Really sorry to hear of the death of Robert Halmi, Sr, the man behind Hallmark Entertainment, for whom I worked (and with whom I briefly shared offices) in 2000/2001.
He was a charming, irascible, impatient, twinkle-in-the-eye, can-do personality, who’d seen a lot – including, if the internet is to be believed, not one but two death sentences – but didn’t want to dwell on it. He only cared about the next project.
I first met him after he had effectively hired me without meeting me. I was to write a modern take on Sleeping Beauty for TV. I went to meet him and take my briefing in his offices in Soho and was late. I ran in, puffing, and literally before my bottom hit the seat in front of his desk, he said in his once-Hungarian accent, “So? Tell me the story.” I thought there must be a mistake – I had not yet met anybody to hear what the brief was. He said, “You’re the writer. You decide. Use your imagination. We can do anything you can think of. Fairies. Any fucking thing.”
So I went away, came up with a “take” and returned. This time I was ready. As my rear hit the seat, he fired me the same question. I started to tell him my story, and he waved me away. “Just write the fucking thing.” He liked to move fast. Six weeks later, I delivered a script to his offices. It was faxed to New York. By the time I got home, it had already been read (and admired) and he wanted to know how soon I could write another project.
We lost touch in the last few years, but he called me recently out of the blue, announcing he was “ninety and not dead”. He said for his 90th birthday he had given himself a new career – in films – and pitched me an idea. Now I wish I had taken it on. They don’t build ’em like that anymore.