Harry Caul

Living… in 1970s San Francisco, alone in his apartment in a building that he owns. He doesn't know his tenants, they don't know him, and that's how he likes it. He hopes to leave soon. Half the neighborhood is being torn down. If he can just hold out a little longer, the city will buy the building.

Profession… surveillance expert, taking cases from anybody and everybody. He’s served clients from jilted wives to the U.S. government. There's only one sure-fire rule he’s learned in this business: don't worry about human nature, just get the job done. But his most recent case has transcended simple work-place drama. He may have audio proof of a planned murder.

Interests… playing the saxophone. After a long day's work, Harry likes to put on his old Lennie Tristano records and play along with the greats. It's the only thing that takes his mind off the stress of his job. True to his introverted nature, Harry would much rather play along to a recording than join a live band. He can listen by himself, control the environment, and doesn’t have to be bothered with applause. 

Relationship Status… purposely single. Harry’s always had a hard time connecting with others, much less letting them into his personal space. He maintains a half-baked courtship with Amy, a girl who’s half his age. It’s ideal because neither of them sees the other as a potential life-partner. Still, every time she tries to connect on a deeper level, Harry takes two steps back. Yet he asks her to go out more. She doesn’t, thinking it will please him.

Challenge… staying out of his client's personal business, or risking the possibility of endangering someone’s life, including his own. He’s had murders committed on his watch. Even his detached, it’s-just-business mindset isn’t immune to the guilt and psychological torment. He’s having trouble sleeping; the demons keep him awake. He’s suffering from hallucinations. He’s convinced he’s being recorded himself.

Personality… paranoid and introverted. Harry doesn’t like to reveal much about himself. He’d rather gather information than give it away. It pains him to speak and he can barely maintain eye-contact. He knows how valuable information is, how damning it can be. He must have made some enemies after being in this line of work for so long. Someone must be dying to return the favor. In truth, Harry is a deeply compassionate man whose work demands that he not care, not ask questions, not get involved. The cognitive dissonance has gradually taken its toll on his psyche.