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ROWELL GORMON

V O I C E O V E R S

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Everybody Should Have an “Uncle Willie” (part one)

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The Man of Multiple Names Could Hear My Multiple Voices

To his wife Joyce, his co-workers and other friends he was “Bill”.  His mom, my grandma,  always referred to him as William Thomas (I always wondered who that “William Thomas” guy she kept talking about was).  But to me and my younger brother Lee (pictured above), he was Willie.  Not even “Uncle” Willie…just Willie.  It was what my mom and his other siblings called him, and he graciously allowed us to keep using that name for the rest of his life.  Willie was probably the person most responsible for developing my creative talents and imagination.

Don’t get me wrong.  Mom always read stories to me (shifting her voice with the characters), and she and Dad always made sure I had imaginative toys, books, records, crayons & paper,  and  (of course) plenty of cardboard boxes.  Dad had plans to go into drafting (before the government beat him to it and drafted him for a little assignment in 1940s Germany), so my drawing and cartooning abilities doubtless came from him.  Mom and Joyce both made puppets for me over the years and if they ever thought I was weird for doing the voices of my stuffed toys as I played, they never let on.  But it was Willie who actively joined in the play, and invited me to join in his own, right thru adulthood.

The Electric and the Eclectic  

It was Willie who fostered my interest in things electronic.  He built me a crystal radio set and showed me how to string antennae wire all over grandma’s spare room and listen to voices and music over the headphones.  It was Willie who put me on the air for the very first time…even if it was just a quick “hello” over his custom-built ham radio set-up.

It was Willie who took me over to visit his friend Don Scales, who built hi-fi systems and had this funny contraption called a tape recorder.  He let us kids not only record our voices, but play around with tape echo effects.  And some years later it was Willie, through his connection with Don (also chief engineer at the home town radio station), who got me my first part time job as a radio announcer/dj  while I was still in high school.  It’s no false modesty when I say it was Willie’s doing  and not my own talents — I still have the original audition reel and it’s cringeworthy!

When I got a tape recorder of my own and started messing around with character voices and the sound effects I could pull off my cartoon kiddie records, Willie not only encouraged me, he wrote some silly “radio serial” scripts about the guys he worked with in the radio/tv repair shop at Sears – “The Adventures of Picture Tube Charlie”, and did some of the voices alongside mine.  I’m told the gang at work kept bugging him for new “episodes”.

Expanding the Circuit

While I never learned any electrical engineering, Willie did provide for the advancement of my on air style, creating a makeshift “portable consolette” for me out of old record players, a recycled cart machine, basic microphone and a small mixing board which he built himself.  I even used it at a few of my high school dances…the only time you’d find an un-datable square like me at such an event.

Willie , who worked as a TV Repair man at Sears, salvaged an old b&w tv from the shop and got it working so I could have it in my basement lair at home (another blog for another time).  That was the one I remember watching the first moon landing on.  During college, he repaired another set for my first apartment, and it was the first color tv in our immediate family.  Willie and Joyce had a big RCA color console at their house, of course, with sound that could be rigged through his custom stereo.  As kids, we were thrilled when a Saturday family gathering or a rare overnight stay gave us a treasured glimpse into this magical new world of color.  Promos for the upcoming week’s “Batman” almost gave me a sensory overload!  On more than a few Sunday nights, mom and dad grudgingly let our visit go into overtime so we could watch Walt Disney’s Wonderful World of Color before heading  home.

Still later, during the Betamax years, Willie could always be counted upon to faithfully watch the tapes  I’d bring home of a tv commercial or promo I’d directed or appeared in, or the few clips I was able to snag when my puppet characters and I appeared on the local kiddie show, “Time for Uncle Paul” (again…another blog for another time).

Even when the rest of the family wasn’t really that interested, Willie (and Joyce) served as my enthusiastic and encouraging audience.  And Joyce actually contributed one of the makeshift puppets I used on the show, Malcom, who was built from a teddy bear body and a ‘cookie monster’ style head that could “eat” cookies through a slot in the back of his mouth.  On the show, though, he quickly developed into a sweet, slow-witted soul not unlike Edgar Bergen‘s bumpkin, “Mortimer Snerd“.  The puppets couldn’t actually do much, physically.  But they really came alive as characters.

But Willie’s influence, and Joyce’s, didn’t stop at local radio and local tv.  It’s literally gone around the world thanks to all those years of creative nurturing.  More on that in the next post.

— over and out —

Hitting the Voiceover Trail (you can’t get there the way I did)

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It’s an honest question. I get it a lot.

“How do I get into voiceovers?”

Usually, the person wants a Secret Formula…wants to know how I did it…wants to know how to follow the same path I did.  The thing of it is:  you can’t follow that path.  It simply doesn’t exist anymore.

Broken Roads

The first thing I used to tell these people (back when I knew everything) was, “Get a part time job at your local radio station.”  My start was a 250 watt AM station in a small Indiana town, which (until they added FM) could barely reach the city limits.  Places like that do still exist, but now they’re usually just outlets for syndicated programs with someone else doing all the talking.  Even if you did manage to find a station that’d let you do much on the air, chances are you’d be stuck in a rigid format that frowns on any individual personality.

Voiceover’s “Poison Pill”

But let’s say you did find a local station that’d let you keep that mic open for more than ten seconds at a time.  Chances are, you’d be learning and developing skills alright… the wrong ones.  For one thing, you’d likely be tempted to sound like the other radio DJs you’ve heard all your life, and who are on the air with you now.  Trouble is, that DJ sound is exactly what voice seekers don’t want anymore.  They avoid it like the plague.  Send out a voice audition with what we used to derisively call the “Ron Radio” sound, and you probably won’t be heard past slating your name.  Even if you’re not yukking it up like a DJ, chances are you’ll be considered “too announcer-y“.  It doesn’t matter how nice your voice sounds.

Writing Your Own Ticket

Unlike my experience, you also won’t find yourself in a position to develop your own style by creating your own material.  It didn’t take long for me to figure out I’d never make it as a Disc Jockey.  But I did enjoy running what they used to call a “tight board”, turning the various elements of an air shift (commercials, Public Service Announcements, time & temp, and the music) into one smooth audio flow.  After a few wrong turns I was finally able to see a more likely radio future in the production room.  Doing commercials and little comedy bits for the “real announcers”, I was able to use all the character voices I’d gleaned from years of watching Bugs Bunny and Yogi Bear and Bullwinkle.  Not just funny voices.  Characters.  Eventually (very eventually), I got hired by a radio station who wanted a production guy who could “think like [Stan] Freberg and keep it clean”.  There I found a like-minded mentor who showed me how to adapt my writing skills into creating good, engaging, and entertaining advertising copy.  Within a year, I started picking up local Addy Awards.  Part of my secret was being able to write material for myself I already knew I was good at.  The other part was luck in having advertisers who let me do it.  You may not be able to rely on your own word-smithing to give you an edge.

So What Am I Supposed To Do?

Chances are, you can’t get away with doing what I did.  Heck, I wouldn’t be able to get away with it myself.  Radio stations don’t have time to train you, they want you to hit the ground running.  And formats are so rigid today, the kinds of stuff I created would never get on the air.  And studios?  They don’t have time to un-train you!

Parallel Highways

Have you ever been driving down an Interstate and notice an old two-lane road running alongside?  It’s an older way to get somewhere, but not exactly the same route or even end point.  There are still ways you can adapt the things I did to get into voice work.  Not everyone has the same experience, but here are some parallels.

  1. Find A Place To Stink. Comedian George Burns lamented the end of Vaudeville because, he said, it left “no place to be bad”.  Touring the circuit, performers were able to learn what worked and what didn’t, until their talents were polished and their individual styles emerged.  You may not have local radio, but there are podcasts, local theatre, or even just fooling around with the record button on your phone.  Learn to listen to yourself.  Compare what you hear to the sound and style of national (not local) commercials.  Don’t imitate those voices.  Find a way to do your own version of those styles.
  2. Find a Mentor. Sure,  you probably won’t have anyone like the guys who took me under their creative wings at the radio stations.  But you can find teachers online, maybe even where you live, who’ll guide you to finding your own voice (or voices).  I’m not talking about the people who want to sign you up for an instant voice demo after a $2,000.00 weekend seminar…I’m talking about someone who’ll work with you, one-on-one.  If you don’t have stage fright (or even if you do), get involved in community theatre.  You’ll learn how to use your voice in the context of a character (straight or comic). See what you can learn from various directors.  It’s likely you’ll have several mentors shaping you before you’re ready to “show yourself”.
  3. Learn what you’re good at. You may be able to do a great Homer Simpson but guess what.  That  job’s already taken.  Perhaps you can sound like Morgan Freeman or whoever the celebrity-du-jour is for producers.  But unless you’re a great impressionist, just develop your own way of adapting those styles.  It’ll happen over time.  And it will take time.

What A Long, Strange Trip It’s Been

So, yeah.  You probably won’t get anywhere in your voiceover career by trying to do it the way I did it.  But that’s because this is now…and you’re you.  I’m still at it because I’ve tried to keep learning and adapting as styles and market demands change (and they’ll always be changing).  Once you get the hang of reading the signs, I bet you’ll find the “road rise up to meet you”…instead of coming to a dead end.  I’d be interested to hear what routes you’ve discovered.

— over and out —

The Curse of the Creative Mind

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…the Sleep Gremlins have finally found a crazy dream I cannot will myself awake from.

“Actor’s Nightmare”? Pish…I laugh in its face.

“Airshift Where the Studio is Suddenly My Grandma’s Living Room and All the Records Are Wrong”? I can dream I say, “Oh, come on. Wake up.”

But they got me last night with a simple dream of having a creative assignment where the script would alllllllmost come together, but not quite…but I could fix it if…no, but what if….well, nearly there, but…what about if we…. 

Even after waking up from it twice, I went right back to sleep to “fix” the problem. ….oh dear.

“Exhausted” is not the word. (…wait. what is the word? maybe if I…dang, it’s back again, and I’m awake this time!)

 

— over and out —

…a Ghost of Christmas Past.

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I didn’t send out cards this year.  It reduced holiday stress, but still…I felt a little guilty.

So, as I’ve met and made so many new friends since this little audio skit was created five years ago, I figured I’d take advantage of technological advances and share with you a film noir version of the muchly over-done “Christmas Carol”…this time, starring Sam Scrooge.

My thanks to Wendy Zier for joining the voice cast.   And, as Scrooge would say, “A Happy Humbug to you all!”  (…seriously, the only way I’ve made it through this year is with the help of friends such as you.  And for that, I am truly grateful.)

— over and out —

I Hate To Break It To You, But…

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...shirt available from zazzle.com. ...and no, I'm not being Opposite.

We are a mass of contradictions. 

     Most of us become so accustomed to it over time, that it passes for normal.

     But every so often an over-used phrase gets stuck in my head and hurts like the time Paul Anka’s “You’re Havin’ My Baby” came to live in my skull for a solid month.

     Of late, I’ve noticed “Opposite” Phrases…normally used as an insincere ploy to show deference while proceeding with offense.  Other times, it’s just annoyingly superfluous.

     The one that set me off recently was “…With all due respect” — usually uttered by someone who is about to say something completely disrespectful.  Also in that category is the ever-popular “I don’t wish to seem rude…” (you know you do!)

     Another one is “…Some say…” and its ugly cousins “Studies show…”, “I’ve heard…”,  “We all know…”, “You know as well as I do…”, and “I know for a fact…” — which you can usually translate into “I’m just making this up because it supports my argument.”

     Speaking of arguments:  at some point, you’ll usually hear “That’s not the point, the point is…”  — which means “That really was the point…you won it…and I want to change the focus quickly before I lose control of the argument.”  …or the last refuge:  “Well I guess we just have to agree to disagree…”  — usually followed by a muttered “even though I’m clearly right.”

     One I’ve always found particularly laughable and galling at the same time shows up in almost any sound bite from Congress.  It comes in several flavors.  “My Esteemed Colleague…”, “My Friend Across The Isle…”, “The Right Honorable…” — usually inserted in place of the speaker’s true opinion, which is anything BUT!

     Socially, there’s “I hate to be the one to tell you…” — usually said by someone who’s absolutely DELIGHTED to be the one to tell you.  “You don’t want to know…” — is used to remind you just how much you really DO want to know.  And there’s the classic “Oh, I’d be the last person in the world to…”  — say what I’m about to say anyway.   That one also shows up as “Far be it from me to…”

     And have you ever noticed in cop shows or war movies whenever someone says, “Permission to speak freely?” — they’re going to unload with a speech anyway.  (There was one show I wish I could remember where the authority figure just replied “No”.  I laughed out loud.)

     As a voiceover talent, voice artist, voice actor…whatever you want to call it…I know it’s to my advantage to actively listen to what people say and how they talk.  It helps me create a good performance when I’m behind the mic, whether I’m playing an actual character or not.  But I swear…(and I don’t, usually)…sometimes I wonder if it isn’t more of a liability, when it causes me to notice duplicitous phrases like these.

     Needless to say (though I’m saying it anyway), you can probably think of a lot more.

— over and out –

T’is the Season…

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Yes, it’s been the season when those emails and phone calls you thought were going to mean new business…simply meant it was a client from last year needing your tax ID number.

…but there are bright sides to consider.

A few of those requests actually remind me of some pretty great jobs…and some pretty great paychecks from some pretty great client friends.

And so it was I somehow had the presence of mind to attach the following note to one such friend who required a W-9 from me:

“Thanks for making this necessary!”

— over and out —

My First YouTube Video…Is a Viral Audio.

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With all the buzz about Aflac throwing open auditions for anyone to become rich and famous replacing Gilbert Gottfried as the annoying voice of the TV Commercial Duck, I’m probably the only voice talent in America that isn’t submitting an audition.

Why not?

Because if I did, it would probably go something like this.

(Don’t expect any flashy pictures…except whatever pops into your mind as you listen in.)

— over and out —

Why Keep On? One answer of many…

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This week has seen me working more for myself than anyone else.  In some ways it’s not as much fun:  the “boss” is a harder taskmaster, a perfectionist, can’t make up his mind, the hours are insane and the pay is lousy.

Working on updating your own promotional material does have its rewards, though.  For one thing, you discover things you hadn’t thought of in awhile (“Gosh, was I ever this good?”).  This usually offsets the discovery of things it turns out you remember being better than they actually were (“Gosh, how do I ever get hired?”).

Talking by phone with friend Bob Souer during this process, and getting some automatic encouragement by the mere fact of doing so, I wondered aloud about the reason for putting so much continuing effort into promotion this late in life.  Of course the obvious answer is twofold:  One – if I had known how to do this early in my career and had the tools we do now, I probably would be farther along.  Two  – the alternative now is to do nothing and quit (not an option).

Whenever I get a little envious of the younger, more energetic, more “with it” talent I see out there making the big splash, I temper my thoughts with the comfort that even one of my favorite character actors didn’t really hit it big until he was in his 60s.

That would be Sydney Greenstreet,who became a star with his portrayal of the aptly-named Mr. Gutman in the definitive film version of “The Maltese Falcon”.  He was 62.  I often wonder what he thought about his career choices during his younger years.

I know most people, if they have any knowledge of film and radio history, would rather think of themselves as another Orson Welles:  New York stage genius and network radio star in his early 20s, and creator of what many claim as the best motion picture of all time not long after that.

I can claim a small sliver of that Welles feeling with my own career highlights…on an admittedly much smaller scale.  Along the way, I’ve done regular on-air work in Radio, winning fans with what amounted to an unseen puppet character (Zoot) on a top-rated morning-show, collecting awards for creative writing/production in advertising, co-hosting a local kiddie show on TV doing the puppets and some on-camera cartooning (“Time for Uncle Paul“), enjoying favorable acclaim with local/regional onstage efforts (“Greater Tuna” and the It’s A Mystery troupe) and even snagging a slot somewhere between “extra” and “featured player” in two motion pictures with the Muppets.  If you’d asked me as a kid what I wanted to do with my life, these are the kinds of things you’d hear me mention.  They just didn’t take on quite the national prominence they might have done.

I’m cool with that.

Meanwhile, with that experience, and what I’m gaining through resources never before available, and encouragement from other friends in the business, I see no reason why I couldn’t at some point hit my “Sydney Greenstreet” stage.

I’ve still got a few years to get there.  Why stop now?

— over and out —

The Clue That Gives You The Clue

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…or perhaps that should be “The Clue That Gives You The CUE”.

I was just at lunch at a local eatery (family-owned Ole Time Barbeque) where they treat you like family in all the best ways.  Along with a relaxing break from the studio and some great banana puddin’ I got a quick example of how to be a better voice talent/audio producer.

Overheard at the table behind me was the friendly voice of the waitress:  “Need some more tea?  I heard that sound.”

What she had heard…and I hadn’t even noticed…was the rattle the ice makes in a drained glass as it is lowered back to the table.  Maybe she couldn’t tell just by listening where the cue came from, but it put her other faculties automatically at work to locate the need and supply the solution.  She was probably there before the customer even finished thinking whether he even  wanted a refill or not.

So now I’m thinking about things I do in my own job which pick up on these “clues to the cues”.  It might be sensing where a read could be sped up when I know we’re over time.  It might be knowing a friendly, deserving client could use a break with a last-second rewrite that makes no sense (they have to be friendly and deserving…I don’t just give out my copywriting “gems”, nor does everyone consider it a favor when I do!).

But what else could I be automatically on the lookout/listenout for?

What clues could you better be atuned to in order to make a client’s time spent with you more of a pleasure?

Me?  I’m thinking about learning to make good banana puddin’.

— over and out —