(Cue the weird music…perhaps an organ sting…perhaps the theme from JAWS…or that nee-nee-nee-nee music from The Twilight Zone.)

Understand. All actors think they can play anything…anything.

They can’t.

All actors know, if given the chance, they can play anything.

They’re wrong.

Present company most definitely included.

The viewing public is usually protected from such hubris by the filter of directors who are expected to know better than to miscast actors in roles for which they are not suited.

For example, though I know I could change people’s lives with my portrayals of Stanley Kowalski (Streetcar Named Desire) or Joan of Arc or Lassie’s “Timmy” (or Lassie for that matter), I also know my chances of being cast in those roles are minuscule. I think we all can agree the theatre-going world is made better by this protective filter (though, I’m tellin’ ya, I can scream “Stella” like a banshee).

However, sometimes the filter fails.

(Cue – a great disturbance in the Force.)

I had always wanted to play Dracula. In 1982 I got my chance.

The proper authorities should have been notified.

There should have been an intervention. What are friends for?

The theatre company doing Dracula, which shall remain nameless, had been up and running for several years and had mounted impressive shows in impressive quantities. The core members of the group had just run off a string of ambitious productions and I suspect they were weary. The Dracula project was turned over to an affable and bright young guy with little directing experience. None of the regular performers of the company participated as actors and were rarely seen during the rehearsal process. I think they were “taking a show off”. Mind you, these were the hardest working theatre folks in Lexington at that time, and theatre didn’t pay the rent or put food on the table. Taking time to find an income was a responsible business plan. Today, we call that “adulting”.

But it didn’t auger well artistically.

What did I care? I got to say those deathless (literally) lines.

(Cue the line – “Wo-o-o-o-lves. Listen to them. Children of the night. What mu-u-u-sic they make.”)

<< Snickers from the audience >>

The show got a full-page spread in the newspaper with pictures of Dracula in repose on a crypt in the bowels of Morrison Hall at Transylvania University (Transylvania…sweet).

I wore my cape and my plastic fangs in the pictures…in the newspaper (sweeter and sweeter).

Just kill me now. Oh, wait. That won’t work. I’m a vampire.

(Cue the line – “There are far worse things awaiting man than death.”)

<< Guffaws from the audience >>

Far worse things than death? I should say so. There’s opening night.

I made my entrance. I swept into the room with my cape, my pizza-pan sized medallion, and my floppy hair.

(Cue the review – “Leasor looked like the Dave Clark Five about to be knighted by the Queen.”)

The actor playing Dr. Seward was, I believe, experiencing his first opening night. His pivotal moment was at hand. He must set up the introduction of Dracula and his nemesis; Professor Van Helsing. Without this introduction, we have no play. As I said, I swe-e-e-pt into the room, confronted Dr. Seward, and waited for his line. The actor playing Seward had a look on his face that to my dismay read; “Wow! Look at that cool cape. I can’t believe I have such a great seat for this show.”

It was an impasse.

I glanced over to Professor Van Helsing being played by Paul Thomas; a very experienced actor and good friend. Paul had worked a pipe into his character early in the rehearsal process and now I could see why. Paul sat, staring resolutely straight ahead, puffing his pipe and enveloping himself in an obscuring cloud of smoke. Occasionally, stray puffs of smoke would rise straight up. Being fluent in smoke signals, I got the message; “You’re on your own, Buster.” I made a mental note to review our friendship.

Mental note…that was it!

I lifted my arm slowly and placed my index finger over my eyebrow. I squinted my eyes in my best Johnny Carson/Karnak manner (it’s as good as my Stanley Kowalski). I stretched my index finger toward the cumulus-nimbus formerly known as Paul and intoned; “Ah-h-h-h, Professor Van Helsing, even in Transylvania we have heard of you.”

The theatre went silent. The moment was ridiculous. But it was early in the evening and the audience had to weigh their options;

1. Accept the foolishness for the sake of having a night in the theatre…such as it was, or
2. Flee the building for the nearest bar.

Downtown cocktail opportunities in 1982 were not as lively as they are today. I think that may have saved us.

(Cue the line – “I never drink……wine.”)

<< Angry murmurs from the audience >>

The script was admittedly poor and been for 50+ years.

The cast and director were admittedly inexperienced.

I was admittedly dreadful……and not in the right way.

(Cue the review – “Children might enjoy Leasor’s performance as he looks like he’s going to break into a song-and-dance at any moment.”)

It was a healthy lesson for me.

Unfortunately, a lot of people paid for my education.

They should have been better protected.

(Cue the line – “The spider spinning his web for the unwary fly… The blood is the life.”)

<< Pitchforks in the audience are unsheathed, the castle is burned, and the box office is stormed for refunds >>

By the end of each night’s performance, the audience was probably feeling like the unwary fly and they were certainly out for blood.

(Cue the sigh.)

Sigh.

If you saw this show, I owe you five dollars. Your check is in the mail.

Yet another new/old Lexington theatre yarn.

Just to let ya know, if you’re doing a Sam Shepard play and want me to come see it, I’m busy that evening…all the evenings.

If you’d like me to do a Sam Shepard play, I’m more than likely available.

I feel the same way about Pinter, Ibsen, and Albee. I love performing them, but I’m not beatin’ down the doors to watch. It’s a mental defect I guess, but there it is. For me, Godot is simply not worth waiting for.

So, it’s 1987 and Joe Ferrell is directing Sam Shepard’s The Curse of the Starving Class for Actors Guild Lexington (usually referred to as “AGL”). This is when AGL was performing in a rickety building in downtown Lexington called the LMNOP building (usually referred to as “LMNOP” – go figger). The LMNOP moniker stemmed from its life as “Club LMNOP”, a legendary night club in its day. By 1987 this building had been rode hard and put up wet to dry. Creaked? No, it shrieked. It wobbled. It was seasonal, which is an apt euphemism for little discernible heat and air. But the rent was right and in the theatre, that usually rules (remind me to bore you with my “theatre verismo” experience one January doing Terra Nova in the basement of a downtown Lexington restaurant — all of Antarctica in a room that sat 50 people – yes, I have pictures).

Well, I was hot for this project. I had worked with Joe on Shepard’s Buried Child a couple of years earlier and it had been a very satisfying time. In that play, I portrayed a raging psychotic single-amputee who was tormented in the second act by his own brother (played by Vic Chaney) who used his own his prosthetic leg as a club against him. It was a laugh-a-minute riot. I was proud of the portrayal even though it took my knee a year to fully recover. I was hungry for another bit of fluff like that.

My previous role for Joe was as a gay, double-AK-amputee Vietnam War vet. It was intriguing to me to get an opportunity to finally do a show with Joe in which I could use all my limbs.

Oh sure, the script of Curse called for a scene with complete male nudity, but it wasn’t my character and surely Joe would find a work-around to avoid going that far in my beloved 1987 Lexington, where I was dealing with the public every day in my retail career……surely…………surely.

Well, it was a remarkable cast and crew. It included Joe Gatton, Martha Campbell, Glenn Thompson, and Carol Spence, all of whom I have worked with numerous happy times.

It also included Kevin Haggard. Kevin and I had never worked together before and we’ve not worked together since. Dammit. In Curse Kevin played my son in a strikingly (emphasis on “strike”) abusive father/son relationship. I tend to work quickly in the rehearsal process – Kevin works more thoughtfully. I didn’t know that then. The first two weeks of rehearsal I kicked his ass all over the stage. I feared I might kill him if he didn’t start reacting with a bit more alacrity and how was I gonna explain that to his mother.

Not to worry; from the third week of rehearsal through closing night, Kevin’s character grew every night. I was impressed and bit scared for my own well-being. By opening night I discovered in one scene Kevin had ascended the heights of our kitchen and assumed a manic 45 degree angle against the fridge. I was supine on the kitchen table at the time and chaos was eminent.

It was a fine moment.

It was Kevin’s character that had to deal with the nude scene.

As the rehearsals proceeded, it was sometime in week three that it dawned on me that Joe was dealing with the nude scene by simply doing it as written.

Whatta concept!

What made the scene more special was that Kevin had to carry a sheep during it. This was after a first act scene in which he took his sister’s 4-H project “How to Butcher a Cow” chart, tossed it on the floor, and pee’d on it. He was an endearing character.

I was envisioning letters to the editor at least, or pitchforks and torches at worst. Didn’t happen. Instead, we played to great reviews and sold-out houses. Go figger.

About six months after the show closed, two gentlemen came to see me at work to discuss Liquor Barn’s participation in the United Way. One of the gentlemen noticed a picture on my office wall of one of my shows. He remarked; “My wife and I go to the theatre often. Last year we saw a play where a character actually pissed on the stage!” I gave him my biggest grin, shook his hand, and said; “I played that boy’s father!!”

That was the last I heard from the United Way that year.

But all in all, Curse of the Starving Class was a good experience.

• Big audiences.
• The building didn’t collapse.
• I got to work with Cambo the Clown and his “Ya-Ya Juice” (another story for another time).
• I didn’t have to deal with the sheep.

Baa-a-a-a.

The answering of the phone

One day in the late summer of 1987 the phone rang at Roger and Janie’s house and the wrong person answered.

It was a time of great changes and great busy-ness.

Janie and I had just gotten married and bought a new house.

The liquor stores which were my business career had just unexpectedly become mega party stores (Liquor Barn) and my primary responsibility.

I had just completed an eighteen month performance schedule of directing one play (Bullshot Crummond – Actors’ Guild), singing and acting in two (A Little Night Music – UK, and Man of La Mancha – UK), acting in three (The Curse of the Starving Class and The Ebony Ape – Actors’ Guild, and Deathtrap – UK), and singing in one friend’s doctoral recital.

Whine, whine, whine… too much goodness…too much opportunity… woe is me.

But I truly was stretched thin and worn out at that moment.

And then Dr. James Rodgers called and Janie answered.

In 1987 Janie knew there were two phone calls to which my answer was nearly always “yes”; Jim Rodgers and Joe Ferrell. Well, why waste time? Jim wanted me to do a show. She said; “Of course, Jim, whatever you want.”

“Of course.”

Oh-h-h man!!

Well there’s no lettin’ Jim down once you’ve promised. I was now a member of the cast of Drinkers of the Wind.

Jim wrote Drinkers. It was a celebration of the horse, a compilation of poetry, songs, stories, and chants by Shakespeare, Shel Silverstein, Saki, Steinbeck, Greek legend…and Doc Rodgers himself. Jim wrote the piece! Another reason why ya don’t let him down. It’s his baby!

Yes, it was a celebration of the horse, but in one scene I had to play a goose. Go cypher on that for a while.

I hated that goose.

At least I wasn’t alone. Jim had recruited a stellar cast; actors that I admired and was challenged by; Billy Breed, Martha Campbell, Trish Clark, Russell Henderson, and Eric Johnson. Unfortunately, it seemed that everyone in the cast was experiencing personal pressures of their own. It led to a grumpy group meeting each night in the face of Doc Rodgers’ sunny instructions. Despite that, progress was made.

BUT…there was the challenge of Helen Hayes looming.

Helen Hayes

UK’s College of Fine Arts wanted to enhance their visibility. To do so, they scheduled a “Gala”. It was held in the Singletary Building and featured performances by various disciplines of the College capped by an appearance by the legendary Helen Hayes. It was a big deal and the night of the Gala the Singletary was packed and the crowd was decked out to the nines and all a’twitter.

Jim had committed our cast to provide a scene for the Gala and not just any scene. The most difficult scene in the show was a retelling of the legend of Bellarion and Pegasus. It was long, it was complex, and it included Billy Breed as Pegasus dancing to the words – words, mind you, not music. Any misplaced or mis-stressed syllable would pretty well leave Billy hangin’ high and dry.

Ah-h-h, no pressure there. It was a week before our opening night and instead of having a useful working rehearsal, we were doing our hardest scene in front of 1000+ people and Helen Hayes.

I remember, before the show that night, looking around the small dressing room in which we were all crowded and thinkin’; “Well, at least we’re rockin’ these tuxes.” You seek solace where you can.

In that dressing room we decided to run the lines for the scene one…more…time. As we did, I noticed Billy over in the corner marking his choreography with tiny moves as we recited. I’m not namin’ names, but one us skipped a line.

Silence ensued.

Soul-crushing silence ensued.

A silence of the damned ensued.

We immediately looked at Billy and he had acquired the hue of Casper the friendly ghost…with a facial expression that was far from friendly.

We were called to the stage.

We were introduced individually. Little Martha Campbell was first. When her name was announced, she marched martially and grimly to her place, fists clenched. She picked up her chair, ate it, and spit the splinters into the lights. She gave the audience a look that said; “I got yer Helen Hayes right here.”

I dunno…

It gave me a kind of perverse courage.

We did the scene.

Billy lived to tell the tale……and later moved to Oregon, about as far away from UK as you can go.

Whatever.

We hadn’t embarrassed ourselves in front of Helen Hayes (though I don’t believe she bought season tickets).

Now, we only had to do the show.

Opening night

A week later we opened. After the Gala we worked diligently, confident in the knowledge that our loved ones would still love us (as long as we didn’t press the matter) and that we probably wouldn’t derail the performing career of Billy (as long as we destroyed the evidence). Plus, we were still rockin’ those tuxes.

Then Jim dropped a little bombshell.

It seemed there was something called “The Dean’s Circle”. This was a group of donors to the College of Fine Arts. One of the perks of being in The Dean’s Circle was having a Q&A with the cast after Theatre Department production opening nights. The cast of Drinkers did not see it as a “perk”.

Whine, whine, whine, whine.

I mean, if anyone from the audience asked me about my motivations while playing that damned goose…well, the College of Fine Arts was probably gonna be lookin’ for a few new donors.

We did the show.

We peeled off our tuxes…slowly.

We trudged upstairs to face Judgement.

It was a love fest.

There were no questions. It was a contest between audience members to extol their favorite scenes from the show. They liked everything and everybody……except for the goose.

The grumpy cast members looked at each other. The shame in each other’s eyes was palpable.

The rest of the run featured an enthusiasm fueled by “let’s make up for”.

It was great.

But (sigh) …it wasn’t over.

The National Tour

Jim reassembled the cast and reconstituted the show that early spring (you cannot say “no” to this man!). He had booked us in colleges and junior colleges in Eastern Kentucky for the week of UK’s spring break.

For three days the cast (sans Jim who had developed a convenient cold/flu-like symptoms/plague/pneumonia/bone spurs) loaded our stools, boom box, and tuxes into a van and charged out to the exotics of Cumberland, Betsy Layne, Somerset, Hogwarts, Riverdale, etc. Eric was driving – a poor choice. The redbuds were a’blooming – an excellent choice.

We arrived at one venue (which will remain nameless) after driving on a mountain trail on which I swear I saw while peering down the rider’s side of the hill, Gandalf crying “Fly, you fools!”, and then through the back of a bedroom closet through Narnia, and then through the rabbit hole, and then down the yellow brick road. I’m sure there was probably a more direct route but, as I said, Eric was driving.

We were scheduled for two performances at this stop. We set our stage (six stools) and our technology (one boom box), donned our tuxes (still and always stylin’) and waited in place to be introduced. I was in the wings stage left and could clearly see Trish in the wings stage right.

A small matronly lady marched to center stage and said; “Y’all settle down now, y’hear?”

And they did.

That’s when I knew I was in the presence of a mensch.

I confess to being impressed and more than little intimidated.

Then she said; “These people have come all the way from Lexington.”

And walked off the stage.

I looked across the stage at Trish and she gave me a wide-eyed shrug that announced; “We’re on our way, Buster!”

And we were.

After the first performance, we had lunch in the school cafeteria and pulled ourselves together for our second show. I will admit that there were some unkind aspersions made in respect to Jim Rodgers’ health and absence. Something to the effect of “If he thinks he’s sick now, wait till I get a’hold of him!” But it was all in good fun……right?

I was stage left.

Trish was stage right.

The mensch marched.

And said; “Y’all settle down now, y’hear?”

And they did.

Then she said; “Yer ‘bout to see some real good actin’.”

And left the stage.

I looked across at Trish and she gave me a wider-eyed two-thumbs-up that announced; “We’re stars, Buster!!”

And we were.

I’m proud of that show.

I’m happy for the time I spent with my friends…yes, even Jim.

And that one sentence from the mensch might be the review in my life of which I’m most proud.

Be that as it may, I try to answer the phone at home before Janie whenever I can…and I still hate that goose.