Geoffrey Rush, the King’s coach
When I viewed the film that was yesterday’s big Oscar winner, The King’s Speech, it had immediately brought to mind my own professional encounters with a stutterer—an important museum director, whom I first interviewed by phone many years ago, when he was a curator and was I a cub reporter.
While I lobbed him some softball questions, our conversation flowed smoothly. I immediately recognized that I had come upon an extremely articulate, highly intelligent expert—a good go-to source for future stories. But then I started probing a sensitive area regarding his museum, and things went off the rails. I suddenly discovered, to the dismay of both of us (or at least me), that my interviewee had a serious stutter. I silently agonized over his discomfort. But unlike King George, my interviewee never gave up and eventually managed to force out the words.
I have spoken with this consummate museum professional by phone and in person many times over the years and, more importantly, I’ve heard him do what museum directors must—deliver formal speeches to audiences of visitors, museum patrons and, of course, pesky journalists. At first, there would be occasional glitches and, more frequently, long pauses to allow the speech-sabotaging impulse to pass. (And he didn’t have the benefit of the slow movement of Beethoven’s 7th, which gloriously accompanied the King’s big Speech on the soundtrack!)
By now, more than 30 years later, you’d never know he had once grappled with this challenge. I’ve never spoken with him about his personal struggle, but I suppose he must have had his own “Geoffrey Rush.”
And it worked brilliantly.