"NOON BALOON"

I had just flown into Costa Rica.  I was about to meet my crew – well, not really MY crew, but the local news crew my producer had hired to avoid spending the money to fly my American crew down from LA for the documentary I was there to shoot.   I was concerned. 

A good television news crew must be able to quickly capture enough images to provide a reporter with visual coverage for a breaking story.  The FACTS of the story are what is essential to good news reporting.  A documentary film crew has an additional need to find those compelling images that tell a deeper story, often one with strong emotional elements.  But like a news director, a documentary filmmaker seldom has the opportunity to set up every shot or to check playback on every take.   If he is not the cameraman himself,  he must rely on his camera crew to jump into a moment and be ‘self-directed’ in capturing emotionally-compelling images, as well as filming sufficient angle choices to provide adequate material for later editing the sequence.   This kind of photo-journalism is an art and few do it well.   I needed to understand what these guys could do.

I set about to explain the emotional character of the material I was hoping to shoot, contrasting straight news photography (with which I knew they were very familiar) and photo-journalism documentary film-making (of which I had no idea of their experience or understanding).   After a few moments, the cameraman (who I had only met a few minutes before) leaned over and said, “You know Tom, we didn’t just drop in on the noon balloon!”   What he was trying to politely tell me was ‘Shut up, stupid!  We know what we’re doing!”   I said no more.  We went on location.  We shot for several days.  The material would have made great clips on the evening news.  It was not photo-journalism. 

In the end, I had to agree with their assessment.  They had NOT just dropped in – they never got there!   We  somehow  made the material work.  But the resulting film fell far short of what it COULD have been.  I DID come away with an expression I’ve been able to use many times since then.  The next time someone who doesn’t know you is questioning  YOUR skills or ability to do something,  you can gently remind them that ‘you didn’t just drop in on the noon balloon’.   They’ll either smile and believe you or be more convinced than ever that you’re not the one for their job!  Good luck!

"LOSE TO WIN?"

We were on location in the Colorado Rockies, shooting scenes for an upcoming Christmas television special.  The older celebrity I was directing was getting tired as I pressed for yet another take.  Not that any were unusable.  They just hadn't risen to the performance I had imagined when I wrote the script.  I kept pushing for "just one more", and "just one more" is what I kept getting -- of the same performance!  I was about to call for yet another take when Ted, my producer, called me to one side and quietly pointed out that I was likely not going to get a better take, but I was tiring the talent to the point I would get even worse performances on the remaining scenes to be shot later.  I stubbornly pressed on anyway and Ted was respectful enough of my position as director to let me do it, though he was obviously displeased with my decision.

We shot the scene again.  It was only marginally better than the other takes.  But more importantly, I had flexed my rightful creative authority as director and won, or so I thought.  We broke for lunch.  Danny Franks, our lighting designer, had overheard my conversation with Ted.  He fell in step beside me as I walked from the set.

Danny may be physically a short man, but he's super tall in the ways that count.  The name Danny Franks and American theatrical drama on television are practically synonymous.   His lighting design credits on "American Playhouse",  "Great Performances",  "Live At Lincoln Center" and a host of network specials, chronicle an award-winning career of Broadway music and drama staged on American television.  I was privileged to work alongside this veteran television legend early in my career and we had become good friends.

Danny turned to me and said something that changed my life.  "Tom, you've got to learn how to lose the battle so you can win the war!"   I looked at him puzzled (shows you how smart I am!).  Danny continued, "You won the battle with Ted back here, but you lost the war.  The next time you disagree over something, he'll be much less inclined to listen to you.  He'll suspect you would insist on getting your way and disregard the value of his opinion anyway, no matter what he says.   If instead, you'd have made him feel that you DID value his opinion, listened to what he said, and let yourself lose what was really a very inconsequential battle, you'd have won Ted's confidence to trust you more the NEXT time...when it might really count.  In fact, you'd stand a better chance that there will BE a next time!

I let Danny's words sink in.  In "winning the battle" that morning I had little to show for it (side note: I ended up using an earlier take anyway!) -- but what I DID achieve was to alienate my producer and lose his trust.   I had compromised my performer's energies for the remaining scenes of the day, and I had frustrated the rest of my crew who could see (much better than I) the futility of my stubbornness.  Later that day, I went to Ted, my producer, and ate some well-deserved crow!   He graciously accepted my apology.  We went on to work together on lots of other productions.

Over the years, I've had plenty of opportunities to put Danny's advice into practice, not when it comes to compromising moral values or ethical integrity, but all those times (and directors seem to have more of them) when I was convinced my way of doing something, my creative vision, my choice, was the right one.    Time and time again, I've seen how my NOT insisting on getting my way (even when I had the authority to do so because I was also producing) saved a relationship with someone, or strengthened one, or gave an opportunity for someone else to shine that encouraged their own creative journey.   Those choices, on and off the stage, have made me a stronger leader and a better man.  Thanks, Danny!

"YES, DR. IVY?"

If you've worked in this business for any length of time, you've no doubt met (and probably at some time had to work with or under) producers or directors who seemed to enjoy exercising their authority over others - celebrities who flaunted their sense of superiority, all the while making you feel less than accepted or respected as an individual or as a professional.  But the REAL celebrities, the men and women who truly are STARS, seem to go out of their way to make you feel important, no matter who you are or what your position.  Billy Graham first did that for me.

I was about to meet 'the man' himself.  By then, the Rev. Billy Graham was already a household name around the world.  He had spoken face to face with more people than anyone in history, was a friend and confidant to every President since Dwight D. Eisenhower, "The Most Admired Man In America", according to a Gallup Poll.  And I had just been assigned by the ad agency I worked for and which had charge of his media production, to direct the Billy Graham television programs.

It was a heady assignment for a young director without a big network portfolio -- unlike the retiring director I was replacing.  Sonny Diskin was a veteran network television director who had covered the first NASA moon shots for ABC News.  What had I done?  Not much, not by then at any rate!

So here we were about an hour before Dr. Graham was to address thousands of people in one of his city-wide meetings, with a freshman tv director, me, about to helm the six camera 'live to tape' television coverage.  I was nervous as ('that place other than heaven'), though I made a noble effort to hide it!

I had already met Cliff Barrows and other officials of Dr. Graham's organization and they had accepted my boss's assurances that this 26 year old (who still looked 18 at the time!) was the right man for the job.  But I had yet to meet Billy Graham himself.  That was about to happen.   I entered a room just off of the stadium arena where Dr. Graham had been meeting with local dignitaries.  The head of the agency, my boss, Walter Bennett, and several others were there.  Dr. Graham was seated on a sofa at the far end of the room.  As I entered, he saw me, moved to one side, smiled and motioned for me to join him.  I sat down, turned to this great man of faith and worldwide fame, and blurted out, "Dr. Graham...."

I'm not sure what I had planned to say next, but before I could continue, he responded with "Yes, Dr. Ivy?"  I was caught off guard.  In the awkwardness of the moment that followed, he leaned across the sofa, put his hand on my shoulder, and said, "I'll tell you what, Tom.  If you don't call me 'Dr. Graham', I won't call you 'Dr. Ivy'.  Agreed?"  I replied 'yes sir'.  He continued, "You can call me Bill or Billy or whatever you like, but you don't need to call me 'Dr. Graham', okay?  I smiled and nodded.   He went on to ask me about my family, my church, welcomed me to the Billy Graham team, and ten minutes later I was facing a bank of television monitors directing my first Billy Graham telecast.  I would do scores of others over the next eight years in cities across America and capitals around the world.  It would become a lifelong friendship that I treasure to this day.

Charlton Heston was another true 'star' in the firmament of celebrities I have had the privilege to observe close up.  Several years ago, I traveled around the world with Chuck, his wife Lydia, and daughter Polly,  on a production that took us to some of the remotest out-of-the-way corners of the globe.  Whenever he entered a room, Chuck would walk around and introduce himself to everyone there in a totally unassuming gesture of friendship.  Though at the time he was one of the most famous actors in the world, he made everyone in his presence feel relaxed and valued.

One time in the Bangkok Airport, waiting for a flight with Chuck and a film crew, we were all ushered into a private waiting room.  There was no air conditioning and everyone was hot and uncomfortable.  After awhile, Chuck excused himself and left the room.  When he returned, he had managed to rustle up bottles of cold beer for everyone, and he proceeded to pass them out like a dutiful production assistant with the comment, "...Thought this might help!"   Charlton Heston was a REAL STAR!

Bringing this home...  No matter where YOU are on the ladder of success, and you may still consider yourself on a pretty 'low rung',  there are nonetheless others who see themselves lower than you on the proverbial totem pole.  Make them understand by what you say and how you behave that you consider them to be just as important as you, that you respect them as equals, even as you both respect your respective professional positions.   You will not only receive their respect, you may gain their friendship.  If they sense you are genuine in your feelings, you will also gain their admiration.  When the time comes, and I speak from experience, they will repay you by giving you their very best, just as I felt compelled to do for Billy Graham and Charlton Heston and others like them over the years.  "Yes, Dr. Ivy?" 

DON'T JUDGE TOO SOON

It was a busy day in the studio.  We were pre-recording choral vocal tracks for a Christmas Special.  Ralph Carmichael, who had been an arranger for Nat King Cole and tons of other Hollywood artists, was conducting the session.   Ralph was a legend in Hollywood jazz circles.  He liked to tell the story of trying to get musicians to play on a big studio session 'back when'.  The real pros didn't want to do it since it was considered a 'rock' session and in those days, rock was considered a second-class citizen by lots of  'serious' musicians.  The 'rock' score being recorded?  "Born Free"!   Shows you how times have changed.  

Anyway, I turned to Ralph and shared something I'd been going through.  I had made a decision about something that at the time seemed right  - even the more spiritual choice.   Yet, something came along that totally contradicted what I had done, left me floundering for what to do next.  And this wasn't the first time.   Ralph, considerably my senior in both age and wisdom, looked at me, smiled and told me a 'modern parable'.   Imagine your life as a giant canvas.  You are the painter.  Sometimes you feel in your heart that God is telling you to dip your brush into the paint and brush your canvas with bright yellow paint.   You stand back.  It looks beautiful, like the morning sun.  Then, before you know it, something or someone comes along and blue paint is thrown all over  your yellow, completely obliterating what you had done.  You feel betrayed, misled, confused.   God is silent.  But after awhile you gaze at the canvas and realize that God was not after yellow in your life, nor was he after blue.   He wanted to produce a brilliant emerald green!   It required your obedience to put down yellow,  something or someone else to add blue, in order to realize God's intended  result on the canvas of your life.  The moral of the parable?  "Don't judge the painting before it's finished!"    Ralph encouraged me through that little parable to never see the circumstances at any point of my life as the end, but rather as the next step in the journey of life, a step that will lead to other steps, that in the end, will produce what God has intended all along!   I'm often reminded of that story when I'm tempted to be discouraged because something doesn't go as I think it should, or I face a difficulty, or MY agenda gets changed and I don't know what's happening.   Pass the paint brush!  Thank you, Ralph!  

"Oh, THAT Letter!"

I was excited.  I was about to become a graduate student in the famous School of Cinema at the University of Southern California, the school where George Lucas of 'Star Wars' fame had already made his mark.  I had already been accepted by the University.  All that remained was the confirmation letter from the Cinema School (a separate admissions process after the University’s acceptance.)   One day in November it finally came.  It was NOT the letter I was expecting.  It was from the Dean of Admissions and it began, “We regret to inform you…” and ended with “We hope you will be able to pursue your advanced studies at another institution.”  I was devastated!

I had interviewed with key faculty members and administrators.  I had shown the admissions committee clips of my work.  I had met numerous times with Dr. Russell McGregor, Associate Chairman of the Division of Cinema.  Everything had seemed positive for my acceptance.  And now this! 

After brooding over my disappointment, I determined to find out why, this far into the process, and after so much encouragement, I should be so flatly rejected.  Maybe there was something I could still do to change their mind.  I had to at least try!  I picked up the phone and called Dr. McGregor’s office, scheduled an appointment for 2 pm the next day.  (I have no idea why I still remember the time of that meeting this many years later!) 

The next afternoon I drove my little red Volvo down to University Park.  In those days, the Cinema school was still housed in what had once been the USC faculty stables and carriage barns.  The administrators occupied nearby bungalows (all pre Lucas and Zemeckis Buildings for you USC alum).   As soon as I walked in the door,  Russ (Dr. McGregor) looked up from his desk and smiled warmly.  “Tom, how’s it going?” he asked as he extended his hand.  “It was going great,” I replied,  “until I got this letter” .   “What letter?” he asked.   I handed him the notice I had received.  He looked it over, handed it back, and then said just three words, “Oh!  THAT letter!”   “What do you mean THAT letter?” I asked.  “We send that letter to everyone,” he calmly replied.  As I looked at him dumbfounded, he explained, “The motion picture and television industry is extremely competitive.  The Cinema school at USC is one of the most competitive and difficult programs at the University.  We concluded that only those who are not willing to take ‘no’ for an answer have what it takes to survive in this industry or even make it through this program.  So, we send a rejection letter to everyone and wait to see who shows up.  Obviously you have that kind of determination, Tom.”   He concluded, “Don’t worry about the letter.  I’ll note your file.  We’ll see you next semester.”  A few weeks later I started my master’s program in Cinema at USC.

What I learned at USC over the next two years would have a formative impact on my skills as a writer / director.  The friendships made and the principles learned were invaluable.  But what if I had not questioned that letter?   What if I had not pursued my dream in the face of clear rejection?   How would my future have been altered?   The lesson I learned from that letter and my response, may have actually been the greatest lesson learned from all of my University experience.   

That letter from USC was not the last time I would face rejection of an idea or a dream or a vision.  I would have many opportunities to decide whether to accept ‘No’ as a conclusion or rather as a challenge to be tackled.   Sometimes (I’ve learned)  to accept a ‘no’ really IS the right choice, all things and everyone involved being considered.  Equally important, there have been other times when I have turned a ‘no’ into a challenge to find another way to pursue the dream in my heart and to achieve the goal that I knew was right.  And often, in those times, I have been reminded of  that letter from so long ago and dean McGregor's three words “Oh, THAT letter!”  The rest is history. 

  

Footnote:  The policy at USC apparently changed in the years since I was there.   When my son David  was accepted to the USC School of Cinema, he never received such a letter.  He went on to graduate with honors.