Like everyone here, Larry Turman changed my life. He picked a kid from Iowa to come to USC and learn how to make movies. I’m forever grateful.

My class at Stark was the first that Larry himself selected.

He inherited the program from Art Murphy, who was still teaching one of the foundation classes. Art Murphy had a very specific idea of what a producer was. It was a man -- let’s be honest, almost always a man -- wearing a shirt and tie, who knew every facet of the film industry and called the projects he made “motion pictures” and never “movies.”

Larry Turman, on the other hand, was genuinely a producer. He knew the producer’s job was to deliver on the promise no matter what the challenges. That meant flexibility over fanaticism. The dress code fell in the second week. Larry added classes in indie film, and television. Television! Larry recognized that a producer was someone who gets things made, and that it ultimately didn’t matter what size screen you were aiming for.

Larry was not a retired producer. Hands down the best lessons we learned were from Larry talking about the projects he was shooting right then. He produced both The Getaway and The River Wild during our two years. He told us everything! We got these candid tales of negotiating difficult actors and difficult environments, studio squabbles, budget problems.

Larry showed us what a producer actually does, which is get the damn thing made.

When he got angry with us -- which wasn’t often -- it was because we weren’t taking the job seriously. For example, Larry wanted us to see all the new releases each week. Why the hell else were we even here?

After I graduated, most of my calls to Larry were me asking him for another amazing Starkie who could be my assistant. It’s great to see so many of them here. It’s through them that I saw Larry and the program he built continue to evolve, including becoming so international.

Larry Turman, you were a true gentleman and an amazing producer. Not just of films, but of producers. You raised a generation of us. We miss you, but we’ve also internalized you. Your legacy will live on.