Gary Owens left us in the middle of February. This afternoon, a tiny percentage of his friends attended a memorial gathering. As the emcee John Rappaport remarked, they couldn't have let all of Gary's friends in because the Coliseum was booked. I'm not sure even that place would have held them all.
It was a nice, intimate celebration. Gary's sons Scott and Chris spoke. His beloved wife Arleta spoke. And then came the friends and co-workers.
Some of us who spoke or were present wrote for Gary's radio show when we were starting out, then went on to careers in television and elsewhere. John Rappaport, who was one of Gary's closest friends, has had a very impressive career and he was a very impressive host, introducing — in this order — Monty Aidem, George Schlatter, Joanne Worley, Ben Fong-Torres, me, Fred Willard and Arnie Kogen.
You know Fred Willard and you probably know that George produced Rowan & Martin's Laugh-In and that Joanne was a cast member. Ben Fong-Torres was a friend of Gary's for fifty years and he got a huge laugh with the opening line of his speech. He said, "Even though I work for Rolling Stone, what I'm going to tell you is true." The rest of us are comedy writers. Here's what I said, following a montage of Gary's work in animation…
You just saw a tiny sampling of the hundreds of cartoons in which Gary's familiar and friendly tones were heard. True, Mel Blanc probably did more but Mel cheated a little. Mel had nine hundred and ninety-nine more voices than Gary did. Gary got hired for his one great one.
Gary was heard on dozens of shows — and what's interesting is that not only did all those characters sound like Gary but a few of them even looked like him. There were commercials for Flintstones cereals directed by his friend Scott Shaw! here with Gary essentially playing himself. It looked just like him except that he was barefoot, wearing a mastodon skin and the hand over his ear only had four fingers.
Oh — and you know how in the Flintstones world, everyone's name has to have a rock pun in it? Well, the name didn't get into the commercials but on the model sheets, it said that he was Quarry Owens.
Now, in the midst of all this praise, I think someone ought to tell you something they didn't like about Gary. I didn't like how modest he was. It's just not right to be that good and that beloved and not be at least a little arrogant.
When Gary showed up for one of our breakfast gatherings or a Yarmy's Army meeting or a lunch, we'd all say things like, "Hey, Gary! What's wrong? I just heard someone doing a voiceover and it wasn't you." This is how you know you've really made it in this business: When the only thing your friends can find to ridicule you about is that you have way too much work.
And Gary would always say, "Well, I've been lucky." No. Nobody is that lucky. Nobody works all the time unless they're the absolute best at what they do. Okay, maybe Will Ferrell. But nobody else.
Here's why Gary worked so much. Those of us who cast and direct voices live in constant fear of something. It's when the person above us — the producer, the sponsor, the network, whoever it is — says, "Why did you hire that jerk?" No one ever got in trouble hiring Gary. Ever. He was the safest casting selection you could possibly make.
He was always on time. Actually, he was always early and he never complained about anything. If you asked him to read the copy fifty-seven times, he read it fifty-seven times even though he knew the first one was fine and you'd probably wind up using Take Three. He made it so easy for everyone on the other side of the glass. Here's how you directed Gary…
"Hi, Gary. Here's the copy. Use that microphone. All right, let's roll tape…"
[SHORT PAUSE]
"Great. Let's do one more for protection."
[SHORT PAUSE]
"Perfect. Thanks, Gary!"
The man was so good at voice over that he even became a direction that was given to other announcers and voice actors on those rare occasions when someone else got a job. More than once, I heard a director tell someone, "Do that line again and try to give it a little Gary Owens."
That meant, "Put a little more smile in the voice. We want to like the announcer more."
Still, as impressed as I was by Gary at a microphone, I think I was more impressed with Gary not at a microphone.
I met him in 1970. I recognized him in the old Collectors Bookshop up on Hollywood Boulevard and we stood there and talked about comic books for about an hour — until he had to hurry off to KMPC and talk to everyone else in Los Angeles. He was disarmingly polite and friendly and funny and this is not a brag on my part because he treated everyone that way. Everyone in this room. Everyone he met. Even people he probably didn't like or at least shouldn't have.
Working with him was always so educational. Not only could you learn about how to be funny…you could also learn a little something about being a truly good, decent human being.
Like most of us, I haven't really mastered it either but I think I know the secret. Be generous with your time. Treat everyone with respect. No matter how poorly you may feel at a given moment, give everyone a smile and a kind word…and whenever possible, make it a funny one.
In other words: As you go through life…as you meet people…always try to give it a little Gary Owens.
The best line of the afternoon was probably Arnie Kogen's. He itemized a list of favors that Gary had done for members of the Kogen household, many of whom are in the entertainment industry. Then he concluded, "I realized Gary's done more for my family than I have."
Well actually, Gary got the biggest laugh. The ceremony concluded with the playing of this famous clip from one of his eighty zillion radio broadcasts…
It was a great afternoon. But then, how could a bunch of people talking about Gary not be a great afternoon? Boy, do we miss that guy.