Living On Air (11 page)

Bob and Lew quickly saw that Ron was a superstar. They had him produce huge image pieces for the network and ultimately Ron was put in charge of creative imaging for the entire FOX television network under Sandy’s guidance. With that kind of reputation, it wasn’t long before Ron was hired away to work for someone else. CBS President Leslie Moonves had heard about Ron Scalera and wanted him for his own. It happened in June of 1997. We had nearly nine years together at FOX and had forged a lasting friendship. Once he settled into his new job at CBS he pulled me into the fold to voice comedies at that network, too. [
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I don’t know anyone who didn’t like Ron. He was joy multiplied ten thousand times. He loved music, television, smoking cigars, drinking good scotch, his friends, and most of all, his family, back in Jersey and here in Los Angeles. Ron’s wife, Elizabeth, is from Maryland, like Ann, so we had that in common, too. And they have two wonderful kids, Rachel and Michael.

I spent a fair amount of time with Ron just talking about life. A group of us joined the Grand Havana Room cigar club in Beverly Hills and shared a box filled with stogies. That box had a gold nameplate on it that read “FOX,” then after Ron moved to CBS, we renamed it “Monkey.” Ron said, “You can’t say ‘monkey’ without smiling.” It’s still there today. Our Grand Havana Room group includes Ron Mulligan, Mark and Chris Bonn, Paul Robie and one of Ron’s closest buddies, Bob Campbell. Thinking about those nights makes my heart heavy because Ron left us way too soon.

The last time I saw him alive, Ann and I were at his house for a night of tennis. Elizabeth had invited me to play with some of her friends. Ann and Ron sat back to watch us run around the court and to catch up on their lives. They talked about our kids, what they were doing and where they were going. It was a beautiful evening. We made plans to do it again soon, but a few days later I got the horrible news.

It was April 21, 2010, and Ron was getting ready to go back east to see his family in Jersey. His brother was very sick and Ron wasn’t sure if this trip might be the last time he would see his brother alive. It was early that morning and he was taking his dog out for a walk before heading to the airport when he collapsed in the street. There were people around who rushed to help him. In fact, we heard that one of the first to get to Ron’s side was actor Matt LeBlanc from the TV show “Friends.” LeBlanc was in the neighborhood when he saw Ron fall to the ground, but it was already too late. Ron was gone in an instant. He was 49 years old.

Ron was unlike anyone I had ever met before. He was the ultimate feel-good fun guy. He wanted everyone to have the best time possible and he took us all on the ride of our lives.
He organized different outings, golf weekends, eating weekends, anything that would bring his friends together. We did cigar mixers, scotch mixers, mixer mixers, then woke up the next morning to play golf and drink some more. He played the guitar in a band with Paul Robie, and Brian Dollenmeyer, at that time the new head of marketing at FOX. We were always in the front row at the Canyon Club in Camarillo to listen to and dance to their music. The look on Ron’s face while he sang and played his guitar was pure happiness.

One night, Ron and Elizabeth, Paul and Michelle Robie were over for dinner. We were living in Beverly Hills at that time, in a beautiful Mediterranean home with a pool and a tennis court. Ron said, “Joey, I know you love tennis. Let’s go hit some balls on your court.” We went outside, me hitting against Paulie and Ron, each of them holding a tumbler of scotch on the rocks in one hand and a tennis racket in the other.

Ron pulled CBS up by the bootstraps and grabbed it around the nape of its neck to help it become the number one network in television. Les Moonves did his magic with the programming, but Ron created campaigns that made people watch. He “got them into the tent” as the saying goes. I don’t even know if the regular TV viewer knew why he needed to turn on CBS at eight p.m. every night, but he did it because Ron Scalera told him so.

I can’t believe how much I miss him and I’ll never be able to thank him enough for what he did for me. I wouldn’t be where I am today without Ron. You don’t always get to be friends with the people you work with, but that’s happened for me many times over again. Ron, Susan Berman Moore, Geoff Calnan, Garen van de Beek and going back a few years, Stoney Richards, and Barbara Grieco. So many people. I think it comes from being
open, helpful, willing to do whatever it takes to get the job done right. People notice that kind of work ethic and it isn’t always the boss in charge. Most times, it’s your co-workers who appreciate the effort you take to make something they are working on even better.

Remember the first time I met Willard Scott at NBC in Washington, back in 1975? He grabbed me in a bear hug then planted a big wet kiss on my forehead. He greeted every single person with a smile. I never forgot that. I wanted to be the same kind of guy. I wanted to be one of the high points of someone’s day, not the low point. Besides, most of what I do only takes about 15 minutes a session. But the engineer, the writer, the editor, chances are those people are working an eight-hour shift, sometimes more. I was not going to come into the room complaining about my day.

I love my job, but honestly it’s the personal relationships that mean so much to me. Those friendships might not pay the bills but they have enriched my life in ways that money can’t buy. Those are the people who inspire you to do better, to reach higher. And you’re about to meet two of the best.

DON AND DANNY

Years ago I was out to dinner with a bunch of voice-over people, Joan Baker, George DelHoyo, Sylvia Villagran, plus a few other friends. The man sitting next to me looked at the menu, then leaned over and in the voice that launched a million blockbusters, he said, “We should get the caviar tonight, for an appetizer.” I nearly gagged when I saw the price. It was $320 for some ridiculously small amount. I said, “No way, it’s too expensive.” He looked at me with a grin then said, “Joey, it’s a spot and a tag!”

That man was the late, great Don LaFontaine. Of course, we got the caviar.

I’ve already told you a little bit about Don when we worked together at FOX. He is probably the most successful voice-over artist of all time. Don passed away in 2008 yet he still holds the record for the most contracts ever filed by the Screen Actors Guild. He recorded hundreds of thousands of spots to promote movies, television shows, radio stations, commercial products, anything and everything. Then there was the television commercial he did for the Geico Insurance Company. That’s the one where you actually got to see what he looked like, on camera. Don was second to no one. He even inspired a movie, a comedy about the people who work in voice-over, called “In A World,” written, directed by, and starring the extremely talented Lake Bell. I have
a small part in the movie, playing myself in a couple of scenes. Once you see what Don meant to our industry, you’ll understand why producers loved and feared him. Agents courted him. Up-and-comers tried to sound like him. All of us respected him.

Don was already a legend when I met him for the first time. It was at a studio in Los Angeles on Third Street, just east of Fairfax, in 1982, way before the FOX network was created. I was at the studio to voice a trailer for “Fast Times at Ridgemont High.” When I walked into the room, the producer told me they weren’t quite ready yet, so he asked me to take a seat. The lights were low but I could see there was a man sitting in a dark corner, looking down at a book on his lap. The producer called out for someone to get a cup of coffee for Cipriano, and that’s when this guy looked up and said, “Cipriano? Are you Joe?”

I was blown away by that voice. It sounded like it was coming out of a speaker. Crisp, clean, clear, and deep. Even though we had never met before, I knew exactly who it was.

“Yeah, I’m Joe.” I smiled back, happy to finally meet the “Voice of God.”

“I’ve heard you on some stuff. You’re pretty good, kid.”

“Thanks! I’m a big fan of yours.”

“Yeah, everyone is,” he cracked back. That was Don. Funny, self-deprecating, brilliant. [
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I reached out to shake hands and when he stood up I got my first look at the famous Don. About my height, he had on a black satin shirt, open to the middle of his chest, with a thick gold chain hanging from his neck. I noticed a big watch on his wrist and an even bigger buckle on the belt stretched around his ample waist. I had already heard Don wore a toupee, and there it was, a
dark, curly hairpiece sitting on top of his head. When he turned to sit back down I saw a huge falcon or some other monster bird embroidered on the back of his shirt. Now I knew who owned the muscle car sitting out by the front door in the parking lot. I used to think Don dressed to match his various cars. With a giant bird on his back, I figured the Pontiac Firebird outside obviously belonged to him. Even though he was only 14 years older than I was, in many ways Don reminded me of my dad. They were both on the short side, with huge personalities. Big appetites, easy smiles, and bright eyes. Dad’s were a warm brown, Don’s were crystal blue. Much like my dad, if Don thought you were taking yourself too seriously, he would knock you down a notch.

Don’s sense of humor always played against type. I saw people who thought they had a sense of who he was, with his commanding voice and his serious work ethic, then he would say something completely unexpected. He loved goofing on people to watch their reaction, especially his friends. Like the time Ann and I were hosting the AFTRA holiday party at our home in Beverly Hills.

Towards the end of the night, Don came up to Ann and me in the kitchen, our kids were standing there, too. Dayna was probably about 16 and Alex was 13. Don looked at the kids and said in an epic movie trailer voice, “Mommy’s going to go away for a while and it’s just going to be Uncle Don and your daddy living with you.” Then he reached over and gave me a big kiss right on the lips. Ann and I about fell on the floor laughing along with our kids, but Don wasn’t quite finished. With his hand planted on his hip, he said, “But we’re not gonna live in this hellhole! We’re all moving to MY house!”

Then there was the time Don overheard someone refer to me as the “Voice of FOX” broadcasting network. That was when I was voicing all of the network’s comedies and Don was voicing
the dramas. He said, “Voice of FOX? That’s who you are? Well, I bow to you Lord VOFF.”

“Lord VOFF?”

“Yes indeed,” he said. “You are Lord, Voice Of FOX, VOFF.” He would needle me for the next few years, calling me Lord VOFF, but it never bothered me. In fact, I appreciated his friendly reminder to keep my feet planted firmly on the ground. Like my dad, Don didn’t take any attitude from anybody, especially at work.

My guess is, if Don was tough on a producer, it was probably well deserved because Don knew just about everything there was to know about the business. He started out as a recording engineer, became a writer, producer, director, and eventually ended up doing voice-overs for the very commercials he used to create. Don had a huge vocabulary, he devoured books. He was one of the smartest guys I ever met. Don was the one who came up with that famous movie trailer line, the one that became the title of the movie, “In a world…” Every studio still used that line, long after he was gone. Don was famous for getting his reads right the first time around, so when a new producer tried to “direct” him, we all just sat back and waited for the sparks to fly. Not that he couldn’t take direction, but let’s face it, if someone’s going to tell you what to do, they better know what they’re talking about. It might go something like this:

“Very good, Mister LaFontaine. Now would you give me a second take on that?”

“Why?” It’s only a three-letter word, but Don emphasized every letter, making it a complete sentence.

“Uh, so I have a backup take?”

“Why do you need another take of me doing what I just did?”

“Uh, you’re right. Never mind, Mister LaFontaine.”

Another time I heard a young producer say, “Let’s do a ‘tonight’ version now.” [
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Don replied, leaning into the microphone and in his very deepest register, “Normally I decide when that happens.” The producer just froze, not knowing if Don was serious or not.

When he wasn’t keeping me, and everyone else in check, Don enjoyed helping out newcomers who were trying hard to break into the voice-over business. I think it started when he was tooling around town in his limousine. Don and his driver would meet the lucky person at Don’s agent’s office, then take them on the ride of their life, going from session to session, watching and listening to everything he did. Don was so absolutely at the top of his game, it was a chance for the up-and-coming actor to learn at the foot of the master. I don’t know how many people he invited to spend the day with him but I’m sure it was in the hundreds. It was incredibly generous. After Don passed away, his generosity was the inspiration behind building the Don LaFontaine Voice-Over Lab at the Screen Actors Guild Foundation in Los Angeles. Don’s best friend, Paul Pape, and I came up with the idea to build a state-of-the-art recording studio that would be open, free of charge, to anyone who was interested in learning about the voice-over world. It’s a place to experiment, make mistakes, and learn the craft without pressure or criticism. Paul and I call it a “virtual” ride-along with Don.

I never went on one of those ride-alongs. I was already working in voice-overs when he started his one-on-one sessions, but he did offer me advice at a time in my life when I thought my whole world was falling apart.

We were still living in Beverly Hills, when I found out I had been dropped by a very big client. With one phone call, I learned I had lost half of my income. I was sitting in my studio, paralyzed, feeling like I had just been punched in the stomach. It was devastating, the worst dive I had ever experienced on that terrible roller coaster. For the first time in my life I started to doubt myself. I thought my career was over.

Unfortunately, I had already committed to take part in a seminar that same week, in New York, promoting a book called “Secrets of Voice-Over Success.” The book was the brainchild of actor, writer, and coach Joan Baker. It’s filled with tips from some of the most successful voice-over actors around on how to get started in the business. The seminar was another chance to share those stories from some of us who wrote chapters in the book. Plus, all the proceeds from the sale of the book went towards Alzheimer’s research, something I care about deeply. My own dad suffered from Alzheimer’s disease. I knew there was no backing out from that trip. But all I could think of was, how could I take part in a discussion about voice-over success, when I felt like such a failure?

With a heavy heart I left my family back home in L.A. and flew to New York City. I knew that everyone on the voice-over panel would have heard about my personal disaster but I had no idea how they would treat me. After I landed at JFK Airport, I saw that I had a missed call on my cell phone from Don. He had left a message, inviting me up to his hotel room before the seminar that night. When I got there, he met me at the door of his beautiful suite at the Michelangelo Hotel, then grabbed me with both arms in a big hug. We sat down and right away he said to me, “Joey, don’t worry about this. You’re too good to not work.”

Then he simply said, “Find your voice.”

He went on to point out that the voice in which I was speaking to him at that moment was vastly different from the high-energy comedy performance I was known for at FOX, CBS, and other networks and shows. [
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] He told me to explore that voice. I didn’t share his enthusiasm. In fact, I told him it had crossed my mind that my ride might be over, styles change, and all that. But he kept at it, encouraging me, propping me up, offering me comfort when I needed it most, from someone I greatly respected. I will always be grateful to him for his kindness and his compassion. Don gave me the confidence to carry on.

When I got back home, I did exactly what Don told me to do. I heard that NBC was looking for a new drama voice. I had never been hired to voice dramas before. I had never tapped into that lower register in my voice because I relied on the tried and true comedy sound. Now I had nothing to lose, so I went about creating a new voice-over demo, using my lower register for a series of drama promos. When I was done, I played it for my friends and agents. Not one person guessed it was me. [
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] But it was me, truly me, just a different version. A new attitude, a new voice. My agent Rita submitted my demo to NBC and I ended up getting the gig over scores of hopefuls. I met a whole new group of people in this new genre of voice-over, plus all kinds of unexpected opportunities suddenly opened up for me. Oddly enough, a few years later, the job I had originally lost, that caused so much worry in my life, ultimately came back to me.

Soon after I started working for NBC, I saw Don at a party where he was retelling this story from his perspective, meeting me in his hotel suite, hearing about the sudden loss of half my income, encouraging me to find my voice. When he finished the story, he leaned over to me and said, “Joey, you’re a bigger man than me. If that had happened to me, I think I might have rolled up into the fetal position and not come out.”

Of course, I don’t think the great Don LaFontaine would have done that at all. He would have come out fighting, doing at least what I did, probably more. One thing I do know for sure. Don’s concern and his words of encouragement, at possibly the lowest point in my voice-over career, helped me so much more than I can ever say.

In the 25 years I knew Don, I saw his image change from tacky to tasteful, his toupee tossed out in favor of shaving his head smooth, the flashy car traded in first for that limo, then for a more classic car. In my opinion, much of the credit for his sophisticated makeover goes to the wise and elegant Anita Whitaker LaFontaine, Don’s talented wife. Together, Nita and Don loomed large in our small world of voice-over as a couple who cared deeply about sharing their success with others, whether they were opening their home to the rest of us for business meetings, or quietly donating to their favorite charities.

One year after Don died, an award was created at the worldwide television marketing convention, ProMax, in honor of his charitable acts. Nita graciously accepted on his behalf. The following year I was blown away to be the first to receive the award, following Don. [
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] That beautiful statue sits in my living room where I see it every day. It reminds me not to give up, to have faith in myself. Most of all it reminds me of Don’s place in my life. I miss him. His jokes, his talent, his generous heart. I will never forget how Don inspired me to find all of my voices, especially at that time when I felt so lost. [
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As much as Don helped me with my career, there was another voice-over actor who made a huge impression on my personal life. His name was Danny Dark. You may remember I was inspired to use the name Dave Donovan early in my radio career by a few great “Double D’s.” Danny was one of them, at the top of the heap. We all called Danny Dark, D Squared. When I was coming
up in radio, Danny was the voice of everything. I absolutely idolized him. “This Bud’s for you.” “Anheuser-Busch, St. Louis.” “Raid! Kills-Bugs-Dead.” Keebler cookies, “baked by little elves in a hollow tree.” StarKist tuna, “Sorry, Charlie.” And so many more iconic advertising lines. Danny was also one of the last great network voices, working for NBC for more than 15 years. [
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] That was back in the day when one person voiced all shows the network had on the air, dramas, comedies, live shows, and movies. He was a king among princes.