an appreciative audience and then directed my first radio recreation: “Untitled” by Norman Corwin. It was such a blast. Along with local talent such as Larry Albert and Kate McKnight, I was directing network radio veterans such as Leonard Smith (Our Miss Brooks), Dave Parker (The Lone Ranger), Rosemary Rice (Archie Andrews, CBS Radio Mystery Theater), Bob Hudson (Little Orphan Annie), Gloria McMillan (Our Miss Brooks) and Stuffy Singer (The Jack Benny Program). I was even asked to read the Announcer role for “A Tree Grows in Brooklyn” directed by Rosemary Rice. I was in a cast that included Bob Hastings (X Minus One, Archie Andrews) and Dick Beals (The Lone Ranger). For an OTR geek like me this was way-cool!

I was asked back in 2011 to direct a couple of shows of my choosing. I went with an episode of the horror classic series by Arch Oboler: “Lights Out” that starred Tommy Cook, who worked with Arch Oboler as a child actor. I also directed an episode of the science fiction anthology series “X Minus One,” which also starred Tommy Cook along with Gloria McMillan, Ivan Cury (Bobby Benson) and Beverly Washburn (Old Yeller, Star Trek). I must have done something right, because they’ve asked me back again!

This year I will be directing a episode from the series “Night Beat” about a newspaper reporter who finds his human interest stories in the dead of night, and, as a tribute to the late Norman Corwin, I will be directing one of his radio plays titled “Descent of the Gods,” which relates the tale of the time Venus, and then Mars and Apollo each decided to visit Earth to check on the state of modern man. Corwin’s humor-filled script also contains some very pointed observations that linger a while after the show is finished.

So that means that I have to prepare the scripts, create a music and sound effects list for each, decide what will be live and what will be recorded sound and music, and work with the fine staff at REPS to get a wonderful cast of actors together for a quick rehearsal and tech (all in one) on the same day as the show and then perform it before a live audience. Trust me, it’s time-consuming and a bit nerve racking. Although these radio recreations are performed for a friendly audience of Old Time Radio lovers, we all want to do a top-level performance worthy of a real coast-to-coast broadcast. As much as we have fun and celebrate these radio shows, we also take seriously our effort to honor what they created and give it all our talents and energy. When it all comes together, I revel in the response of the audience and smile when I see that magical glint in the eyes of the performers who know they just hit one out of the park.

The REPS Showcase takes place at the Bellevue Coast Hotel, June 22-24, 2012. The website is www.repsshowcase.com. Among those attending this year are Tommy Cook, Bob Hastings, Don Hastings, Bob Hudson, Terry Moore, Chuck McCann, Gloria McMillian, Stuffy Singer, and Beverly Washburn. Plus, I get to join in the merriment with the extraordinary directors for REPS: Gregg Oppenheimer and Tim Knofler.

Feel free to join us, won’t you?

I’m just saying…

CREATIVE VELOCITY

I certainly have been busy lately and that’s a good thing. The creative life is often like that. Spells of seemingly eternal drought wherein nothing seems to be progressing, to full-tilt can’t-pause-for-a-moment-to-breathe velocity.

Firstly, my latest book as just been published by BearManor Media. "Memos to a New Millennium: The Final Radio Plays of Norman Corwin" is, of course, by Norman Corwin, but as the book editor, I actually typed each and every word of that entire manuscript. Additionally, I wrote new material commenting as needed throughout the book. Plus, having William Shatner write the foreword to the book was an added thrill.

Of course, my documentary film “Radio Changed America” still obsesses me as I try to will it into existence. It will feature Norman Corwin in both interview and subject matter, of course.

And then there is a brand new radio series that I am writing and hosting called "Corwin on the Air" which aims to be ready for syndication in the coming months. My goal is to introduce contemporary audiences to the great radio works of Norman Corwin by providing the proper context needed for the listener to relate to each week’s play. It will be a tall order and likely one that will keep me up late at nights writing and rewriting my intros. Yet, I welcome it!

So this brings me to my next public appearance / performance at the 2012 Radio Enthusiasts of Puget Sound (REPS) Showcase. Held each year at the Coast Bellevue Hotel in Belleville, WA (part of the greater Seattle area), this wonderful tribute to the golden days of Old Time Radio provides me the opportunity to watch, act in, and direct recreations of those great shows from the past. The thrill of seeing and meeting many of the performers from those actual days of network radio is quite gratifying for a long-time OTR lover like me. This year I will be directing a episode from the series “Night Beat” about a newspaper reporter who finds his human interest stories in the dead of night, and, as a tribute to the late Norman Corwin, I will be directing one of his plays called “Descent of the Gods” which relates the tale of the time Venus, and then Mars and Apollo each decided to visit Earth to check on the state of modern man. Corwin’s humor-filled script also contains some very pointed observations that linger a while after the show is finished. This will happen at REPS June 22-24, 2012.

So, you see, the old creative machinery is revving up and I couldn’t be happier! Plus – this is to say nothing about the super-secret film project I have recently decided to create in my spare time! Hey, insanity is just a state of mind . . .

I’m just saying…

SEEING L.A. FOR THE VERY FIRST TIME - AGAIN

Something wondrous happened this month thanks to my niece Courtney. A college student in South Carolina, she decided to save up her money and fly to Los Angeles to spend Spring Break. She has some friends here, too, so most of her adventures would be with young adults her own age, not a grizzled burned-out-on-Los-Angeles veteran like me. She would have fun with them. What I didn’t realize is that I would have fun, too.

She arrived in time for gorgeous blue skies and eighty-degree weather in March. Talk about timing! All the perks of sunny California without the crush of summer tourists. I figured the best place to start her adventure would be in Hollywood at the famous Chinese Theater. I showed her Abbott and Costello’s hand and footprints placed in cement the day after Pearl Harbor. We saw the cast of Star Trek’s cement honor as well as the cast of Twilight, one of the more recent additions. I’m told that it’s to attract a younger crowd to ooh and aah in the theater courtyard. No one in the courtyard seemed interested in that patch of cement while I was standing there, however.

Frankly nothing in the courtyard can hold a candle to the cast of characters populating the north side of Hollywood Boulevard on a Saturday afternoon: from an ingeniously costumed Transformer to a Michael Jackson impersonator to multiple Spider-men in various costumes, the place was bustling with energy (and a few well-trained pickpockets, I’m sure). The costumed characters all want you to pose for photos with them for a small fee. There was a battered Donald Duck that I’m sure Disney would not condone. Captain Jack Sparrow was there, so was the Hulk, and a few ladies squeezed into leotards and spandex costumes from comic books paraded up and down the street, while the buxom blonde “cop” with cleavage and handcuffs set to entice more than a few eyes maintained a stationary spot in front of Madame Tussaud’s Wax Museum.

Augmenting the costumed entrepreneurs where assorted rappers handing out CDs of their music promising “authentic Detroit rap” and so forth. Finally, a microphoned preacher spreading the teachings of the Gospel in this den of sinners through his Karaoke P.A. system put the finishing touches on Courtney’s introduction to Hollywood. Make no mistake here—it was fun!

I will say that the wax museum was impressive and well worth the price of admission. It had not been build that last time I was here. Then it hit me: I had not been to this area in ten years or more! The wax museum was new; the Kodak Theater complex at Hollywood and Highland was also new for me, despite having driven past it for some years now. It was new to me because do what most Angelenos do: drive past or avoid the congested area altogether. Now I had a reason to be a tourist in my town thanks to Courtney.

I later took her to the Getty Villa up on Pacific Coast Highway near Malibu, then to the Santa Monica Pier, and finally at the end of her week-long stay, to the Getty Center in Brentwood. We both took lots of photos. Courtney took over a thousand during her stay! She spent time with her friends doing fun things and getting to enjoy Southern California and its unique vibe. She had a great time and exuded energy and excitement. I found it contagious. And she / we had barely scratched the surface of Los Angeles!

All of this got me thinking about how much we forget about the wonders of our own cities and towns unless we get the opportunity to play tour guide. Then all kinds of interesting facts and stories come up and you take the time to stop and play in your own backyard. It’s really fun. I’m thinking of being a tourist in my own city more often now. In fact, I need to go back to Hollywood Boulevard and pose with the buxom blonde “cop” with the handcuffs!

I’m just saying…

DAYBREAK X

It recently occurred to me that it’s been ten years since my first film Daybreak played the film festival circuit. I’ve previously documented the making of the film in other blogs and in my book Long Night’s Journey Into Daybreak. At any rate, I decided to revisit the film on DVD in the comfort of my living room. I had not seen Daybreak since I recorded the audio commentary in 2004 for its DVD release. Since I know all the dialogue by heart, I decided to watch it with the audio commentary track on.

It was a very enjoyable experience. The audio commentary featured director of photography Cameron Cutler and me discussing the making of the film and offering insights into the meaning of different images, scenes and dialogue. The movie is densely populated with props and actions and words that foreshadow much of what follows in the story. I can see now just how ambitious this film was to make. So if you ever see Daybreak on DVD, I highly recommend making time to watch it a second time with the audio commentary on. It ties everything together and gives me a chance to explain what I was trying to achieve and why.

The movie was shot on Super16 mm Eastman Kodak film stock, developed, transferred to digital tape and color corrected prior to editing. This was 1998. Nowadays the image would likely be captured digitally, a rough assembly edit performed on the scenes by the next day, and color correction at the end. Now Eastman Kodak has filed for bankruptcy protection and is giving up its naming rights to the Kodak Theater in Hollywood where the Academy Awards will again be broadcast from later this month. Just another reminder to me of how long ago Daybreak was.

The tagline of the film is “The beginning of a new day . . . the end of an old life.” In many ways this also refers to my own life. From that point on I considered myself a filmmaker first and an actor second. The business of selling a movie once it is made became my new life. By 2000 Daybreak was completed and screened for the cast and crew in the Chaplin Theater at Raleigh Studios in Los Angeles. A year passed before a film festival wanted to program it: the now-defunct Fort Worth Film Festival. Daybreak debuted to its first paying audience only weeks after September 11, 2001. I clearly remember LAX still patrolled by National Guard soldiers with sidearms and M16s. Vehicles could drop off, but none could use any parking structures. They were completely closed. Attendance was miserable at the film festival as anxiety still ran high. The audience for the world premiere of my movie was so small that Friday night that we were all on a first name basis before the opening credits rolled. Bittersweet.

Ten years ago this month Daybreak played the Big Apple at the State Theater during another festival. Being in New York City only months after the terrorist attacks was also strange. New York felt muted, its vibrancy diminished. On the other hand, I’d never seen New Yorkers more polite and engaged with each other. I saw some good films that week and loved being in the city.

By the end of 2002 Daybreak had screened for its last audience, ironically back in the same Raleigh Studios Chaplin Theater where it had first been screened two years before. I pressed on with the business of selling the film. Two years later I had a direct-to-video DVD distribution deal set up. I meticulously crafted bonus material to augment and add value to the DVD. There were the deleted scenes, an audio commentary including the director of photography, and a never-before-done feature version of the movie showing all of the scenes in the order they were filmed, with a dedicated commentary by me explaining the true day by day battles to complete the film. Five years later, in 2009, I followed this up with my book Long Night’s Journey Into Daybreak, my final expression on the experience and the lessons learned. Along the way I hoped to encourage and inspire others to follow their dreams.

Daybreak is pretty much just a memory to me now, albeit a very dear and special one. The worldwide rights were eventually acquired by Trillian Entertainment, a subsidiary of Media 8 Entertainment. I have since moved onto my next passion project, Radio Changed America, a feature film documentary on the impact of radio in Twentieth Century America. It has proven much more difficult to make than was Daybreak. Most of the lessons learned there have had to be replaced with learning new ones for creating a documentary. But the main lesson I learned serves both projects: simply “Dare to dream. Dare to live the dream.”

I find it slightly catchier than “Eh, what the hell . . .”

I’m just saying…

I DIDN'T KNOW YOU COULD DRAW

Sometimes I forget that I have a skill that I completely take for granted. I can draw. Cartoons, not still life stuff, just cartoons that have always made me laugh. On occasion they have made some others laugh, too. I began to draw when quite young. Popeye was the first character that I could replicate. My mother was amazed and kept me fully stocked with drawing tablets and crayons. I even began to draw my own coloring books as a child. Clearly, I was meant for a career as a cartoonist. Trouble is . . . I didn’t really enjoy it that much.

It seems a shame not to have fully pursued it, I sometimes think. But when I examine it closer, the reason grows clearer, but not crystal clear.

I was an incredibly shy child with no siblings at home and had a difficult time making friends. Until one day I heard those words, “I didn’t know you could draw.” Suddenly I realized that I had a talent that others did not possess and it helped draw my out (no pun intended) of my shell.

But I never liked to draw to order. “Draw me a truck,” said one classmate. I could and often would, but the only time I enjoyed drawing was when it was something that I wanted to draw. “Can you draw it with bigger tires?” That kind of editing was not tolerated. If you wanted the truck, you got the truck that I wanted to draw, not open to discussion. My artwork was never a collaborate effort. And therein lies why I never made a career out of it. I simply could not (and cannot) tolerate anyone telling me what or how to draw something. So it remained a very personal thing.

I would draw not only to please myself (and often my friends) but also as a vehicle to hone my storytelling skills. At Burger King, when I was still in high school, I created single page comic book adventures about the job featuring caricatures of myself and other employees. One episode was called “The Rush” and put a funny (and often sarcastic) look at what would happen if 18 buses of hungry school children showed up at once to eat.

Out of my high school speech and drama class I created a long-running multi-page adventure comic book called “Speech Trek” in which my classmates and me were inserted in the “Star Trek” universe. Aliens and Starfleet admirals would often be caricatures of our teachers. While in the Army my roommates got hold of these “Speech Trek” tales and laughed even though they did not know the real people being parodied. They simply thought the writing and drawing was great. Furthermore, they begged me to continue the voyages of the Starship Emily (named after my speech and drama teacher, Emily Anderson) and add them into the stories. So I did.

I drew “Speech Trek” for the next fifteen years. Only for my friends and me. Over 600 pages of stories. But, what I was really doing was honing my filmmaking skills. All these years later I realized that what I loved about this little comic was that I continued to write scenes and dialogue that revealed character development and plot development. Plus, it made me laugh.

I eventually drew an Army-based comic strip for the monthly Torii Typhoon, the post newspaper where I was stationed in Okinawa. At Penn State I had a couple of cartoons published in the monthly theater department newsletter: a character called “Actor from Hell.” It was a scathing look at self-absorbed actors. For the first time, it did not win me any friends. In fact, I drew this strip to draw blood. If you were offended, I remember saying, then it was about you. A few years later I submitted it to Backstage West here in Los Angeles, where it was quickly (and probably wisely) rejected. But, once again, I drew it because it made me laugh.

In the early 1990s I actually gave freelance cartooning a try for about five years. I drew cartoons, like the one above, submitted them to various magazines by mail (no email in those days) and hoped to make a sale and get published. And I did get published: small publications and even national magazines. The most I even got paid for a cartoon was $75. Often the amount was $10-25. Considering the time and effort, plus mailing costs, I was never able to break even. By then, I was getting television acting jobs and soon decided to write and direct my first feature film. I retired from cartooning.

In fact, I doodle cartoons so infrequently that even people who have known me for quite some time are apt to marvel, “I didn’t know you could draw.” I shrug and grunt, as usual, and they can’t figure out why I have no comment about it.

Maybe it’s because I haven’t quite figured it out either.

I’m just saying…

READING IS MY FUNDAMENTAL COMPULSION

I’m a reader. I like to read. I just never really thought it would get like this. Sure, it started with a magazine or two, like Los Angeles Magazine and Sports Illustrated . . . plus a book on the side, fiction or non-fiction, it didn’t really matter. I just liked to read. As I was thinking about what to write my year-ending blog entry, something caught my eye. This year I began placing the books that I’ve read on a dresser top between two newly bought bookends. So, I started counting the books. Wow. I then began to notice all the wildly divergent titles. Double wow. Then I remembered a few books deemed too large for the dresser top that I had moved to the hall bookcase and I also noticed a few more on the shelves of the entertainment cabinet. Uh-oh. Plus the two e-books I read using the Kindle app on my iPad. Holy Gutenberg! I am addicted to reading! In fact, I usually read at least two books at a time.

What I’ve noticed is that I most enjoy books that I pick out for myself. I usually don’t enjoy books recommended to me. In fact I dread when a close friend says, “Here, read this book. You’ll love it!” I quietly gasp inside. What if I hate it? What if I wonder, “What in hell they were thinking when they recommended this to me? Is that how they see me? As someone who would enjoy reading this?” It’s happened before. I guess reading is more personal to me than I had imagined. My tastes are unique not just to me, but also to me in the moment. How I feel at a certain time likely affects how I respond to a book. I now have no compunction about placing a recommended book to the side and get to it when I feel the time is right. That works much better for me.

But, you see, among my personal compulsions is that I must finish what I’ve started. I’ve never walked out of a movie theater; only once turned off a rented video before the end; and once I start to read a book, I MUST finish it. I don’t care how bad it is. I . . . must . . . finish . . . it! ARGH! There are, of course, worse compulsions. Right?

Thinking about this compulsion made me drudge up a long-repressed memory about the one and only book I ever stopped reading. I don’t remember the title or the author or even who had recommended it. It was a fantasy novel about some enchanted forest kingdom concerning the exploits of a princess-yet-expert-with-a-bow-and-arrow-type who was also part elf. I have no idea what genre this is, and I don’t want to know. Anyway, as my compulsion dictated, I plodded through her nomadic “Middle-Earth-inspired” adventures and discovered, that aside from making strange and often vulgar friends, and kicking some demonic ass, at the end of every other chapter, this elf princess inevitably had great sex. I say “great sex” because the author found it necessary to describe it all in minute detail . . . for pages on end. This princess was getting laid all the elf-ing time! So I stopped reading the book halfway through. I don’t know how it ended, but I’m pretty sure the princess got laid again.

Anyway, I thought I’d share with you the books I have read in 2011 in the approximate order I read them in:

Magnificent Desolation by Buzz Aldrin (2009) Autobiography.

The Laugh Makers by Robert Mills (2009) Memoir of comedy writer for Bob Hope.

Tragedy and Farce by John Nichols & Robert W. McChesney (2005) Media.

Empire of Illusion by Chris Hedges (2009) Media.

The Secret History of the World by Mark Booth (2008) Non fiction.

Waging the War of the Worlds by John Gosling (2009) Media.

Invasion from Mars: A Study in the Psychology of Panic by Albert H. Cantril (1940) Media.

World War II on the Air by Mark Berstein & Alex Lubertozzi (2003) Media.

Edward R.Murrow and the Birth of Broadcast Journalism by Bob Edwards (2004) Biography.

14 Radio Plays by Arch Oboler (1940) Radio plays.

Oboler Omnibus by Arch Oboler (1945) Radio plays.

Gandle Follows His Nose by Heywood Broun (1926) Fiction.

Chasing Aphrodite by Jason Felch & Ralph Frammolino (2011) Non fiction.

Reel Tears by Beverly Washburn (2009) Autobiography.

The People, Yes by Carl Sandburg (1936) Poetry.

Truman by David McCullough (1992) Biography.

Dracula by Bram Stoker (1897) Fiction.

The Gathering Storm by Winston Churchill (1948) Memoir of 1918-1940.

Thomas Jefferson by R.B. Berstein (2003) Biography.

So Far, So Good by Burgess Meredith (1994) Autobiography.

An Actor’s Odyssey: Orson Welles to Lucky the Lephrechaun by Arthur Anderson (2010) Autobiography.

I, Kowtower by Patrick Ratchford (2011) Fiction.

For those of you counting, that’s twenty-two books. There are worse compulsions, right? Right?

So what am I currently reading to inaugurate 2012? Two books: Benjamin Franklin: An American Life by Walter Isaacson (2003) and Trust Me, I’m Dr. Ozzy by Ozzy Osbourne (2011). I’m not kidding . . . you can’t make this stuff up!

I’m just saying…

IF I ONLY KNEW THEN WHAT I KNOW NOW

Thirty years ago I graduated from high school. I recently went to my class reunion where conversation flowed easily from present to past and back again. One of my classmates said to me, “If we only knew then what we know now . . .” The rest of the thought is left unexpressed. It has to be; the topic is so wide and deep and delightfully fraught with “what-ifs” that no words are necessary. It’s an intensely personal fantasy to play with. I love the statement and all that it implies and signifies.

Life comes at us in chunks, or phases, and can be grouped (at least later in one’s lifetime) into distinct eras. I’m speaking, of course, in terms of broad strokes. For example, I tend to view my life in these phases: childhood in Metuchen, New Jersey; childhood in Shamokin, Pennsylvania; high school years; Army years; college years; and domestic years married with two sons. Point to any one of these eras and I guarantee that a vivid memory or emotion will spill from the vats of my subconscious. (That conjures up a messy image, doesn’t it?)

Of my childhood in Metuchen, I see the Victorian house we lived in, its the second floor converted as an apartment; the old man who lived behind the gas station with his collection of seemingly gigantic turtles; and acting in my first play in the second grade, the same year I won a drawing contest in school.

Of the childhood years that followed in Shamokin, I remember sandlot baseball using large rocks as bases; the fourth grade teacher just about to retire who still wielded a wooden paddle for discipline; fear and isolation as my grandmother Alzheimer’s progressed before my very eyes, and, for the first time, Life’s fabric showing signs of fraying.

High school years must rank among the absolutely strangest years of a person’s life. The highs are frenetically high and the lows are the stuff of operas. “What is life?” asked Mr. Neary on the first day of tenth grade biology class. An excellent question that had less to do with biology for me as it did philosophy. Battling raging hormones, fears of inadequacy, and a yearning to belong, I somehow still remember having a lot of fun! It was fun becoming who I became, or at least a rudimentary version still in beta testing.

The Army years are perhaps the most conflicted era for me to visit. I tend to dip my toe into its tide pool carefully. No, I was never in combat; I served during peacetime with the exception of the Cold War, which was very real and deadly serious in ways most people today can’t imagine or as vividly remember. No, for me it was learning the cost of decisions made and the price of betrayal. Also realizing how easy it could be to wear the villain’s black hat all the while justifying my actions as, if not noble, then at least acceptable. In short, I learned the dark side of myself. Conversely, the best friends in my lifetime come from this maelstrom.

College years immediately followed the Army era. At Penn State I studied theater and lived in an off-campus apartment with some of my Army buddies also going to school there. These years recall drinking parties, youthful and seemingly carefree men and women, and moments of joy and accomplishment. I had managed to correct some of the tail spinning qualities I was cultivating years before and leveled out my flight path.

Finally, there is the era of my life today: as a husband and a father; of my work as an actor on television and film; a published writer; a film and stage director; and a nationally published cartoonist; adventures marked by a hundred crests and troughs. In fact this present twenty-year era could no doubt be sliced into smaller slivers if I was still not so close to it. In fact, I believe now that my sons are grown and moved away from home, I am about to enter a new phase of my life. I look forward to naming it after it passes.

Walt Neary, my biology teacher, recently passed away. I remember running into him some years after high school, in fact, during my Army years. We chatted and then I said, “By the way, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you. What is life? I think I was absent the day you answered that.” He broke into a wide grin, chuckled from back in his throat and replied, “Damned if I know.”

What a singular journey our own lives are! Celebrate yours. I have learned to finally celebrate mine, the good, the bad and even the ugly. They all have made me who I am today. I am no longer in beta test. For better or worse, I am the completed product. Well, nearly completed, always more fine-tuning to do, wouldn’t you agree?

So when I think of my life in terms of “If I only knew then what I know now,” I find myself instead hoping “If I can only remember tomorrow all that I’ve learned as of today”!

I’m just saying . . .