"The Audition" from Ron Giles TV Stories

TV Stories is a compilation of interesting people and incidents from my 35 years in Television. The following is an excerpt from this book I have been working on since 2007.  This story happened in Cincinnati, Ohio, at WCPO-TV where I was Executive Producer of Programming, 1974-1977.  It is about an audition that I was holding to uncover "kid talent" for an upcoming production that the General Manager wanted to undertake.

Although we felt that to find the “right” boy and girl leads we would have to go to New York agents, we wanted to use local talent if possible. I arranged a Saturday Audition for adolescents, ages eleven to fifteen and asked my casting agent, Art, to fill out the schedule, 15 minutes at a time for as long as it took. 

The auditions took place in our Green Room and were to be recorded on videotape by our videographer, Denny.  Each candidate would come prepared to present a reading of their choosing, then we (me and them) would do some improvisational acting, and finally, we would read a dramatic passage from “The Velveteen Rabbit,” a 1922 story about a stuffed rabbit who wants to become a real rabbit.

We began at 10:00 in the morning and saw a tremendous number of children, all scrubbed and perky.  Although it was tiring, I was having a good time interacting with these young minds, similar in age to those Junior High students that I had as a history teacher which seemed like eons ago, but in fact there was only ten years separation my class room days.

At Art’s urging, we kept the parents out of the audition room.  Occasionally, I would make an appearance in the lobby, a “walk through” as Art phrased it, so that the parents could see that I wasn’t a pervert, but was instead a warm, witty human TV Producer.  Art, who was a jovial man, entertained the parents, primarily mothers, keeping them away from me and their offspring.

As the clock approached two in the afternoon, we had the last two children –  two boys from the Parker family, which Art described as the best theatrical family in the area – the Parker family with a large number of children from two marriages, three of which as children were involved in the theater scene in Cincinnati.  I was seeing Pippin Parker and his brother Britten Parker.

Pippin and Britten were by far the best I had seen that day.  Both had obviously benefitted from theatrical training, but both were too mature for the envisioned male lead.  Their voices had changed and they were getting muscular as young boys do on their way to manhood.  Of course, we did not disclose our decision then, but I knew that we had to find someone of their caliber but only aged twelve or thirteen.

We had worked our way through the entire list.  Denny and I were very tired, but felt that we had been privileged to see such talent and hope in the young people that we had met, even though I knew we had not seen anyone that fit the lead roles.

Art came in to the Green Room.

“Ron,” Art asked cautiously, “can you take one more candidate?”

“Did someone who cancelled show up?  Who is it?” I asked.

“You’re not going to believe this, but it’s another Parker, a girl who came with her brothers and mother.  The Mom is not pressing me for her to audition for you, it’s the kid herself who wants to read for you.”

I couldn’t turn that down.  Somebody who knows what they want and is not afraid to ask for it deserves a look. Denny was already turning his gear back on before I answered Art.  He knew what I was going to say.

“Send her in,” I said smiling.

Soon Art brought in just the cutest girl I had seen that day.  “Ron, this is Sarah. And Sarah, that’s Ron who will be reading with you and Denny, who will be taping the audition.” 

She strode over to us and confidently extended her hand to me and said, “Thank you for seeing me,” and then moved on to shake hands with Denny.  The room was hers.

Sarah was nine years old, wearing a casual dress with white anklets and canvas shoes.  Her hair was pulled back into a pony tail.  Physically, she was small, making her appear younger than she was.  I knew that she was too young for the role, but wanted to go ahead with the audition.

We got down to business following the same procedure as I had with the others.  Sarah had prepared a reading, which means she had planned to jump into the audition even though her mother had not signed her up.

We turned to improvisation.  I started out easy on her.  “Let’s say I go to the zoo and you are the animals I see, but you can speak to me.  Ready?”

We went through the elephant, and the lioness and she was doing a lot more with the animals physically and intellectually than I expected so I upped my game and went to the peacock and asked about her physical beauty.

“I like my colors, there are so many,” she cooed as she moved smoothly, to a sideways position. ”Can you see them all?”

“Yes,” I answered her.  “You must feel sorry for your sisters, the poor sparrows, they are so drab and not beautiful like you.”

“Oh, I think we are all equally beautiful, but sometimes it’s hard for our eyes to see the prettiness of others,” she counseled.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see a big smile cross Denny’s face.  Sarah not only held character, but gave the peacock a depth which was unexpected.  Had it been me, I would have feigned sadness and pity for the poor dingy sparrows.

“Aren’t you jealous of the Owl who has eyes in the front of his head?”

Sarah dipped her head slowly and moved her shoulders fluidly, adding physicality to her portrayal of the peacock.  “We all have what we were given.  And…look what I have.” She took three slow steps forward with pointed toes, elegantly, like a dancer and then stopped, posing.

“Terrific,” I smiled, breaking exercise.  “Let’s turn to a reading using the Velveteen Rabbit.”

Once again, she surprised me with the use of her voice and the emotion she could produce on the spot, plus she was reading material that many eleven year olds would stumble through.  Sarah was wonderful, but she looked seven, and simply could not be cast in the role we had envisioned.

Both Denny and I were effusive in our praise of her performance in the audition.  I escorted her out to the Lobby where her Mother and brothers were waiting.  Sarah went to her brothers and they huddled to talk about their experiences in the audition, leaving her Mother with Art and I.

“Sarah,” I said in a low but enthusiastic voice to Mrs. Parker, “was the best I saw today.  She is very talented at this age and will only get better and better.  I know you are getting coaching for your other children, and that is expensive, but Sarah is exceptional.  Unfortunately, she is simply too young for what we need as a central character, but if we go forward with this project, I will make sure we will have a role for her.”

Mrs. Parker was gracious and understanding.  I thought about asking Bob to reconsider his concept so that we could write a script around Sarah, using a different story-line, but the whole idea got placed on a back burner when the major department store in Cncinnati, Pogue’s, wanted to sponsor a Thanksgiving Day Parade, and I was placed in charge of the production.

I never forgot the little girl, Sarah, who grew to become quite a star as Sarah Jessica Parker.

“Annie,” Broadway Production, 1979.

Sarah Jessica Parker (age 14) in the lead role of Annie.  Sarah succeeded Andrea McCardle who was originally cast as “Annie.” A year earlier, Sarah and four of her siblings were in “Annie” at a St. Louis regional theater.

1984 – “Footloose,” starring Kevin Bacon.

Sarah Jessica Parker as “Rusty”

John Lithgow as “Rev. Shaw Moore”

Lori Singer as “Ariel Moore”

  

“Sex and the City,” HBO Series 1998 – 2004

Sarah Jessica Parker as Carrie Bradshaw

Awards -- Emmy, Golden Globe

“Time Magazine” one of the best 100 TV Series of all time (2007)

Flippo, Dan Imel and The Early Show on WBNS-TV, Channel 10 -- Columbus Ohio

From 1968 to 1970, I had the pleasure (and pressure) of working with the #1 TV personality in Columbus, Ohio -- a wise-cracking, saxophone player who hosted the afternoon movie from 4:00 pm to 6:00 pm dressed as a clown.  He was Flippo, King of the Clowns, played by Bob Marvin, and the program was titled "The Early Show."  This is an excerpt from my unedited manuscript, TV Stories, about working 35 years in Television with some of the finest characters.

For the Television Director, me (and every other Director who worked The Early Show with Flippo), the problem was getting all the commercials in, getting the movie all the way to “The End” by 5:57:30, while dealing with a performer who had a great sense of comical timing, but cared less about the timing of the show.

           “I get paid to be funny and you get paid to control the show.  That’s why you work in the Control Room and I work with a red ping pong ball glued on my nose.”

The only way to do all of this and let the Clown be the Clown was to roll off the movie during the break when no one could see it in order to make up the lost time that the Clown would consume.  I would time the show down to the second before sitting with the Clown while he put on his make-up in the dressing room and then follow the plan to the second. I even had the Art Department make up a “The End” slide to superimpose over the movie in case we got in real trouble; I never used it, but the slide was always loaded.

Timing of The Early Show got more complicated when the Writer’s Guild at the Columbus Dispatch Newspaper went on strike.  The station depended upon TV Guide and the Dispatch for printing TV schedules and our advertising of special programs.  The lack of a newspaper was a big promotional loss. 

In  order to make up for the missing promotion, Station management asked the Booth Announcer scheduled during the Early Show to be the station's on-camera promotional vehicle, replacing the newspaper.  Who was in the Booth?  A man just discharged from Armed Forces Radio in Germany. He was golden-voiced, handsome, well-dressed, and straight-laced--a guy named Dan Imel, a perfect foil for Flippo’s zaniness.  The break nearest the 5:00pm hour quickly became the highest rated break of all the Early Show because that was when I would schedule Imel.  Flippo was witty and edgy with Mr. Nice Guy; Dan was ever the gentleman.

 

The Clown would introduce Dan, saying something like “and now here’s the only man I know who drives to work in a milk truck (standing up so as not to wrinkle his clothes) … Dan Eye-mul.”

“That’s Ih-mul,” Dan would say, walking into the frame of the shot.

The Clown would sing the tune of “You Say Potato and I say Potahto, “instead substituting the words… “You say Ih-mul and I say Eye-mul, you say …”

Dan would interrupt Flippo and start the promotion. “At 8:00 tonight on Green Acres…,” and the Clown would continue singing off-camera, humming the tune while Dan spoke.  After the newspaper strike was settled, Dan became a permanent feature of the Early Show because the Promo segment  had become so popular with the audience.

Sometimes when Dan was on camera by himself in a medium shot, chest up, the Clown would stand just outside the camera frame and slowly move his head forward, till just the curve of his red nose showed on TV; they would be inches apart.  Dan would continue reading but occasionally do a side-glance at the nose.  The comedic tension was palpable.

Once, a viewer sent me 15 brain teasers, for what reason was not clear.  #3 was
“How do you pronounce the Capital of Kentucky, Lewisville or Loueeville?” Answer:  “Neither. Frankfort is the Capital of Kentucky.”

I decided to give the Clown one of these brain teasers each day to ask Imel.  Without the Clown knowing it, I would then give Dan the answer.  Although the Clown always did the “snappers,” this was a reversal – which Dan and Flippo played to the hilt.

Clown:  “Say Dan, I was wondering—if I had two coins that totaled 55 cents, and one of them was not a nickel, what are the two coins?”

Dan would look at him and say without missing a beat, “A nickel and a fifty cent piece, since one of them was not a nickel.”  Then they would continue to look at each other, silently, staring.  The TV staff, gathered in the studio for these two, would start chuckling; finally Dan would turn to the camera and start his promotion.  The Clown always smiled.  I never told Flippo how Dan knew the answer every time.

Whatever the timing problems with the show were, however, there always had to be time for  Bob's signature goodbye at the end:  Remember -- I love you; keep smilin' and don't fight.

TV Stories
by Ronald D. Giles © 2013

Flippo photo by Howard R. Krommes
Dan Imel photo by Ron Giles