Tag Archives: music

A Reunion in C-8

That Championship Season (Studio Players 1977)

A couple of nights ago, my hot date (Janie) and I attended Studio Players’ 10-Minute Play Festival. Studio has been presenting this event for a number of years. They are to be congratulated and thanked. Janie and I have attended for years and watched the festival get better and better. Seven short plays and a packed house made for a rollicking evening.

But as nice as the performance was, for me, the magical moment happened before the opening curtain.

I was perusing the program when I realized I was sitting in the seat (C-8) I habitually inhabited probably a hundred-plus times while waiting in rehearsals for my turn to take the stage myself. I’m a theatre gym rat. In rehearsals, when I’m not on, I watch others work. I’m mesmerized by the process…by seeing and hearing other actors making choices that never occur to me. What vicarious discoveries!

I looked to my left and saw Tim Hull, the busiest actor in town, studying his program. I relived watching Tim prepare backstage for his startling scene opening our performance of “Another Part of the Forest” for On the Verge Theatre. That triggered me to recall others in that show that were key to tonight’s performance; Bob Singleton, Allie Darden, Chris Rose were all remarkable in “Forest” and huge parts of tonight’s effort.

I looked through my program and saw Patrick Lucas’ and Jennifer Roth’s names. Patrick’s rendition of “Sara Lee” and Jen’s “Moonlight Lullaby” were two of my very favorite moments from all the years of University of Kentucky’s “Grand Night for Singing.”

I recalled the final dress rehearsal of Studio’s “The Effect of Gamma Rays on Man-in-the-Moon Marigolds” (1979) being interrupted by a large black bird flying through door propped open to beat the heat of the night (the Carriage House was not air-conditioned at that time). It flapped over my head in C-8, strutted and commanded the stage for few minutes, made a few unhelpful suggestions, before wending (rending?) its way back to its warm womb of a Bell Court late summer evening. It was an ominous omen for this first-time director. Later, when I finally saw Hitchcock’s THE BIRDS, I understood Tippi Hedren’s anxiety to the depths of my bones.

In 1983 I watched the best cast of which I never a member rehearse and perform my friend Chuck Pogue’s lovely script; “Whodunit Darling” night after night for about eight weeks. Eric Johnson, Trish Clark, Matt Regan Julie Stevens, Jack Lynch, and David Darst were simply excellent playing their roles, all of which I wanted to be playing myself. They were great…I loved/hated them all.

I first met Paul Thomas and Gene Arkle in Studio’s 1977 production of “The Runner Stumbles.” I have since worked with them in two dozen or so shows. I have been Paul’s theatrical hunting partner, wastrel son, store clerk, employer, gangster toadie, murder suspect, and political crony…all sitting with me tonight in C-8.

Nice night at the theatre…good show…good company.

Swamp Dreaming

It seems like a good night to pull my eyes and ears and head out of the 24/7/365 news apocalypse, and instead, sail into some YouTube videos of Blossom Dearie, Oscar Peterson, and Thelonius Monk…and perhaps visit a while with Pogo Possum.

Pogo and his friends invariably slow me down, charge me positively, and make me smile…not from a distance, but sittin’ right next to the Okefenokee denizens relaxin’ on the same log. I can smell Albert’s awful cigar and wince when he gulps Pogo’s bowl of wax fruit in its entirety before recognizing the fruit’s ersatz-ness. No problem, just a fine excuse to move into Pogo’s house (and larder) for a few days convalescence. Pogo don’t mind.

The first house I owned was on the north side of Lexington about a block from Louden House in Castlewood Park and it had a bit of that casual feel about it. I grew up in that neighborhood and felt cozy there.

Janie and I made our early discoveries together with each other there. In fact, I still believe it was my first tortoise-shell, Scandal, who convinced Janie that I might be worth taking a chance on. We would open a champagne bottle, take the foil, and roll it into a small ball, toss it, and Scandal would trot after it and return it to me. Who on this planet could resist a champagne-fetching cat?

However, not all the discoveries were pleasant in this 50+ year old (in the 1980’s) house. The morning Janie looked up in her bath and instead of the ceiling, saw a lovely azure sky was a challenge, and the unheated bedroom was a challenge of a different sort…though the latter had its upside.

But the Okefenokee-ness of the nest came from the friends who dropped in. I remember Paul Thomas coming by to help move Janie in by ordering pizza. I remember Eric and Becky Johnson watching “White Christmas” with us, and continuing to watch it to the end with Janie even though I had slunk off to bed halfway through (Hey! I was a workin’ guy!). I remember Chuck and Julieanne’s après wedding do-dah in the parlor. I remember Vic Chaney brutally critiquing my meagre collection of record albums (remember those?). I remember Gene Arkle pondering for over an hour before he made his next tragic chess move in a series of tragic chess moves. I remember Joe Gatton bouncing into our Sunday breakfast on the porch and helping us plow through the Sunday papers, about the only news we consumed those innocent days.

No, we didn’t eat the wax fruit, and the cigars weren’t awful, they were non-existent. But the company was easy. There were no conversational land-mines of which to be wary. Outrageous and wildly inaccurate things were said and then laughed away. Offense was rarely taken.

We had little…

…and thus, little to lose…

…and thus, little to defend.

We had each other…

…inside decrepit brick walls…

…a fragile and powerful bubble of heedless good will.

We had it all.