How To Be An ENTERTAINER by Clarence Herisko
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If you have ever felt that you would like to be a comedian, a singer, an actor, or an entertainer of different specialty — then, this book gives you the practical understanding, professional advice on how to get started, how to develop your talent, how to perform before an audience. Also includes a complete section with material — monologues, patter, jokes, pantomimes, limericks, songs, etc.
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HOW TO BE AN ENTERTAINER by Clarence Herisko
KEY PUBLISHING CO.
New York 3, N. Y.
Copyright 1959 by KEY PUBLISHING CO.
PUBLISHED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
CONTENTS
Chapter 1. Anyone Can Be An Entertainer
Page 5
Part I—SINGING 2. Singing Isn't Only for the Birds 3. What Makes a Singer 4. The Singer Sings
12 19 25
Part II — HUMORIST-M.C. 5. A Sense of Humor, Everyone Has 6. How to Get to the Punch Line 7. Rolling Them in the Aisles
32 37 43
Part III —ACTING-AMATEUR 8. All the World's a Stage 9. How to Be or Not to Be 10. The Curtain Rises
50 55 60
Part IV — THE PROFESSIONAL 11. From Amateur to Professional
68
Part V — ENTERTAINMENT MATERIAL SECTION Section 1. Anecdotes and Stories 2. Monologues 3. Warmup Routine 4. Impressions 5. Wit and Wisdom 6. Pantomine 7. Oral & Pantomine 8. Song Routine
74 80 82 84 87 88 90 93
TO MY WIFE ILONA Whose accomplishments in the field of entertainment epitomizes the purpose of this book.
Chapter I ANYONE CAN BE AN ENTERTAINER The scene, a Madison Avenue restaurant. Speaking, an advertising executive. "Funny thing about Bill. . . . He's my older brother, you know. When we were kids he was always putting on an act. I mean that literally. He'd put together shows with the neighborhood kids, all kinds of shows, and in every one he was the star. If there ever was a kid that had show business talent, it was Bill. He could sing, dance, crack jokes . . . a real live wire. Even now when I think about him as he was then, somehow I feel a little more cheerful. . . . It's too bad. Too darn bad. . . ." The executive leans back in his chair and thoughtfully lights a cigar. After a moment his luncheon guest asks a question. "How's it too bad?" the executive replies. "Well, today Bill's a successful CPA. He's forty-five, has a fine family, a nice home in the suburbs. A model citizen, he has apparently everything it takes to make a happy life. But still . . . Let me put it this way. In the last fifteen or twenty years, I can count the number of times I've heard him laugh, really laugh. He's the complete opposite of that kid I knew on our East Side street. Quiet, serious, reserved, something inside him seems to have died. Somewhere along the line he's bottled up a precious part of himself that used to run riot during those corny vaudeville shows he used to put on. And he, and we are the worse off for it. But I suppose there's nothing can be done about it now. It's too late. . . ." The scene shifts from the Madison Avenue restaurant to a living room in a small house in New Jersey. Mrs. Jim Beckwith, a woman of about fifty is talking to her son. "A piano? We could never get one in here. The room's too small. But we used to have a piano. That was when we were first married. Your dad wanted it. Why? Oh, he used to like to sing. Yes, that was long ago when he was in his early twenties. Now what was the name of that song he liked so much? . . . Oh yes, "Only a Rose." He used to stand there by that piano and sing his head off. What a strong voice he had. Too strong. The neighbors complained
and he gave it up. I don't know much about that kind of thing, but I guess your dad could have been a good singer if he'd stuck with it. But I'll tell you this, whether he was good or not, I certainly liked to hear him sing." Again another scene. This time the bedroom of Tom A., aged nineteen, in a house in a small Midwestern town. Tom, a filling station attendant, is sitting before his small television set intently watching a TV version of "Hamlet." Enthralled by this coming to life of characters that had been only dull figures in his high school textbooks, Tom remembers the day only six months ago when he had played the lead in his high school class play, and for a short, thrilling time had stepped out of his skin and almost lived someone else's life. It had been for him a moment of revelation, this chance to leave his ordinary life behind him. And now, watching Maurice Evans breathe life into the Dane of Denmark, he once again feels the exultant surge of the act of creation within him. In this moment, Tom would give anything to become an actor. Soon the TV drama comes to its end, the set is turned off, as perhaps is Tom's dream with the passing of time. Now let us take a look at these capsule accounts. It becomes immediately apparent that three individuals widely separated in space and time have or had one thing in common—the desire or ability to entertain his fellow man. If we were to meet these people during the course of their daily lives, we would hardly assume that this was so. Bill, the accountant, and Jim Beckwith, the husband who had once liked to sing, have relegated their talents or desires to a distant past. Tom, unless he finds someone to encourage him, doubtless will get caught up in a life that centers around the basic need of earning a living, something which being an actor in a small Midwestern town will never be able to provide. And years from now when he takes time off from his task of operating his own gasoline service station perhaps he will remember that time he strode the boards of his high school stage, and wonder if he hadn't missed something in his life, something precious that needn't have been missed. But the term "precious" implies that this ability or desire to entertain has a high value. On the face of it, one could hardly think this to be so. Of course, the ability to entertain when carried over into the professional field of performing arts certainly does have a value that can be measured in varying degrees of dollars and cents, sometimes amounting to a staggering sum. But the people of whom we are speaking are unable for various reasons to ever become a part of that profession, and consequently cease to
engage in the field at all. Regardless of the reasons, it is contended here that this is a mistake. This raises the question, why is it a mistake? To many, the word entertainment has a frivolous connotation. To engage in it or not to engage in it is hardly an earthshaking problem, unless one is determined to make a full-time career of it, and even then its value is open to question. In addition, to how many people could such a question be pertinent? Surely hardly enough to matter. Questions like these demand answers, and in supplying these answers the reasons why this book has been written will also be presented. To begin with, the word "entertainment" as it is used here means diversion, or something that diverts man's attention in an enjoyable fashion. Obviously, an interpretation so general covers a large field, from toys to poetry, but as it is used here denotes those activities usually presented on a stage or in a theatre. Even in this field, there are so many different categories, like juggling, dancing, magic, etc., that they cannot be described because of lack of space. Therefore, this book will deal with three main classifications, singing, comedy, and acting, which in essence form the basis of many other kinds of entertainment. As is well known, the arts have been with us from the very beginnings of man's recorded history. Along with the two basic forces of survival and religion that have motivated historical man, the arts, of which the theatre is a major branch, seem to have occupied a place almost if not equally as important. Still, for some reason the world of the theatre or entertainment has often been regarded as not being quite respectable. Be that as it may, today an Arthur Godfrey can be consulted by a highranking official of the United States government, a Bing Crosby can become almost an institution, and a Laurence Olivier can achieve knighthood. These and multitudes of other examples certainly can verify that those who can be classified as entertainers or performers have earned a place in the sun for themselves and their colleagues. Granted then, that the activity is not frivolous or unrespectable, but an important one. If so, what makes it thus, other than its longevity in the affairs of mankind? To understand the overall importance of this branch of the arts it is necessary to examine its very roots, not only historically, but philosophically as well. It has been said that we live in "The Age of Anxiety." This is true to a great extent, but it is also valid to say that Man has lived in a state of anxiety ever since he began, from his first battles with the terrible and mysterious force of Nature, through his fight against ignorance, to now, finally, his