I'm Just Saying...

I DIDN'T KNOW YOU COULD DRAW

2012-01-16T08:54:00.000-08:00

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

2011-12-31T14:13:00.000-08:00

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

2011-12-10T11:14:00.000-08:00

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 . . .

NORMAN CORWIN: A REMEMBRANCE

2011-11-11T19:07:00.000-08:00

I was sitting at my computer typing words Norman Corwin had written in 1997. I was in the process of editing a book of unpublished radio plays by the great writer. The play was “Our Lady of the Freedoms And Some of Her Friends,” a beautiful piece on the origin and creation of the very American icon: The Statue of Liberty. My hands were cramping and my neck and shoulders needed a break as well. I closed the file, went to Facebook and saw a post that froze the moment in time for me. “Norman Corwin passed away this afternoon at 5pm. He was 101.” The date was Tuesday, October 18, 2011.

My first reaction was denial. I had just seen him three weeks before. As was my custom, I updated him on news about radio recreations involving his works, autograph requests, interview requests, the status of the book and plans for a new radio series repackaging his best material for today’s audience. The idea that I could not have our next meeting left me feeling hollow. I knew he was 101. I saw he was gradually growing weaker, his once strong voice reduced to a gravelly whisper, and yet I was shocked that he had died.

There was something immortal about him. Those of us who knew him felt that he would live forever, that there would always be a Norman Corwin in the world. So it was a shock, even though it shouldn’t have been. The next day I remember thinking: today (Wednesday, October 19, 2011) is the first dawn on this planet without him since May 2, 1910, the day before his birth.

Funny what we think of after someone close to us dies.

Only now, some weeks later, am I able to begin to put things into perspective. I met him in 2004 to interview him for my documentary film on about the historical and social impact of radio in America during the 20^th Century. He was 94 years old, still teaching at the University of Southern California, and kindly willing to share his story about his time as the premier writer-director-producer the Golden Age of Radio ever produced. Little did I realize then, but a friendship was born.

I would come by his apartment every couple of weeks and soon we stopped talking of the past and focused on new projects and I became committed to seeing that his words and works would not vanish into the ether. He once told me that he sometimes feared that he had “written on water,” that no one would remember what he said with his radio programs and books. I promised him that that would not happen. I would see to it that his legacy lives on.

I manage the website NormanCorwin.com; I’ve actively advocated that he be honored with the Presidential Medal of Freedom and the Congressional Gold Medal through on-line petitions on PoetLaureateOfRadio.com; I’m hosting and producing (with his express permission) a new radio series that will be syndicated in 2012 called “Corwin on the Air”; and I’m putting the final touches to what will be his last book, “Memos to a New Millennium: The Final Radio Plays of Norman Corwin,” for which he wrote new supporting material before he died.

Time is no longer frozen on October 18, 2011. In the thaw of grief I now find renewed energy to continue my pledge I gave him to maintain his legacy and grow his fan base at every opportunity. Perhaps this blog entry will help, too.

I'm just saying...

WHO NEEDS A MISTRESS WHEN I HAVE 1967 MUSTANG?

2011-10-16T14:28:00.000-07:00

I bought the car from a little old lady in Brentwood, CA. She had owned the car since 1969. It looked faded now, worn down, and trembled a bit when I test-drove it. But it had heart. I know now that I needed that car as much as it needed me. She rolled off the assembly line in San Jose, California, on February 25, 1967. I rolled off the assembly line only three and a half years earlier. She (I cannot bear to call this particular car “it”) is a 1967 Ford Mustang coupe, pebble beige exterior, black interior, automatic transmission, factory air conditioning, and AM radio.

Buying that car was a dream come true. I have always loved the original Ford Mustang years (1964 ½ -1969). My dad worked at the Ford plant in Edison, New Jersey, in the mid-Sixties where many Mustangs were born. He could never afford one. But now I could. If my wife would agree . . . I explained my connection to the car. “I’m in my forties and have never owned a cool car,” I lamented. Always inexpensive (cheap), used (old, but not “classic old”) cars. No one admires you in a 1979 Madza with a silver spray-paint job, this I know! I told her, “I’m at the age when men have mid-life crises. Some get cool cars others find young mistresses. Since I’m fairly certain that I can’t have both . . . if I could choose, I would choose this 1967 Mustang.” I got the car.

Guys love the car: “That’s a ’67, right? Got a 289 under the hood? My cousin had a Shelby back in the day.”

Girls love the car: I was stopped at a traffic light when a pretty girl walking her dog passed in front of me. She smiled, nodded approvingly, and mouthed, “I love your car.”

Kids love the car: The car next to me rolled down its window and a high schooler said, “That is one pimping ride, sir.”

I’ve owned the car for seven and a half years. She had been my car in good weather and bad. Since I’ve always referred to her as my “Mid-Life Crisis Car,” I thought I’d explore that theme a bit, if you will indulge me.

The car is like me in many ways: Slow to start, needs time to warm up every morning, shakes a bit when it’s cold outside, squeaks and groans, occasionally screws come loose, the paint has become chipped from other car doors, as well as from rocks kicked up along the road. The once flawless interior is scuffed and worn, we both must carry insurance, are sometimes running on fumes, need regular maintenance, and wish we could roll back the odometer.

I think of driving on the roadway as a metaphor for living your life. First of all, what’s more important at 65 mph: what’s in front of you or what’s in the rearview mirror? The past is for reference only, folks. What counts is where you are going.

So we need a roadmap, right? Make sure your map is up to date and accurate. Places change and new routes are always appearing. Just because you’re driving a classic car in its forties doesn’t mean you shouldn’t use the latest GPS technology to correct and monitor your course.

Beware of the passengers you choose to bring on the journey. The more they weigh (emotionally), the more fuel you use to travel the same distance. Pick up hitchhikers at your own risk. Speaking of fuel consumption. If you have extra weight in the truck (such as regrets and guilts from your past), dump it out at the first rest stop!

Change the radio station occasionally to see what you’re missing. Don’t be afraid to sing out loud while you drive. It’s fun!

Flick on your high beams once in a while, too, to see a bit further down the road, then return your eyes back to the patch of road immediately in front of you. Stay the course.

Always remember to take care of yourself. Oil is the lifeblood of your car’s engine. Change your own oil regularly and give yourself a tune-up, too. Stay healthy for as long as you possibly can, both mentally and physically. Go see Mr. Goodwrench and Dr. Goodwrench when necessary!

Don’t drive too slowly; otherwise you’ll never get anywhere.

Finally, don’t drive straight through without stopping for some Scenic Views. Don’t miss the beauty of life. What is a blur at 65 mph can be majestic when standing still.

These are just a few of my musings on the topic of old cars and my own mid-life phase. It’s not a crisis, really. Just a stretch of road where I felt a little bit lost and unsure if I was still on the right road and was still on time to make my destination.

Did I mention the 1967 Mustang is up for sale now? Yup. I guess my mid-life crisis / phase is over. Know anyone passing through who needs her next?

I’m just saying…

CAP'N CRUNCH SPARROW! AND LESSER GOOD IDEAS...

2011-09-25T14:47:00.000-07:00

Everything is fair game to become a major studio motion picture. Witness the making of the movie version of the Milton Bradley game “Battleship” which is coming to a theater near you in May 2012.

This doesn’t surprise me. We’ve seen (or at least heard about) movies based on toys such as G.I. Joe, based on cartoons such as Scooby Doo, and based on old television series such as Bewitched. To get a movie made, it seems to me, you need to own the rights to a product line with a built-in audience. Of course old TV shows and toys and even comic books fit this pattern nicely. But I think I’ve identified one area they have (at least thus far) ignored: breakfast cereals. Talk about a built-in audience with mega-product name recognition!

Yes, I want to send this as an open letter to the board of directors at General Mills: you are missing a gold mine! I, Michael James Kacey, am hereby offering my services to you to pitch movie versions of your breakfast cereals. Now, if Marvel Comics can have their own movie production studio, so can you! Hear me out! Picture this--!

General Mills Entertainment Presents…

Michael Bay’s “Frankenberry vs. Count Chocula!” It’s fast-paced, loud and largely senseless BUT it is from Michael Bay. The marketing department will eat this up! (Pun intended.)

A remake of “Night Shift” starring the Trix Rabbit in the Michael Keaton role. We’ll call it “Turning Trix,” of course. An R-rated comedy with a heart.

“Cap’n Crunch Sparrow” a bold new take on the sea-faring adventures of a wildly unpredictable captain whose relationship with his first mate, Toucan Sam, pushes the boundaries of contemporary cinema.

Jack Nicholson replaces Chuck McCann as the voice of Sonny for “One Flew Over the Coco-Puffs Nest.” Can R.P. McSonny and the catatonic Sugar Bear survive in this institution? Serious award contender, I think.

Since 3-D is the rage I propose a re-imagining of the Rice Crispies elves in the horror genre: “Satan’s Rice Crispies” with the tagline “Watch your friends go Snap! Crackle! Pop! In 3-D!”

A lighthearted comedy about a well-endowed Leprechaun called “Me Lucky Charms.” Obvious tagline: “Yes, they’re magically delicious.”

And finally, “Wheaties: A Bromance” reuniting Seth Rogen and James Franco yet again. If the budget does not allow for this I recommend replacing them with Harold and Kumar. Anyway, it’s another movie about men bonding along with an abundance of bodily function jokes with brief (and vaguely uncomfortable) male nudity. Jason Segal should not be cast in this movie, as he is way too comfortable being nude.

Trust me! This is the next logical step in movie commerce! Don’t miss this opportunity, General Mills. Call me. Let’s do lunch… er, I mean… breakfast.

I’m just saying…

DID YOU HEAR THE ONE ABOUT THREE MEN, A LIGHTHOUSE AND THOUSANDS OF RATS… STARRING ME?

2011-08-28T13:01:00.000-07:00

I recently had the opportunity to do some acting, some “major role” acting. It’s been a very long time since I had to be responsible for anything more than a one-line character in a short scene. It was a recreation of a famous radio play titled “Three Skeleton Key.” The show was featured on the series “Escape” and starred Vincent Price as Jean, the lighthouse keeper narrating the story. I was asked to take on that role at the REPS Showcase in Seattle,WA.

“Picture this place. A gray, tapering cylinder, welded by iron rods and concrete to the key itself: a bare, black rock, a hundred and fifty feet long, maybe forty wide. That’s at low tide. At high tide, just the light, rising a hundred and ten feet straight up out of the ocean. And all about it, the churning water, gray-green, sun-dappled, warm as soup, and swarming with gigantic bat-like devil fish, great violet schools of Portuguese man-of-war, and yes, sharks, the big ones, the fifteen footers. And as if this wasn’t enough, there was a hot, dank, rotten-smelling wind that came at us night and day off the jungle swamps of the mainland. A wind that smelled like death.”

That was just the beginning of the tale of three men tending a desolate lighthouse about to be invaded by tens of thousands of rats! A derelict ship runs aground on the key and the ravenously hungry rats set off to invade the lighthouse. The three men are trapped for days as the squealing scurrying brown furry mass attempts to break inside.

Directed by Tim Knofler with specially created recorded sound effects by Audio Cinema Entertainment and live sound effects by Jerry Williams, and enacted by myself, Bill Brooks and Bryan Hendickson, the audience was ours to toy with. In fact, I was told later that three people had to leave because of the discomfort of listening to the sound of the rats invading the lighthouse and attacking the men. Not bad, considering they were in a room watching three actors seated at a table before microphones taking cues from a man just off the stage platform. Ah, the power of the theater of the mind!

Naturally, I had a blast. I was absolutely exhausted following the performance (which is always a good sign that I really committed to the role). From there I had to move to a rehearsal of the first of two radio recreations that I was directing. It was a wonderful time hanging out with radio veterans such as Tommy Cook (Lights Out, Blondie, Red Ryder), Ivan Cury (Bobby Benson), Rosemary Rice (Archie Andrews, CBS Radio Mystery Theater), Gloria McMillan (Our Miss Brooks) and film and TV vets Ben Cooper (Johnny Guitar, Gunsmoke, The Twilight Zone) and Beverly Washburn (Old Yeller, Lou Costello’s episode of Wagon Train and Star Trek episode The DeadlyYears).

It’s funny, I started attending these Old Time Radio Conventions as a getaway weekend to relax and enjoy the shows. Next thing I know, I’m directing a few and now acting in them, too. Not too much relaxation anymore during these weekends! But a whole lot of fun and satisfaction!

Woody Allen once said, “80% of success is showing up.” So I suggest you show up and see what happens!

I’m just saying…

DUTY OF THE ARTIST

2011-07-21T12:52:00.000-07:00

A sense of duty runs through our society. What it means to me may not be what it means to you. But what does it mean for the artist? If you are given a gift that makes you an artist, do you have an obligation to share it?

To be sure, technical skills are valued and rewarded with good paying jobs and paid vacations. But artistic jobs are harder to find. Granted, if you land one of them you can certainly be well-compensated for your talents. It seems that art is little valued in our faced-paced electronic world. Of course, technical skills and mechanical skills create products and services that put food on our table and feed our bodies. Art, on the other hand, is mainly about feeding our souls. Prioritizing them is therefore quite easy. Ya gotta eat, folks!

But can a society be well adjusted by only feeding the body? I don’t think so. A well adjusted society must include the arts. We are unique creatures, we humans, in that we draw (and share) inspiration and create beauty with our own hands and minds. Not everyone can create it on a scale that transcends mediocrity. Most probably cannot. But that doesn’t mean they shouldn’t! I believe that more people have artistic gifts than we imagine. I think we reject these gifts, sublimating them in order to please our families by getting a “good” job and putting food on the table. I personally believe you can do both. I have.

Art for profit and fun! Have many of us artists are made to feel like complete and abject failures if we do not get rich from our talents? Sure, we want to achieve the money and freedom that goes with commercial success, but that cannot be allowed to define who we are and how we go about sharing our creativity. In short, the artist must have fun! At least some fun… How else can you drag yourself away from making money to pay the bills and take another stab at creating and then sharing your art? When we lose the joy of art we deny part of ourselves; a vital part that makes up who we really are. That’s why I always tell creative people to make sure that the person they marry shares their dream instead of indulging it. If I couldn’t continue to create, I would become a far different person; a very different person than the one my wife fell in love with many years ago.

Now, about the duty of an artist: you and I have an obligation to continue to explore our world through art, either by observing or creating AND to encourage everyone else to do the same! Even if someone protests that they are not an artist, nor do they “get” art. Plant the seed for them encouraging them to give their creative side a chance to breathe.

Who knows what they result may be? The world may get another Picasso or Michelangelo. Of course, the result might be another Tiny Tim… or Tom Arnold…

But I still think it’s worth the risk.

I’m just saying...

IF A BLOGGER BLOGS IN THE FOREST AND NO ONE HEARS THE KEYSTROKES, IS HE REALLY A BLOGGER?

2011-07-14T19:45:00.000-07:00

If you are reading this, then I am a blogger. If I am only typing this, I am merely practicing to be a blogger…

One of the best things about having a blog is the ability to write what you want and post it to be seen by a worldwide audience. There’s a great power using the Internet and, I hope, some reward for the effort. Since I am not a subject matter expert on much, I rely on writing about what I’m thinking about or ideas that I’d like to share. I feel I have a responsibly to be honest with my opinions and respectful of your time. This means that I never write something that is an ego-bloated fantasy about who I think I am (or who I want you to think I am). Instead, I strive for simplicity and truth.

The other thing I enjoy about blogging is that it forces me to write. I love to write when the spirit moves me, but it seldom does in a spontaneous fashion. Instead, I have to sit myself down and compel myself to write something – anything. In my first year of blogging I completed slightly more than one blog per month for a total of 15. So I decided that I would work to hit that number every year. It doesn’t sound like much, but when life happens and excuses pile up it becomes very easy to work on other things. Sometimes I will do anything to avoid writing. I mean even pay bills and paint the house! Yet here I sit typing away in spite of my overwhelming desire to watch “Around the Horn” on ESPN.

However, the thought recently occurred to me that if I skip my favorite TV show to write this and there is no one who reads it, why am I doing this? As I previously said, I’m not a subject matter on anything that I know of and I refuse to pretend I’m so important that the you must adore the snappy prose I wring from the synapses of my teeming intellect. So that leaves me wondering, if a blogger blogs in the forest but no one hears the keystrokes, is he really a blogger?

I understand (and support) the concept that a person doesn’t have to have a painting hung in a gallery to be a painter or doesn’t have to have a Grammy to be a singer, but what if no one reads what a writer writes? (Insert long, thoughtful and tortured pause before writing the next sentence…) I guess it still holds (… I finally write). The mere act of creativity is a means unto itself. I think a writer can find catharsis writing words even if they may be little read.

And so, with much ado about nothing, I bring this blog to a conclusion. I have forced myself to write. I have written about something that’s currently on my mind with conviction of being honest. You can’t ask much more than that, can you?

Unless, perhaps, I crafted some timely humor at the conclusion of this piece to serve as a kind of reward, both for you, the reader, and me, the writer. Instead, permit me to quote my favorite line from the movie This Is Spinal Tap:

“There’s such a fine line between clever and… stupid.”

So I’m quitting while I’m ahead.

I’m just saying . . .

CHILD'S PLAY

2011-06-11T10:13:00.000-07:00

Among the many qualities actors need to have is that sense of wonder best described as “child-like.” However, another quality sometimes infects us creative types, and it is quite another thing entirely: namely being “childish.” That one, we want to avoid.

Now keeping that child-like quality is very difficult. We are encouraged rather early on (probably too early on) to curb our imagination and focus on “the real world.” We stifle a very important part of our minds by doing this.

The value of facts over imagination is, in my opinion, overrated. True, facts are the pillars of reality but they can be arranged, rearranged, omitted and distorted to create this version of the truth or that one. Imagination, on the other hand, cannot be categorized or contained. It is not limited by reality or present conditions. Imagination contains the building blocks of future reality! Before we can live in a world of equality and freedom, we must first imagine it. And that imagination must be strong or it will be crushed by the reality of today’s facts.

Okay, enough of my philosophizing and back to the quality of being child-like and its value to the artist. When you were a young child nearly everything was a new experience. You marveled at a column of ants marching in formation carrying food on their backs. The anthill itself generated wonder. Where did it lead? What was life like down in the subterranean ant world? To the ants, we were giant beings who could swipe their orderly column aside and erase their anthill on a whim. Frequently we did.

I remember a small creek that meandered behind the neighborhood playground just at the base of a steep hill covered with trees and rock outcroppings worn visible by erosion. Sometimes the creek would be the Amazon River and the hillside the deepest darkest jungles of Africa. It could also be the Rio Grande or Mississippi. Other times it was an alien planet from “Star Trek” or the planet Mongo from “Flash Gordon” or even the Planet of the Apes. The creek and hillside never really changed appearance in reality and I knew that perfectly well, but with the use of my imagination, this place became a malleable part of my mind. It was exercise for the brain.

Even I have neglected exercising my creative brain and become bogged down by facts, roadblocks and paying bills. To keep your creativity at peak operating efficiency you’ve got to stop and indulge in some quality make-believe or fantasy or imagination stretching, whatever you want to call it. Go for a walk and tell yourself a story. Go to the back yard and watch a column of ants. Listen to music and create your own video in your mind’s eye. In short, incorporate child-like imagination into your daily life again.

I promise to do the same.

I’m just saying…

WHEN I LIVED IN ANYTOWN USA

2011-05-08T09:10:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time, when I was a much younger man, I spent about three months in and around a mythical place called Anytown USA. I often visited Walter Marcus and his family living at 1223 Embezzlement Drive, avoided their next-door neighbor Colonel Herman von Schmidt, and had my hair cut by Buddy Wimperly at the Vidal Sassoon Salon on Cicero Street. I once had a beer at the Moosejaw Barbershop and Saloon and saw the band Kid Vomit & The Barf Bags play at the Anytown Civic Center the night Kid Vomit OD’d on his homemade wonder-drug “Fred.” (He called it Fred because it was easy to remember…) Then there was the prison break of Butch Dimlight and Buford Lowatt III from the Joseph Stalin Memorial Penitentiary that inadvertently led Chief Inspector Nimrod, with the aid of the identically cloned police officers of the Genetic Division, to arrest the leader of the Fred drug racket: Herman Horton. Horton, a bank employee, stole the money and left his boss Walter Marcus to take the blame. Finally, Horton was murdered at the Anytown General Hospital when someone switched his chart for one Mr. Liebowitz and rewired the suction machine to suck out all of Horton’s internal organs! The resulting confession by the real murderer left Anytown stunned… Perhaps you heard it on the radio?

Normally I’m not much for looking backward, but at times I allow myself a peek back at the things I did in the past and appreciate the impact they had on my life. This is one of those moments. I’d like to share it with you.

“Anytown USA” was a 50-episode comedy series that I co-wrote and co-created with W. Scott Snyder in 1984. Using Dick Orkin’s classic radio comedy series “Chicken Man” as a blueprint, we crafted “Anytown USA” as a soap opera without limits on genre spoofing or, in a few cases, political correctness. Each episode clocked in around three minutes. The original goal was to sell it to radio stations and I came close in 1986 with a St. Louis station. Last year I digitize the shows and edited them down to two-minute shows. Feeling a little blue last week, I decided to pop the CD in my car stereo and I listened to the shows as I drove in LA traffic. I was amazed at how special and funny “Anytown” was. The humor ranged from clever to stupid but was never boring. I suddenly remembered the “Anytown USA” parties we had when I was stationed on Okinawa while in the army. A roomful of GIs drinking and laughing to these silly shows. I had forgotten how much “Anytown USA” meant to me.

The series was written and recorded over the course of about three months. Scott and I would spend the week writing separate storylines and come together on Sunday mornings to record at Fort Ord’s radio station KFO, where Scott worked. There were never story meetings to discuss plot arcs or character development. We just “let it fly”! All the more amazing that the story did have a through-line when it was wrapped up at episode 50.

I voiced 19 characters during the course of the series (that’s including the cloned policemen Everett, Martin, Davidson and Washeleski…). Mainly, I was Walter Marcus, the bank president; Dr. Theodore, the senile chief of staff at the hospital; Kid Vomit, the rock n roll singer whose brush with death led him to become “born again” and change his name to Kid Renaissance; and the ever-present (and non PC) Buddy Wimperly, who was ultimately the hero of the series.

Scott played 15 different parts, from Walter’s teenage son David to the arrogant Dr. Heathcliff Reginald Bentley III, as well as Inspector Nimrod and Walter’s lawyer Robin Locksley who liked to dress as D’Artagnan… He was also the omniscient Narrator who opened each episode with “Welcome to the continuing saga of Anytown… U… S…A… In our la-a-st episode…” The music we chose as the show’s theme was “Entrance of the Gladiators” by Julius Fucik (spelled very carefully, by the way). You’d recognize as clown music at a circus. Apropos, since “Anytown USA” was a bit of a circus to make!

Scott was (and still is, I’m certain) a remarkable talent with humor and comic timing not just in the studio, but also in real life. I had one of the best creative experiences working with him.

Two wonderful young ladies aided us in our cast: Dawn McWalter and Sheri Clark.

Although Dawn mainly played one role, Walter’s wife Marge Marcus, her characterization gave “Anytown” its anchor point. Marge was always the reasonable one who tried her best to hold the family together. In the end, God love her, Marge was just as nuts as the rest of them! Dawn provided much more to the series than she’d ever acknowledge. She also played Marcie’s high school BFF: Bibi.

Sheri Clark was a rare gem of a performer. She had a marvelous vocal range and displayed her comedic talents with both punch lines and “throw-aways” (lines only funny because the performer deftly glides over them as if they don’t matter). She played 5 roles: Marcie (Walter and Marge’s Valley Girl daughter), Nurse Brenda Buxom (a heavy and seductive Hungarian accent), Nurse Maid (her normal voice), Miss Saddlebag (Walter’s 80 year old secretary at the bank) and Little Sara, a precocious 4 year old with a talent for trouble. Sheri was joy to work with and to be around. Sadly, I learned that she passed away a few years ago. I am consoled by the fact that her voice lives on in the recordings of “Anytown USA.”

The top photo shows Dawn, Sheri and Scott rehearsing one of final the episodes in 1984. Me and Scott in the bottom photo.

The great irony is that “Anytown USA” was created for radio broadcast and now, many years later, I guard it as something private and too personal to release. This blog marks the first time I’ve ever written or discussed the show. Why is that? Likely it is because it was created at a time in my life that holds more meaning for me than I’ve ever really explored.

Life is funny that way.

I’m just saying…

CHANGE IS THE ONLY CONSTANT IN THE UNIVERSE

2011-04-24T14:30:00.000-07:00

Time is a concept that the mind treats with remarkable elasticity. Sometimes the span of ten years seems like an eternity. “Have I really been working here for ten years? Will I still be here in another ten years doing the same thing?” Other times it can be perceived as alarmingly short: “You mean I’ll be retiring in ten more years? I don’t have nearly enough money saved!” There are even moments when time can stand still.

And, depending on how we feel today, life zooms past us in a blur or crawls alongside at a slug’s pace. In reality, of course, time is a constant; it neither respects our feelings nor notices our anxiety level.

So intellectually, we know that everything is changing in our life, even when we feel like we’re standing still. Relationships and friendships grow stronger or they recede like waves at low tide. Dreams and goals change, too. We begin life with endless possibilities and limitless time to fulfill them.

The creative soul sets their sights on a single goal, one that will make their dream a reality. It may be to become a successful actor or writer, a painter, poet or songwriter. We find the passion that makes us who we are and strive to become an idealized version of ourselves. So far, so good.

At the beginning of the journey the horizon stretches to infinity. A bright sun bathes a tree-lined path that is wide and clearly marked. As time progresses, the path grows bumpy and encroaching woods begin to close in and even obscure the path. Before long you find yourself deep in the thickets, far from where you began and equally as far from your destination. The forest grows so thick as to blot out the brilliant sun that illuminated your way for so long. Which way now? Take the shortcut to Grandma’s House perhaps?

The trail coils, straightens out, branches into different directions. We make choices based only upon the facts known to us at that moment. The compass is true or it is not. This will certainly lead us to new destinations, far from where we had dreamed of going back when we first set out.

Our goals change and our dreams should change, too. With time most of us grow older and wiser. (Some just grow older and ponder endlessly in their blogs, but I digress…) We take the well-earned wisdom of our experience and adjust our course accordingly.

Remember this: Dare to dream. Dare to live the dream. And, if need be, dare to change the dream, too!

I’m just saying…

WON'T YOU BE MY FRIEND?

2011-03-18T18:59:00.000-07:00

There’s no escaping it: social media is here to stay. But is it merely a sophisticated way to track our personal interests so that the data can help shape the highly refined targeting of advertisements in the name of capitalism OR is it a way for individual human beings to reach out and share with Friends (old and new alike) a little bit of who they really are on an ongoing basis? Well… both, I imagine.

The rise of social media has been astoundingly quick. My Space was only a precursor to the juggernaut of Facebook. Young and old alike have found uses for this new obsession. We can post how we feel, share our triumphs and our tragedies, and wish our Friends happy birthday thanks to an on-screen prompt. Social media is being credited with organizing and sustaining the recent Egyptian revolution. It has been used in Wisconsin to get union members and supporters to the state capital to protest new and unfavorable legislation. I saw today that it was used to orchestrate a walkout of students at a Los Angeles area high school. All the local television and radio stations covered the rally on the school grounds protesting likely cuts to education in the upcoming California state budget. That’s power, my Friends.

I have, in addition to this blog, a website bearing name, a Facebook account and a Twitter account. Twitter is micro-social media. 140 characters of self-expression at a pop. How it took hold is beyond me but I have an account and I Tweeted over 300 times last year. I have only 12 followers but over half of them are Los Angeles based media such as Los Angeles Times Magazine, KFI radio, and E! Entertainment Online. No kidding: there is someone at E! whose job is to read my tweets. I can give them information on how close my controversial upcoming documentary is to completion OR I can tell them that I’m waiting for my car’s oil to be changed. That’s power… well, potential power at any rate.

Now understand this: I am two people (at least). I am me, the man my wife calls “dear” and I am Michael James Kacey the filmmaker, actor, blogger, tweeter and self promoter. So who is writing this? Which version of me? Damn good question with no simple answer. A lot of what I write / blog / post is really from me. However, sometimes I have to step into this persona of a creative artist who wishes to control his image as much as possible. To do that I blog / tweet / post mostly positive, self-affirming things. This is a choice. I could choose not to care at all and use my corner of the social media world to rant on about this or that subject. Instead I choose to cultivate a sense of kinship and respect for you, dear Reader / Friend. That way you will likely return to this blog, Friend me on Facebook or Follow my 140 characters of wisdom and wit (and learn when my car is due for service). And if you do that, you grant me power.

Power to share, power to persuade, and perhaps the power to inspire. Unfortunately, you also run the risk of giving me power to bore the snot out of you.

I’m just saying…

TOYS

2011-02-27T11:46:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I upgraded from my old iPhone 2 to a blazingly fast iPhone 4. That got me to thinking about all of the new toys that are available today that weren't even dreamt of when I entered the business. The latest issue of Los Angeles Magazine listed a few...

To begin with, there is an App called Rehearsal that allows you to put in your script, highlight your lines to learn and then black them out to test your progress. You can even record the other parts and interact with the recording! In my day I memorized lines but hiding them with my fingers...

Then there is an App (Artemis) that mimics a viewfinder that the director looks through to see how a particular lens will make the shot look. Another one (Helios) charts the movement of the sun based on the date, time and location. You will always know how to adjust the lighting as the day progresses.

Next, the article talked about an App called MovieSlate that serves as a clapper board used to synch sound and picture. A regular slate can cost $1000, the App retails for $20...

And finally, there is a device called Cube that attaches to your camera and will transmit what the camera sees directly to your iPhone or iPad. Instant dailies that can be immediately shared with you cast, crew and editor.

The progress and affordability of these tools is staggering! Of course like any tool, they are only as good as the people using them.

Remember: the fact that anybody can conceivably make a movie doesn't mean they should. Just like my vocal chords can produce a musical note nearly in key doesn't mean that I should sing for everybody. Really, I shouldn't sing for anybody!

I'm just saying...

ACTING 101: FORGET THE MAGIC "IF" AND TELL ME THE MAGIC "WHY"

2011-01-22T10:46:00.000-08:00

First of all I have to say that I loved acting and I miss it a great deal. Being an actor was my original creative dream, it was the thing that charged my soul and made me feel alive. I began in high school and next moved on to Community Theater while serving in the Army. I went to Penn State for my bachelor’s degree in Theater and then moved to Los Angeles. After doing some plays in tiny Hollywood-adjacent theaters I got an agent, got some work and joined two actors unions. I was in heaven, moving closer to my dream of making a living as an actor. Then came the hell. This is the descent wherein your creative life and your financial life smash together as if in a supercollider. Not even the joys of a national commercial and a scene opposite Michael Keaton and Helena Bonham Carter could keep that dream alive.

That being said, I love actors and I never discourage them from the dream. Someone has to make, why not you? The reality of an acting career is brutal to be sure but I think it is a noble profession, especially in plays and films that examine the human condition and our place in the universe or even reflect on our current events. It’s an important craft. The arts are vastly underappreciated in America and that’s not likely to change. Also not likely change: your long odds at making a living as an actor.

Let’s start at the beginning, then. The first question to ask is why do you want to be an actor? Why will you dedicate your life to that dream? If the answer is “to be famous,” you’re doomed already in so many ways; if it is “because there is nothing else I’m good at,” you need to try more things; but if the answer is “the drive to act compels me as if I were a spawning salmon,” you’re exactly right. You’re also likely melodramatic…

This is what I call the Magic Why. Why acting? You really need to be honest here. You can end up wasting an awful lot of time and money and even relationships. Do it for the craft. Do it for the joy. Do it because there is nothing more important to you in the whole world. Don’t do it to be famous, to be rich, to be loved, or to get laid. Respect the craft. Good acting entertains us, but great acting (along with writing, or course) affects us deeply, perhaps even haunts us.

Study, rehearse, expand your senses and pay your dues. Enroll in college. The very process of getting a bachelor’s degree expands your knowledge tremendously and challenges your assumptions. Push your comfort zone and act in as many different plays as possible. Read plays, as many as you can. And finally, there is no substitute for life experience. Travel, work different summer jobs and learn to observe people and their surroundings. All of this will help you master the craft.

You need to know about motivation, beats, action verbs, objectives, subtext and character arcs. You need to understand Stanislavsky’s Magic If, working from inside out or the outside in, and MOST IMPORTANTLY you need to learn how to actively LISTEN. It’s not easy listening to same lines again and again and then during each performance act as if you are hearing it for the first time. Listen to what the other actors are saying instead of waiting for your next cue to speak. And listen to the director and learn how to translate their notes, suggestions and instructions into action.

Now you see why actors who just want to famous aren’t often very good; it takes way too much effort to dedicate yourself to the craft of acting.

A flawless complexion, a gleaming smile and surgical enhanced attributes can make you rich and famous, I suppose.

But they’ll never make you a great actor.

I'm just saying...

PRODUCING 101: MOVING MOUNTAINS ONE STONE AT A TIME

2011-01-14T11:12:00.000-08:00

Excerpt from my book “Long Night’s Journey Into Daybreak.”

Getting things all lined up, you are taking care of tasks both great and small, and are putting out so many fires that you figure you must have “Smokey the Bear” tattooed across your forehead. Producing is, above all else, an endurance game, a test of wills, and an open invitation to improvise and create minor miracles.

Procuring equipment, that is, getting the best deals on film stock, lighting and grip packages, shipping and lab work, is extremely time consuming and labor intensive. The telephone becomes your Producer School. This is how you learn to talk the talk. With every call you make, you get better at what you’re doing. On the first call for price quotes you may sound like a complete dolt, but by the third call you will sound calm, cool and professional… like a producer.

There is only so much money available for the shoot, and so much pressure to pull it off. How do you do this? Prepare as much as possible. Okay, but if you have never produced before, as I had not, what things do you prepare? There are endless details and miles and miles of unknowns on the road before you.

First off, you’ve got to gather specific information on what each department’s needs are. The director of photography (DP) and sound mixer are going to pitch for the best equipment they can have to make their job easier. You have to get the details on what advantages these needs will yield, and then you must weigh them against the finite amount of money that you have to best accomplish the shoot. For example, the DP wants to use Kodak Vision Stock. Do you acquiesce or push for a cheaper film stock? The requirements of my project dictated that an atmospheric look was critical to “Daybreak.” The DP needed this tool to accomplish it; therefore he got his film stock. But, it meant that someone else would not get what they wanted. For example, the sound mixer ran with an old reliable Nagra IV recorder and not the latest digital recorder.

Next, you have to negotiate with everyone involved. At first, the items are big: film stock, film format, camera package, sound package, grip & lighting truck size, etc. Then it comes down to the little things. In the end, we couldn’t afford a smart slate (which electronically synchs picture timecode with audio timecode) and therefore had to synch the sound and picture in post production manually. We also couldn’t afford the extra money for walkie-talkies, although we did get some loaned to us during the first days of the shoot. In retrospect, I couldn’t see doing without them. Knowing how much time they saved even on a tiny production such as “Daybreak,” I would never opt to do without them again. Lesson learned.

As the shoot progresses, you find yourself handling all of the details—such as calling FedEx to find out what happened to your shipment of “dulling spray” (seriously, it dulls an object to be filmed) from Los Angeles which is overdue only to discover that it has been damaged in the Nashville floods. You are constantly checking up on local businesses for promised meals and locations, and then rescheduling when some of them fall through, as well as canceling others due to changes in the shooting schedule.

After the shooting is finished, you are on “mop up detail.” Simply put, you’ve got a mess of tasks to clean up and organize. Beginning with making sure all of the equipment has been returned, and then paying for any lost and damaged items, known as L&D (also called missing and damaged or M&D), as well as springing for the use of “expendables” from the grip truck. You will eventually have to break into the expendables, whether for gaffer tape or nylon rope; the truck always has something you didn’t bring!

So, what if you planned a shoot and nobody came? What if they came but had no place to park? What if they came, parked, but found no bathroom facilities other than that large knotted oak tree yonder by the highway? Here I present some advice to keep even the lowest-budgeted film’s cast and crew from a well-entitled mutiny…

To find out what that advice is, you’ll have to read the book (which can be found on Amazon.com, by the way).

C’mon, help out a starving author…

I’m just saying…

SCREENWRITING 101: MAN VS. BLINKING CURSOR

2010-12-27T18:26:00.000-08:00

Excerpt from my book “Long Night’s Journey Into Daybreak.”

Here’s what I want you to remember about the screenplay whether you are the writer, the director, or both: know the story inside and out; know the characters inside and out. Make your decisions in order to serve the story and its characters.

Most screenplays employ the traditional three-act structure. Act I (30 pages), first turning point; Act II (60 pages), second turning point—main character at his lowest point; and Act III (30 pages), the climax and resolution. Every story has its own rhythm and its own needs but don’t wander too far off from this basic story-telling template. If the first turning point occurs at page 40 and Act II runs 15 pages, you’ve got some rewriting to do: the story structure is a mess!

Serve the story! Edit out scenes that are not absolutely necessary to the story. Trim the fat. Get to the point. Do the scenes begin somewhere in the middle and do we get out before the end? I kept writing scenes where someone always exited at the end: scene over, I’m leaving… No. Don’t do this. Keep it moving by capturing the essence of the moment and move on!

Serve the characters. Each character must have a point of view. They must speak with their own voice. I find that too often all characters are written with the same voice. They just sound the same, as if lines of dialogue are interchangeable. They should be well rounded and come with some surprises, have weakness as well as strengths. What makes them laugh or cry? What do they fear? …And why? Everyone is different, so make sure that your characters are, too. I recommend writing extensive background notes on each of the main characters. Identify their main flaw. What do they want in life? What prevents them from getting it? By knowing what makes your characters tick, you’ll be able to place them into the story and allow their actions and dialogue to spring forth naturally and believably.

Here’s a quick overview about screenplay format. (If you’re not familiar with how a screenplay looks, find some of them on-line or and read them.) There are certain basic rules and characteristics of a professional-looking script starting with Courier font, 12 point, with one-inch margins. Avoid the temptation to make yours unique or cool. Remember that appearances count! The best written screenplay will not even get read by a professional if it looks anything but traditional.

Each scene has a slug line such as: EXT. FENNER’S SERVICE STATION – DAY.

Action is written across the full margins explaining to the reader what is taking place.

Michele pulls into the gas pump island. She steps out of the car and looks towards the office.

Dialogue starts 2.75 inches from the left edge and is no more than 35 characters wide including spaces. The character’s name is always capitalized and centered. Below that is the actual dialogue.

FENNER

Sit down and shut up!

A parenthetical indicates how a character is saying the dialogue.

FENNER

(laughing)

Sit down and shut up!

Word to the wise here: avoid using parentheticals! They can really get out of hand and, truthfully, many actors scratch them out wherever they appear. They will decide how the dialogue is spoken as they interpret the character. Of course, sometimes you have no choice but to include a parenthetical or two, but easy does it.

Finally, I advise you to write what you know. Write from personal experience. Write with truth and honesty. Give it your personal view of the world, your message. Break the rules if you have to. Do what you must to best serve your story. If your instincts tell you it must be this way, then follow through with it. Trust your instincts above all else, against all advice. No one else knows exactly what you’re striving to accomplish better than you. Trust yourself.

I’m just saying…

DIRECTING 101 - GIVE DIRECTION

2010-12-18T16:32:00.000-08:00

Excerpt from my book "Long Night's Journey Into Daybreak":

So what you really want to do is direct… Well, good luck and God bless! First off, I think it takes a lot of guts to want to direct. It can be demanding, pressure filled, and ego deflating. Like that old Army jingle, you’ll do more before 9 am than most people will do all day. Your reward may also include looming ulcers, mood swings and panic attacks. But your most important reward is that it’s the best damn job in the world. Period.

You’ve got to communicate your vision. What is so great about being the director is that it is your vision that drives the film. You get to make it your way. That’s a wonderful opportunity. But to take full advantage of it, you’ve got to be able to inspire your cast and crew. Make them believe in your dream. Keep them excited and involved. Make them look forward to the next day’s shoot.

Preparation. Know what you’re doing. Know why you’re doing it. If it’s not a script you wrote yourself, then you’d better read it again and again until you know it inside and out. You’ve got to know the value of every scene, every character and each line of dialogue. Some have great weight or value; others do not. Know which is which, because if you spend hours of time and reams of film just to get one shot right, it had better be for a purpose. Know the difference. Know when to move on. Not all of the scenes or shot compositions will be perfect. Make sure the ones that need to be are.

The most important thing that you do is make decisions. Underline that. Highlight that. You make decisions, lots of them. Some will be brilliant, some will not be. Some will be downright stupid. Make them anyway. The trick to keeping your film moving is not that you make the RIGHT decision; it's that you make A decision. The worst thing that you can do is to appear like you can't make the call. Dammit, it's your job to make the call.

There are moments when you know it all comes down to how you handle a particular crisis. The real joke is that some of these crises will be real make-or-break stuff, while others will only be your imagination telling you that it's make-or-break! Yes, directors hallucinate this way. you've got to fight hard to see things as they really are. Perspective is a hard thing to keep, but that's also part of your job.

Finally, look good. You are the leader. Be clean and neat. Men, shave everyday. The rigors of a shooting schedule will wear you down, but by shaving you avoid the appearance that you are worn out. You cannot be worn out. No one wants to bust his ass for a leader who looks like hell. My days began at 5 am and usually ended around midnight. Day after day after day… The cast and crew feed off your energy. They look to you for inspiration, motivation and a sense of purpose. Do everything you can to be worthy of it.

I'm just saying...

YOU CAN'T GET THERE FROM HERE

2010-12-12T14:03:00.000-08:00

To celebrate our twentieth wedding anniversary, my wife and I took a cruise to Alaska. One of the excursions we most looked forward to was Dog Mushers Sled Camp near Juneau. We learned about the dogs, sledding and, of course, the famous 1100 mile Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race. Another thing was there for learning too, if anyone was interested.

I'm always amazed at the little moments that occur when we least expect them, as if the universe is reaching out to tell us something we need to hear. Here's one such moment:

After a spin around the dirt track on a modified-for-tourists dog sled, one of the camp crew, Josh, led us under a wooden pavilion to give us the history of dog sledding and the creation of the annual Iditarod Race by Joe Redington in the 1970s. The real lesson came during the question and answer session. Josh was asked how he, a boyish-looking young man, came to work as a musher up in Alaska.

Josh related that he had always promised himself that if he were ever to be laid-off from his factory job in his native Indiana, he would go to Alaska to find some adventure. Sure enough, the day came when he was suddenly unemployed. He sold everything he owned that couldn't fit into one piece of luggage and purchased a one-way plane ticket to Anchorage, in the heart of Alaska.

Once he arrived, he found trouble getting work. So he bought a rifle and a canoe and took to the river. During a stopover in Manley Springs, a place so small that everyone knew everyone else and it was easy to spot an outsider, Josh met Joe Redington, Jr. A professional musher, dog breeder and son of the famous Iditarod Race founder. "Ever thought about mushing?" Joe Jr. asked Josh. He replied, "Not really, but, hey, why not?"

Josh went to work for Joe Jr. helping raise and train the Husky dog-sled team that would race each year in the competition. Josh went on to become a musher himself. He bought some land in Manley Springs, bought some racing dogs for breeding and embarked on a whole new life. All because he had the courage to follow his dream: move to Alaska. Everything else flowed from that single jumping off point.

The lesson here is that it is possible to change your life and reshuffle the deck. It just takes enough nerve to consider what your next step will be and to follow through when that defining moment arrives. And I don't say that lightly. Josh left his family and friends behind. He set course down river and took a big leap of faith that he wouldn't drown along the way (both metaphorically and literally). Could you do the same? I know I can, I have and I will again.

Because, sometimes you can't there from here.

I'm just saying...

THROWING IN THE TOWEL MONKEY

2010-11-29T16:01:00.000-08:00

In the midst of celebrating my twentieth wedding anniversary, I opened the door and found myself staring at... a towel monkey. That's right, an origami-in-cloth creation dangling bemused from a coat hanger in my cabin onboard the ms Oosterdam, a gift from the cabin steward.

Now there are two things that are significant about this seemingly insignificant moment.

First and foremost is the fact that I've been married for twenty years. That is very significant, not to mention very satisfying. It's not easy to share a life together for that long under the best of circumstances, but it can be especially challenging when one of the partners is in the entertainment business. That fact alone dooms many marriages that begin with optimism and end with bitterness. Hell, many artistic careers (actor, writer, musician) follow that exact same trajectory!

I don't want to preach here, but I'd like to share my thoughts on how to make a marriage last while pursuing your creative dream: eat dinner together every day. Oh, and talk to each other at dinner every day! There's no replacement for communicating each and every day. Talk about the serious and the trivial. Share your hopes and fears, just like you did when you were dating. If you don't grown together, you'll surely grow apart. Stay connected! And a word of advice if you love someone who is an artist: never make them give up on their dream. It's part of who they are; it's part of why you fell in love with them. Instead, let the dream grow and change just as your relationship grows and changes over the course of years of dinnertime conversations.

The second thing that is significant about this towel monkey moment is that it occurred on a ship. You see, my wife has always wanted to take a cruise. I, on the other hand, have always dreaded it; I don't like the water. So for our fifteen wedding anniversary I booked us a cabin on the Queen Mary, which has been firmly docked in Long Beach, CA since 1967. A luxury cruise liner from the first half of the 20th Century, I reluctantly figured that this was going to be as close as my wife and I got to being on a cruise ship.

But my wife never gave up on the cruise thing, mind you. It still came up from time to time during one of our many dinners together. That's how I knew it was important! Topics that come up are always worth paying attention to. So when circumstances came together at the right time, I decided to act. Coincidentally, we had both been hearing wonderful things about Alaskan cruises from different people over the course of several weeks. The idea just kept presenting itself over and over again. I believe that if it seems that the universe is talking to you through coincidences, I suggest you act on it. So for our twentieth wedding anniversary, I bravely stepped outside of my comfort zone and did the impossible: I set sail on a ship that actually left port!

The towel monkey was my reward, my trophy. The cabin stewart was just having some fun and showing off his skills, but for me it felt like validation for letting go of my old ways and trying something that I never expected to do. I ended up loving the cruise to Alaska and can't wait to save up enough money to do it again.

It goes to show that you never know what you will like based upon what you think you won't like!

I can't write more profounder than that!

I'm just saying...

TRICK OR TREAT--OR--WHO WAS THAT MASKED MAN REALLY?

2010-10-21T13:30:00.000-07:00

Whenever I hear "Trick or Treat" I think, of course, of Halloween and dressing up in costumes. For many people it's their favorite holiday. That's always puzzled me. I personally have nothing to do with Halloween. That seems to mystify people until I explain to them that as an actor I get to put on a costume and play make believe with each and every job. It's no stretch to say that when people wear costumes they feel different and many times act differently. Halloween, I've come to realize, gives adults permission to engage in a socially acceptable fantasy life.

But, again, Halloween just doesn't do it for me. Not even when I was a kid. Honest. I would have been perfectly content to wear my Lone Ranger costume around the house and backyard while imagining I was fighting off bad guys. But going out in public? That just felt weird. Plus, I was compelled by the rituals of Halloween to knock on stranger's doors yelling "Trick or Treat!" This was something that the real Lone Ranger would never do! And when I wore the costume, I felt like the real Lone Ranger. See the conflict? Well, I'm certain many a psychologist would have a field day here...

Anyway, this got me to thinking about how an actor goes about pretending to be somebody else. When I started out acting, I found that putting on the costume really helped me create the character. Essentially, I felt more like the Lone Ranger when I dressed like the Lone Ranger (not that I continued dressing as the Lone Ranger, you understand... this is just an example). As an actor, this process of creating a character is referred to as "working from the outside in." Developing physical affectations during the rehearsal period such as a particular walk or voice or posture falls into this realm. An example might be walking like a hunchback as the first step to discovering how to play Richard III. Early in my acting career this process seemed to work best for me. But I soon realized that my performances were only scratching the surface. I needed to work harder and go in the opposite direction. I decided that I needed to "work from the inside out."

This process is all about discovering who the character is through his past actions, his likes and dislikes, and finding out / deciding what motivates them. Why do they behave the way they do? This often involves writing a brief biography of the character starting with what the playwright or author has given us in the text. From there we have to decide what things are true and what things are false -- as seen from the character's point of view. The character's point of view is everything! For example, even if the script says that the character was the son of a coal miner, you can still decided whether this is a fact, a lie, or an assumption by others. This is how you create layers of subtext, the meanings behind the actual words spoken, giving your portrayal more depth and complexity. Always be as specific as possible when discovering motivations. Avoid things such as "He doesn't trust women because his mother never loved him." Okay, but try this: "He doesn't trust women because his mother used to smile and gently stroke his face before slapping him hard and eyeing him with disgust." Feel the difference? I'll say! The more specific you can be, the stronger your portrayal will be.

Working from the inside out can be tough and it does involve homework, but if you're a serious actor, that 's the price of doing your very best work. Working from the outside in, as I used to do, is a quick fix and restricts your performance; it becomes all surface and no depth.

So now whenever I dress up as The Lone Ranger, I have first created his history as lawman John Reid of the Texas Rangers. I have examined, in the first person, how I feel being the sole survivor of an ambush by Butch Cavendish and his gang of outlaws. And I have decided what the word "Kemosabe" really means whenever Tonto calls me that. So, when someone asks, "Who was that Masked Man?" You can be sure that I know!

And I wonder why I don't get invited to Halloween parties...

I'm just saying...

WHEN YOUR BEST AIN'T GOOD ENOUGH

2010-10-09T13:37:00.000-07:00

There are times when we hit a wall and can't imagine how we are going to get through it or around it. But the truth is, we've been here before. Sure, a different point in our life and a different wall, but we've done this before. We overcome obstacles each and every day. Some are rather small, like getting through the checkout line at the supermarket. Others are more weighty, say for example, dealing with a personal conflict with a friend, child or spouse. We usually get through these obstacles instinctively. But what about the really big obstacles in life? The ones that stop you dead in your tracks? The ones that glare down on you, instilling fear and insecurity? Man, those just suck!

And yet... we've been there before. Search your mind for the very first time when you did the impossible. Maybe it was in high school or college or even last week. Think about a situation you found yourself in when, deep down, you feared that your best "ain't gonna be good enough." What do you think my first impossible moment was? Completing my first film? Getting my first professional acting role? Having my first nationally published cartoon? Nope. None of those "impossible" things would have ever happen if it weren't for 30 pushups...

I enlisted in the US Army right after high school. I wanted to go to college. I wanted to be an actor. But... what if I failed? That was something I deeply feared. So, at 17, I begged my parents permission to become a soldier. It was not what they wanted for me. It was not what my friends wanted for me. I couldn't articulate the reason for my choice at the time but it was this: I figured if I could survive Army Basic Training, I could survive anything!

And so my eggs were in one basket. I reported to Fort Jackson and submitted to the hardest eight weeks I had even known. We marched, ran obstacle courses, and trained for combat in sweltering heat and oppressive humidity. One member of our platoon collapsed due to heat stroke, complete with convulsions. He left our platoon and never returned. Still, I did everything that was asked of me. But, by the fifth week it was apparent to my drill sergeant that I would not be able to pass the End-of-Cycle PT (Physical Training) Test. Specifically, I could not do 30 pushups. Not even close. Sure, I earned an Expert Badge in marksmanship, I could run 2 miles wearing combat boots in the allotted time and I could do more than enough sit ups. But 30 pushups? That was impossible for me.

I was summoned to the Captain's office at the end Week 6. Only two weeks left until graduation. The captain calmly explained the situation to me: I would be recycled to Week 3 with another platoon and repeat the past three weeks. Or I could quit and go home. He made it clear that he was not going to let me stay in his company if I was not going to pass the PT Test. I had hit the wall. I hated the thought of leaving my company to join another. I hated even more the prospect of returning home as a failure. The captain had a Vietnam unit combat patch on his right shoulder. He was here to make soldiers and weed out any weak links. After a long pause he told me, "Drop and give me as many pushups as you can!"

I dropped into the front leaning rest position and began doing pushup after pushup. I had never been able to do more than 20 before. In the stifling heat of the captain's office, with failure and humiliation staring me right between the eyes, I managed... 24. Not good enough, I knew. But I stayed in that front leaning rest position, my weak arms shaking now. He watched me do nothing. Not another single pushup. Nothing. I just stayed in that position until he ordered me to "recover." I snapped back to attention.

The captain looked long and hard at me and then said, "I was going to recycle you today, but I'm going to keep you in my company. You know why, private? Because you never dropped to you knees; you never quit." Just like that, I was dismissed.

However, I could still only do 24 pushups... How could I get to 30? I owe that feat to a guy named McKinney. When he saw that I was still trying in vain to do 30 pushups only two days before the final test, he pulled me aside and said, "I can guarantee you'll pass if you do what I say without question." McKinney had never spoken to me before. "Okay," I stammered. All of 5 foot 3, McKinney took me into the latrine and had me do pushup after pushup until I my arms gave out. Then he'd thrust me between two sinks and stretch my arms out before making do more pushups. We repeated this ritual until I reached 100 total. McKinney, it should be noted, did 100 consecutive pushups each and every night! He told me not to do any pushups the next day (Sunday) in order to rest my muscles. Only on Monday morning, when I took the actual End-of-Cycle PT Test, would I know if I could do 30 pushups.

I did 37 pushups that morning. Next, I passed my sit ups with flying colors. But, inexplicably, I was falling behind the pace for the minimum two-mile run portion. This was the final part of the End-of-Cycle Test and I was about to blindsided by failure. Then another guy in my platoon, Schwimmer, slowed his pace and dropped back to me. He got me breathing right and pushed me to go faster and get back on pace. When he saw I was good, he sped off. He finished with a much slower time because he came back to help me. And so I passed. I did the impossible for the first time in my life.

I've never viewed any problem or situation the same way since. When people remark about my tenacity or my relentless drive to succeed, I owe it all to five minutes in the captain's office when I refused to quit. And also to a little tough guy named McKinney and a kind-hearted fellow named Schwimmer.

So, whenever you think your best ain't good enough, remember that you can do the impossible. Just don't ever quit and don't refuse help if a person feels kind enough to offer it!

I'm just saying...

BIG. FAT. FAILURE.

2010-09-05T14:20:00.000-07:00

"It is fallacy that what ever doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger. Sometimes it leaves you a whimpering ball of pain and desolation... One of the realities about being a creative person, an artist if you will, is that you will risk failure in a very public way. Actors get bad reviews, writers get rejection slips, and filmmakers who fail are cast aside for ones who succeed.

Your drive to succeed must be greater than your fear of failure.

This is a brutal business and if you aren’t up to the task you will be hurt. If I stop and think about it, I’ve failed most of the time (hundreds of auditions as an actor, dozens of screenplays and treatments left unsold as a writer, etc.). I just don’t usually take the time to stop and weep at the carnage. I ignore it and move on. The truth is failure doesn’t stop you. Not trying is what stops you."

I wrote the above passage for my book "Long Night's Journey Into Daybreak," wherein I detailed the lessons I learned while making my first feature film, "Daybreak."

I have spent my life surrounded by creative people and find that we all go through spells of lamenting the passage of years as related to our relative lack of success. You see, in our dreams, we all imagined a certain level of success and the comfort that goes with it. And so we've all had our moments where we proclaim ourselves "big, fat failures."

It begs the question, is time a predator that stalks us or a companion that accompanies us on our journey? It depends on your point of view. Time is indeed a predator when you examine the ledger and find that you are far behind in the things you want to accomplish. For example, I began filming interviews for my documentary "Radio Changed America" in late 2004. I am currently working on upconverting those materials from Standard Definition to High Definition. Imagine how shocked and downright pissed off I was to realize that I've been toiling for six years on this still-uncompleted-artistic dream! Hell, I felt half-consumed by the predator Time!

So, as to be expected of a creative person, I proclaimed myself to be a "big, fat failure." Not that I took out an ad in Daily Variety, of course. Worse, it was a jumbo neon billboard inside my head... Now, a little failure is good for the soul; these are the wounds from barbed wire fences separating us from our goals. However, dwelling on these little failures is both counter-productive and genuinely upsetting to those around you. Our lived ones suffer with us. They know all too well how deeply failure cuts the creative soul. They offer ceaseless words of encouragement. If we are wise, we take them!

Time is a companion in the sense that as we journey, we change and adapt with each passing event. We gain wisdom; feel fear and pain; flood our senses with joy and exhilaration and even stop to thank our loved ones for all those words of encouragement. We grow as artists and as human beings. it is that growth that fuels and creates our works of art. In this way, the many years of making "Radio Changed America" will prove to benefit the final work itself. If this work takes ten years to make, it simply means that it needed each of those ten years! It's like thinking about the statue of David. The final form was always there, encased in a slab of marble, until Michelangelo set it free...

Fear of failure is okay. Failure, itself, is okay. But, not trying? I honestly can't imagine what that must feel like...

Perhaps David eternally encased in marble?

I'm just saying...

I AM. I DO.

2010-08-29T15:17:00.000-07:00

Last week I heard a funny joke: What is the shortest sentence in the English language? "I am." What is the longest sentence? "I do. " The obvious reference is, of course, to marriage vows. After I chuckled at the clever play on words, I started to think about the two phrases and how much they relate to creative people.

We define ourselves with the words "I am." For example, I am a filmmaker. That's my creative self and that's who I really am. (Insert the words that apply to you: actor, writer, poet, singer, songwriter, painter, etc.) Too often we let ourselves be defined by what we "do," specifically what we do for a living. When I moved to Los Angeles many years ago I was an actor. However, to earn a living in order to get my start, I took a job working security at Universal Studios on the graveyard shift. It was that occupation that paid my bills, not acting. To the outside world I was a security guard with a clip-on tie and shiny plastic badge. But it never was who I was, it was only what I did.

The world judges us based on what we do for a living, right? So do our neighbors, right? Do they really? I don't know... maybe... but I don't care. A long time ago I saw the difference between who "I am" versus what "I do." I am an artist; I do what I have to to pay my bills and enjoy my life.

The conflict for a creative person is that, after a while, the "I do..." part of our lives overshadows the true "I am..." part. That's not only sad, but downright tragic for the creative soul. Our dreams are so much a part of what keeps us going, what keeps us "doing" the jobs we have to in order to one day merge "I am" with "I do." But for many, the twain will never fully meet and "I am..." will remain far from what "I do..."

Remain vigilant for the creeping melancholy that saps your creative dreams and weakens the "I am" part of you. Never give that up and never demean it! If you have an artistic soul, it is for a reason! Embrace it and learn well the difference between "I am..." and "I do..."

And if this little pep talk stirs your soul and reinvigorates you complete the next Great American Novel and you feel compelled to dedicate it to me... that would be fine.

I'm just saying...

STRANGELY ENOUGH, IT ALL TURNS OUT WELL

2010-07-31T19:03:00.000-07:00

Philip Henslowe: Mr. Fennyman, allow me to explain about the theatre business. The natural condition is one of insurmountable obstacles on the road to imminent disaster.
Hugh Fennyman: So what do we do?
Philip Henslowe: Nothing. Strangely enough, it all turns out well.
Hugh Fennyman: How?
Philip Henslowe: I don't know. It's a mystery.

I love this exchange at the opening of the film "Shakespeare in Love." Anyone who has worked in the theatre can absolutely relate. From rehearsals on a bare stage, where ordinary masking tape on the floor indicates where the walls of the set will eventually go, to the final dress rehearsal counting down the hours until opening night with a critic or two in attendance, all involved feel the rush towards disaster. Props may break, sound cues fail to sound, lighting cues fail to light and, on occasion, actors may fail to make their entrance on time. However, there is nothing as thrilling as live theatre. And yet, strangely enough, it all turns out well! And it seems to be a mystery.

Now what happens if you replace "the theatre business" with "my creative life"? Every artist, be they actor, writer, musician, painter or poet, set about to take our dreams (which are only outlines on our mind's stage floor), from blueprint to concrete reality. We practice tirelessly as we work towards our goal, our opening night. We feel plagued by "insurmountable obstacles" and frequently feel we are close to "imminent disaster." Yet, we continue on, all the while fearful of broken props, technical miscues and even of missing our own entrance! A kind of stage fright can take hold and shake your insides, trying to get you to cancel "the show."

What do you do then? Nothing. It all works out in the end--IF you stay true to yourself and trust your talents. The show must go on! Sometimes we think too much about the "critics in the audience" and give them too much power over us. Can they really make or break us? No, they cannot. Only we can do that.

Perhaps there is no real "mystery" involved. It's about hard work, dedication and a touch of fearlessness.

So, trust that your props will not break and believe that all of your cues will be delivered exactly as planned and, for goodness sake, don't miss your entrance!

I'm just saying...

WHAT'S WITH THE HAT?

2010-07-11T14:15:00.000-07:00

Anyone who knows me knows that they are likely to see me wearing a fedora hat whenever I am making a public appearance. I don't wear one when I'm walking the dogs or cooking hamburgers on the grill. I do wear one whenever I travel or am in a place where I am likely to meet people. Nowadays the short-brimmed fedora is making a comeback, but I will always sport the two and a half-inch brim felt version, thank you very much.

So, what's with the hat, anyway? Well, for me it has multiple meanings. The first and foremost one is that it is a tribute to my grandfather (pictured above). A funny and affable man, he always sported a fedora even in the dead of summer. He died when I was still in high school and I still have his last fedora put away as a keepsake.

A look through my high school yearbook reminds me that I wore a fedora in my first school play. I played Louie the janitor and insisted that the character sport a cheap hat from JC Penneys (lower left picture). I also owned one throughout my years in the Army (second from the left), at my wedding (third picture), and own several fedoras today including a Panama hat for summer months (right hand picture).

At every turn, this style of hat served my main purpose: stand out from the crowd. Personally, I prefer blending in with the crowd, however in my chosen work (actor, filmmaker, and public speaker) "blending in" is the last thing you want to do. Years ago I was struggling with my personal shyness undermining my desires to work professionally as an actor and filmmaker. I read a book called "The 48 Laws of Power." In it, two "laws" spoke directly to me: Law #6: Court Attention At All Costs and Law #25: Re-Create Yourself.

Under Law #6 the author wrote: "Everything is judged by its appearance; what is unseen counts for nothing." The point being that unless I was somehow visible to people in social and work settings, I was wasting valuable time. (You might be surprised by how many conversations begin with someone approaching me saying, "Nice hat." The ice is broken and I can easily fall into a conversation. Afterwards, I am doubtlessly remembered as "The Guy in the Hat.")

I love Law #25: Re-Create Yourself. "Do not accept the roles that society foists on you... The world wants to assign you a role in life and once you accept the role you are doomed." That's great stuff! For me, it meant that if I did not create a role/image, then someone else would. Why would I cede that control to anyone but me? The fedora basically says: Look at me! Remember me! The rest of how I am perceived is up to me and my own personality. But it's the hat that opens the door and sets me up. All I have to do from there is BE ME.

In life, especially in the entertainment business, it is vital that you stand apart. Talent is no good if someone doesn't point to you and say "Show me what you've got." In other words: it counts for nothing. Most of us fall back into the comfort of the pack and cannot figure out how to break free. Here's how you do it: think about the image of the "Ideal You" that you'd love the world to know you as... then methodically craft a new external you that beings to separate you from the crowd and the old version you. Start with clothes including shoes-- upgrade and choose a style. Add at least one unusual accoutrement such as a hat, a ring, bracelet, or even a walking stick if you think you can pull it off! The new external you will help you believe in the new "ideal you" inside. You create an image that you can inhabit to pursue your dreams, and one which can be discarded in private moments when you are among friends.

"Michael James Kacey" (MJK) is an ideal version of myself. At times, it is a role I play; a protective suit that I wear into battle as an artistic soul in a business full of promise and often stunningly devoid of passion and creativity. Whenever the cold, cruel world rejects Michael James Kacey, I just shed that role and focus on being plain old Mike. I take nothing that happens to MJK personally. That's business.

Now this image-creation thing is not limited to show business. Anyone can do this. If you feel unhappy about the way people see you, you can do something about it. If you don't define your image, someone else most definitely will!

I'm just saying...

THE FLIGHT PLAN OF FATHERHOOD (OR THINGS THEY NEVER TOLD YOU ON THE GROUND)

2010-06-12T07:56:00.000-07:00

I mailed my father his Father's Day card today and it got me to thinking about fatherhood. You see, I've experienced it from both sides now.

My father had the task of raising me while working endlessly as an independent carpet installer. This meant that there were no such things as paid vacations. Only unpaid gaps in between jobs, which especially would dry up in the winter months just when heating oil was needed. My mother somehow made whatever we did have last long enough until more more jobs and money could be had.

Growing up, my father was a very blue-collar guy (a fact I am very proud of, by the way) and yet he never made me feel less-than-manly for liking acting and plays and books. But, he did have to learn not to "ask" if I'd like to work with him on a carpet job if he needed a helper. If I was asked, it implied "free will," and I would turn him down. He'd get mad and then I'd get mad and, in the end, I'd have to work the job with him. What I learned was this: 1) some things in life are truly voluntary while other things are merely coated with the appearance of choice... and 2) when your father asks you for your help, take the opportunity to be with him and learn from him! Time flows faster than you think when you're young, and you can never go back.

Now, for the past twenty years, I have been the father. I moved my wife and our two sons from Pennsylvania to Los Angeles so that I could live my dream. I don't mean to say that my sons were "along for the ride." No way; they turned out to BE THE RIDE!

Laughter and tears, pride and fears...

The first thing you learn about fatherhood is that there is no manual. There are no instructions and "your results will vary." I compare raising kids to flying an airplane. Take off is thrilling and the gradual ascent during clear weather is overwhelmingly beautiful. As the flight continues, you find that your initial flight plan must be revised. In fact, you will spent most of the trip constantly adjusting your course and altitude. Sometimes you avoid the storms... and sometimes you have to fly through them. And during some of those storms (especially during adolescence) the turbulence is so severe you wonder if you can land this puppy in one piece. You may even have a fleeting thought of bailing out in mid-flight. But, like any good pilot, you knew the risks before takeoff!

You tell your passengers (your children) to buckle up, review the safety instructions and remind them not to smoke in the lavatory! And, with the aid of Air Traffic Control (your wife, who can guide you as you fly on instruments-only through the dense fog wherein ALL frame of reference is lost), you pilot the plane safely to its destination. You wish your passengers "good luck" as they disembark for their own adventures.

If you've done it right and the kids get off the plane in one piece... and you and Air Traffic Control are still are friendly terms, take the time to celebrate!

I'm just saying...

JESUS CHRIST SUPERSTAR AND MIKE'S TEMPLE OF DOOM

2010-05-23T15:15:00.000-07:00

It's funny what triggers memories.

I recently began listening to my old record albums after finally finding a place to get a new stylus for my 25-year old turntable. Anyway, one of the albums (actually a double-album) is the rock opera from 1970 "Jesus Christ Superstar." A concept album that spawned a Broadway show and a film. Great stuff, of course, but it suddenly threw my mind back to 1984 when I performed in the show in the show-stopper role of Herod.

Now it should be noted that I cannot sing and I cannot dance. Not to save my life. And yet I've done three musicals. I was once told to put "singing" on my acting resume, because "everyone can sing." I decided against lying on my resume and advise anyone else the same. Not everyone can sing, trust me! Nevertheless, I never let it keep me from a role...

First of all, an actor wants to act. You never know what you can do until you try. And you never know what role will change you forever...

When I arrived at the Fort Ord Cabaret Theater in 1983 I had for two years been learning the ropes in Army community theaters. I played leading roles right from the start. I also acquired lousy reviews from the start, such as "not a show standout" and "struggling vocal performance" and "crooning a song... purposely embarrassingly." (Sadly, not on purpose at all...)

Undeterred, but a bit beaten down, I arrived at the Cabaret Theater to audition for "The Cruficer of Blood." Thankfully, it was not a musical. When I arrived I was greeted by a mop-headed man with a thick beard in blue jeans and flannel shirt. I assumed he was the man who cleaned up around the place... To my surprise this rumpled fellow was Michael Cheak, the man who was the artistic director and creative force behind the Cabaret Theater. He did not inspire confidence in me, a young man sorely in need of some... But, as I said, an actor wants to act, so I stayed and read for the play. I scored a major role (nothing new for me) and my first good acting review (which was a first for me!). In fact, the phrase "excellent acting" immediately preceded my name.

From now on I vowed to do whatever the rumpled mop-headed fellow with the beard said!

My third and final show for Michael Cheak was "Jesus Christ Superstar." I was mortified. This is not just a little acting and singing and dancing, folks, this is a ROCK OPERA. Michael had plans for me, if I trusted him. Good question. I would be leaving my recently achieved comfort zone and risking public ridicule. Michael cast me as Herod. I had one scene and one song--but it was a show-stopping number called "Herod's Song." I didn't want it to be show-stopping in the negative sense! I would have to sing and I would have to dance... and I would have to carry a fully grown dog through the audience as I exited (don't ask). My costume was black boots, a satin black cape and black bikini briefs with gold studs on it. That was it. I kid you not! Now singing and dancing were the least of my fears! Again Michael Cheak said "trust me, you're better than you think."

And so I went on with the show. We even did a couple of outdoor mini-concerts to publicize the play. The photo above is me singing "Herod's Song" with my two lovely attendants (in the show they wore sexy corsets).

It was this role that got me my very favorite review of all-time, citing my "diabolically sensual performance... enhanced by a repellently depraved costume." You truly had to see it to believe it!

After this, I never feared another role or artistic challenge again. Michael Cheak saved my acting ego and forged in me an artist that never looked back again. He held a belief that only I could do the role the way he envisioned it... or, perhaps, I was the only one who would wear the depraved costume...

I'm just saying...

THE HAUNTED THEATER

2010-04-24T16:43:00.000-07:00

Not too long ago I was back in my hometown of Shamokin, Pennsylvania. While running some errands for my mother I found myself sitting at a red light at the edge of downtown. My eyes took in the view and settled on a parking lot where the Victoria Theater had once occupied. I sighed, as I always do.

Whenever I look at that spot I still see the old movie palace right where it had stood since 1917. I fell in love with films at that theater. Its towering ceiling, ornate with art deco majesty, the textured heavy golden curtains that parted as the previews began, and the florescent clock that softly marked the minutes until the show began all remain vivid in my mind.

My grandmother would take me see the latest Disney fare. My dad took me to see "Battle for the Planet of the Apes," "King Kong" and "A Bridge Too Far." I sat between my parents and nearly peed my pants laughing at Peter Sellers in "The Pink Panther Strikes Again."

As the 1970s came to an end, the first multiplex arrived. It wasn't in Shamokin, but the 30 minute drive to the newly constructed mall was worth it just to see the latest release. You see, movies took weeks and months to reach the Victoria in Shamokin. The mall screen was small and the ceiling was made up of acoustic tiles, but your feet didn't stick to the floor the way they always did at the "Vickie."

Once a new release finally made it to Shamokin I would stop in and see it again. The silver screen was 40 feet wide and "Raiders of the Lost Ark" and "The Empire Strikes Back" looked much more impressive than at the mall! It was the IMAX of my youth.

I left Shamokin in 1981 to join the US Army. The theater's attendance fell as the cost of repairs and maintenance went up, I suppose. Near the end it was used as a haunted house during the Halloween season. Finally, the heavy gold curtains closed for the last time and the florescent clock was unplugged. The art deco ceiling began to fracture and leak. The west wall collapsed one morning and the building had to be demolished in 1999. From its 1917 opening with vaudeville shows and silent movies to the classic golden age of movies and the gritty cinema of the 1970s, the Victoria Theater beckoned movie lovers in Shamokin, Pennsylvania. I count myself as one its lucky patrons.

When I made my first movie, "Daybreak," I took great pains to make sure that the grand old movie palace was seen in the background of one of the scenes. That was about a year before the end of the Victoria Theater. It was my tribute to the place where I fell in love with cinema.

The reverie ends. The traffic light turns green and I head home, my errands completed. I still see the theater exactly as it once stood. I always will. It haunts still me, I guess.

I'm just saying...

GET YOUR HEADSHOTS RIGHT

2010-04-23T12:08:00.000-07:00

Once you decide to pursue work as a professional actor, you'll need to get your tools together. The first and perhaps most important tool is your headshot-resume. If there's one thing that an actor needs to get work, it's a great headshot. It's the first thing the casting director (or anyone else) sees. It's your first impression. If they like the look of the 8x10, they'll turn it over and peruse your resume listing your credits, skills and training.

A quick word about your credits, skills and training: don't invent! People might ask you about the bogus credit and, if you don't know something or someone that your should, it will taint your reputation quickly. You may, from time to time, exaggerate a little bit (this is Hollywood after all), but do not flat-out lie. This goes for skills your list on your resume. If you say that you can ride a horse while juggling then you better be able to do it--and do it well! Someone once told me to put "singing" on my resume as a skill. "Everyone can sing," my adviser told me. No. Not true. I cannot sing. So I do not list signing as a skill. I do list "cartoonist" and "radio disc jockey" as these are both jobs I have earned a professional paycheck for in the past. Finally, advice about training: get some locally. Even if you have a BA in Theater from a prestigious university, get some names on your resume that the casting directors will recognize. Plus, it's a great way to start networking, which is another important component of an actor's life.

So, back to the headshot. Most actors have at least two "looks." One look is always a closeup showing off your eyes and conveying personality through your expression. The other look is a wider shot of your body and is typically your "character" look. What kind of roles can you realistically play? What does your body shape and size most broadly indicate? My days of a leading man vanished as quickly as my hairline. Hey, those are the facts! Don't kid yourself. Craft a look that your can make money at in the acting profession.

If you examine my collection of headshots you can probably see me in different roles based on different photos: dad, neighbor, insurance salesman, used car salesman, drunken bum, hard-nosed cop, good guy and bad guy. These are all my looks. On "Beverly Hills 90210" I was the boss of a car wash; on "All That!" I was a funny security guard; I was a dad in a Cracker Jack commercial; an oil company worker in "Live from Baghdad" and a doctor in "The Horribly Slow Murderer.."

My concluding thought on the topic of headshots is: make sure that you look like your headshot and it looks like you! You do no one a favor if your headshot makes you look incredibly good courtesy of airbrushing and Photoshopping tricks. This also means that if you gain a lot of weight or lose it, get new headshots to reflect it. Also, as you get older, make sure your headshots acknowledge that fact! That's where I'm at now. The gray on my temples appears nowhere in my headshots.

I'm actually looking forward to seeing what new looks I have now! Senator? Executive? AARP commercial guy?!

I'm just saying...

THINKING ABOUT MOM... AND ABBOTT & COSTELLO

2010-02-28T19:28:00.000-08:00

Whenever I think of Abbott & Costello movies the memories are powerfully joyful and nostalgic. As I child I would watch them every Sunday morning on WPIX Channel 11 out of New York with my mother. Mom loved Abbott & Costello! So did I.

By the time I was a teenager I began to understand and appreciate the artistry of these great comedians. Lou Costello, ever round and wide-eyed, had the innocence of a babe. Bud Abbott was the overbearing, know-it-all straight man. Not exactly a sympathetic role to play, but Bud Abbott was flawless in his timing and fearless in his straight man duties. After all, the meaner he was to Costello, the more we loved Costello!

Out of high school I enlisted in the Army. At a bookstore in San Angelo, Texas one afternoon in early 1982, I saw a new biography about Lou Costello: "Lou's On First" written by his youngest daughter, Chris. I devoured the book, all the while hoping my childhood hero wasn't a troubled mess of a person in real life. Turns out he was a sweet wonderful man who loved his family and loved making people laugh. Boy, that made me feel better! I would talk to my mother once a week from a phone booth just outside of the barracks and relay the funny stories from the book to her. We laughed together.

Finally, I stepped into the role of Lou Costello while stationed in Monterey, CA in 1983. My best friend Phil Cappel played Abbott and we worked hard to perfect the legendary "Who's On First" baseball routine. It was for a theater review and we were great! One man told us after the show that he'd only ever seen it performed better once--when he saw the real Abbott & Costello live in the early 1940s. After one of our performances, the commanding general of Fort Ord requested several of the acts to perform at a formal banquet they were having. The other actors did their bits at the microphone they had set up. Phil and I ignored the microphone and walked out into the audience and in front of the general's table to perform. We were the hit!

The photo attached is of Phil and me as Abbott & Costello. We both ended up getting assigned to Okinawa Japan. We reprised our roles and added several other classic A&C routines for another theater review in 1985. I recently discovered and edited some video of these routines and placed them on You Tube (www.youtube.com/michaeljameskacey).

Flash forward six and a half years. Phil is my Best Man at my wedding, the following week am his Best Man. At each of our wedding receptions, we strode front and center and performed "Who's On First" to cheers and laughter.

Last year I had the wonderful pleasure of meeting none other than Chris Costello, Lou's daughter whose book I had devoured and shared with my mother so long ago. More than just meeting her, we've become friends. My wife, Chris and her sister Paddy and I spent a wonderful day together at the Getty Center laughing, viewing artwork and sharing stories. Again, this was other Lou Costello-related story to share with my mother.

As I write this my mother is in the hospital in the ICU. She's doing well and getting better every day. But when I think of her, I think of Sunday mornings and Abbott & Costello. I think of my best friend Phil, long ago adopted into the family by my mother, and again I think of Abbott & Costello. And now when I think of Abbott & Costello I have the pleasure of thinking about my new friends, Lou's daughters Chris and Paddy. Small world, eh?

I'm just saying...

THAT TIME OF THE YEAR AGAIN

2009-12-23T12:23:00.000-08:00

I love the holiday season and enjoy Christmas very much. Lately, however, my thoughts turn from holiday cheer to a seemingly annual appraisal of my Year in Review. Perhaps it's a product of growing older, as if I suddenly realized that I only have so many years left to review...

The Mike Kacey Year in Review torment I put myself through is now joined by the forward-looking project of... Tax Preparation. Before sugar plums even have a chance to dance in my head, I find receipts and deadlines swirling about instead! I remember a time when I never thought about taxes until March or so. Now it completes with Saint Nick. Ah, but life was simpler then. Those were the days before marriage, fatherhood, property and investments. Back then I never did a Year in Review, either. Forward was the only direction that mattered and time was on my side.

For me, the self-inflicted Year in Review assessment always leans on the side of what wasn't accomplished as opposed to those things that were accomplished. That isn't fair and balanced! But as I get older the years rush past with alarming speed and my focus comes to rest on only those things yet to be accomplished. Will 2010 be the year I finally am able to make my next film? Of will I be wishing that goal for 2011 in another twelve months?

You see what I mean? A person could get lost in such thoughts.

So, I am now making a vow to let go of "things not yet accomplished," if only through Christmas and New Year! I will now use this time, the Holiday Season, to celebrate the life I have attained up to this very moment. My family and friends are to be loved and enjoyed; my successful accomplishments are to be dutifully acknowledged and even savored! I may even look back on the long road I have traveled to get to this point. I will allow myself the pride and joy that is mine for the life I have lived and created.

I will set goals for 2010. I will organize my receipts for taxes. But not today.

I'm just saying...

THE HORRIBLY SLOW ACTING CAREER GETS A BOOST

2009-11-28T14:56:00.000-08:00

The email arrived while I was in Pennsylvania visiting my parents. My good friend Paul Clemens had agreed to star in a short film from the director of the acclaimed horror short "Criticized." Paul loved "Criticized" and sought out its director, Richard Gale. The pair hit it off immediately and the wheels were set in motion to create Richard's new vision: "The Horribly Slow Murderer with the Extremely Inefficient Weapon." Paul would play a man who is attacked by a maniacal murderer bent on killing him with... a spoon. Yes, a spoon.

I was happy for Paul, who began his acting career in the 1970s appearing in film and television projects with Ed Asner, Stefanie Powers, Brian Dennehy, James Mason and Malcolm McDowell. Paul was the star of my film "Daybreak" and is truly one of the very best at his craft. I remember making sure that my bartender character had a scene with Paul's character so I could share screen time with him. As fate would have it, we were about to share screen time again...

Paul suggested that Richard audition me for the small role of the Doctor. It was only a one-line part (seemingly my specialty) but the scene had to be played just right. Richard was making a horror spoof and the comedy had to played very straight--no tongue in cheek stuff here. Well, anyone who knows me can vouch that in real life I hardly ever say things without my tongue in cheek! So I made sure to deadpan the line as I auditioned for Richard. I must have said it 10 times (I think I started laughing several times--the scene is so funny). Satisfied, Richard extended his hand and said, "You're my doctor." Just like that, I was cast in a film!

Working with Paul was a blast and working with Richard Gale was awe-inducing. Now you may think that I'm trying to kiss up to Richard (who has won two Emmys, by the way) and you'd be right--to a point. Truth is, he really is good. He ran a comfortable set, gave clear direction and kept the energy level high during filming. Trust me, it doesn't often happen like this on a film set. Especially for the actor doing one line!

I have been out of acting since 2004. That's when I left me agent for what I thought would be a few months but turned into forever. I couldn't keep up with the grueling (and largely unfulfilling) auditions. Besides, I turned my energies to my next film "Radio Changed America." I'm still working on realizing this project! So I was a bit nervous about acting again. I always thought I was a very good actor and just figured it was like riding a bicycle. Luckily, it was!

I am thrilled to be a part of this film which has gone on win awards at film festivals and to rocket to the top of You Tube in its first month of release on that website! "The Horribly Slow Murderer with the Extremely Inefficient Weapon" has received nearly 1.3 million views as I write this. Perhaps in that vast pool of 1.3 million viewers is at least one casting director looking for a guy to play the role of a Doctor! You never know, it could be that one-line character that ends up making my acting career comeback.

Check out the film at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9VDvgL58h_Y

I'm available for one-line roles...

I'm just saying...

MY CORWIN UNIVERSE

2009-10-30T10:56:00.000-07:00

At times it seems that my personal and professional life has become Norman Corwin-centric. That is understandable since I just completed three days at the Friends of Old Time Radio Convention in Newark, NJ, selling my "Poet Laureate of Radio" DVD and striking up conversations with interested fans.

Plus I went to the studios of WOR AM-710 in New York City to appear on "The Joey Reynolds Show" where I spoke about Corwin and my effort to get him recognized with the Congressional Gold Medal and/or the Presidential Medal of Freedom.

And if that wasn't enough, a few days ago I spoke at King's College in Wilkes Barre, PA, presenting for an hour about Norman Corwin. Finally, in my idle time, I have been reading "Norman Corwin's One World Flight" which was just published last month!

The thing is, I have yet to get tired of reading and discussing Norman Corwin and his works. So if you invite me to a dinner party you have a darn good idea about what I'll be blathering on about! And yet, with all my knowledge and reverence for the man, I sometimes feel ill-equipped to spread the word in a way that makes a lasting impression. Everyone's attention span is so short these days and I feel that the tiny window I have to impress upon someone my admiration of Corwin and to inspire them to look him up is just not enough. Now the students whom I spoke to at King's College were and attentive and intelligent lot. I had the luxury of an hour or so to drawn them into my Corwin world.

I'm very excited about the prospects for a mutlti-CD retrospective of Corwin's works from Radio Spirits. They did a superb job with their recent Arch Oboler Retrospective! Plus, Radio Spirits put out a 2010 calendar featuring Norman Corwin as the photo for May (the month in which he will celebrate his 100th birthday). In fact, the countdown to his birthday on May 3rd will likely only make my life even more Corwin-centric!

Add this: I almost forgot, but in January both Norman and I will be interviewed by German journalist Christian Blees for an audio documentary to air on German NPR. The old time radio convention held every June in Seattle (REPS) has invited me to be on a Norman Corwin panel and even direct a live Corwin radio show recreation! And I'm certain my life-with-Norman Corwin will not end there.

I have faxed my senators, congressional representative and the President regarding my effort to have Norman Corwin recogized by our nation in 2010. So far, the plea has fallen on deaf ears. After this vacation I must buckle down and keep hammering home my arguments on Corwin's behalf. It is high time that he be rescued from obscurity and be once again held in high esteem by this nation!

Now that I've gotten all of that off my chest, I can sit, relax and ponder... what shows should be included in the Radio Spirits box set?

My mind always comes back to Norman Corwin.

I'm just saying...

AN EVENING WITH NORMAN CORWIN

2009-09-29T19:00:00.000-07:00

On September 15, 2009 radio hall of fame writer-director-producer Norman Corwin held an audience of approximately 100 admirers spellbound at the book signing of his latest--a manuscript written 60 years ago and tossed in a drawer! It's called "Norman Corwin's One World Flight: The Lost Journal of Radio's Greatest Writer." Many notables were in attendance, including Ray Bradbury, Leonard Maltin, Eva Marie Saint (who performed a book reading with her husband), Richard Dysart and Janet Waldo (voice of Judy Jetson and star of the radio series "Corliss Archer").

I, too, was in the audience and very happy to see the mass of humanity crowding around the table where the living legend sat. The applause that greeted him was long, loud and warm. Norman took it all in, a smile on his lips and a twinkle in his eyes. He gave credit to the book's editors Michael C. Keith and Mary Ann Watson, who were also in attendance. For nearly two hours people waited for their chance to get an autographed copy of the book and perhaps have their picture taken with him.

I was lucky. I did not have to press forward to reach Norman. My autographed copy was back at his residence and I would stop by several days later to receive it while visiting Norman, chatting and drinking some tea. I felt so blessed that I could consider myself a personal friend of Norman Corwin and I enjoyed every moment of his rock-star-like status at the Westside Pavilion Barnes & Noble.

As an artist I feel too often that I have not accomplished the things that I've dreamed of and fear the onslaught of time racing to overtake me. I constantly press forward and struggle to attain the lofty goals set inside my head. And yet there is wisdom in stopping for a moment and taking a look around. Here I was, a boy from Shamokin, PA, at an event for a great man and personal hero. Even more amazing, I was now a friend of this man. To my right was the always gracious Leonard Maltin standing unintentionally by a rack of his own books. I smiled. The my left was Janet Waldo. She was quietly being introduced to a little girl as the voice of Judy Jetson. When Janet spoke (Judy Jetson is her natural voice) the little girl smiled and her jaw dropped a bit in awe. I smiled some more.

I inhaled the air of Barnes & Noble deeply. For in this moment in time, I felt more successful than I had ever felt before.

I'm just saying...

RADIO DAZE

2009-08-28T17:34:00.000-07:00

I've always loved radio. As a kid growing up I would listen to it all the time: news, sports, music, the CBS Radio Mystery Theater and even the Metropolitan Opera! Anything and everything that came across my red AM radio transistor radio was fair game.

I remember exactly where I was when the radio in my father's basement informed me that Roberto Clemente had died in a plane crash. I remember the first episode of the CBS Radio Mystery Theater that captured my imagination in the dark of my bedroom. It was called "The Black Room" and was about a man who was thrown into a room completely devoid of light. He was expected to go mad as all of the others had. But a tiny mouse had found its way in and the man shared his meager ratios with the creature. He survived because of companionship.

And so radio was never far from my mind. Even when I was in the Army, especially while I was overseas in Okinawa, Japan, the Armed Forces Radio was an oasis of "home" in a desert of Japanese words and music.

So it was no surprise that when I went to college I volunteered at the radio station, WPSU-FM, and NPR affiliate. I started as a DJ on the Saturday night 10pm-2am Molten Metal Show. Ozzie, Sabbath, Metallica, and Dio were largely my playlist. I then moved on to host and produce the Monday-Friday noon-1pm show "Midday Magazine," which was a mish-mash of various NPR shows the station would download off the satellite feed every week. Finally, I found time to write and direct three original radio dramas for a show I called "The University Radio Theater."

A friend of mine back in those days, (now Tucson Arizona radio personality) Jonas Hunter, asked if I would fill in on the overnight shift on the local classic rock station on Memorial Day. No pay, but... So I did the show and soon Jonas got me on the staff as a part time disc jockey on WQWK-FM. For me, it was the big time! I was on the air for two years either doing the overnight shift on Friday and Saturday nights or the 6am Sunday morning slot. As you can infer, I was never so sizzling hot that I was put on the air when most people were listening... I was solid, competent and reliable. Yes, I was always on time and that kept me in radio. But I was having a ball and took whatever I could get.

I remember that whenever it snowed, it was my job to shovel the sidewalk in front of the station (during an on-air shift, mind you!). I learned which were the longest songs in our music library and if I had to shovel a lot of snow I would reach for the Iron Butterfly vinyl album and cue up "In-A-Godda-Da-Vida" on my trusty turntable. The next 18 minutes and 36 seconds were spent outside with a snow shovel. Still, I loved this job!

After graduation I moved onto to a small Adult Contemporary station near my hometown, WPSI-FM. I only worked there a short time before moving to Los Angeles to focus on an acting career. The only memories I really have of that station consist of various Taylor Dayne songs... broken up by WIlson Phillips songs...

So I figured that while I was trying to get my acting career off the ground, I might as well look into doing some part time middle-of-the-night shift in Los Angeles. I knew the competition even for such minor shifts is fierce. C'mon, this is LA! So it was not a surprise that I couldn't break into the radio scene here, but I do clearly remember my only radio job offer...

A religious themed station in Long Beach, KGER, was looking for someone to "run the board" during the overnight shift. All of their programming was satellite fed and only required basic monitoring and an understanding of how to keep the output levels from running into the red. Easy. I had over three years experience at that plus more (although the snow shoveling skill was of no use now...). The interview went well. I was offered the job... no pay for the first two weeks. They wanted to "try me out" first. SAY WHAT? Feeling that a Commandment was being violated, I protested. "Surely my time is worth at least minimum wage, isn't it?" A shrug that said, "If you won't do it, someone else will." So someone else got to do it!

That's how my radio career ended. Sure, I've been on radio stations as a guest on some of the biggest radio stations around (WOR New York, KDKA Pittsburgh, KLBJ Austin), but every time I hear Ozzy or Dio, "In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida" or heaven forbid, Taylor Dayne-- I flash back to the control room and some of the happiest times of my life.

I'm just saying...

THE DAY I MET NORMAN CORWIN

2009-07-31T11:46:00.000-07:00

My second film is titled "The Poet Laureate of Radio: An Interview with Norman Corwin." It was supposed to be my second film or any film for that matter. It was a single interview for what will be my third film, "Radio Changed America," a documentary on the history of radio and the parallels with the birth of the Internet.

Norman Corwin is probably the greatest writer-director-producer from the Golden Age of Radio. He wrote and directed the first four-network broadcast, "We Hold These Truths," in 1941 starring James Stewart, Lionel Barrymore and Orson Welles among others. 63 million people heard the show. That was half of the US population at that time. President Roosevelt closed the program. His other wartime credits are too numerous to cover. Edward R. Murrow even produced one of Corwin's series from London in 1942: "An American in England."

I prepared like a madman for this two-hour interview in December 2004. Mr. Corwin was 94 at the time. It was to be the most important interview I had done to date, rivaling even the great Art Linkletter. So naturally, as things go in the movie business, disaster after disaster struck. It rained. Poured! I was concerned for Mr. Corwin's health on such a damp, blustery day. Then my producer Dave Sanford had a family emergency. Then my other producer (and sound operator) Chris deLiz caught the flu and could not risk infecting Mr. Corwin. That left me, my cinematographer and my son, the grip... (A grip is a person who essentially lifts and moves things on a movie set.) He was quickly promoted to sound mixer for this once-in-a-lifetime interview. I was sick to my stomach! However, as is also customary in the movie business, I swallowed my fear and went to pick up (and meet for the first time) radio legend Norman Corwin at his house in west Los Angeles.

We arrived back at the Culver Studios lot for the interview on time. Everything was ready to go. I smiled, asked my questions and sat entranced by the depth and breadth of his answers. We spoke not just of his radio career, but also of topics such a modern radio and TV, the war in Iraq, and what it means to be an artist in this life. Mr. Corwin was so impressed with the interview that he suggested it be released in its entirety to the public. I did some editing, added title cards and music cues and remixed some of the audio. That was all there was to it. The film was released in late 2006 and earned praised from none other than movie critic Leonard Maltin.

Even more unexpected was a friendship that developed between me and Norman (by the way, it took two years until I could bring myself address him by his first name). As I write this he is 99 years old. I have recently begun an effort to have this long-forgotten American icon recognized with either the Congressional Gold Medal or the Presidential Medal of Freedom. I want this to happen by the time he turns 100 years old on May 3, 2010. If you're interested in signing the petitions, please go to www.PoetLaureateOfRadio.com. If you'd like to learn more about Norman Corwin, please visit www.NormanCorwin.com. Check him out!

I'm just saying...

AFTER TWENTY YEARS

2009-07-15T06:15:00.000-07:00

I just worked as an extra for the first time in twenty years! (See my post on "The Curious Case of Matlock-itus"). The film is called "Take Me Home" and I play "man-opening-office-door."

The filming was in an office building over this past weekend, which means that the air conditioning was shut off! The heat was intense but I never heard a cross word from either cast or crew. Amazing! This was one excellent set to be on! Even more impressive, the director Sam Jaegar (many know Sam from "Eli Stone") is also the star. I acted in three scenes in my film "Daybreak" and nearly lost my mind while Sam carries the pressure of the starring role. He was both affable and firmly in charge (a rare combination). Did I mention it was hot as hell in the building? Directing and leading a crew is hard enough in mild conditions, so I was doubly impressed!

Check out the movie website at www.takemehomemovie.com and listen to Sam's podcasts about filmmaking. This guy is one to watch! My thanks and kudos to the entire crew and movie's producers. It was great fun to be a part of this gem of a movie.

I'm just saying...

SUPER COOL KRIS ROBERTS ON A MILLION DOLLAR WEEKEND

2009-06-30T17:50:00.000-07:00

When I was young, all I wanted to do was be a disc jockey on the radio. I can remember listening to "Million-Dollar Weekends" on WISL 1480 AM, Shamokin, Pennsylvania. I could never figure out why they called the weekends "Million-Dollar." No one ever won more than a free Big Mac on WISL... Tom Kutza hosted the morning show as he had almost since the station went on the air in 1948, Bernie Flynn was the evening shift guy, but my favorite was the deep bass voice of the weekend nights: Kris Roberts (or as I called him, "Super-Cool" Kris Roberts).

While in high school I made my radio debut on WISL during Tom Kutza's morning radio show. I read the weekly Shamokin Area High School News with my pal Rich Bitting. The five-minute show was pre-recorded on tape the Saturday night before the Monday morning broadcast. That meant Rich and I could hang out with the one and only Super Cool Kris Roberts. The first thing I will say about this small-town part time DJ is that his "announcer voice" intonations were that same on-air and off. A simple phrase like "Hello there, guys" made you feel like you were being welcomed to a TV game show.

Kris was cool. If we were there near the "top of the hour," Rich and I would watch him check the time as the Steely Dan tune ended, "pot up the mic" and "front-sell" the next record. Inevitably, he'd run to the AP teletype down that hallway and rip off about three feet of copy. A few pencil marks and Super Cool Kris Roberts was ready to read the hourly newscast. If he came to a word that he didn't know, it didn't matter to him. You say "Yucatan Peninsula", he says "You-CAUNT-a." Yep, he was so cool he could stress the wrong syllable and add letters when they didn't exist.

There is nothing like hometown radio. I miss that station. Eventually it became all syndicated programming and had no local jocks. It's off the air now. Unfortunately that's what has happened all across the United States. Many local radio stations no longer exist as they once did. "Voice tracking" now allows a disc jockey to simulcast to many stations at the same time. You know when you hear one of these stations because when they tell you the time they never say what "hour" it is. It's always "half-past the hour" or "sixteen minutes after the hour." Yes, but WHICH hour?! Yup, I miss local radio.

Ten years after our high school radio days, Rich and I were living those adolescent dreams. I was working at a classic rock station as a part time weekend jock at WQWK-FM in State College, PA, and Rich was on the air every fall broadcasting the local high school footballs game on WISL.

And what of Super Cool Kris Roberts? Well, imagine my surprise to learn that his real name was Blaine and he was a police officer when not on the air! Well, Blaine must've been one cool cop. I can imagine him reading me my rights with that rich bass announcer voice... "You have the RIIIGHT to remain SIIILENNNT...."

I'm just saying...

A LITTLE HOBBY KNOWN AS "OTR"

2009-05-11T15:04:00.000-07:00

I just attended an Old Time Radio convention and had a great time. I've been a fan of OTR (as it's abbreviated) since I was a teenager. Great stories are great stories no matter how old they are, in my opinion.

This year SPERDVAC (the Society to Preserve and Encourage Radio Drama Variety And Comedy) held its three-day event at the Beverly Garland Holiday Inn in North Hollywood, CA. The venue was excellent and I took the opportunity to set up in a suite and conduct a few more interviews for my current film, "Radio Changed America."

I owe SPERDVAC and its 2003 convention for rescuing me the depths of a melancholy caused by the stresses of trying to get my first film, "Daybreak" sold to a distributor. The years spent creating and marketing seemed to have failed. I was left with what amounted to a very expensive home movie. I was sick over it.

In an effort to shake the blues, I attended the convention for the first time. It was a cathartic experience. I felt happy and forgot all my other troubles during a weekend of Old Time Radio recreations featuring some actual veteran actors from the Golden Age of Radio.

Almost immediately after the convention ended, I found new vigor in my filmmaking efforts. Not only would I see "Daybreak" through to a US distribution deal, but that 2003 convention gave me the idea for my next film project: "Radio Changed America." I have been hard at work on it ever since! Through this project I have had to meet and interview radio legends such as Norman Corwin and Art Linkletter as well as many other great radio performers like Dick Van Patten, Bob Hastings, Peggy Webber, Elliott Reid, Gloria McMillan, Jan Merlin and Tommy Cook. Only this morning I was on the phone with 97-year-old legendary announcer Art Gilmore. It is an honor and a thrill to speak with these individuals.

So whenever I attend a SPERDVAC convention I remember how it helped break me out of a deep rut of self-pity and launched me forward, continuing my career as a filmmaker.

"Daybreak" now has a Producer Rep and an international sales agent. My second film, "The Poet Laureate of Radio: An Interview with Norman Corwin" came directly out of this current project, which will be my third feature film.

If there is a lesson in this, it is this: seek comfort in things that you love and get out of the house to meet others who share your love of these things! For me, that was a little hobby known as OTR.

THE CURIOUS CASE OF MATLOCK-ITUS

2009-03-20T08:05:00.000-07:00

My network television debut was on September 19, 1989. I was an extra in a bar scene on the fourth season premiere of "Matlock" on NBC. I was still in college and working summer stock theater in Manteo, North Carolina, when I learned that Andy Griffith was bringing the cast and crew of his series to Manteo (where he lived). All the actors and aspiring on the entire Outer Banks salivated at the oppportunity. This was the Big Time!

Now when I say "summer stock," it conjures up images of performing in "A Streetcar Named Desire"or "Guys and Dolls." But for me, this particular summer, the best I could do was performing at a living history historical site called the Elizabeth II and run by the state of North Carolina. A group of actors with sharp improvisational skills were hired each year to portray the crew of the 1588 English expedition to the New World. A replica of the ship was docked at the site and an encampment was set up down a path from the dock.

I played Randall Latham (we chose our names from the actual manifest of the expedition) and was a soldier at the encampment from June until August. Clad in authentic cloth and wool clothes, I sweated my summer away entertaining tourist by answering their questions and making fun of the way they walked, talked and dressed (because I was still in 1588, you see...)

So when "Matlock" came to town and began casting extras, most of the cast jumped at the opportunity. Two actors got to play reporters one day. The rest of us covered for their absence. About a week later, myself and two other actors got cast as barflies for two days of filming. Now the boss decided that enough was enough and we we not allowed to do the show. I was furious because we had covered for the other actors and now we were being denied our day on a real TV show set. Plus, I grew up watching "The Andy Griffith Show"and wanted to see him in person.

So when the morning came to film I (and my fellow two actors) called in sick to work. I told them I had "Matlock-itus." By the end of the shooting day, the boss found us outside the bar being used for filming and told us we could keep our jobs only if we came back to work the next day instead of continuing as bar extras. Only I refused to return to work. It was a good thing, too, because that was to day I was able to get my face featured in the shot!

I was sitting in a large room with chairs dubbed "The Holding Tank." This is were all the extras hung out until they were asked to come to the set. The first setup of the day was a camera dolly down the bar stopping at guest star Jeff Wincott and the bartender. Primo visibility for an extra. Well, they looked us all up and down and picked the three they wanted at the bar. I was not among them. About ten minutes later, one of the assistants came back with one the chosen actors. he was too tall and made the guest star look very tiny. They asked for someone who was 5'8". To my surprise, no one raised their hand, so I did. I'm 5'10" plus wearing cowboy boots that add another inch, but I figured unless they measure me, why not? I may be 5'10" but I can play 5'8"!

So I got the bar stool next the Jeff Wincott and drank real beer all morning long during each take. After lunch they poured me one and told me to stop drinking the "props." So after lunch the stunt men come in to film a fight scene with a knife, then the guest stars step back in to film the close-ups. I loved the entire day and made sure my face could be clearly seen in between guest stars Casey Biggs and Christopher MacDonald! (Remember, if you can see the camera, the camera can see you.)

In the end I kept my living history job, made me network TV debut and got to be on a set with Andy Griffith. Andy was not friendy I remember, but after all he was not "Andy Taylor" on the set, he was Andy Griffith, a working actor and star of the show. He could be friendly in real life, but this was work.

Whenever I catch the episode on TV, I always watch the first 15 minutes to see my scene and remember just how important and special that day was.

I'm just saying...

BEHIND THE SACRED CASTING DOOR

2009-03-15T14:39:00.000-07:00

Auditions are the lifeblood of an acting career. Without them, you're just an guy with 500 headshots in the trunk of your car. For my part, commercial auditions made up the bulk of my professional life. There are several locations in the greater L.A. area that house a number of commercial casting directors.

The first rule is NEVER be late. Now the casting director may likely be 30 minutes behind schedule, but it is unwise for you to be lagging behind. Usually finding parking takes longer than the actual audition. Nothing sinks your stomach faster than running late and having to leave your car in a spot where shattered glass sparkles along the curb. I'd feed the meter with as much as I could afford or the meter could take and walk briskly into the building.

In these multi-casting director places I would walk into a large open space with doors lining the perimeter. The rest of the room often resembled a mosh pit, a sea of actors undulating to and fro as everyone shifted their weight from having had to stand so long. There were never enough places to sit and if you had the opportunity you were rewarded with a hard bench and no visibility.

Being able to see what's happening can be the difference between getting in when it's your time or getting passed by. Each of the doors lining the perimeter of the room led to a casting director's suite where the audition takes place. Next to each door is a white-board listing what commercial is being casted. The sign-in sheet is below the white-board. I'd find my white-board, sign in and take a look at the copy (script of the spot). Sometimes I was able to obtain a fax of the spot the night before the audition, but most times I would have to walk in cold. I only knew what part I was up for. For me, it was either "Dad," "Executive Boss, " or "Bald Guy."

At a time of their choosing, a casting assistant would poke his head out of the sacred door and call the next actor's name. Here is where you can get passed up if you can't see the assistant. In the cacophony of actors milling and mulling it's easy not to hear your name called. So for that reason, I almost always stood regardless of space on the bench.

Once inside the sacred casting door, I would hand the casting assistant a photo-resume and head for a red piece of tape usually on wrinkled gray carpet. That was the "mark." Sometimes another casting assistant sat watching, perhaps reading the other dialogue in the script or sometimes just eating a burrito from Taco Bell. Just as likely I would be there with only one assistant who read the dialogue, operated the camera recording the audition, and directed the actor. From the caliber of some these casting assistants, I used to suspect that their previous job had been making the burritos at Taco Bell.

I would slate (say my name and my agent), turn left and then right (profiles) and begin the scene. Commercial auditions are largely impersonal and quick. Dozens of actors will vie for the coveted role of "Bald Guy" in the next Jack In The Box spot. Perhaps five will be called back to read for the actual casting director and the commercial's director. Only one gets the job. The spot may be local, regional or the ever-desired national. A national commercial can run up to 21 months, paying the actor residuals all the way.

Some actors are lucky enough the star in a continuing series of commercials. Others are just as lucky by have the "in" look. Ever notice how you will see the same actors in different commercials for about a year? They have the current "in" look. I usually looked a lot like other actors who already had the "in" look and were taking all the jobs I could potential be cast for. It can be a lonely and occasionally depressing life as a journeyman actor driving from audition to audition. Rarely would I leave an initial audition feeling good. Most times I felt like a monkey searching for his organ grinder.

However, when my agent would call and tell me I got a call-back, I would be elated. The call-back was, for my money, the real audition. I loved call-backs because I would sit in a room full of actors that I had seen on TV. This was the level of competition I enjoyed. You're treated better at call-backs. They don't try to know your name, mind you, but they don't look through you as often at this stage. They also give the actor more professional direction than at the burrito-eating assistant level where I was once directed to play the scene as if I was retarded on one take and then as a child molester on the next take. This was for a telephone company commercial where I played a man asking someone directions! What's up with that?

If this missive seems tinged with bitterness, I apologize. It should read only as being tinged with wry contempt!

I'm just saying...

5 QUESTIONS FROM LOS ANGELES MAGAZINE

2009-02-27T12:45:00.000-08:00

In the February 2009 issue of Los Angeles Magazine there was a series of questions asked of six film critics. I thought it might be interesting to explore...

Here are my answers:

1. The first movie I fell in love with:

"King Kong" (1933). I used to live in northern New Jersey as a kid and I remember this movie on WOR Channel 9. I loved the "monster" as he ran amok in New York City and finally plunged to his death from the top of the Empire State Building. Even as a child I understood that Kong was a victim and that "Man" had done him wrong (not Fay Wray). Plus this movie has a great curtain line: "Twas beauty that killed the beast."

2. The movie I will watch again and again:

"Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein" (1948). It may not be a high-brow choice, but this movie satisfies me on all levels: Bud and Lou were my favorites as a kid, as were all of the classic Universal horror movies. This movie had A&C and Bela Lugosi as Dracula, Lon Chaney Jr. as The Wolf Man and Glenn Strange as the Monster! Wow. The production values were great (especially for a 1948 B-picture from Universal-International), the movie is both hilarious and scary and Frank Skinner's music score was perfect. I'm eight years old all over again.

3. The movie star I will see in anything:

Jack Lemmon. No actor made it look easier. Comedy, drama, and especially that range of real-life in between: he was the best.

4. The movie that stops me in my tracks when I'm channel surfing:

"The Hunt for Red October" (1990). Great movie based on an equally great book. I love Alec Baldwin, James Earl Jones, Sam Neil and especially Sean Connery in this movie. Part of my love of this movie is my own background serving in the intelligence field while in the Army. This Cold War thriller brings back a lot of memories. I always mean to watch a few scenes, then, next thing I know, I'm watching the whole thing! "The Godfather" is a close second, by the way.

5. The movie that made me want to be a critic:

In my case, replace "critic" with "filmmaker." For me, it was "Citizen Kane" (1941). I first saw it in college on the big screen. I was entranced. From the camera angles, to the dialogue and non-linear narrative structure, I was acutely aware that there was the hand of a great master at work. And Orson Welles was a man of great things: great talent, great appetites, great vision, great ego, great failings and great successes. The passion and drive that permeates "Citizen Kane" inspires me and fills me with my own personal great expectations that I may yet achieve.

So that's how I answered these questions. What are your answers?

SWIMMING WITH THE SHARKS

2009-02-15T12:46:00.000-08:00

One of the eternal truths about Hollywood is that there's a new bus arriving daily, bringing more acting hopefuls and more competition. There is an industry that lives off of the fresh faces and dreams of these hopefuls. It's the "Let's get you into show business" business. Some are more blatant cons than others. Some are legit in that they do provide what they say they will provide. It just gets you nowhere near the real business. You spin on the wheel until you decide to jump off.

It was not any different for me. I had my headshot (8x10) taken and duplicated, ready to announce my presence on the Hollywood acting scene, and mailed hundreds out to all of the LA agents. I did student films for aspiring filmmakers at USC and LMU, I auditioned for theater groups and plays and went to "seminars" in which one paid to meet casting directors and read a scene for them, hoping against hope that they would call you in to read for a real professional job. In fairness, I did land my first auditions through these "seminars."

By preserving, meeting people and getting some work, I was able to join both acting unions: AFTRA and SAG. From there, it was much easier to land my first real agent, the one who got my career started with jobs like "Beverly Hills 90210," "All That," a "Cracker Jack" national commercial and scene with Michael Keaton and Helena Bonham Carter in the film "Live From Baghdad."

But before that, I was scurrying about in the shady world of "entrepreneurial" Hollywood agents and businesses. One agent signed me, but wanted me to go to their "highly recommended" photographer who would give me a special deal. Later I realized this special deal included a kick-back to the "agent." The next agent signed me and conveniently ran his own on-camera acting workshop. No kick-back there--I paid the agent directly!

But my favorite detour on my professional acting career was signing on with APS, the Actors Promotional Service. Still in business, this is one of those businesses that does what it says it will, but keeps you on the gerbil wheel. For a monthly fee they would send out my headshot and resume to casting directors every week. I was mailed a report as to where they all went. They held motivational meetings and planned special Industry Networking Events. I signed up for one which was held in an upscale gated community near Pacific Palisades.

The other shoe dropped when it was revealed that each actor attending (and having already paid a fee to defer expenses) had to sign up for a shift working the event! Yes, we were to serve the "industry guests" while schmoozing them! Now, what are the chances an industry executive will "discover" the bartender of waitress? I was stunned. Curious to see just how this train-wreck really played out, I signed up as part of the clean-up crew. This allowed me to mingle during the entire Sunday afternoon event and take it all in. I love people-watching and this was both hilarious and very sad.

I cleaned up the garbage with a wry smile, shaking my head at both what I had observed and the fact that I had to pay for this privilege.

I'm just saying...

INSECURITY REIGNS

2009-02-08T16:22:00.000-08:00

I came to LA to find work in the motion picture industry. My first job provided me just that: a job at Universal Studios! Home to Hollywood history dating back to 1915, this was the home of Abbott & Costello, Flash Gordon and the Frankenstein Monster. Steven Spielberg first bluffed his way into the industry by sneaking onto this lot and setting up shop in a vacant office! After that, of course, no bluffing was needed--he was the real deal.

I proudly drove my shiny silver 1979 Mazda hatchback through the Main Gate every evening. I parked near the Jack Webb Building, just down from the famous Black Tower of the legendary Lew Wasserman. I entered what had previously been a film vault and now housed the Lower Lot Security Department. Yup, I had made onto the Universal lot as a security officer. I was now "in security." Each night from 11pm to 7am I had the run of the place, patrolling the famous back lot. When it was quiet, I'd sit on the steps of the "Back to Future" courthouse eating my lunch, knowing these were the same steps Gregory Peck climbed as Atticus Finch in "To Kill A Mockingbird." I also got to patrol all of the sound stages prepped for filming sitcoms, films and commercials. My favorite was Stage 28, the Haunted Sound Stage.

Stage 28 dates to the 1920s and houses (to this day) part of the opera house set from both the 1925 and 1943 versions of "The Phantom of the Opera." Whenever a show films inside, they drape the three-story opera set with black cloth. Why is it still there? Because, legend has it, that every attempt to dismantle it has met with someone being seriously injured. Noises are heard in the rafters, suddenly lights turn on and off, and one person claimed to me that they were tripped on the steps by an invisible hand grasping their ankle. How cool!

My love affair with this job ended in 1992 when, around 2am one morning, tanks containing chlorine for the Miami Vice stunt show on the Upper Lot began leaking. Poisonous chlorine gas low-crawled down the hill, settling into the basin of the Lower Lot sound stages. The security watch commander ordered the lot be closed until Hazmat could respond. Several security officers were issued painters masks to protect them from the fumes (it did not) and I was given a respirator with oxygen tank, which would have been fine if the tank contained any oxygen inside (it did not). I knew I was in deep trouble when Channel 7 News decided it was too risky to report from my location and promptly made a U-turn. By 4:30am the emergency was under control and the lot opened for the day. Myself and three others were showing signs of respiratory distress: burning lungs, shortness of breath, and light headedness. A van was summoned to transport us to St. Joseph's Hospital in Burbank. We waited and waited. Finally the watch commander somberly told us that the "Colombo" people had shown up and needed the van for this morning's shoot. We would have to drive ourselves. I shouted back as we exited the tiny office, "If I die, they better dedicate the episode to me!"

After that, things were never the same. But that's okay; it was time for me to move on. After all, I was here LA to work as an actor, not a security officer. So I quit with the satisfaction that righteousness was on my side. Onward and upward, my heart sang out!

But times were tougher than I thought. My wife and two sons had now joined me in LA and I had to stay employed. No one wanted to hire me except for a small security company in Santa Monica whose office personnel sat placidly behind bulletproof glass. They issued me a single uniform and sent me to guard a bank parking lot in South Central LA eight hours a day, Monday through Friday. It was the scariest $5.25 an hour I ever earned!

I'm just saying...

FADE IN:

2009-02-03T20:23:00.000-08:00

Where to begin with a blog? Well, naturally, I should begin at the beginning. Not to worry, I have no intention of recounting my childhood (which was fine) or my stint in the US Army (which was enlightening) or my years in college (which were... boy, I can't remember!). Nope, I'd like to start with my first step toward a professional career in acting: moving to Los Angeles.

Some things never change. I was just another in a long line of other aspiring actors who arrived in this sprawling metropolis, eyes wide and jaw agape. First off, Los Angeles is a sea of concrete: freeways, buildings and sidewalks. Coming from the lush rolling hills of Pennsylvania, I was stunned by the sheer breadth of the city. Strange how quickly I would come to love it.

I drove out to LA in 1990 with an old friend named Steve who was in between jobs and game for an adventure. I had $600, no car and no job. Fortunately, I had another friend who had an apartment in Torrance, in the South Bay area of LA. Unfortunately his new girlfriend had just moved in and my time in Torrance would be, of necessity, short. I had to find work and a new place to live. To do both I had to find a car!

Try to buy a car with no job, no permanent address and not enough money. (Get used to overcoming seemingly impossible odds if you want to move to LA and work as an actor!) After a few days of test driving cheap cars (my favorite was the Ford with the rear view mirror that fell off after I closed the door), I ended up driving a brown sedan when I noticed a curious thing: the odometer reading was several thousand miles less than the odometer figure noted on the paperwork I found in the trunk. It had been rolled back. I couldn't afford this car anyway but I decided to try to trade my newly discovered information of illegal activity for a substantial discount. The car dealer quickly made a phone call and said he had a different car for me at next to nothing. He sent me down the street to another car lot where I was told to ask for Snubby.

Snubby showed me the silver 1979 Mazda and told me it was mine. It was so inexpensive that Steve was able (and graciously willing) to put the purchase on his credit card until I could find a job. However, this particular car lot couldn't process credit cards. Then Snubby had an idea. He took us to a nearby Pet Store who could process the card. My pal walked out of there with a receipt for pet supplies he never bought while I got the title to a car. How Snubby and his boss got reimbursed was lost on me.

So my first LA car (and LA is very car-centric) was sold to me by a man named Snubby, purchased at a Pet Store with a paint job so fresh that I was cautioned not to wash it for a few days...

I was beginning to like this Hollywood adventure until the transmission dropped out three months later. The repair bill was as much as the car!

I'm just saying...