Lawrence P. Beron

Actor, humorist, and raconteur Lawrence P Beron is a native New Orleanian and still resides in New Orleans. In high school, a family move to The Netherlands led him to graduate from The American School of The Hague, where he appeared in a number of plays directed by Richard Freedberg. After moving back to New Orleans, he began performing standup comedy and acting in local productions.

In 2008, he was cast in his first supporting role as Detective Anthony Merchant in the upcoming Beyond a Reasonable Doubt, starring Michael Douglas and Amber Tamblyn and directed by Peter Hyams. Professionally, he has studied with Alan Dysert and David Keith at The Actor’s School in Nashville, TN; and with John “Spud” McConnell and with Lance E. Nichols in New Orleans. He is a member of the Screen Actors Guild.

MB: How long have you been performing?

LPB: My first performance was in kindergarten. It was some kind of school play. I don’t remember anything about it except I was cast in the role of a big, golden carrot. I had a couple of lines and I got some big laughs. But I felt embarrassed because at that time I had a really bad speech impediment. A lisp. And the lines were really funny because I said them with a lisp: “I’m a big golden carrot/ You can eat me cooked or raw/ Some people like me in their soup/ Other people like me in their slaw.” You can see how a kid with a lisp is going to think he sounds funny.

MB: Do you ever get nervous now when you perform?

LPB: I do get nervous, but my method of dealing with that is to look at it not as nervousness as much as anxiety, and look on that anxiety as positive and exciting, as opposed to nervousness. I recognize and anticipate it. And I’m a preparation freak. I know I’ve done it before and I’m ready to go. There’s some nervous tension in the air, and that’s a good thing because I’m getting ready to do something fun.

MB: So how do you view it differently now that makes it easier?

LPB: Preparation and experience are the keys. I think all performers come to realize that they just need to keep going. As far as the audience is concerned, nobody’s sitting there with a script, noting that you dropped a phrase. And from experience you anticipate that some things are going to work and other things aren’t. And that’s not in your control, and it’s not supposed to be.

If you’re just working by yourself, some audience member is going to cough at the wrong time, or are you going to forget something? Is there a way to reinsert it at the end of the monologue or just go on without it? These things are going to come up. Part of the preparation is foreseeing the possibility of problems and not being thrown when they occur. Because they are going to occur. I don’t even call it “going wrong.” It’s what’s going to happen.

MB: Can you tell me about the worst case of stage fright you’ve ever had?

LPB: Probably the worst was a Showtime contest. It was almost an open mike, and if you made it in the top ten you came back the next week. And I got in. With nothing. I didn’t even plan on going on stage. I had jokes; but I didn’t have a stream of one thing leading to another.

[But] I felt pretty good, because the DJs stole the one that was my joke and told it on the air the next day. So that was gratifying. But the problem with that contest was that when they said, “Okay, come back in a week and be just as funny, if not more funny,” I now had the pressure of “Man—I have a whole week. Should I stick with the same stuff or try to come up with new stuff?” And then there was “Now we’re in the top ten. Before it was a lark. Now people are coming for the finals.” So that was unnerving. I didn’t have a routine that got me into the top ten, let alone have one for the finals.