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One of my cardinal rules is this: never perform next to a garbage can, and never have a clock facing the audience.

Why no garbage cans?

There are several reasons.

First, they stink. Even if they don't smell terrible, they're rarely pleasant to have next to you while you're performing.

Second, garbage cans attract bugs, which is the last thing you want around you or your audience.

But the biggest reason is audience behavior. When someone decides it's time to throw something away, they usually have no regard for what's happening on stage. They'll walk right in front of me to toss their trash into the can.

The moment that happens, the audience's attention shifts. Instead of watching the performance, they're watching the person crossing in front of me. Every unnecessary distraction pulls focus away from the show, and as a performer, protecting the audience's attention is one of my most important jobs.

Why no clocks?

A clock facing the audience creates an unnecessary time constraint. The moment people notice it, they stop being immersed in the show and start thinking about the schedule.

Instead of wondering, "What's he going to do next?" they begin asking themselves, "How much longer is this going to last?"

Every glance at the clock reminds them that time is passing. It pulls them out of the experience and shifts their focus from enjoying the performance to counting down the minutes until it's over.

A great performance makes people lose track of time. A visible clock does the exact opposite.

Oh and by the way…SHUT THAT DOOR!!

See before/after photos.

Clinton & Adelia Detweiler

Clinton has often been called the grand teacher of ventriloquism. He inspired and helped more people become involved in this art than anyone else.

When I got my first dummy from Clinton, he encouraged me to attend the ventriloquist convention. I went in 1993, never realizing that one decision would become the first step toward an entirely new life.

From that point on, Clinton took me under his wing. He always made time for my phone calls and encouraged me every step of the way. Looking back, I realize he was molding me into Mr. Puppet—my true calling in life.

Clinton saw something in me that I couldn't yet see in myself. What I needed most was guidance from the right people, and he gave me exactly that.

He became much more than a mentor. He was like an adopted father, a teacher, and even a therapist. Whenever I needed someone to listen, he was there—without judgment, embarrassment, or resentment. That kind of support is something I'll always be grateful for. Sadly men & women who are giants in the variety arts are gone and so is mentorship.

Sadly, Clinton passed away unexpectedly in 2013. I stayed in touch with Adelia until her passing as well. After Clinton was gone, there were no more phone calls, no more lessons, and no more of those conversations that always seemed to come at just the right time. Even in this time of my life I wish Clinton was still here to be my rock.

A side note that says everything about the impact he had on my life: In 1999, I was ready to quit the puppet business and return to the printing industry. Clinton told me, "No." I listened, I didn’t get offended or felt that I was given bad advice.

That summer, I performed at 53 Georgia libraries, and it's been uphill ever since. If not for his encouragement, my life could have taken a very different path.

Every man needs positive male role models in his life. I was blessed to have five: Clinton Detweiler, Johnny Main, Bill Boley, Fred Cowen, and Uncle Bob Isaacson. Their belief in me helped shape the person—and performer—I am today.