Bernie said nothing.
Silence is a tool.
He’s told me that, and more than once.
—Chet (the dog),
from The Sound and the Furry
Now we come to a disarmingly simple topic that always seems to generate more raised eyebrows than it should: silence.
Have you ever been with someone and neither of you is talking? After just a few seconds, you turn to the other person and ask, “What’s wrong?” The answer is almost always, “Nothing.” After a few more seconds of silence you ask the question yet again, only to get the same answer, but with perhaps a bit more annoyance. If you dare to ask one more time, you might have yourself an argument.
Why is silence such an uncomfortable and awkward topic, especially in the business world?
Remember the classic Seinfeld episode where Jerry and George pitch their idea for a pilot to a network executive? When asked what the show is about, George famously replies, “Nothing.” Needless to say, their idea was a tough sell at first. After all, it’s pretty hard to get excited about nothing. There’s nothing to get excited about. Literally. But it sold. And every episode of the actual Seinfeld series was about nothing, but yet about so much. And how did that work out?
Silence is a similar topic. Silence is the nothing of communication skills. It is simply the absence of output, right? Not exactly. Is it possible that silence has an energy that we in the West are only now just beginning to grasp? Is it possible that learning to harness the power of silence is a vital part of becoming a world-class communicator?
Dogs would say yes. Dogs are masters of silence and are completely comfortable with it. They have no need to compulsively fill the air with sound, like certain humanoids we all know. Sure, they bark, whine, or growl when they have a specific reason to, but then they quickly revert to their doggy-monastic state of silence. (Of course, there are dogs that bark all day long, due to living in the neurotic world of humans; but they are the noisy exception, not the rule.)
Because dogs don’t speak in human language, they don’t turn their world into a bunch of verbal symbols called words that they feel compelled to argue about, fret over, and fight for. Rather, they experience the world directly and accept it exactly as it is—which, come to think of it, is pretty much the definition of spiritual enlightenment.
One of the main reasons, I would argue, that we love hanging with dogs is that they are silent. Usually. (And when they’re not, we take steps to remedy that.) One thing’s for sure: there’s no danger of dogs speaking to us in words. We know they’re not going to judge, contradict, or advise us, so we feel relaxed in their presence. We feel able to be ourselves, to think our thoughts and express our emotions in complete safety. The only demands dogs put on us are frequent petting, and walks.
A Need for Silence
We humans, on the other hand, have an incessant drive to both emit sound and bathe ourselves in it. When we’re not talking or making noise ourselves, we’re listening to noise being made by some other human or by some electronic gadget programmed by humans.
Humans—at least humans in the modern West—are very nervous with silence. Perhaps that’s because we don’t have much practice with it. In our increasingly noisy world, it is almost impossible to get away from sound. Even in the refuge of our national parks, noise pollution—from planes, power boats, ATVs, car stereos, and other sources—is becoming a major issue. For most of us, when we do occasionally get a break from sound, the world feels blank. Empty. Missing something. And we feel a compulsive need to fill it in. The best example is leaving the television on during most waking hours while at home. Many of us get anxious when the TV isn’t on because without it, we can’t stand the silence. When we leave home, we leave the TV on for the dog because we know how much our fur babies can’t stand the silence either. So we think.
But even as the world grows noisier and quietude becomes rarer, science is beginning to recognize the immense value of silence. Spiritual folks have always known this, of course. From Quakers to Buddhists to Roman Catholics, there is hardly a religious tradition on Earth that does not use “sacred silence” as part of its practice. But Western culture has been characteristically slow to catch on. Recently, though, scientists have begun to discover the inarguable benefits of practices like silent meditation and some of the ways quietude aids in stress reduction, improved health, and more productive thinking. Our noisy culture is finally being dragged, kicking and screaming, into recognizing the need for silence.
One thing’s for sure. If you want to become a doglike listener, you will need to become a champion of silence. You’ll need to recognize and harness the power of the paws (pause).
I can honestly say that it wasn’t until I began not only to tolerate silence but feel empowered by it that I became worth a dime as a communicator. I now see that silence is as integral to communication as it is to music.
Silence integral to music? Well, sure. Think about what music would sound like if there were no spaces between the notes, long or short. It would have no melody, no rhythm, no form. It would be just an ear-assaulting jumble of frequencies. In the same way, talk without silence becomes just an onslaught of output, with no room for creativity, understanding, or effective communication.
Awkward Silence
Ask a group of people to fill in the blank in the phrase, “[blank] silence,” and the majority of them will probably say, “awkward.” Think about that. The first thing that comes to mind when we think about silence is awkwardness. What does that say about us?
Of course, we don’t always feel awkward about silence. Many of us can enjoy staring silently at a sunset. Or lying silently in bed for a few minutes. And one of the most comfortable types of silence, for many of us, is the silence we experience in the company of dogs. We’re okay with dog silence but not with human silence. Why is that? Maybe it’s because we know that silence is natural and comfortable while with a dog. With humans, though, it’s a different story. When people don’t talk, it worries us. We feel uncomfortable. When someone enters a room and stands there without speaking, we shout “WHAT!” after about two seconds, because we can’t stand the suspense.
Think about what would happen if you stopped talking for even one day. Within hours, family, friends, and coworkers would be in full panic mode. Psychiatrists would become involved—maybe even police.
That’s because we expect each other to talk.
In fact, we almost need it. Humans actually derive psychological security from constant conversation. According to Dutch psychologist Namkje Koudenburg, “Conversational flow serves social needs . . . the need to belong, the need for self-esteem and the need for social validation.” Silence, on the other hand, troubles us. According to Koudenburg’s studies, it takes only four seconds of silence after a potentially controversial statement is uttered to make the uttering party feel “distressed, afraid, hurt, and rejected.”1
1 http://www.nbcnews.com/health/four-seconds-all-it-takes-silence-get-awkward-1C6437340
When something we say is greeted by silence, we feel judged, alienated, and uncertain of ourselves. We know that others feel the same way, so we try to protect one another from distress. The result? Nonstop yammer. In fact, the typical measure of a successful social evening is that the conversation was constant and uninterrupted.
But silence is where the good stuff is—much of it, anyway. Silence is the seat of creativity and wisdom. Silence is where true communion with another person happens. Silence is the birthplace of intelligent questions and innovative solutions. Silence fosters focus, clarity, and concentration; it provides critical rest and recovery for our brains. Silence is vital and essential.
So how we deal with the awkwardness issue is relevant.
Certainly, silence can be awkward. But if you want to be a powerful communicator, you need to develop a healthy relationship with that awkwardness. You need to learn not to feel threatened by it. That begins with learning to sit with silence, as a dog does; to just be with it—to feel the awkwardness, rather than try to fix it by saying something clever or by making noise. After only a little bit of practice in sitting with silence, a remarkable thing starts to happen. You not only realize that silence doesn’t kill you, but you start to feel good with it. You start to get a taste of what I call “positive silence,” as opposed to “negative silence.” Positive silence is not a lack of something that needs to be filled; it is a powerful ground of energy. It is the place where composers go to write symphonies and scientists go to make “eureka” discoveries. The universe itself does its most brilliant work in silence—inventing a new flower, growing an embryo, coding DNA, spinning the planets . . .
If you want to become a good listener, it goes without saying that you need to learn to keep your mouth shut, to be physically silent. But dog silence—positive silence—means more than just biting your tongue and waiting to commit your next leash-law violation. It means learning to work with silence as an actual tool.
He Who Speaks Loudest . . .
There is an unwritten rule in business and in social life that he who speaks the most wins. Whenever we out-argue, out-yell, and out-lecture others, we pat ourselves on the back. At a meeting, the person who holds the floor the longest, and makes the most noise, is often perceived as a leader of sorts. Unless the person comes across as an obvious idiot, he or she is accorded a certain level of importance. When we get the bulk of the airtime, we often have a false sense of victory. In fact, it is the very ability to control the flow of content that is often the mark of one’s power status. Teachers hold a higher status than students. Speakers hold a higher status than audience members. If I’m more powerful than you, I can force you to listen to my rants, but I don’t have to listen to yours. Silence, conversely, is seen as a sign of acquiescence.
The relationship between dogs and humans is a great illustration of this. We humans see ourselves as holding status over our dogs. Therefore, dogs are expected to bow (wow!) to our total dominance of the audio environment. We get to talk and make noise whenever we want, at whatever volume we choose. We get to decide whether there’s going to be music or movies or video games playing. The dog is expected to quietly go along with our choices. But what happens when a dog won’t stop barking? We put the dog outside. If the dog still doesn’t stop, we yell, “Shut up!” That dog isn’t coming back inside until he stops. The barking of a dog can drive us to the brink of insanity. We are annoyed by the sound itself, but even more, perhaps, by the violation of the power rule: Dogs are supposed to make noise only when we grant them permission (like, for instance, when we want them to “sing” on a YouTube video). Sound is power.
In his book In Pursuit of Silence: Listening for Meaning in a World of Noise, George Prochnik writes about a friend of his who experienced deafness for a period of his life and actually found the experience liberating. “Sound imposes a narrative,” said the friend, “and it’s always someone else’s narrative”2—namely, that of the person who makes the sound.
2 Prochnik, George. In Pursuit of Silence: Listening for Meaning in a World of Noise. New York: Doubleday, 2010.
This rule carries over to the workplace. In sales this is called “share of voice.” Sales is far too often about getting more face time with the customer, which usually means time to deliver your message again and again. I am bewildered how we want to continuously increase our share of voice without necessarily understanding (“listening”) to the customer first, and thus knowing what our voices should even be saying. Over the course of my career, I have gotten into disagreements more than once with colleagues and bosses who believed I should talk more often, and earlier, at business meetings and on teleconferences. This is a result of the output culture that most companies, and relationships, have adopted. My preference is to listen first and talk later; and to talk if and only if I have something of value to add. This habit has been seen, by some, as a hesitance to assert my status.
I, of course, see it differently. By listening first—taking in the concerns, needs, and personalities of the parties involved—I can craft a more intelligent response. I feel I not only give respect to my colleagues, but also gain vital input that I wouldn’t get if I yapped first just to strut my stuff. As a result, when it is my turn to talk, I believe what I have to say is more targeted and relevant.
Establishing dominance through talk, you see, is a short-term victory. Yes, you may win the alpha-dog peeing contest, but you don’t necessarily win the hearts and minds of your listeners on a long-term basis. Your audience is forced to listen to you, but they are not required to buy anything you say. It’s like the person on a date who talks all night about their life story and goes home feeling like the date went smoothly. Little did they know, the other party wanted to blow their brains out by the time they ordered appetizers.
Talking gives us a false sense of control. Though this kind of approach can produce one-off sales and short-term victories, it is not, I am convinced, an approach that leads to thriving collaborations and long-term relationships—in business or in your personal life.
Instead, I believe that silence gives you power in the long term. The key to making forever-lasting impressions is connection. And that means to be quiet and receptive. What if there was a way to measure how many times a salesperson listened to a customer instead of talking at them? Nah, this is not what comes naturally to us. Why not have a term, “share of ear,” where we measure ourselves in terms of how much we listened? This approach will more often than not result in additional face time with that customer. “Share of ear” will allow people to talk about their favorite topic: themselves. How can you lose? We sure do have a lot to learn.
Let’s explore some of the value we gain from using silence as a tool and why I am such a raving fan of it.
The Soundness of Silence
The benefits of silence could fill several books, but here are just a few.
Silence builds clarity and understanding. The human brain requires time and space to assimilate information. That does not happen when we assail it with data on a continual basis; the brain is so busy keeping up with the new input it can’t process the old. Taking periodic pauses in the midst of a meeting or conversation allows the brain to catch up and “deal with information that was acquired during previous active states,” says Andrei Medvedev of Georgetown University Medical Center.3 After making sense of what it’s been fed thus far, the brain can then ready itself for new input.
3 http://www.foxnews.com/health/2012/10/18/when-youre-at-rest-your-brain-right-side-hums/
Silence allows us to focus. Processing sound waves is hard work for the brain. The more sound we hammer it with, the less processing power it has available for other tasks. Do you ever notice yourself turning down your car radio when you’re lost or driving under stressful conditions? That’s a natural instinct; you’re buying more bandwidth for your brain to focus on what’s important (in this case, not driving your Chevy Blazer into a signpost).
Silence aids creativity. Artists and writers have long sought silence as a way to aid the creative process. Note, for instance, that very few writers’ retreats are held in bowling alleys or Zumba studios. Silent creativity is not just for solitary artists, though. Silence can lead to creative group ideas as well. Again, brain science may hold the key. According to an article in FoxNews.com’s Health section, “Researchers found that during periods of wakeful rest, the right hemisphere of the brain chatters more to itself than the left hemisphere does. It also sends more messages to the left hemisphere than vice versa.”4 The significance of this is that the right side of the brain is the one most associated with creativity. And it feeds on silence and stillness.
4 Ibid.
Silence is good for our health. Though not directly related to communication, there is growing evidence that silence has enormous health benefits. “Noise, and especially noise over thirty decibels, is associated with high blood pressure, anxiety, and stress,” says Dr. Paul Haider of OmTimes magazine.5 Stress is known to lead to maladies such as depression, weight gain, heart disease, sleeplessness, high blood pressure, and a variety of ailments. Silence reduces stress. Formal practices of silence, such as meditation, have been scientifically shown to produce benefits such as stronger immune systems, reduced inflammation, lower blood pressure, faster healing, and increased fertility 6—just from shutting up and letting the brain be quiet. This should serve as a wake-up call.
5 http://omtimes.com/2012/10/the-health-benefits-of-silence-simple-yet-profound/
6 http://foodmatters.tv/articles-1/7-health-benefits-of-meditation
Coincidental note: dogs are good for our health and they reduce stress. The silent companionship of dogs is powerful. Far more than just irresistible cuteness.
Silence ignites appreciation. A busy, noisy brain is incapable of appreciation. This is perhaps why museums are typically quiet and why a “moment of silence” is universally observed to show honor and appreciation for someone who has passed away. Similarly, taking a silent moment to acknowledge a comment from a family member or team member allows you to digest and appreciate that comment before barreling ahead to the next topic.
Silence commands attention. As any good elementary school teacher knows, one of the most powerful ways to get attention is to go silent, rather than to yell and stomp your feet. When you lower your voice to a whisper or go completely silent, everyone turns in your direction. I routinely use this technique when talking to groups. I’ll greet the room, and then stand in silence, waiting for everyone to stop talking and focus their attention to the front of the room, as they inevitably do. No need for me to be bossy or disagreeable. Just silent.
The explanation for this may again be rooted in our brain’s functioning. According to an article in The Telegraph of London about a study on music and the brain, “The sound of silence stimulates a bigger response in the brain . . . than music itself. ” 7 This is a truly remarkable discovery. Science is starting to realize that the brain “hears” silence, not as an absence of noise, but as a distinct quality unto itself. (Spiritual masters have been telling us the same thing for 3,000 years, but hey, what do they know.)
7 Roger Highfield, http://www.telegraph.co.uk/science/science-news/3302414/Our-brains-crackle-to-the-sound-of-silence.html
Silence not only improves attention in the here and now, it also conditions the brain to be better at paying attention in the future. “Researchers at Harvard, Yale, and MIT,” writes online author Bala Kanayson, “have found evidence that the practice of silence can alter the physical structure of our brains. Using brain scans they found significant growth in those parts of the brain that deal with attention and processing sensory input.”8
8 http://ezinearticles.com/?Silence-The-Mind-To-Stimulate-The-Brain&id=551258
Silence encourages participation and sharing. Just recently I was speaking with a large customer group with which I was unfamiliar. I kicked things off by asking the group if they had any topics they wanted me to address. There was some slight awkwardness as people looked around, feeling as if they should say something, but not having anything to say. So I said, “No problem. Why don’t we take a few seconds of silence and see if anything comes up.” By taking the pressure off them, I felt them breathe a collective sigh of relief, and then, within a few seconds, hands started shooting up. Ideas were flowing freely.
Nature hates a vacuum. By shutting your mouth and creating a vacuum of silence, you invite others to begin filling that vacuum with input of their own.
Silence indicates respect. By silently pausing after people say something, you indicate that their ideas are important. People feel they have been heard, as opposed to when you immediately jump in with, “Anyone else?” or “That gives me a great idea!”
Sold on silence yet? I hope so. So how do you begin to make conscious silence a part of your listening repertoire?
Zip It!
The first trick you’ll need to learn is to zip it—your mouth, that is. I know that’s a horrible thing to ask of you, but just give it a try. A stapler and duct tape may be required, at least for the first few weeks.
“Zip it” is my mantra. I tell it to workshop participants and to those I’m collaborating with. I tell it to colleagues and to friends trying to salvage wounded marriages. Most of all, I tell it to myself—all the time. I quietly whisper, “Zip it,” in my mind whenever I feel the urge to talk coming on like an itch while knowing I have nothing vital to contribute.
“Zipping it” is not easy. The urge to talk is a deeply ingrained habit that comes very close to being a compulsion. But you would greatly benefit by learning to control this compulsive habit. Fortunately, the rewards are enormous and you can begin to experience them right away.
As I said earlier, it’s amazing how programmed we are to talk and how little training any of us has had on the art of staying silent, especially in business. Salespeople, managers, teachers, business presenters—we all focus almost exclusively on how to deliver output. Yet the input of others is where the true treasures lie. That’s where we learn about others’ needs and desires, the unique challenges they are facing, and the world they live in. That’s where we form real connections.
If we want to sell people on what we have to offer (and we are all salespeople, in one way or another), we are much better off listening to our “customers” first—whether those are literal customers or team/family members we need to sell on our ideas. That means, as a general rule, spending much more time in “input” mode than “output” mode: a.k.a., “zipping it.”
Of course, I don’t mean you should literally remain silent throughout business encounters. It would be pretty distressing for all concerned if you were to stroll into a client’s office and just sit down and stare at him or her. What I do mean is that in each encounter you should zip it as soon as comfortably possible.
If you are visiting a potential client, for example, you might want to introduce yourself and explain a little bit about who you are and why you are there, but then flip the focus back onto the client at the earliest opportunity. Ask some open-ended questions. Ask about his situation, her concerns, his unique needs. Then zip it! And keep it zipped, perhaps as much as 80 percent of the time. You’ll then be able to tailor your eventual pitch to what you have learned from the client. It has often been said that people will sell themselves on your product or service if you let them talk. So let them.
Even professions as content-heavy as teaching and training can benefit from zipping it. Think about the most dynamic and effective teachers you’ve ever had. Were they the type who marched up to the podium and read from a dog-eared (sorry) set of lecture notes for fifty-five minutes? Or were they the type who sat with the students in a circle, engaged them, asked stimulating questions, and spent a lot of time listening to what the students had to say? I recently spoke to a former college professor who told me that the day he became good at his job was the day he threw away his lecture notes. He started delivering much less pre-programmed content and spending more time finding out what the students wanted to learn from him, and then responding to that. Needless to say, his teacher evaluations went from mediocre to superb, as did the students’ learning.
Zipping it is equally effective on the personal front. Think about the people you love to call on the phone versus the ones you prefer to avoid. The latter are probably people who routinely talk your ear off, right? Okay, now think about yourself. Which list do you fall on for others—their “avoid” list or their “call now” list? Scary thought, isn’t it.
It’s funny—and kind of sad—when you realize how much effort we expend to keep our dogs quiet. We’re embarrassed and frazzled when they break their silence, even for thirty seconds when the UPS truck shows up. Some of us go so far as to use a muzzle, or (ouch!) a shock collar to keep dogs quiet. But we never notice how much “barking” we do. If we put one-tenth the effort into silencing ourselves that we put into silencing our dogs, we’d be veritable Zen masters.
Harnessing the Power
of the Paws (Pause)
When you’re in speaking (versus listening) mode, you can build silence into your communications by embracing the “power of the paws.” Simply pausing and not saying anything at all is an extremely effective communication technique.
Watch a great actor on film, or better yet, on stage. The most gripping parts of the performance are often when not a word is being spoken. Every good actor knows that the pause creatively involves the audience. When the actors are speaking, you see, the audience is busy processing what’s being said; they are in a passive, receptive role. But during pauses, the audience members are drawn in as participants. They sit forward in their seats. They become co-creators of the drama, filling in the spaces with their own ideas. Pausing literally pulls people forward. A pause also:
I consciously use the “power of the paws” all the time. If I’m starting a talk and I don’t have everyone’s attention, I’ll pause and say, “Let me know a good time to start talking,” and then I’ll pause again. If I’m meeting with a busy physician and he’s giving me only partial attention while he fills in charts, I’ll just pause. Within seconds I’ll have his full attention. Some of my friends have noted my use of the pause while on the phone, and have come to appreciate my effort to not commit leash-law violations. Whenever I’m speaking to a group, I’ll pause periodically, look around the room, and make eye contact with audience members. Kill them with silence!
Silence Is a Gift
As I’ve noted already, a major reason we feel so free talking to dogs is that we can count on them not to say anything. We sense that they’re “with us” as listeners but we know they’re not going to offer advice or criticism. Dogs give us the gift of silence. And silence truly is a gift. It’s one that we can give each other, too. With a little practice. Okay, a lot of practice.
When someone wants to talk to us, we often make the mistake of thinking they’re seeking our input. Occasionally that might be true. If your neighbor’s computer has suddenly crashed and you are a techie, for example, your input might be highly desirable. Most of the time, though, people are just looking for a listening ear. They want to talk. They want you to listen. They do not necessarily want you to share, advise, criticize, judge, or volley for serve.
Human beings, it turns out, have a remarkable ability to solve their own problems, given the time and space to do so. Remember that scene in Wedding Crashers where Vince Vaughn is pouring out his soul to the elderly priest at the breakfast table? Vaughn’s character rambles on about his romantic tribulations, while the priest just sits there nodding and smiling. At the end of the scene, Vince arrives with tremendous insight. He thanks the priest, calls him an “enlightened cat,” kisses him on the mouth, then walks away, happy and content. Of course, the joke is that the priest hasn’t said anything at all. But Vince somehow feels he has been counseled.
That’s a large part of how therapists work. Their main role, contrary to popular opinion, is to not offer advice or “cures.” They are trained to direct clients to discover insights. Their main role is to get the client to open up about important personal issues and to encourage him to keep talking. Eventually, with enough guided expression, the client (at least in theory) discovers truths for himself that illuminate the steps that need to be taken. Like the customer who talks herself into buying a product, the therapy client often talks herself into healthier life choices, with the skillful guidance of the therapist. Dogs perform a similar service for us when they let us talk things out with them. Roamy did that for me.
When we offer the gift of silence, we offer people the gift of discovering their own solutions. And the solutions people arrive at themselves tend to stick, whereas solutions crammed down their throats by well-meaning friends tend to be discarded like junk mail—unsolicited and undesired.
The gift of silence is a sacred thing. My friend Susan is a hospice volunteer. Once or twice a week she goes and sits with a dying patient. One of the first things hospice workers are taught is to be silent and to ask questions rather than tell stories, give advice, or talk about themselves. Their role is to offer the gift of silence so that the dying person can talk, if able to do so, about whatever is on his or her mind. Or say nothing at all. What a wonderful service. It’s fascinating, though, that we offer it only to dying people. Think about that. A person literally has to be on his deathbed to earn the right to a silent listener!
Oh, by the way, guess who the most popular volunteer is at the hospice program; a dog named Charlie. Just saying . . .
The gift of silence shouldn’t only be for people who are dying or struggling with life crises. Try it in your dating life, for example. Meet someone for coffee and spend most of your time just listening in silence. Let the other person talk about his or her life, asking a question now and then to show your ongoing interest. Odds are, you’ll be pursued with interest after this. You might even hear comments like, “I just felt really connected to you,” or, “For some reason, I feel you get me.” If you want to give your romantic life a major bump, you don’t need looks, money, charm, or devastating coolness—just an ability to quietly listen.
A New Culture of Silence
One thing you’ll need to get used to if you decide to embrace silence in your life: some people are going to think you are marginally nuts. Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it; I did. Though we love our dogs for remaining silent, we don’t know quite what to make of it when our fellow humans do the same.
People around me have grown accustomed to my pauses, if not entirely comfortable with them. I have been using the “power of the paws” long enough that people now respect my methods and have even grown curious about them.
One thing I find helpful is to explain my silences as I use them. For example, when I start a talk, I may say, “Let’s take a silent moment to think about what you’d like to learn.” If I’m making a business visit, I might tell my host, “I’m here to listen and gather information, so I don’t plan to talk too much.” When I’m in a conversation, I’ll say, “I want to sit for a moment with what you just said,” before going silent for a couple of seconds. In other words, I frame my silences so that others don’t feel anxious about them and so they understand what I’m up to. My pause lets them know that I am listening, and thus they feel heard. After a while, people begin to accept this as my style, even if it’s still foreign to them.
Here’s a telling question to ask yourself if you’re a dog owner. Did your dog bark today? Odds are, you’ll remember if it did. “Sure, he barked for twenty seconds when the meter man showed up.” Why do you remember the dog barking? Because it was set against many hours of silence. Did you ever see any of the Kevin Smith movies featuring Silent Bob? Bob, true to his name, doesn’t say much. But when he does, it’s usually taken as profound. I still remember his insightful speech in Chasing Amy. This is a common technique in Hollywood: create a character who hardly ever speaks, so that when he or she does talk, the audience sits up and pays attention. It’s a simple fact: what you say is taken more seriously when it’s not part of a constant stream of noise. The less you talk, the more weight your words often have.
Something to
Chew On . . .
Rin Tin Tin
When you hear the name Rin Tin Tin, you probably think of the television series that ran in the 1950s, and you might suppose he was one of the earliest dog stars. But, the fact is, there were movies featuring Rin Tin Tin as far back as 1922. Lee Duncan, who rescued the dog as a pup from a bombed kennel in Germany during World War I, directed Rin Tin Tin with voice commands, as he had an excellent ear for cues on what to do next. He secured his first acting job when Duncan ran across a Hollywood film crew having trouble getting a wolf to do what they needed for a shot. Duncan proclaimed that his dog could do it in one take. When the dog lived up to the promise, both Rin Tin Tin and his owner were hired on the spot for The Man from Hell’s River, launching a new silent film star and literally saving Warner Brothers as a film studio. When funds were running low, they’d truck out another Rin Tin Tin movie.
Duncan honored his dog in a poem, describing him as “Alert and ready for my slightest word.” But the really amazing thing is that Rin Tin Tin often proved to be a better actor than his silent film human counterparts. Many silent actors, limited by not being able to speak, over-acted—emoted, in a manner that often seems a little silly when seen today. As Susan Orlean points out in her book, Rin Tin Tin: The Life and the Legend, this special dog acted far more naturally than the human, since he wasn’t dependent on speech. So he became a perfect silent hero. He starred in over twenty films, always getting top billing over established human actors, and had his own live radio show. He was even nominated for an Oscar, though something of a scandal was created when the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences changed the rules prior to the ceremony to say that non-humans couldn’t win an award.
When Rin Tin Tin passed away in 1932 at the age of fourteen, most radio shows were interrupted to broadcast the news, and every major newspaper worldwide carried the story, with many also posting an obituary. Some headlines described the death as a tragedy and an insurmountable loss! However, his legacy lives on, as well as his family. The Rin Tin Tin bloodline of dogs are trained as service dogs to provide assistance to special needs children.