Robert Guillaume was a terrible actor — on one occasion. He was great in everything you ever saw, and he was great in everything I ever saw…with one exception.
In 1997, I was story editor and voice director on a cartoon series and we were casting voices. I had a list of actors we were calling in to read for certain parts and one of the Executive Producers insisted that I call in and read Robert Guillaume for a particular role.
I thought that Mr. Guillaume, as fine an actor as he could be, was all wrong for the part but the Exec Producer guy insisted. He was one of these "my idea is the best one because I thought of it" fellows and I had the feeling that no matter how right or wrong or good or bad Guillaume was in his audition, the E.P. was going to insist on him. The show's creators and I were already battling him on the casting for several other roles.
He had his secretary call Guillaume's agent and schedule him to come in. Mr. Guillaume arrived at the appointed hour wearing — and I remember it because he was the only auditioner we had who dressed this way — a suit and tie. Usually, one does not dress up for a voiceover audition. I had met him before. A few years earlier, I'd been a writer on a short-lived variety show for ABC called The Half-Hour Comedy Hour, which was the kind of show you'd get if you combined Rowan & Martin's Laugh-In with Rowan & Martin's Laugh-In. Same show, different cast members.
Various ABC stars were conscripted to do brief cameos and at the time, Guillaume was starring quite successfully in Benson. He was very funny in his cameo on our show and very cordial and easy to work with. At the cartoon audition though, he seemed sullen and unenthusiastic. He listened politely as I explained the character and he studied the dialogue without much energy. Then he went into the recording booth and gave a professional but uninspiring reading of the audition script. When he came out, I said to him, "You don't want to do this, do you?"
He smiled for the first time since he'd arrived and said, "No. Nothing against you or your show but I've got a lot of projects I'm doing now, mostly books and live theater. I really have no interest in being on a weekly cartoon series just now."
I asked him, "Then what are you doing here?" Which seemed like an obvious question but one well worth asking.
He said, "My agent insisted I come in. I tried to get out of it but he told me to just come in so he wouldn't look bad for not being able to deliver me. Apparently, whoever called up — was it you? — was really insistent that I had to read for this part."
I told him it wasn't me who'd called and I asked, "Would you be happier if I assured you we won't hire you?" He said he would be. I said, "Then you'd better go back in the booth and do a much poorer reading of the audition script."
He smiled and said, "It would be my pleasure." He went back in. I told the engineer to erase what he'd done before and we re-slated as if this was the first read. Guillaume did it very poorly and I then had him do it two more times, giving him direction on how to make it even less acceptable with each read. Finally, I said, "Perfect. If it was any worse, they'd probably kick you out of the Screen Actors Guild."
He thanked me and just before he left, he asked, "Listen, just in case they still want me for some insane reason, how much money do I ask for to ensure I don't get it but I don't embarrass my agent by asking for the moon?" I told him an amount, he thanked me again and that was it. The next day, the Executive Producer told me he was somewhat disappointed with what he'd heard from Robert Guillaume. He may have been the only person in show business who ever was.