Single Malt Report: Caol Ila 14 year old Unpeated (2012)

Five years ago, my buddy James brought a bottle of Caol Ila to the inaugural Anderson Business School Whisky Club meeting, held at our old Hollywood apartment.  It was my first Caol Ila (G&M bottling, BevMo exclusive) and one of my first positive peaty experiences.  Kristen remembers it as if it'd happened yesterday.  Not so much smoke on the nose and palate but once the drinker exhaled, the finish filled one's head with campfire smoke.  It was dense and lovely.  It could make a drunk feel like a dragon (though, I'm sure a cigarette and mezcal would do the same thing).  Sometimes I wonder if that was the last time my wife drank a peated whisky for fun.  Nowadays, when I hand her a glass of something only slightly peated she says, "Smells like smoke," and passes it back to me.  Overhand.

Anyway, that was a good start for Caol Ila and I.  On Monday, I posted a report on the officially bottled 12 year old.  On Tuesday, it was a post on the official 18 year old.  Today, it's the 2012 limited release of a cask strength 14 year old, that was unpeated.

Yep, unpeated.  In the 1980s, the distillery started experimenting with unpeated malt runs and continued to do so off and on until 2005 when the market's demands for peated malt ended these trials.  In 2006, they started an annual limited edition bottling of the unpeated Caol Ila.  The positive response has kept the releases going ever since.

In most of the reviews of the early bottlings, you'll see that folks tend to still find peat notes in the "unpeated" whisky.  One explanation is that while the malt itself was unpeated, phenolic residue that wasn't scrubbed off the stills wound up transferring itself back to the spirit being run through.  Another possibility I've been wondering about comes from the label on all of the bottlings (see above), which reads with quotes "Unpeated Style".  Those quotes and the addition of the word style makes one ponder the possibility that perhaps the malt was peated at much lower level, 3-5ppm for instance.

I'll tell you ahead of time, I didn't find any peat from my sample of the 2012, but I can definitely see why some folks refer to these releases as Caol Ila Highland.

Distillery: Caol Ila
Ownership: Diageo
Age: minimum 14 years
Maturation: European oak casks
Region: Port Askaig, Islay
Alcohol by Volume: 59.3%
PPM: ???
Chilfiltered? No need to with this ABV
Colored? Probably

NEAT
The color is gold, just a smidgen darker than the 18.  Lots of ethyl burns one's nose as the whisky announces its high ABV.  Interesting that this comes from European oak because I get tons of vanilla from it, but more on that in a sec.  The other main notes are swimming pool chlorine, cocoa powder, butterscotch, and roses.  But there's also an intense vanilla and brown sugar combo that smelled strikingly like Johnnie Walker Black Label.  Then there's Nilla Wafers, which I usually find in Canadian blends.  Then (to confuse you further) the floral note combined with a lot of coconut cream hits, reminding me of high strength single grain whisky.  The palate was more straightforward: digestive biscuits, charred wood, brown sugar, sea salt, and a brief savory note.  It's a bit hot and toasty, but simple.  Lots of malt arrives in the lengthy finish, followed by salt and toasted wheat bread.  Again, focused like the palate.

WITH WATER
The nose starts with swimming pools filled with caramel and roses.  Salted caramel ice cream with Cool Whip on top.  The palate is now reminiscent of a toasty malty blend.  All sugar and spice, maybe some nutmeg and vanilla bean.  Reminds me of Compass Box's Great King Street Artist's Blend.  It finishes mildly with salt and malt.

I apologize for all of the comparisons in my notes, but the whisky continually reminded me of other whiskies.  Which was kind of weird.  I also found very little of the classic European oak notes, other than maybe the toast and spice.  Adding water made it a better drinker but also did not make it stand out in any way.

No actual criticisms come to mind, other than this version of the "Unpeated Style" of Caol Ila seems interchangeable with a number of inoffensive single malts and high malt blends.  Its benefit is its high strength which allows for the expression of the full power of the malt and also allows for toying around with water.

With and without water, I tried it alongside the regular 12 year old and always preferred the peated version.  It could be a case of my nose and palate preferring the phenolics, but I did find the peat bringing more depth and variety to the experience.  As for other opinions, Serge liked this unpeated version slightly better than I, though he found lots of vanilla and not much sherry as well.

If you can find it in the $75-$85 range, then it'll be what currently passes for a good deal on a cask strength bottling at its age.  I do recommend trying it first, just to make sure your expectations are in the right place.  For me, I'll stick with the bacon, barbecue, and campfires of the peated version.

Availability - A couple dozen specialty retailers in the US, more available in Europe

Pricing - $75 to $100 in the US, much pricier in Europe

Rating - 80

Single Malt Report: Caol Ila 18 year old

Yesterday it was Caol Ila's 12 year old.  Today, their 18 year old.

Time to set the Fawning Meter to Full Toady.

But first, some totally useful Caol Ila trivia!

The Caol Ila distillery was originally built in 1846.  In 1879, it was rebuilt; or, as per Alfred Bernard's report in 1885, the distillery was "much extended and improved, and is arranged in the most modern style and possesses all the newest appliances used in the art of distilling."  In 1972, DCL (proto-Diageo) thought it needed to be further extended and improved as it was no longer arranged in the most modern style, nor possessing all the newest appliances used in the art of distilling.  So they knocked it down and built the current standing edition of Caol Ila.  In the years since the rebuild it has become one of the most technologically advanced of Scottish distilleries with many of its processes being run by computer hardware and software rather than by humans.

Caol Ila has been a favorite of blenders for well over a century, so it was an important addition to DCL's holdings when they bought it in 1927.  From 1970 to 1974, during the distillery's shutdown and new construction, DCL needed to make up for the missing peated malt for the their blend brands.  They addressed this by upping Brora's peat levels during those years.  So when you see the plaudits for Brora single malt from that era, know that the nature of Brora's whisky did actually change for a short period of time due to Caol Ila's rebuild.  Once the Islay distillery was up and running again, Brora's peat levels were lowered and their mash-house was rebuilt.

But enough about Brora.  Let's get back to Caol Ila and its 18 year old offspring.

Distillery: Caol Ila
Ownership: Diageo
Age: minimum 18 years
Maturation: refill ex-bourbon American oak casks (I think)
Region: Port Askaig, Islay
Alcohol by Volume: 43%
PPM: 30-35
Chilfiltered? Yup.
Colored? It is decidedly so.

Many thanks to Florin for providing a sample of this increasingly scarce whisky.

NEAT
The color is of a darker amber than the 12, but not reaching the Johnnie-Walker-Gold-Hue(TM).  So I'm thinking/hoping they went easy on the colorant.  So many more ripe fruits on the nose when compared the younger CI: apricots, peach skin, orange peel, and lots of pears.  But these fruit notes are very reserved at first, taking their time to eventually revealling themselves.  But after twenty to thirty minutes, it's a summer fruit salad.  Secondary notes include a soft muskiness and a whisper of smoke.  The palate is very toasty, like toast in fact.  Smoked vanilla beans float in a creamy peach custard.  More ripe stone fruits, probably apricot.  There's also a slight veg note from the peat, like celery meets moss.  The fruits still linger in the finish, along with subtle mossy peat.  Some sweet clementines and a wee bit of salt.  The smoke is tongue-coating.

WITH WATER
On the nose: Lots of perfectly ripe pears, which are a near mystery to me because I have little luck ripening them at home.  Elderflower liqueur and green grass.  The peating actually shows up more on the palate now, along with vanilla custard and white fruits.  It's soft as a pillow.  The finish is all distant smoke and vanilla creme filling.

This is the style I really enjoy.  The fruits, the cream, the moss, the salt.  It's probably even better at 46% ABV, but there's no way we're going to see that happen in this decade from CI's ownership.  Hell, it's not even easy to find a bottle of this as it is.  Sort of like Talisker 18, it's an irregular release.  When Diageo decides it's time, they bottle it again and raise the price 30-50%.  Good times.

But back to the positives.  This is graceful, classy, slightly raspy, and well delivered.  It's Tony Bennett's voice.  Old guy Tony Bennett, not young guy Tony Bennett.

Those fruit notes are very prominent, something I've tended to find in even older whisky that hasn't collapsed under too much oak.  The peat and smoke notes are quiet but persistent, showing up more on the palate than the nose.  It's not going to fight you like the young versions of the Kildalton malts, instead it's going to sing to you and keep you company in the evenings as you write about whisky things.

Availability - Increasingly difficult to find in US, look to Europe

Pricing - $110 to $150 (ex-VAT, with int'l shipping)

Rating - 91

Single Malt Report: Caol Ila 12 year old

Though it is a Diageo distillery, Caol Ila's near complete absence from this blog was not intentional on my part.  So, I'm going to correct this issue by posting three reports on the big Islay distillery in three days.  The first two I tried side by side (thanks to Florin for the samples).  Then I saved a little of the first (the 12 year) to give me a little perspective on the third (a purchased sample).

Today, it's the Caol Ila 12 year old.

First, some Caol Ila Did-You-Know?!

Caol Ila, Gaelic for "Sound of Islay" or more accurately "Islay Strait", has a production capacity of 6.5 million liters, making it the largest distillery on Islay.  It is so large, that its capacity is twice that of the next largest Islay distillery, Laphroaig.  At the moment, only Macallan, Glenlivet, Glenfiddich, and Roseisle have larger production outputs, but Caol Ila remains the largest peated malt whisky producer in Scotland (and, likely, the world).  The vast majority of that whisky goes into Diageo's largest blends: Johnnie Walker, J&B, and Bell's.  In 1989, DCL (proto-Diageo) started bottling Caol Ila as a limited 15 year old whisky under their Flora & Fauna series.  In 2002, it moved to their "Hidden Malts" series, along with Clynelish and Glen Elgin.  Because it's not part of the original "Classic Malts" (though it's often lumped in with them), it can sometimes be more difficult to find a bottle of Caol Ila, compared to Lagavulin.

Distillery: Caol Ila
Ownership: Diageo
Age: minimum 12 years
Maturation: refill ex-bourbon American oak casks
Region: Port Askaig, Islay
Alcohol by Volume: 43%
PPM: 30-35
Chilfiltered? Yup.
Colored? It is decidedly so.

Now, enough with facts!

NEAT
It has a mild amber color, which is comforting since so many of Diageo's whiskys are unnaturally brown.  Perhaps they went easy on the e150a with this one.  On the nose, honey on wheat bread leads the way.  Then bruised apple flesh and a hint of piney peat.  It's very fresh overall: light vanilla, fresh stone fruit, and a mint-like effervescence. All sorts of apple notes now, actually. And the smoke remains reserved.  Give the whisky some time in the glass and some woody notes arrive with some spice on their tail.  While the peat and smoke remain gentle on the palate, they are more present than they are with the Bowmore 12.  There's a subtle bacon note and barbecued veggie skins (probably squash?).  Lots of hay.  With some air, the palate becomes a well-controlled combo of mild vanilla, salt, tanginess, and wood smoke.  A little more barley registers on the finish.  But for me, the Caol Ila 12 finish always paints the same portrait when I close my eyes:  I'm overlooking the beach at night, chimney smoke wafting in the tangy salty air.  Every time.

WITH WATER
The nose gets maltier and yeastier, with a light pleasant copper note.  Maybe some whole wheat toast and peaches.  It's slightly more candied now too.  The palate develops a note of mustard seeds but not too strongly.  Light peat, more obvious vanilla.  The finish is now briefer.  But it's creamy, peaty, and a little peppery.

While it won't blast your senses like the more famous South Islay trio (Ardbeg, Lagavulin, and Laphroaig), Caol Ila 12 is solid on every front.  The oak only pipes up every once in a while, but it mostly lets the mash, peat, salty air, and time do the talking.  What's interesting is that though Caol Ila is distilled right next to the sea, it is matured inland on mainland Scotland in one of Diageo's massive warehouses.  So that salty air note is not actually due to salty air exposure during maturation.  It's something that comes through in the peating or distillation process.  It's very effective, whatever it may be.

I'll admit, I've given Caol Ila the short shrift in favor of its sexier neighbors, and have unfairly looked past the indie bottles just because its distillery is owned by Diageo.  There are some elements here that remind me of similarly aged Ardmore (♥s!), except CI's malt seems to have more salt and bacon in the mix.  I've seen a wide array of prices on this one.  It's a well designed whisky, and can compete fairly well at the $50 price point.  But once it goes north of $70, it's difficult to recommend.

Availability - Many specialty retailers worldwide

Pricing - East Coast $45 to $65; West Coast $55 to $75 (boo)

Rating - 85

NOT Single Malt Report: Concannon Blended Irish Whiskey

This report is kind of a bummer for me write.  I really wanted to support this stuff.  It's inexpensive, $20.  It has a good story -- the Concannon family moved to the US from Ireland and as immigrants in 1865 established a vineyard that still runs today.  And it is finished in their own petite sirah barrels.  I love me some petite sirah (petite syrah, petit syrah, petit sirah, et cetera), so I was hoping this might turn into something interesting.  So purchased it blindly.

The first few glasses from the bottle weren't bad.  In fact I liked them better than Cooley's Trader Joe's single malt.  I couldn't find the wine notes in the whiskey, but something (the corn?) was definitely keeping the issues I usually have with Cooley in check.  Then, by the time the fill level dropped to near mid-bottle (two months later) something started going wrong inside the bottle.  Once I got to the last third, it was bitter and unpalatable.

The shift was likely due to two factors.  This whiskey doesn't take to oxygen that well in a Glencairn glass, so the oxidation inside the bottle definitely did it no favors.  I also kept the bottle out in our dining room.  That's where I often put our house whiskies, the Tier 3s.  The dining room is the warmest spot in the condo, so the bottle spent some time in 80-85 degree heat on some days.

In any case, the last third of the bottle went down the sink.  But before things went too terribly in the bottle, I archived a sample to review.  So this report comes from somewhere around the bottle's halfway mark.

Company: Concannon
Distillery: Cooley (owned by Beam Inc.)
Country: Ireland
Style: Blended whiskey (malt and corn)
Maturation: four years in "small" ex-bourbon barrels, four months in petite sirah casks; and though it's an American company, the maturation took place in Ireland
Alcohol by Volume: 40%

NEAT
Since the color is a light gold, I'm thinking/hoping the colorant is kept to a minimum.  Anise and rubber are the primary notes on the nose.  Secondary notes include blackberry jam, nail polish remover, toasted grains, and caramel.  After some air, the whiskey starts to take on some very different characteristics like coconut lotion, plastic bottle, and horseradish.  The palate is very Cooley, but grainier, rougher, and hotter.  Notes of cardboard cereal box, burnt plastic, and generic vanilla arrive first.  It's very thin and watery.  Give the whiskey ten minutes in the in the glass and the dull thud of bland spirit takes center stage.  The finish is mostly heat.  There's a burnt thing going on, cardboard, fresh red grapes, and mild bitterness.

WITH WATER
The nose gets less synthetic once water's added.  The toasted grains and anise are still there.  But so is the nail polish remover, in the background.  A generic citrus note develops as well.  Lots of vanilla in the palate.  It's malty too.  But then something really wrong enters the picture and it makes me want to stop drinking.  I'm thinking it's the big bland spirit issue.  The finish is brief, spirity, and bitter.

I didn't finish my 1 ounce sample.  The whiskey was just going downhill too quickly for me to continue.

It's better neat.  The nose, though odd, isn't terrible.  The palate and finish indeed register as a cheap mild blend.  But I seriously do not recommend adding water.  With too many earthly elements reacting with the whiskey, it turns bad.

And keep in mind, I separated this sample before the whiskey got even worse in the bottle.  BUT, I'm giving the whiskey an extra half-star (or 5 or 6 points) in the rating because I know it had better days earlier in its life.  But I tell you this, if you open your Concannon Irish Whiskey bottle and like the stuff, you'd better not waste too much time getting to the bottom of the bottle.  If you open the bottle and don't like it from the start, I'm pretty sure it isn't going to get any better.

For a pair of more positive reviews see here and here.

Availability - many US specialty liquor retailers

Pricing - $15 to $25

Rating - 69  (ranging from 75 to 63 during the life of the bottle)

Single Malt Report: Connemara Turf Mor

Today's Cooley malt is the peatiest of their peated brand, Connemara Turf Mor.  Here's the Turf Mor (Gaelic for Big Peat) description per the Liquid Irish blog:

...a few years ago Cooley had trouble sourcing its usual amount of 20ppm peated malt from Scotland (malt made in Ireland is not peated). To keep the stills going, they bought a higher 58ppm malt and mixed it with the unpeated variety to moderate the intensity. 

As an experiment, however, they distilled some of the highly-peated malt on its own and that is what has appeared today as Connemara Turf Mór.

Liquid Irish's source of this information appears to be Brian Quinn, the Kilbeggan Distillery (also owned by Beam) manager, so I'll go with that tale.

As mentioned yesterday, my palate does not take to Cooley's malt at all.  So the thought of strong peating and wine finishes on their malt actually does give me some hope going in, hoping that "the Cooley thing" is covered up by other elements.  I found the regular Connemara Cask Strength to be very hot, woody, smoky, and well, that's it.  I was hoping this Small Batch edition of Connemara would bring about a better, more interesting experience.

Brand: Connemara (peated single malt)
Distillery: Cooley (owned by Beam Inc.)
Country: Ireland
Style: Single Malt Whiskey
Age: around 3 years (2010 edition)
Maturation: probably ex-bourbon casks; its URL says "sherry finish", though I haven't read any mention of this otherwise
Alcohol by Volume: 58.2%
PPM: 58

I bought my 30mL sample from whiskysamples, a reliable European sample shop which is currently undergoing a website transition.

NEAT
The color is amber.  The nose's strongest scent is that of new sneakers.  It permeates everything else.  Alongside there are rye-like spices, cinnamon rock candy, damp moss, black licorice, fresh apricots, and unripened peaches.  And lots of hot ethyl.  On the palate, I find a note that's like burnt hay meets brown sugar syrup.  The sneakers and moss show up here, along with something green (like live grains and grass), and "the Cooley thing" (aka vanilla-coated stale sugary breakfast cereal dunked in white vinegar).  It finishes sweetly.  Lots of vanilla beans as well as the Cooley thing.  The peat becomes very Lagavulin-ish with time.  The smoke isn't as heavy as I'd expected but it lasts the longest.

WITH WATER
"Black licorice farts and a lot of them" (as per my notes) on the nose and "floral perfume trying to cover it up".  Balsamic vinegar reduction, a little turpentine, sugar cookies, and clementines.  Oh, and dog hair.  The palate flattens and blands out.  Bitter peat, generic vanilla, and a slight tang.  But then it finishes very sweetly.  There's a little malt mixing with peat ashes.  Then a weird vinegar tang that gets sourer after time.

My final note from this tasting: "WTF is going on with this whiskey?"

With water, the nose gets very odd and inconsistent, burping up clashing odors every few seconds.  The hydrated palate goes nowhere, but then the finish picks back up in its oddities.  The neat nose is a weirdo too, but easier to take and occasionally matches the palate.  It's quite hot while neat, but with the water it's just strange.  This could be a symptom of its youth.

There are definitely many characteristics pouring forth from this whiskey, and I can imagine it seemed kinda fun when the Cooley folks nosed the cask.  But the total package is totally off kilter.  I don't know why they were in such a rush to release a barely legal whiskey.  A few more years in a good cask wouldn't have hurt.  This could have been fun as an 8 year old, so I hope they held onto a few casks of the big peatin'.

Serge thinks it's "a curiosity" worth 79 points and Fuji of LAWS wasn't crazy about the stuff; meanwhile John Hansell thinks it vibrant and distinctive, Coopered Tot likes it a bit, and Murray loved it (natch).  I do think it's more interesting than the regular Cask Strength, but have my doubts that it makes for a better drinking experience.  It makes me think that Connemara has many miles to go before it can compete with its Beam brethren, Laphroaig and Ardmore.

Availability - Canada and Europe

Pricing - $90 to $120 (minus VAT, plus shipping)

Rating - 74

Single Malt Report: Tyrconnell 10 year old Madeira Finish (a re-taste)

I used to feel a little guilty regarding my feelings about Cooley Distillery's malt whiskey.  For almost twenty-five years, Cooley was the lone representative of independently distilled Irish Whiskey.  In addition to their own brands (Connemara, Tyrconnell, and Kilbeggan) they supplied stock to at least a dozen different (even smaller) indie bottlers in Ireland.  On top of that, they even released some single casks to the Scottish independent bottlers, like AD Rattray, Cadenhead, and Adelphi.  It was Cooley alone against the mechanized whiskey factory that is Midleton.

But I REALLY (*eyebrows lifting dramatically on "REALLY"*) do not like Cooley's malt whiskey.  There's a specific thing going on with it that really turns off my palate.  In my tasting notes I usually refer to it as "the Cooley thing" or "the Cooley character".  It has taken me a year and a half to figure out how to describe it.  It's sort of like vanilla-coated stale sugary breakfast cereal dunked in white vinegar.  That's the closest I can get to capturing it.  And it is specific to their malt; it's not in their Greenore single grain.

My guilt was lifted last year when Beam Inc. bought Cooley from the Teeling family.  Now it is just another conglomerate-owned Irish distillery.  As soon as the ink dried on the sale, Beam decided to let all of their contracts with third party bottlers expire.  That means no more whiskey gets supplied to the much smaller companies.  As a supporter of small businesses, I should be joining with the rest of the mourners and declare that this is a damned shame.  But I REALLY do not like Cooley's malt, so it's difficult for me to get worked up about this in actuality.

I have tried twelve different Cooley-distilled whiskies in all sorts of formats: at pubs, official tastings, purchased samples, traded samples, and via my own bottles.  I'd like to think I've given their whiskies plenty of opportunities and have even been a little generous in my ratings.  But, unless I find something of theirs that's especially delicious and devoid of "the Cooley thing", I'm done.

Before tasting this week's lineup, I'd had positive thoughts about the Knappouge Castle 12 year old (with some bottle bottom oxidation), a Greenore Single Grain single cask, and the Tyrconnell 10 year old Madeira Finish.  The last of those originally received a booming four stars when I tried it 21 months ago.  With a wealth(?) of Cooleys consumed since then, I was ready to give it another try.  On the surface, it comes with two big negatives: 1.) Cooley malt; 2.) a sweet wine finish.  But maybe it's just crazy enough to work.

Brand: Tyrconnell (unpeated single malt)
Distillery: Cooley (owned by Beam Inc.)
Country: Ireland
Style: Single Malt Whiskey
Age: minimum 10 years
Maturation: ex-bourbon barrels, then former Madeira wine casks
Alcohol by Volume: 46%

I received a generous sample of this whisky from Florin who was impressed with it at first but then less so later.  Another round of thank yous to him for the whiskey!  I had been considering buying a whole bottle for myself.  Did he save me from whiskey tragedy?

NEAT
The color is a very orange-tinted gold.  It's possible this is its natural color, gaining hues from the wine cask.  The nose begins with strawberry preserves, warm nectarines, orange marmalade, and peach schnapps. Warmed dessert wine and sugar cane show up next.  In the far background rumbles the Cooley malt.  The perfumed palate holds flower kiss candy, blackberry and boysenberry jam, and lychee.  Vanilla and milk chocolate notes develop with some time.  It's a combo of sweet and tart along with a buzz of heat.  The blackberry and boysenberry jams stick around for the extensive finish.  Orange Tang and Pixie Stix cover the tongue.  The milk chocolate registers with more subtlety.  An odd fruit tone shows up sometimes; maybe bitter or underripe fruit?

WITH WATER
Stinky cheese jumps into the nose first.  Then some milder cheeses, along with the aforementioned fruit preserves.  After that eases off, it's much similar to the neat nose, but mellower.  Maybe some orange rind and tart lemons.  The jams kick back in on the palate, followed by vague citrus and vanilla pudding notes.  It's very creamy with that Cooley thing keeping its distance.  Intense sugary sweetness on the finish.

---

This still holds its charms as a dessert drink.  But is it whiskey?  Technically, yes, but the malt only makes brief cameos.  Due to my feelings about the malt's quality, I wasn't terribly disappointed it remained evasive.  On the other hand, it is intensely sweet like a flavored whiskey rather than a finished one.  Thus in a blind tasting, one might guess it's a liqueur.

While it doesn't feel, smell, or taste like whiskey (to me), I do still like it, especially the jam and fruit notes.  I just don't love it the way I used to, nor at the level John Hansell does.  So, yes, Florin saved me some whisk(e)y coin.

I would recommend this whiskey to someone who isn't big on single malts but does have a sweet tooth, as the sugar is very aggressive.  Some of us just can't take the sweeties as much as we used to.

Availability - Many specialty retailers worldwide

Pricing - $75 to $100 (really unfortunate)

Rating - 81

Syd Field

In the autumn and winter of 1999, I had the privilege of attending Syd Field’s private screenwriting class at his home.  Like many young screenwriters, I was greatly influenced by his books during my early attempts at the profession, so this was an honor and a great opportunity to hone the craft with one of the master gurus.  Each session consisted of about six writers sitting around Syd’s dining room table, reviewing the pages written the previous week.  All the other writers who attended were of my parents’ age or older.  I was the kid.

After reading his books, I wasn’t sure what to expect from his personality.  From his writing I gleaned that he knew the mechanisms behind excellent script structure possibly better than anyone, and he was always able to walk the reader through each part, step by step.  And that was how his books had helped me.  They take a potentially overwhelming project and divide it into smaller and smaller parts, and then show how each part affects another.  His Workbook had been indispensable for my previous screenplay, so I reread that book again before attending his class.

The man whose work had influenced entertainment industry development departments for decades and now greeted his students with snacks and bottled water in his home every week was not a Hollywood guy, not a Type A, not a producer, not a snake oil salesman.  Syd was soft-spoken and very calm, a generous and sweet man.  In his personal life he loved to meditate and was, at the time, studying Hindu and Buddhist texts.

I had thought the whole class would be about structure, but instead we focused on characters and the human element behind each creation.  But the true lesson I took from his class was a lot larger than anything to do with screenwriting.

The script I was working on was about a crappy schlock journalist who took a last-chance assignment to uncover the truth behind a well-known messianic cult figure.  The assignment starts to awry right from the start when he discovers his ex-girlfriend love-of-his-life is now the messiah’s lover.  I was 21 years old at the time, the age wherein one clearly knows everything about the world and humans and God.  So my script was going to be a serious exposé, not on the messiah figure but on the miserable failure that was my main character.  And I struggled with the damn thing immediately.

Syd had me take a step back and spend a week doing writing exercises from the point of view of my main character and his ex-girlfriend.  It was a way to find their voices and personalities, and thus find out why they do things.  I had trouble cracking this part as well.  After a couple of false starts, I started writing about the terrible sex lives these two people had together and separately; the terrible stuff in the sack that screwed them up in their future relationships.  I thought it was sad and revealing, and I tried to make it a little witty, because bad sex is funny in hindsight.

I was nervous about reading it out loud to complete strangers and Syd Field.  So I chose to go last in the class with my pages.  When it was my turn, I decided to boldly dive in and not apologize for something I was already kind of regretting.   At first I heard some titters from the audience, then some chuckles, and then by the end I had to keep pausing because the laughter had risen to a roar.

My arms were buzzing with goosebumps.  I had never attempted anything comical before; all of my writing had been young-man’s self-serious DRAMA.  This project was going to be another heart-wrenching deconstruction of male delusion.  But because I could not figure out how to express this in melodramatic format, I took a look at my characters’ sources of failure and mixed it in some dick jokes.   And it worked.

Syd said to me, “Why try to keep forcing your story into a mold and tone that don’t fit?  Your characters’ voices clearly work the way you just wrote them.  The soul of comedy is failure and disappointment.  It’s okay to make people laugh, you don’t have to be serious all the time.”  I went home that night and saw my previous three screenplays in an entirely new light: how self-important, serious, and tragic I had tried to be.  I had always liked making girls smile, why not broaden my scope?  That’s of course the young man’s response.  The real lesson was I had to learn how to laugh at myself, at my failures and disappointments.  Sitting around moping about them and then weaving those feelings into screenplays was only going to perpetuate my problems.

Did that messiah script succeed?  In the sense that I learned something about myself, yes.  Or at least that seed was planted.  The lesson is something I’m still learning today.  One doesn’t usually find that level of personal clarity in a screenwriting class.  But this wasn’t a normal class and Syd wasn’t a normal guy.  We all wrestled with the characters in our stories for that handful of months.  Structure-Structure-Structure wasn’t the value.  The person, the voice, and the Why were what mattered.  And the kid in the class learned to not take himself so seriously.

Syd Field passed from this world yesterday.  His family, his wife, Aviva, and his friends were there by his side.  Though I can’t say I knew him very well personally, I do know how he approached life spiritually.  So I’m certain he saw this end as but another beginning.  Thank you, Syd.  May peace be upon you.