|A VISIT TO PLANET PROCTOR|
Philip Proctor was born 7/28/40, a Leo, in Goshen, IN, and raised in New York City. He is the professional actor, professorial philosopher, mesmerizing mimic, pugnacious promoter and the giggling glue of FIRESIGN THEATRE. As a young child Phil displayed a burgeoning talent for acting, mimicry, vocal, and language skills that quickly evolved over the years into appearances on local school, radio and television programs. Young Proctor also had access to the family tape recorder creating little skits and fake commercials for his own enjoyment. He honed his abilities continuing through high school and then on into college as a member of the Yale Dramat, starring in musical comedies.|
It was while at Yale that he befriended fellow future Firesigner Peter Bergman, as they worked together on drama school productions. Phil Proctor played the lead in "Tom Jones" (1960) and "Booth Is Back In Town" (1961) to Bergman's lyrics, and his first 'commercial' recordings were of these two shows released on LP.
Proctor possesses a proclivity for foreign languages and dialects, speaking many and once toured the former Soviet Union with the Yale Russian Chorus. After numerous college and summer stock productions, Phil next made his mark on the stage in New York City, graduating to Broadway, where he understudied for "The Sound Of Music", working with Richard Rodgers. Phil joined several successful touring companies, and had his first big break as a lead in "The Amorous Flea", winning one of the Theater World Magazine's Awards for the Promising Personalities of the 1963-64 Season, getting a photo spread in the annual and receiving his honors from Paul Newman at the awards presentation.
During this period Phil also launched both his television and motion picture careers appearing in New York City based productions. His first film role was a bit part in the Jane Fonda / Rod Taylor vehicle "Sunday In New York" (1963). After making appearances on "The Edge Of Night", a television soap opera, Proctor went on a trip to California to appear in the "Daniel Boone" TV series. He hooked up again with Peter Bergman, sitting in on "Radio Free Oz", and meeting the rest of the would be FIRESIGN THEATRE. Proctor provided the impetus for Bergman to realize his dream of creating 'The Beatles Of Comedy'. He shortly left to finish his theater commitments and later returned to join the group.
All of the FIRESIGN members had outside jobs, so Phil Proctor continued to make television, commercials, and stage appearances. He performed in the Broadway production of "A Time For Singing" (1966) and is featured on the soundtrack recording issued by Warner Brothers. A movie was being made of one of his theaterical projects, so he again took a leave of absence from FIRESIGN THEATRE to be cast along with Orson Welles, Jack Nicholson, and Tuesday Weld in director Henry Jaglom's "A Safe Place" (1971) Phil also has a cameo in the movie, "Zachariah" (1971) written by FIRESIGN THEATRE.
During the FIRESIGN years he has continued to appear in numerous movies, including "Tunnelvision" (1976), on television shows like "All In The Family", in commercials, providing countless voices for major cartoon studios, such as Disney and Hanna-Barbera for their movies and television programming, and recording voice over specialties for literally hundreds of television and major motion pictures such as "Aladdin" (1992) "The Lion King" (1994), "Doctor Dolittle" (1998), "The Rugrats Movie" (1998), and "A Bug's Life" (1998). Hardly a day goes by today, where Phil Proctor's voice or image is not on network or cable TV.
Phil Proctor not only added his superb acting and vocal talents to FIRESIGN THEATRE, providing such memorable characterizations as Ray Hamberger, Rocky Rococo, Ralph Spoilsport, and Principal Poop, he also contributed a great deal of his excellent writing skills, and love for puns and word play to a maniacal sense of timing and furry of hilarious improvisation.
Proctor and Bergman formed a sub-group, as a writing and performing duo creating several LPs, tours, and movie projects; "J-Men Forever" (1979), substituting humorous dialogue to cliff-hanger serials, and providing the screen adaptation and basic premise for "Americathon" (1979), among others.
Through the '80s and '90s, Phil Proctor continued his work with FIRESIGN THEATRE, producing videos, commercials, albums, exploring the world of CD-I, developing computer games and concepts. Phil performs lectures and workshops for various colleges and universities, business organizations and conventions. Proctor has served on the Board Of Governors, LA Chapter, Of The National Academy Of Recording Arts And Sciences, representing Spoken Arts.
Dubbed "The Busiest Mouth In Hollywood", Phil Proctor continues to add his voice and make many television appearances on programs such as "The Tonight Show", "Ink", "The Young And Restless", etc. He possesses a brilliant comic mind, a remarkable memory with a machine gun delivery of an avalanche of stories and an incredible articulation of a philosophy that positively beams with a love of life for his fellow human beings. Phil displays an ability to clearly lecture on his own thoughts and can't resist injecting his beliefs into any thing he talks about, from the stage or in conversation. Phil Proctor possesses a positive commitment to changing society for the better with his performances, abilities, and heart. His overwhelming affection for FIRESIGN THEATRE continues to be the glue that bonds the group together, through thick and thin, providing opportunities to work and communicate, and shedding light in the most positive way. It was also at his wedding to the lovely and talented actress Melinda Peterson in 1992, where the group reunited.
FIREZINE: When did you first realize that you wanted to be a professional actor?
PHILIP PROCTOR: Oh, my God, I don't know. When I was a child I always knew it was fun to dress up and do make-up and be funny. It just came naturally. I was born with these particular talents into a pretty 'hammy' family, so I was encouraged. We had relatives in the business and we were always around theatrical people, friends of my family. And then in my school, Allen Stevenson, my second grade teacher, Mrs. Green, was a very close friend of Helen Hayes.
I opted not to do legitimate theater until later, although I did some live television shows, like "Uncle Danny Reads The Funnies", which Elliot Gould had done. Slowly but surely I got into it, really through school. That was where I discovered that I could really do it.
FZ: So after your successful Yale theatrical experiences, then you started thinking about doing it professionally?
PP: Yeah, I did but because there was the fact that I knew people in the business was a double edged sword. People were always complaining that they didn't have enough work. It was a tough business. I heard this from the time that I was very young. And they always said, "It's always good to have something else you can fall back on, besides your butt." So I was encouraged not to jump into it, which was kind of strange. I could have but I didn't. That's why I really took languages as a second major or focused on language studies because I had a knack for that, which came out of my musical abilities.
FZ: Did you think about being a translator?
PP: Yeah, I thought about being a translator or using it in diplomatic service. My dad, when I got out of school, introduced me to some higher ups at the C.I.A., which didn't interest me, kind of scared me actually. But it was the possibility of going into public service where I could use my linguistic and diplomatic abilities. The trip to the Soviet Union with the Yale Russian chorus and various other experiences like that, kind of satiated my appetite for that kind of politics. The whole Cold War scene was so over hyped and so obviously dangerous that I just didn't want to get involved with it. So that was the primary reason that I didn't pursue that… well the primary reason was it was too much fun just to do plays and stuff. It was too enjoyable and I was too successful at it so why should I go and do something else that wasn't ultimately what I was having fun at?
At least, when I finally committed to getting into show business as a real profession and kind of dedicated my life to it, by then I was much more realistic about what my chances were and what kind of opportunities were afforded to me, so it wasn't so scary to commit to it. And it's been a great ride.
FZ: It really impressed me when you told me you never had a real job.
PP: No, I never had a real job. I never had to wait on anybody at a table or anything. That's just the way it happened. I was always working in show business in some capacity or another and I still am. The only job job that I ever had, for about a week, I was a public relations schill for a young lady named Diana Dew, who had invented electric strobe flashing clothing back in the mid to late 60s. She was working for a company called, Experipuritaneous, which was a spin-off for outrageous clothing for a big clothing company. We lived together in the East Village, briefly, and I would go down to this office area and make phone calls to promote her stuff.
She invented clothes that strobed. There was this translucent plastic material that would retain an electrical charge and glow. She created a line of men's ties and men's and women's unisex belts and disco dresses and vest and things with the potentiometer that was connected to the side of the dress that could work rhythmically so that if you were on a dance floor you could adjust the beat of your tie so that it would flash in rhythm to the music. One of her dresses, her most startling, was a black and white, plastic vinyl dress, with these strips of plastic material, kind of up and down zebra-like, slatted, and she could make it go around in a circle. The strobe would not only be in rhythm but it would go around in a circle even, to the right or to the left. It was amazing! It was great stuff, great disco dresses. It ended up the company went bankrupt and she was given her clothing line and she sold it to Salvador Dali', who bought everything.
So that was the only so-called straight job that I ever held other than picking up laundry for a laundry service at Yale. And my scholarship job at Yale was editing the radio program, a show called Yale Reports. So I always had something that was somewhat affiliated to the business.
FZ: What was your first real paying acting job?
PP: My first job was fingering a princess on television. In those days and times they did live commercials on the news breaks at NBC. So I went up to the NBC news studio in Rockefeller Plaza and they were just introducing the new "princess" phones, which were these little light phones that had lights on them when you lift them up. So what I had to do was simply point at the phone when they talked about the different models. So I was a hand model and that's how I got my union card in 1962. It was a hand job from a princess. Life is strange.
While I was still at Yale near the end of my senior year, I got a call for an audition to go down and audition for a soap opera. I took the train to Grand Central Station and got to the audition. I went up. There was a little room in a high rise and they taped my audition. It was the first time I'd ever been taped or auditioned.
And I walked down stairs and I had some time to kill before I took the train back to New Haven, it was a beautiful early summer day. They were building the Pan Am building on top of Grand Central Station, so I stood and I watched the construction for awhile and it got near the time for my train so I went into Grand Central. And as I'm walking across the grand concourse I heard over the loudspeakers, "Will Phil Proctor please report to the station master's office." So I stopped and people were flowing around me. And I said to myself, "That's me!" Once again this booming voice said, "Will Phil Proctor please report to the station master's office." So I walk over to this one corner and there's a bunch of desks with people in funny caps. And the guy said, "Your agent called and wants you to call her." I called and the agent said, "You've got the job!" I said, "I did?" She said, "Yeah, you're going to be Julie Kurtz, a juvenile delinquent on "Edge Of Night" and your first week is so and so and gonna do shows on such and such a day and such and such. And you're going to get $375 a performance and da da da da." I went, "Wow!"
So I had my first job on a soap opera. And when I was doing that, that underwrote my getting established in New York. And it helped me to get a little apartment down in the Village and decide what I wanted to do. Then I started doing plays in New York. And the first play I did was "Portrait Of The Artist As A Young Man" (1962) and "The Bar Room Monks" (1962) down at the Martinque Theater produced by John Randolph, who is now my daughter's godfather and who we've known for many, many, many years. That was really kind of the beginning of it all. Then I did "The Cherry Orchard" (1962), directed and adapted by David Ross, and we did it at the Theater 4, which was built around us. It was a church, over in the far west '40s, that they converted into a theater. I remember we were doing "The Cherry Orchard" in the winter, they couldn't get a permit to build in the outside of the back of the theater, so there was no cross over, and so they built a temporary cross over out of corrugated steel. So, we would go walking off stage right, step out into the outside, and when it was snowing there would be somebody to throw a blanket over us and we would stand there shivering, with the snow kind of filtering down over this shanty we were standing in, and get ready for our next entrance. It was absurd.
Then I did "The Sound of Music" (1963) I understudied Rolfe, 'the singing Nazi', on Broadway, Nancy DeSole was in the company then. I got to work with Richard Rodgers, in the understudy rehearsals. What a wonderful man, he directed all the actors who went into that show, and later I was chosen because of my ability, by him to tour in a major national company of the show, which I did, which was great fun. I also did at that time, a play called "Thistle In My Bed" (1963), directed by Howard De Silva, starring Sam Waterston and John Cullum, among others. And it was a Welsh folk tale, kind of a comedy-fantasy, and it was mercifully closed the day after JFK was assassinated. It closed because we were assassinated, the reviews were abysmal. But that was an interesting project, to work on, I rather enjoyed it. I met a lot of wonderful actors that I worked with later. Then I did "The Amorous Flea", in early 1964, which was kind a my big break at that time. "The Amorous Flea" was an original musical written by the late Jerry Devine, who wrote and directed a lot of early radio dramas like "Gangbusters", and "This Is Your FBI", and stuff like that. I created the role of the lead ingenue 'Horace' in the thing, and played opposite Imelda De Martin and Lew Parker, who was a great comic actor in the tradition of Jack Carter, and Phil Silvers, who came out of a vaudeville background, married to Betty Keene, a very famous funny kind of roustabout comedian. And Jack Fletcher was in it, and that show was very successful 'Off Broadway'. It was a big hit and a delightful musical adaptation of Molier's "School for Wives". I won a 'Promising Personalities Award from 'Theater World', and Paul Newman presented me with my award.
Later we were asked to go to LA with it, which I did and that's how I came out to LA, and played to the Las Palmas Theater to great success. Anyway, I'm out here with that, and I had auditioned for a musical, "A Time For Singing" (1966) on Broadway, which was a musical based on "How Green Was My Valley". So they called me up and said they wanted me to be in the musical, so I left "The Amorous Flea" and flew back to New York, to be featured in "A Time For Singing", which was produced by the Cohans, directed by Gerald Freedman, music by Jerome Morose, who did the music to "The Big Country". It was a beautiful, beautiful musical about the Welsh minors. It was not successful enough to get a long run on Broadway which was really a shame. It had gorgeous music and told an epic story in a very exciting way.
I was in New York again for about a year, and then that show closed, and I understudied Brandon De Wilder in a play by Evan Hunter, called "A Race Of Hairy Men" (1966) which was a kind of a ham-handed take on the upcoming youth revolution. Evan was sensitive enough, and intelligent and aware enough to know that something was going to be happening. He didn't know exactly what it was, but he knew something was gonna be happening with the youth of America. And he wrote a play which hinted at this, in a kind of bittersweet way, and I give him credit for that. The thing that happened to me there was that I understudied 2 of the lead roles, and I became very very close friends with Brandon De Wilder, whom I had always been fated to meet. And whom I had been fated to understudy. All through my life I had these strange almost meetings with Brandon. Finally when I met him it was as though we were soul mates. We were absolutely fated to be friends. We went through a lot of very interesting changes together. But I ended up understudying in this. We became very close friends. His wife's brother was a classmate of mine at Yale.
We found a lot things in common and eventually we left New York and drove out to LA together, to check out the scene there. That's when I started doing a lot of TV with "Daniel Boone" and so then he and I went back to NY. I toured, I did a lot of theater in those days. I toured with Bob Cummings, in a play called "Generation" (1966), that was a great success, we toured the south. I toured with a play "Brigadoon" (1964) "Finian's Rainbow" (1964) with Pat O'Brien, up the east coast on tour, and I toured all over the country, doing the "Guber 4 Music Circus". I'm sure I've forgotten some of the things as well. I was a very legitimate theater actor, doing TV and movies on the side, until I met FIRESIGN THEATRE and they ruined my life.
FZ: How did you connect up with the FIRESIGN THEATRE?
PP: When we drove out to CA, to meet with Peter Fonda. Peter Fonda was putting together a movie which he called "Captain America", which later became "Easy Rider" (1969), and he and Dennis Hopper were working on the screenplay for this. And Brandon wanted to meet Peter and so did I, and we drove out and we met him. And to make a long story just a little longer, we went to do research, as it were, for the screenplay about the youth revolution, down to the Sunset Strip, where the young people were protesting a curfew, that the city had imposed on them, the young people, to prevent revolution. And we became involved in a riot. Brandon was beaten up, Peter was arrested, and I, I was writing then also on the sideline, for the 'East Village Other', which was a kind of emerging newspaper at the time. And I held up my 'East Village Other' press card, and the police just flowed around me like lava. It was amazing, I said, "Press, Press". And they welded their clubs on other people not me, it was very bizarre. And I later wrote an interesting article about the whole event. But I sat down at one point during this protest, on an open issue of the LA Free Press. And when I pulled the paper out from under my butt, I realized that I had sat down on the face of my friend Peter Bergman. It was open to a picture of Peter Bergman, it said KPFK news man Peter Bergman interviews a returning Vietnamese war veteran. I said, "I'll be damned", so I called KPFK, and that's when I learned that he was the renowned 'Wizard of Oz', on the "Radio Free Oz" show. It was like a 4 hour late night radio show. It was the first counter culture talk show. It was an amazing, amazing show, and it was at the time produced and engineered by Phil Austin, and David Ossman was poetry adviser or something. And I went down to improvise with Peter on the show and do crazy characters, and that's where I met Phil, the other Phil, and Dave Ossman, and one night we all did this improvisation together, "The Radio Free Oz Film Festival", and that was where the FIRESIGN THEATRE happened. We learned we were all fire signs, and Peter suddenly had this vision of us as being the 'Beatles of Comedy', and the rest is hysteria.
FZ: By then you had made some real movies, like "Sunday In New York" with Jane Fonda?
PP: Well, that was the first movie I ever did. I've actually got a copy of it. That's the first time I ever spoke Norwegian to someone because I was stuck in a row boat with this very pretty Norwegian blonde and of course they put a dark wig on her because Fonda was a blonde. They didn't want any competition. You can't have 2 blondes in the same movie. My scene was a little, little scene where our boats pass one another and my lady is rowing me and I'm kind of directing her and so this thing between Fonda and Rod Taylor is, "Well, why don't you do that for me?" The scenes ensues and blah, blah, blah.
FZ: Your uncle Clarence Eurist is listed as production manager of that movie.
PP: That's how I got the job! He got me in for a reading with the director and the director said, "Ah, sure, use the kid." That was my first movie job. My uncle got me into AFTRA and SAG, basically. Because once he knew that I was serious about becoming an actor, he said, "Oh, we've got to get you in the unions."
But it wasn't until I had really committed to staying out here that I began to get work in the movie industry. And I think my first job in LA was theater, primarily, working at the Mark Taper and doing those plays down there. Then from that I got some movie and television bites. I did the "Daniel Boone" show. My recollection of these is very vague because it wasn't my primary focus. But I did some various leads, they were good leads, guest starring in lead parts in television series.
And then I was in "The Thousand Plane Raid" (1969) which was typical. It was a film that used every young actor who was out here from New York so it wasn't any big deal that I was in it. It was interesting. There was like a thousand of us who were flown up to Lompac to be in this movie. And Firesign was happening at that time so I was in conflict with that. I had to miss a couple of radio shows or something. I really didn't have a firm grip at those times as to . . . Well you can manage your own career and your partners will help you and you'll be OK.
FZ: Some actors say that they don't like doing films because it's like rehearsing all the time, doing the same scene over and over and over again.
PP: Well, yeah, that again, belies their technique. I mean, if you have an opportunity, believe me FIRESIGN THEATRE is a classic arena for the freedom of this kind of approach. And the reason why we have so much fun doing what we are doing and the result is really so excellent is because all 4 of us enjoy repeating a performance, because we know we can do something a little different with it every time and that our partners will play off of it.
What I complain about is that when you go in to do a sitcom or when you work with a director in a movie for television or a film, who doesn't appreciate the actor's art. Let's go to the sitcom first. When you're working for a sit-com, you're being directed and supervised by a board of directors. And because all of these writers have been given production heft, so you've got a panel, a jury of producer / writers, 'suits', they call them, who come down at certain points during the process, the 5 day rehearsal process, and look at a run-through and then revise the show. So the greatest complaint that actors have is that they're cast in a role in a sit-com and they come in and they've beaten out 500 other actors or actresses to get the role and in they come. And they read it around the table. Everybody laughs. And then they start putting it on it's feet. Then they have their first run-through and then the part is changed. So that ultimately, in many instances, it's either cut to nothing or to one line or two lines or the whole concept of the part is changed to the extent that you're suddenly doing something that you're not comfortable with. It can be a nightmare. And then you have to do it in front of an audience.
FZ: And still be funny.
PP: And still be funny. Now the thing that most actors say about film work is that is the most difficult and Dacon Mathews, whom I have enormous respect for, who created the Antaeus Company, or is at least funding the Antaeus company, he said the hardest thing, and he works all the time, is hitting your marks and holding yourself in unnatural positions for the camera. And this is true. And this is true.
The first time I did the soap opera, I remember, I was talking on the phone. And the director said, "No, you're covering your mouth with the phone." I said, "I am?" He said, "Yeah, you have to hold the phone down so we can see your face." I said, "Oh." Ha, ha. That was my first clue. And then I had to drive a hot-rod. I didn't even know how to drive. I had to drive a hot-rod on to the stage about 6 feet and pull it to a stop on a mark. Oh, man, it was trial by doing, I guess. I don't know how to say it. Anyway, it was scary as hell. Remember, soaps in those day were live! Now, if you do a soap you know that can always stop and do a pick-up and blah, blah, blah.
Again, the difficulty of working in film and television for an actor who is not a 'star', or a recognized feature player, you never know what they're going to do with the work that you do. The last soap opera that I did, the way they shot around me and everything, it was a delightful experience. I had a wonderful time shooting it. It was General Hospital, I think, I don't remember. I had a great time shooting this flamboyant, he was a Ralph Spoilsport character, basically. He was a used car dealer and he'd hired one of the regulars on the soap to be the spokesperson. She was this
cute little genie, the spokesperson for his car line or something. Anyway it was great fun and I had three or four scenes. They shot 'em well and I got 'em right. We did each one, maybe twice or something. And I thought, "This will be great. I set my
tape recorder and record it and I'll put it on my reel. This will be really terrific." Well I set both of my tape recorders for the wrong hour or something. I know what I did. I set it from 12:00 to 12:01, instead of 1:01. I don't know, I made some horrible stupid mistake, common mistake, on both machines! So I didn't get anything on tape, so I called my mom. I said, "Hey mom, how was it?" She said, "Oh, don't bother. They shot all around you. You were on screen for about 3 seconds." I said, "No, you're kidding! I had four scenes!" And sure enough a friend finally sent me a copy, a relative sent me a copy and I looked at it and I said, "Yeah." The way they staged it they featured this cute little actress, the 'star' and I was just like a mosquito in the scene, you know, buzzing around the star. It was ridiculous. There you go.|
So that's one of the things that's discouraging about it. You can ask any actor, "Oh yeah, I did seven great scenes and they cut them all out of the movie. I was only in one brief shot, one reaction shot. And that's it. But I worked seven weeks on the movie and I made $25,000 and I'll get residuals and so who cares." Well, that's the way it goes. Those are some of the realities of the business and you just kind of keep slogging away until finally you actually do get a break that stays in the movie. Anyway that's been my experience.
As far as rehearsing it and filming it and all that, that depends on the director. If the director says, "Throw out the script and do whatever you want with this scene right now.", then you can have some fun. Or if he says, "I don't expect you to be the same every time." But if you've got to hit a mark and you've got to turn, and the camera is going to zoom in on you and you've got to do whatever. Well, that's different. That might be something that everybody can complain about.
Melinda and I worked recently on Steve Kessler's "The Independent" (1998).
We were able to subtly change what we did every time because the director had covered us in a proper way. And he was respectful of the fact that we're good comic actors. So he let us, basically, subtly, because, you know, the changes that you make in film are based on the character that you've established but then within the context of that you can change it. He let us experiment and I'm sure he's chosen the best take to put in the film.
When the four of us did "Gods' Clowns" (1998) for Sandoz recently up in Portland, the same kind of thing went on, except that we were shooting it in a smaller ratio of takes to film. So we didn't want to overshoot, you know, to keep it within budget. But we basically could do variations on a theme and experiment a little bit with what we were going to do in each take, until the director said, "Yeah, that was great. We don't have to do it again. I got it." To my way of thinking, the more often you get to do something, as long as the director isn't saying, "You're not doing it right! Do it the way I told you!", it's the fun of doing movies and TV.
FZ: Do you think the independent directors are more sympathetic to the actors?
PP: Oh, sure. But it varies. There are excellent directors on every level who come out. People complain they didn't like working with Hitchcock and look at the great body of work he created. I mean, it has to do with your own sense of professional control and being able to work under any given circumstance to the best of your ability and to use your training and your talent to meet the demands of the particular circumstance. That's a combination of training and professional experience. The more work that I've done in television the more that I've been able to see how even the very best of seasoned stars and featured players can blow a scene over and over and over and over and over again. They just can't get the line right or something that throws them off. But the pressure that's on us, as guest artists to come into a sitcom or into a short term project are much greater.
FZ: They don't give you that latitude?
PP: They will if you have the confidence to say, "Can I do that again?" But they won't if you're just trying to do it right. If you're trying to do it right doesn't necessarily mean doing it your way. And so you look for an atmosphere where they say, "No Phil, just do what you want with this." And that doesn't happen very much in television. They're so terrified, you know.
FZ: This is kind of a dumb question but . . .
PP: I expect no less from you.
FZ: What is your typical working day like?
PP: Well the last couple of days have been kind of typical. My life is a balance of my personal life with my professional life with my private life. What am I trying to say? I try to live a life where I can I enjoy my home, my place that I live, and my life with Melinda and my obligations as a father and a husband and a citizen in balance with making a living in the profession. And I think for the most part I'm able to do that. So if I'm not working at a professional job that I'm making money from and residuals from that I've been cast in, that I'm doing, I will go down to the office and turn my attention to FIRESIGN THEATRE or to Planet Proctor or to updating my professional phone book or to making some contact calls or to something that furthers some aspect of my career. Or I will put some work into to this voice tape that I have to do soon and various other things that are professional obligations that will help forward my career. Or, since I'm now doing a play, spend some time going over my role and learning some new music and what have you. There's always something to do that relates to my professional life because the professional life is kind of blended into the personal life. There's a smooth blend in my existence of how I make a living and how I live and they're both really fun.
I really have a good time in my life, it's a very nice life. I'm enjoying my lifestyle and everything I do and my friends. Melinda and I are very happy together and we
love to got out and see theater and movies and we like to spend evenings in. It's a
very good existence because I'm not a star, I'm not recognized to the extent that I'm constantly getting invitations to things that I have to be there for because it's a professional obligation and people expect me to be there and blah, blah, blah. So at this point I've got a nice balance of professional recognition and admiration for my work and yet a respect for my privacy and my own life. It's pretty neat.