"I came from a large family. We were seven children," he said. The second oldest, Paskal was born in the Bronx and moved from New York to California with his family in the 1940's, when he was just three or four years old. With Dad in the Merchant Marines and absent much of the time, the Paskals settled into a housing project in East Los Angeles, near Mission and First. "I hear they're just tearing down that housing project now," he said. "We were unusual, the only Jewish family in the neighborhood, but like everyone else, we couldn't afford anything better."

Swarms of children notwithstanding, Paskal endeared himself to his mother. Having lost a baby of just 18 months, the mother lavished attention on Joe, the next born. And Paskal, in turn, repaid her by becoming the little father of the family: "I was the kid that washed the dishes and swept the floor. I always wanted to help and I felt bad for my mom when we couldn't afford things. So I used to get up on weekends at 5 in the morning, take my newspaper cart and deliver newspapers to the housing project." Paskal's schooling began - Cornell St. Elementary School, Hollenbeck Jr. High, Roosevelt High School, and finally Fairfax High. At 14 years old came his first big job and, he thought, the career of his future -at the Warsaw Bakery. He saved $800, gave it to his mother and the family moved out to Cornell St., near the old General Hospital.

"The bakery was at Brooklyn and St. Louis, right next to a deli," Paskal said. "I cleaned the place and tried to learn to be a baker. I thought that's what I'd be when I grew up." The over-achiever in Paskal was already at work, however. Soon came his own newspaper corner, right by the bakery. He taught himself tennis, landing on the Helms Athletic Foundation's All-City Player list. More importantly, he kept his eyes open and soon enough spotted opportunity in the form of a simple bulletin board notice.

"It was an opening to clean a little sound studio. They imported canned music from Europe and used it as background for different television shows. But when I answered the notice, they said they had hired someone already and I had to tell my mom I didn't get the job. She said, 'Give me the phone number.' She called them and said, 'If you hire my son, he'll do the work of two people.'"

The job was his and it was in between cleaning that Paskal first encountered splicers, synchronizers and Moviolas. He stayed after work, begging editors to let him help on the machines and learned to transfer sound from 1/4" tape to 35 millimeter magnetic film. He left the job three years later an apprentice editor, armed with a union membership and a hot idea for his own business.

During his stint at the sound studio, Paskal had discovered that major studios threw out magnetic film of shots they couldn't use. "They threw it out in large rolls," he said. "There was a big outfit on Crenshaw called Film Salvage Company, that put out large collection barrels at the studios. They'd salvage the used film for the silver." But in theory, the studios could re-record over it.

"So I went to Film Salvage Company and asked if I could buy their used film by the pound. With fifty dollars, I bought a table, a splicer, a little film cleaner and some splicing tape and set it all up in my mom's garage. I spliced together the short ends - I kind of knew how to do it. Then I called independent producers and said, 'Look, if you re-use this film, you can save a lot of money.' They bought it. My first customer was an old TV series called Rescue 8. I degaussed the film in 1,000-foot rolls and they ended up saving at least half their original cost."

Degaussing film was a unique-to-Hollywood recycling business, and it marked the beginning of Joe Paskal's fortune. At the time, though, Paskal had no idea where his garage operation would lead. In fact, for him, it was just a side line.

While Joe Paskal's degaussing operation clicked merrily along in his mother's garage, it still didn't have the feel of a successful career path. So Paskal held down other "real" jobs, working as a projectionist for Mickey Kaplan of Hollywood Film Enterprises and, after persistent visits to the film editor's union, at last as an apprentice editor on productions such as Death Valley Days, Rawhide and the movie West Side Story.

Meanwhile, his sales relationship with the editors was flourishing. "The guys got to know me and like me," he said. "They said, 'You already sell film...why don't you sell supplies, too?' It sounded like a good idea. So I got a resale certificate, went to the wholesalers downtown and started selling grease pencils, markers, legal tablets - all the expendables. Then I thought, maybe the colleges could use this. I set up a little stand at UCLA. And when that worked, I thought, maybe I'll go into business for myself."

Paskal hooked up with a negative cutter named Richard Bansbach -the "R" in "J&R Films. They set up shop in 1959 on Cole Ave., just north of Santa Monica Blvd. Rent was $150 a month and together they did pretty well. Its first big customer: Technicolor Corporation. Though Paskal eventually bought out Bansbach's interest in the firm, the little recycling/expendables company was on its way.

Young and ambitious, Paskal made his way around town, delivering all his sales in a little MG Roadster. ("I still have that car," he said.) Then came men from New York, looking for a Hollywood sales representative for their plastic molding products. With a referral from Mickey Kaplan's employees, Paskal landed an exclusive distributorship, selling film reels to labs and producers in the 13 Western states and raking in the commissions.

It wasn't enough. Paskal wanted to sell editing equipment too, but the only name in the business was Moviola, and Moviola had no need for dealers. Undeterred, Paskal reverse-engineered their product. He changed the re-wind mechanism, made dies for parts and developed his own line, complete with tables and synchronizers, all totally self-funded.

His hard work and infectious nature drew one business opportunity after another, and a cross-country sales trip generated contacts and friendships. When the owners of Rivas Splicer retired, they handed the whole company over to Paskal for a very modest amount of money. The acquisition of Precision Equipment, maker of synchronizers and optical readers came much the same way. Paskal hired friends to help him run the company.

Goldberg Brothers' Reel Company became available and after complicated negotiations with shareholders, Paskal owned it as well, and the business continued to grow. Paskal landed the Columbia account, Paramount Pictures and MGM, all with no advertising, just personal sales calls.

Then, in 1974, Moviola's equipment rental business came up for sale, and very quietly, Paskal bought it.

"It was a great business," he said. "I still rent original Moviolas to this day. Not many, but some." Ten years later, the parent company, Magnasync/Moviola was available. Magnasync was bigger than Moviola at that time. It made logging equipment for the safety community and for the FAA, along with film recorders for 16 and 35 millimeter film.

"What can I say? It was a coup in the industry," he said. "The deal just fell in smoothly and I was smart enough to figure it all out." Smart enough to figure it out, yes, but those who know Paskal say there's more. It's intelligence combined with driving ambition and a work ethic that saw him unloading his own 40' trailers at one in the morning.

Joe Paskal started his Hollywood career admiring the art of editing. He still does. Every facet of J&R Film/Moviola Digital - from special digital storage rates for film students and independents to the new state-of-the-art Digital Education Center for industry professionals - is tailored to enhance post production artistry. As for himself, "The businessman prevailed over the artist in me. I was the deal maker. What I'm doing I still consider pretty creative, figuring out what to buy and what the future's going to hold. When I started, Hollywood was a very different place. It was a smaller industry, a friendlier atmosphere and the character of people was different. Of course you still had to come in with the right price, but if you worked hard you could get accounts. I was ambitious and young and it was exciting. And my strength still is moving at the pace of the industry. That's what I do really well. When someone comes to me with an idea, I take a look at it first, then I go with my gut."

An example is a comparatively new Moviola Digital affiliate. A young lighting professional named Evan Green, at his father's prompting, brought Paskal a proposal for a fresh start-up business. "I wasn't the first guy Evan had come to," Paskal said, "but I recognized ambition. I saw this kid was hungry, he wanted to make it in life. There aren't many people like that." Paskal Lighting was formed, and Green is now a percentage partner.

"We've made good decisions, we've also made mistakes," Paskal says. "Running a business is hard and while I'm really, really good with people, I'm not a pussy cat. Most successful businesspeople aren't. Still, fun is in the foreground for me."

His son Randy Paskal runs J&R Film/Moviola Digital's day-to-day operations now, along with other family members: sons, daughters, brothers and more, all pitching in with their areas of business expertise. The business is international, with offices in Los Angeles, Chicago, New York and London.

Joe Paskal himself keeps close tabs on the firm, flying in frequently from his new home base on the island of Kauai, where he naturally has deals cooking every day of the week. Cooking is an operative word - one successful enterprise, Postcards Cafe - has hosted such luminaries as Robert Redford, Meryl Streep, Norman Lear and Dean Ornish, and has appeared in Bon Appetite, the New York Times and Bride's Magazine. He also owns Kauai Sea Tours, escorting tourists via his fleet of boats around the island's north shore. "My wife laughs - there was a business for sale here on Kauai, a hardware store," he said. Paskal didn't bite on that opportunity, but as for other deals

Never count him out.