Two weeks ago, my friend Dave and I waited for a casting workshop to begin. In strode the casting director, and not a prototypical one– normally they’re young, cute women; this was an older, rock ‘n roll type of guy.His name was Al Guarino, and we quickly came to find him to be atypical in every way. He didn’t hand out scenes based on our headshots, but instead looked us in the eyes and chose accordingly. And he really taught us, and brought out so much in me that in just one night I felt like my acting skills vastly improved.
I was damn impressed. And so was Dave, who had to leave early that night but called me the next day to find out how the rest of the evening went. He really liked Al, too.
Today I got a call from the woman who organizes the workshop. She told me Al had a heart attack while driving over the weekend, crashed his car and was killed.
In a town recognized for its shallowness, it’s important to credit the people here who take the time to share their knowledge. And it’s all the more unfortunate that one of them is gone.
For anyone reading this who was lucky enough to know Al, there’s a wake for him this Sunday afternoon at Ireland’s 32 Pub, pictured above.
Thanks for everything, sir.
