Unwinding

A few weeks ago, my showbiz son who has a high-salaried, high-powered creative position working for one of the major studios—not saying which one, but I do love their TVs and videocams—moved out to be closer to his place of employment. He was going to make the jump a year ago, but you know, covid. So he worked from here, stashed his money, and now that it looks like the lot will be opening up soon he’s shortened his commute time considerably.

That’s not what this post is about. Stick with me.

In the wake of his relocation, I was finally able to access one of the closets in his bedroom without stepping on any land mines of Star Wars toys, keyboards, books, scripts, musical instruments, clothes and an assortment of other items placed there with the sole purpose of making me go ass over teakettle in the space of ten feet.

Rummaging through the closet, in a box buried and forgotten about 20 years ago, were a bunch of reel-to-reel and cassette tapes of radio spots I’d done very early on in my career (pausing to laugh hysterically for using the word “career”).

I vaguely remembered a few of the titles, but because I don’t own a reel-to-reel or a cassette player I had no way to listen to the solid gold copywriting craftsmanship that was no doubt waiting on them.

Leave it to the interwebs. I went to the Google and found a company called King Tet Productions just slightly south of me in the lovely seaside town of San Diego. I shipped the box down to him, and three days later got back a CD with all the spots restored for my crystal clear, quality listening pleasure.

I raced out to my car, put it in the CD player and listened to them all.

And you know what? They were garbage.

Time is a cruel tease, because in my mind, at the time I wrote them, I thought they were great. After hearing them, I remembered a few of the recording sessions with some of my favorite voice talent. The sessions were great. The writing was awful.

Bad puns, hokey ideas, crummy needledrop music and cliched lines. I have no excuses other than I was just starting out (actually the other excuse I have is "The dog ate my homework" but I didn't think it would apply here). But here’s the thing. They all got sold, produced and aired. Insert something here about clients getting the advertising they deserve. Or maybe it’s just that in the last 20 years my taste has improved, I’ve honed my skills as a writer and marketer, worked on perfecting my craft and have just become better over time.

Nah, I’m just funnin’ ya. That’s not it.

I remember one of them was the first radio spot I ever did. It was for Frings at Jack In The Box, a new product that was a combination of french fries and onion rings in the same bag. The same bag!

Anyway, I recorded it at Wally Heider Studios (bet at least two of my readers haven't heard that name in awhile), in the big room. Jack Angel was doing a Bogart impression, and I had an end line about how the Frings taste better and better "...as time goes by."

I know. It hurts just to read it.

But it was the first radio spot I'd written, and I remember being so excited when I was shopping in a retail store and heard it come on over the speaker. I wanted to tell everyone I'd written it. Not so much anymore.

I guess the lesson here is we all have to start somewhere, and not to worry too much. Because the more you write the better you get, you know....

Nope. Not gonna make the same mistake twice.

From beautiful downtown Burbank

There are a lot of reasons I like writing radio. But I think the main one is that for the most part, people leave me alone. I'm pretty free to do what I want.

There aren't agency sleepwalkers jockeying to be at casting sessions, sneaking in to watch director reels and making comments suggestions as if they were asked.

Radio also doesn't have the glamour and excitement attached to it that television does, probably because there's no where near the money being spent on production and media.

Fine by me.

In my opinion, I'd rather be sitting in a recording studio than an editing bay any day. It's infinitely more fun. And I get to work with a caliber of talent that's unparalleled. Every time out, sometimes over many, many takes, they give it their best. (Although my theory is if you can't get what you need in ten takes, you have the wrong person on one side of the glass or the other).

The very first radio spot I ever did was for Jack In The Box. We recorded it in the big room at the long gone Wally Heider Studios in Hollywood, and the incomparable Jimmy Hite was the engineer. Since it was my first radio spot, my creative director was with me at the session. And even he couldn't believe the talent we had in the room.

Either I wasn't paying much attention to the budget, or the client wasn't. My first spot was a cast of seven legendary voice over talents. Jack Angel. Joanie Gerber. Tress MacNeille. Bob Ridgely. Brian Cummings. Frank Welker. And Gary Owens.

Gary was the consummate professional. He had the quintessential announcer's baritone and also a comedian's timing and sensibility. Between takes he'd joke about Dan Rowan and Dick Martin of Laugh In, where he'd first become a household name as the show announcer. And when it was time to get back to business, he'd look at me and ask, "Is that what you were looking for?"

That was the one and only time I ever worked with him. And I'm not gonna lie to you - I was starstruck not only with Gary, but with everyone in the booth.

Gary Owens passed away yesterday at the age of 80. So I'd just like to say thanks Gary, for taking direction from a kid who really didn't know what he was doing yet, and for making me feel that I was doing it right.

Rest in peace.