Once in a very great while, and because I have a bit of radio in my distant past, someone will ask me to do a bit of voiceover work. Usually when they need it to be free.
In the fall of 2002, I was in a downtown Minneapolis studio recording a tagline for some political radio ads as a favor to a friend. In between takes, I wandered out to a little lounge area to grab a coffee. Down the hall, I could hear a stentorian baritone from another studio’s monitors, voicing a single line over about six takes. Something about a rabbit.
“Wow,” I thought. “That guy does a mean Robert Goulet.”
As it happened, it was Robert Goulet. Taking a break himself, he came strolling down the corridor moments later, looking very much like a Central Casting version of himself — assured, completely at ease, impossibly well-groomed. He paused to nod a warm hello, and for a bit it was Bob and me, the “talent,” hangin’ out between takes and having a coffee. Shortly thereafter, I was back to being a PR guy again — my show business zenith having been hit.
When my University students talk about being drawn to advertising and PR, they sometimes mention what they perceive as the “glamour” of the profession. For most, I suppose that dissipates with the first press kit stuffing or the 200th pitch call. But the job does have its occasional unexpected moment, doesn’t it?
Knock ’em dead up there, Mr. Goulet. 73 was way too early.