By The Wayside

My affection toward Wayside Theatre caused my family to surprise me one Christmas, with the gift of a personalized brick, which currently resides on the wall next to the door of the theatre's bar (natch).  Every non-profit theatre out there is always fundraising, it's why they're called NON-PROFIT;  Wayside had a hard time convincing donors that a sustained level of charitable giving was necessary to keep presenting quality work.

In the pages of this blog, I have frequently offered entries on my own birthday, and even more often, have presented tributes to (or occasionally, diatribes about) celebrities on their birthdays.  Today's entry is a special one, in that it commemorates the birthday of a friend, colleague, and all-around admirable fellow.

Happy Birthday, Warner Crocker! This shot was snapped at the Opening Night Reception for Man of La Mancha, and illustrates one of the lovely traditions Warner created at Wayside Theatre.  After each Opening Night, he took the time to toast each and every person involved with the current production.

Warner isn't dead.  Today is his 57th birthday, and it must be a strange and bittersweet one for him. 

Warner Crocker, Birthday Boy

Only a few weeks ago, he announced his resignation from his position as Artistic Director of Wayside Theatre in Middletown, VA.  He ran the theatre for about 15 years, which, I'm told, is about twice as long as the average artistic director runs the average regional theatre.  But neither Warner nor Wayside are average.


Warner had a strong tradition of hiring DC-area actors;  both Tom Simpson and myself were imported for Man of La Mancha.  Out of town talent became more and more problematic for the theatre as funding dried up, and housing became an issue.



I am not, I assure you, privy to the inner workings of a regional theatre, but I've been around long enough to see that Wayside Theatre had a lot of challenges to its existence. 

I first learned of Wayside when I was appearing
in Big River at the neighboring
Shenandoah Summer Music Theatre. During a day off,
I drove up the road and dropped off my headshot.
The artistic director at the time (who preceded Warner)
ignored it.  But I'm not bitter.

Its location, about 90 or so miles from Washington, DC, may lead one to assume it's a bedroom (ie: commuter) community, and indeed, there are some residents in the area who are crazy enough to make the long drive to and from DC every day.  But mostly, the residents who are lucky enough to have Wayside in their midst would be considered rural.  Though Wayside Theatre is over 50 years old, it sits in a community for whom theatre-going is not a routine part of life. 

If you didn't know Wayside was there, you might miss it.  Located on Main Street of tiny Middletown, VA, right next to the fire station, it was a central gathering place which should have been given greater respect from its community than it received.  Warner struggled to teach his patrons that there was a big difference between community theatre and professional.  I still don't think they get it.

I know Warner and his staff struggled mightily throughout the years to instill a sense of regional pride in their theatre, as well as a recognition that Wayside was an important asset to the community which needed to be encouraged, financially as well as creatively.  This was an uphill battle.

My first appearance at Wayside Theatre was in Agatha Christie's Black Coffee, a whodunit which is known primarily as the first onstage appearance of her famous Dutch detective, Hercule Poirot.

One of Warner's most important Wayside legacies must be his internship program, which gave countless theatre professionals their launching pad.  His former interns are now working all over the country (indeed, all over the world!).  Above are four such success stories, surrounding Larry Dalke, one of Warner's favorite actors.

I was a last-minute replacement in Black Coffee, which I mention only to justify the fact that my performance was not one of my best. 

Warner's trust and respect toward actors was
always evident. He chose to work repeatedly
with actors of talent who also had spirits of
generosity, kindness, and fun. Jim Fleming
was one of Warner's regulars.

There wasn't anything substantially wrong with it, I just never connected with the character.  I came away from the show with many, many great personal memories of the experience, but with the sour taste which comes from an unsatisfactory performance.

My debut at Wayside Theatre was in Black Coffee, a thriller in which I played a clueless, dullard husband.  I was a last minute replacement in the role, and was not cast into my strengths.  Wayside's leading actress, Thomasin Savaiano, played my wife, and wiped the stage with me.  I was sure I would never be invited back to Wayside again.

It was many years before I returned to Wayside. 

Sound designer Steve was instrumental (pun alert!)
in creating the niche into which most Wayside
musicals fell, where actors played the music.

My next role, Sancho Panza in the classic musical Man of La Mancha, was more successful.  Though once again cast against type, I had lots of help from director Warner and musical guru Steve Przybylski(I wrote about this experience in several entries at the time, including this tribute to Steve and the entire cast).

During Man of La Mancha, I stayed in this charming guest house.  In earlier days, Wayside had access to a building which housed out-of-town actors, but I guess that was deemed a wasted expense.  In recent years, out-of-towners were usually housed with Wayside constituents who wished to help out the theatre.

Only a few years went by before I was asked back to Wayside, to play a role for which I was perfectly suited.  The Nerd was the kind of comedy very accessible to a wide range of audiences, and I had a ball with the play and the role. 

As the sardonic neighbor with an agenda, The Nerd provided
me with a great role. It was to be Wayside's final production
as an Equity house to date.

It was during this period, though, that I began to realize the huge financial challenges which Warner faced every day of his career at Wayside Theatre.  His board of directors seemed split over how to help the theatre continue to survive and grow. 


Warner and his staff did all they could to keep the theatre in business. During renovations, they moved their season to
another location, actually creating a lovely little theater space out of a warehouse. Forever Plaid and other shows continued the Wayside tradition of quality;  it would have been the perfect "second space" for the theatre, but the Board saw no need.

A capital campaign to expand the theatre's space only got far enough to pay for some essential upgrades to the existing theatre (during my first show there, it was necessary to actually go outside the building to cross from backstage right to left).  Wayside's property includes an empty lot behind the theatre which Warner hoped to build on, to add rehearsal/shop/office space and perhaps a black box to house their thriving education wing.  No such luck.

It might be said that some board members were pretty blind to the realities of keeping a theatre alive.

The summer I appeared in The Nerd, we were in the midst of the economic downturn, so charitable giving bottomed out, and the theatre ran into trouble with Actors Equity.  The Nerd, in fact, was to be the theatre's final show produced under the union's Small Professional Theatre contract;  Wayside became, in a professional sense, a non-union house. 

Chairs with booties.  The perfect example, in microcosm, of some of the challenges Warner faced in creating theatre. Rehearsal space was always an issue; for The Nerd, we worked on the upper floor of a grand old house in Winchester, VA.  It was originally a ballroom, and its hard wood floors had to be protected, hence the booties on the chairs.  We added and removed them every single rehearsal.  I always sensed that Warner would like to spend all his time with actors, creating theatre.  Don't get me wrong, he never brought the outside problems of Wayside into the rehearsal room.  Instead, he seemed to relax and become his best self there.

Warner, to his credit, has always been a big supporter of the actors union, and continued to employ AEA members when he could, using the Guest Artist contract, but he was forced to severely downsize his staff, which was already skeletal to my eyes. 


My birthday buddy Malia was Wayside's Production Stage Manager for many years. Once the theatre went non-Equity, she had to move on. Like so many other Wayside folks, she landed on her feet and now works in the mid-West.

Two major fundraising campaigns seemed to prove that, when push came to shove, the community did care that Wayside was around, and recently, they seemed ready to enter a new chapter.

I guess that chapter will be without the theatre's major engine.  I have no inside info on why Warner tendered his resignation earlier this month. 

Thomasin Savaiano: Wayside's leading teacher,
actress, cheerleader, bottle washer, and
administrator.

According to the local papers, the board intends to continue with the season which Warner selected, hiring independent directors for each show, but refraining from hiring a new artistic director, at least for now.  How the hell that's going to work is beyond my comprehension, as I've been in that tiny second floor loft where Wayside Theatre's administrative offices are cramped. Warner and Thomasin, with the help of one or two others, ran all the administrative aspects of the theatre.  Without them, I wonder how the day-to-day operations will continue.


To my knowledge, Warner was never granted the title
"Producing Artistic Director," but that's what he was.  He
was also the Managing Director, but again, without the
title.

While at Wayside, Warner made many financial sacrifices, all to keep the "little theatre with the big heart" producing quality, professional shows.   I have not heard what Warner's next career step will be, but wherever he lands, he's likely to take that same determination and enthusiasm for creating theatre.  And wherever he goes, I hope he takes my headshot with him!

Warner and Thomasin hosted their final Opening Night reception last week.  I was devastated that I could not attend, but I was trapped in Riverside Park in NYC, having my eyes gouged out in King Lear.  I hated to miss this important sendoff for the Crocker/Savaiano team, but I know they understand.

Happy Birthday, Warner.

 

 

Addendum: on 8/8/13, a few weeks after I wrote the above entry, the Board of Directors of Wayside Theatre announced its immediate closing.  Its 52 year history is now that: history.

New Year's Letter: A Bit of Heaven in '11

I love those newsletters that people sometimes send with their Christmas cards each year, but most folks make fun of them, at least in my experience.  So, I don't ever send one (the fact that my Christmas cards always feature a picture of myself is cause for enough ridicule).  But perhaps I can duck all that ridicule by, instead, writing a newsy New Year's Note.

2011 was one of my better years in recent memory, though it began with absolutely nothing positive on the horizon.  On January 1st, I had no jobs lined up, and no prospects. 

All that changed at the end of the month, when somebody dropped out of the Olney Theatre's production of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat, after one rehearsal.  I was working the front desk at our annual local Equity auditions when the casting director, the lovely and talented Brad Watkins, grabbed me by the arm and said, "Get your Equity ass to my theatre at 2:00, you're hired."  I started rehearsal that very day, and had a blast playing dual roles.  Wearing a skanky beard which completely covered my face, I played Joseph's father, Jacob, and in another sequence, I enjoyed a little song-and-dance as Potiphar, a rich Egyptian.

By the time we finished the run, nobody in Joe's Coat  even remembered that I was a replacement.  I was surrounded by some of the strongest singer/dancer/actors in the DC area;  the cast was littered with Helen Hayes winners and nominees, all of them playing one of my sons or one of my wives. 

I really loved the concept of this production (the show itself is not one of my favorites), but more, I was grateful to get the opportunity to work with this big group of talent.

That same audition during which I so unexpectedly snagged the gig at Olney Theatre, I was approached by the artistic director of Wayside Theatre, the lovely and talented Warner Crocker.  "Do you know the play The Nerd?" he asked.  I did not, but he urged me to read it, with an eye to playing a role in his upcoming production.

Several weeks later, I was spending the day as an extra on a big-budget film which was blowing through town (I don't know the name of it, but it's the one with Julianne Moore playing Sarah Palin). 

During the long stretches of boredom, I bumped into an acquaintance, the lovely and talented Bill Diggle.  "What are you working on?" I asked, knowing that he was always working on something.  "The Nerd," he answered.  "Really?" I responded, "I'm getting ready to do it!"  "I know," he said dryly, "I'm directing you in it."  Turns out that Warner was ducking out of directing the play in order to take care of some administrative duties.

No harm was done.  The Nerd turned out to be one of my all-time favorite theatrical experiences.  Warner knew what he was doing when he cast me as the wise-cracking neighbor with a secret agenda; it was the best part I've had in quite a while. 

The experience was capped by the visit of my whole family, who gathered from North Carolina, Georgia, and New York, to celebrate my father's birthday, and to see the show.  A year earlier, the family had gifted me with a very special Christmas present: a donor's brick on the wall of Wayside Theatre. 

Between Joe's Coat and The Nerd, the little independent movie I shot in 2010 was released.  And by "released," I mean it was self-distributed by the producers.  I understand that they had been submitting the film to various festivals around the world, and no one had nibbled.  A Modest Suggestion  can now be purchased here, and streamed here, as a one-week rental on Amazon.  I bought about 8 copies, and gave them as Christmas presents.  Who wouldn't want a Christmas present which starred me?

My unemployment had run out by the time I snagged another unexpected gig in September.  Once again, someone from Olney Theatre had dropped out of a show, though this time, it was a couple of weeks before rehearsal began.  The lovely and talented Brad Watkins put an emergency note on Facebook, asking for suggestions of replacements. 

The role, Carter in Agatha Christie's Witness for the Prosecution, was a very small one, so small that I wondered if Olney was looking for a non-union actor to play it.  Nevertheless, I dropped Brad an email suggesting myself for the role.  A week later, I was auditioning for the director, and a day or so after that, I was offered the gig.

I'll never make fun of Facebook again.

So, for the second time this year, I landed a job because somebody else quit.  Who cares? I had a lovely time with the show, though the timing of the gig caused some challenges with my personal life.  In the midst of rehearsals, I was notified that I was being awarded a subsidized apartment in Manhattan Plaza, an artists' complex right off Times Square in New York. 

It was a flukey lark that I landed on the waiting list for such a place, back in July of 2003.  It took 8 years, but my name finally rose to the top, and on Halloween, I spent my first night in Apt #29G at ManPlaza. 

It still seems like I'm camping when I'm there, as there is no furniture to speak of, and a blowup mattress serves as my sleeping arrangements.  But the opportunity is too good to pass up, so for the foreseeable future, I will be Bi-Urban, splitting my time between NY and DC as duty dictates.

The year ended with my annual trips to Los Angeles and to North Carolina, so I put Real Life on hold for a bit of Holiday Cheer.  Only now is it sinking in, that I should be dipping my toe into the New York lifestyle, whatever that means.  And I'm ending the year right where I started, with no work on the horizon, but this time, I'm not so worried.  (Yet.)  A lot of people would consider 2011 pretty lousy, and I won't argue, but for me, it was a pretty good year.  I can only hope for more of the same.

Friday Dance Party: Dream A Little Dream in a Paper Bag

The anniversary of Cass Elliot's death is today, so she is the star of this week's Dance Party. As one of my favorite old-timers, she has graced these pages several times in the past, including one of the more bizarre clips in the history of this series. In fact, the very song which Elliot is singing below appeared here, in a very different context, last year, when I was reminiscing about the little British film, Beautiful Thing.

This particular tune is the biggest hit Cass had as a solo artist (in fact, though it is remembered as her breakout solo hit, the song was recorded with Elliot's group The Mamas and The Papas, with Cass singing the lead. As the release date neared for the single, the group was clearly falling apart, so ABC/Dunhill, the record company in question, gave Cass separate billing on the recording, a move which angered Papa John Phillips and which hastened the group's disintegration). Her rendition of this song, which was written way back in 1931 and recorded by Ozzie Nelson's band and everybody else under the sun, has become the definitive version. And it crosses my mind, and lips, during every performance of The Nerd, in which I have been appearing at Wayside Theatre.

There is a moment in this very silly comedy in which the characters play a parlor game dreamed up by the eponymous nerd. The rules involve shoes, socks, and paper bags, as you can see:

During the game, the contestants are required to stick their fingers in their ears, turn around in circles, and hum. This ain't Noel Coward, folks, but it gets its share of guffaws. The song which I inevitably hum under that paper bag is "Dream a Little Dream of Me." I have a hunch it does not rival the rendition below. We're still playing your music, Cass!

The Good Samaritan and the Unexpected Understudy

It was a pretty hectic two weeks, getting The Nerd up and running out at Wayside Theatre, more on that in a mo'. But I was very, very glad to pull up to my condo building late Sunday afternoon. After an awkward matinee that day (during which I knocked a full cup of drawing pencils off the table, dumping dozens of pencils onto the stage floor, gotta love live theatre), and a very hot 90 minute drive back to DC, I was ready to relax for a few days. 'Twas not to be.


Monday morning, as I was lazily preparing to head out into the heat to run some errands, my cell phone rang. A woman who does not know me, nor I her, was calling in a neighborly fashion, to alert me that a black bag had been delivered to her doorstep in the middle of the night. According to the label, the bag belonged to me.

I hurried downstairs with a sinking feeling which was justified as soon as I stepped outside. My car had been burgled in the night, the glove box had been ransacked, and my trunk emptied. Well, not completely emptied: the thief had left behind the skanky towels I use at the gym. But the black bag which contained my laptop was gone. I was feeling quite the fool as I walked around the corner to the neighbor's house to retrieve my empty bag. (Well, again, the bag was not completely empty: the thief had apparently been unimpressed with my 8x10 headshots, and had left them behind. Everybody's a critic.)

It was my own stupidity which made the Big Heist possible. My car was not broken into, I had apparently left it unlocked. And it was more stupidity which persuaded me my laptop would be safe overnight in the trunk. For several hours on Monday, I kicked myself for my oversight, even as I recognized the ridiculousness of the feelings. I, the victim, was feeling guilty, while the perp was happily walking around with my laptop. (And several dollars worth of quarters, which he had also snatched from the car. Even lowlifes have to feed the meters in DC.)

Such things happen regularly when living in urban settings, which is where I choose to live, so what the hell. I suppose I should feel lucky that the sleaze did not know how to start a car without a key, as I drive a Honda Civic, and I'm told they are prized on the hot car market.

I was feeling violated for a couple of hours, but it is amazing how a gig improves my mood, no matter what is going on. The Nerd is in full swing now, after a rocky final rehearsal period.

One of our actors took ill only a few days before our opening, and it was determined that he could not perform our first weekend. Wayside, like most theaters its size, cannot afford understudies, so our director stepped into the breach. Luckily, Bill Higgle is an actor as well as director, with strong comedic chops which he showed to great advantage during our two preview performances, and again opening night. After only two rehearsal days, he was able to bring a lively tempo and hysterical timing to the character, which is several decades too old for him, but nobody cared. Bill infused his time on stage with real drive, and his performance proved the pace necessary for his scenes to be truly funny. I had a great time with Bill onstage, and was sorry to see him return to DC, his home base, once his performance was no longer needed. The experience was another in a long line of "The Show Must Go On" stories which all actors cherish.

We have two more weeks of the show, afterwhich, who knows what's coming next?