Here at BPAC/Oldcastle we recently decided that we should introduce, or in my case, reintroduce ourselves to both our faithful, supportive, long-term, audiences and also to newer people who we hope will come to know they can expect an experience that they will not find anywhere else. It was suggested that we approach this introduction in a way that will let people know us beyond just our experiences in the theater. “Let people know about your other interests and passions in life.” Well, to tell the truth that’s kind of hard for me. You know, because ever since I played a bolt of electricity in fourth grade (it was a song and dance number) I knew immediately that performance was my other interest and passion and obviously the thing that I was going to do for the rest of my life.
Flash forward to 1973: I went to Idaho for a year. I’m not sure why; I had a ride. I thought I should expand my horizons. Well, Idaho has very broad horizons. Just not the kind I was seeking. Although I did spend countless, tedious, sunlit hours driving a big mower around dozens of lawns and fields for the Boise school district. I also learned to drive all manner of trucks, large and larger: sporting trailers and plows, backhoes and dump trucks. I guess that experience could have been useful for my future. But it was not for me, so back to Bennington I went!
The next most significant trip I took occurred in 1975. A short walk around the block in a neighborhood in Bennington so as not to arrive too early for an audition with some local theatre called Oldcastle. (?!) It was taking place at a little apartment where one of the two directors lived. Despite the fact that it wasn’t a terribly imposing door I knocked upon, I was terrified. I expected some gruff, unfriendly guy who would probably dismiss me before I even got a chance to perform my monologue. Well the guy who opened the door was Eric Peterson, probably the least intimidating or scary guy you could ever know. I performed my monologue for him and the other director guy, Paul Falzone. It was a terribly tragic speech called “Song About My Mother” by Bertolt Brecht the closing line of which was, “I can’t ever claw her out of the earth with my finger nails.” After a pretty long and painful silence, Paul, who is the definition of droll said, “I don’t know that piece. It’s a comedy, right?” Then he said to Eric, “He’s good. He can play that turkey Col. Manley so I don’t have to.” I was cast! The play was “The Contrast” by Vermonter Royal Tyler. It was billed as the first American comedy. The definition of comedy has obviously changed a bit since the late 18th century. It was really quite dreadful and indeed my character was the most dreadful of all. Also in the production was Christine Decker who has become a cherished life-long friend. It was not her first production with Oldcastle so she very sweetly guided me through it.
At the end of the run of that first show I was presented with a $50 paycheck. I was flabbergasted! I had no idea that I was being paid! In retrospect it was very important to me. I was a paid professional actor! That is not to say I was a well-paid actor but nevertheless I was privileged to be able to regard myself as a legitimate actor. A huge confidence bump for me. And that’s one of the many things that Oldcastle gave me all those years ago. It gave me my life’s work. I am forever grateful to Eric, Paul, Christine, Gary, Joe … And that is just the beginning of a long list that extends through literally hundreds of incredible colleagues who have made my life so rich at Oldcastle Theatre Company.
