The end of one year. The start of another. A time filled with new hopes and old memories. At my age, the later takes up the most daydreaming.
Thinking back earlier today, I realized that which I always considered my start in show biz, wasn’t. Before I was hired by the U of Mn to be the assistant stage manager at Northrop Auditorium, a 5,000 set house that was home to University events, Mpls Symphony Orchestra, rock concerts, even a week each year of seven different Met Opera of New York productions, I had my first taste of show biz back in grade school
I was cast as Scrooge’s nephew in that one-room, one-teacher, all eight grades-schoolhouse’s production of A Christmas Carol.
The only line I remember was, ‘Christmas, a humbug, Uncle! Surely, You don’t mean that’. Scrooge growled. And I exited to polite silence from the audience. Not much an actor can do with a vanilla role like the Nephew.
The star of the production was the turkey, a football with paper-mache drumsticks. When it was brought out on the platter, the audience roared, biggest reaction of the day.
I got a lot of laughs though, in the spring variety show, I got a comedy skit because I could do a good Swedish accent. The teacher brought in a prop she had used in her other schools’ variety shows. It was a very old telephone, the one that had the talking tube attached to the wall and the listening tube on a cord, the one you had to twirl a crank and ask a live operator to get you such and such a person. I asked to speak to the doctor.
‘Vell, Doctor, I vas putin da cooper under the mule’s tail… Yah, dat’s vhen he kicked me. Sent me a flyin. No, I ban ok. Landed in the soft manure pile. But that mule is sure hurtin cuz I kicked him back…’
This time I excited to a big round of applause. Heck, I thought, maybe someday I’ll do my act on a TV show like Milton Berle’s.
That teacher left after that one year and was replaced by a nineteen year teacher. One year of her and my folks sent me to a parochial school in St. Paul, reached by a mile walk to the mile-long Mendota Bridge and a ten mile street car ride. Nice weather I hiked. Bad weather, Dad got up, having only slept a few hours after working the night shift in the packing house, and drove me to the streetcar. I finished my 6th, 7th, and 8th grades there.
It was in the 8th grade where I worked as a stagehand for the very first time. It was love at first sight. No, not the work…the gal puppeteer. Long black hair. Deep brown eyes. Exotic looking. Years later, I would go on a blind date with a gal that fitted that description. Again love at first sight. So much so, that two years later we were married.
But to get back to my my story. Sister Kenneth, my 8th grade teacher, whom I also had a crush on, (Just a normal boy in his puberty dilemma),sent me and three other boys backstage at the gym/auditorium to help put up the touring puppet show for a school assembly.
One sound effects geek, Larry. The head puppeteer/boss. And her, Rita.!
Mr. Hot-Shot honcho ordered us around like we were something he stepped in the dog park. She talked to us softly and said ‘please’ when she asked us to do something. Hot-Shot treated her just like he treated us. At one point he even swore at her!
That did it. I got in his face. Looking up, quite a ways up, I warned him to watch his language and treat people with respect, or …
‘Or what, little mouth? Or what? You and your gang going to do something about it?’ He looked around at the other three kids; but just laughed when he saw that they had their backs to us, a sign I was on my own. ‘Looks like you’re on your own, dude.’
‘No! There’s also Sister Kenneth. She won’t like the way you’re acting. Hollering! Swearing! She’ll run you and your wooden dolls right out the door. Then she’ll call and have you booted off the school tour…’
I was getting his attention. The sound guy whispered something in his ear. Finally Hot Shot backed off and suggested we get back to the set- up.
Exhibiting a fault that would get me in trouble throughout my life, I wanted the last word and told him that he should apologize to Rita. and say please to us before we went back to back to work.
He just glared at me. One of my gang started whistling Whistle While You Work. Rita, standing behind Hot Shot, was shaking her head no and mouthing please. The sound man asked that I come and help him.
‘Or,’ I said, ‘we could just get back to work.’ She nodded in agreement.
It was a good show. There was a Punch and Judy skit and several others leading up to the finale. There was the sound of hooves, followed by a cowboy and his mule plodding slowly along, actually walking in place; it was just a small space. The Sons of the Pioneers were singing Cool Water. The cowboy was holding a canteen that he tuned upside down to show it was dry. At one point the mule stumbled. Song ended. Lights down. Lights up. The cowboy and mule bowed. The three artists came around and bowed. Hot Shot gave a short thank you speech, mentioning Sister Kenneth and the four hands sent to help set-up. The stage curtain closed and us four hands ran backstage. I was assigned working with the sound man. Rita and the other three worked on the set. Hot Shot had the puppets laid out on a couple tables and was carefully preparing each one to be placed in their packing box.
And all the while he was criticizing his coworkers. The sound man came in too late on one cue. The hooves beat sounded just like banging coconut shells on a table, which was how the sound was made. And he had numerous complaints as to how Rita worked her strings, especially working the mule.
‘Looked great from where I was sitting,’ I blurted out. And then, again with a prod, ‘I thought the mule was the best part of the show.’
He glared at me! ‘Sister Kenneth thought so too.’ I pulled that one out of my hat. But the mention of her name cooled him down. He finished packing his puppets, the cowboy on top. covering them up with the puppet stage curtain. He said he was going to get the van and told the Larry to button up the crates. He motioned to Rita to step outside with him.
He was yelling so loud we could hear every word. He didn’t like the way she handled the set-up, or the performance, or the pack-out. He went so far as saying he might have to get a different assistant. And he swore a lot.
I committed a cardinal sin of show business. I broke a prop…on purpose.
While Larry and the other three hands were facing the loading door, I opened the puppet crate. Reached beneath the fabric and grabbed the cowboy puppet’s arm…and snapped it!
As soon as I heard the crack, I felt guilty, wishing I hadn’t done what I did. I jerked my hands from the box, and silently closed the lid. A foolish act committed by a young boy suffering the dilemma of puberty.
We finished the load out and both Larry and Rita thanked us. She gave me a smile. I smiled back, but I wasn’t happy to see her walk out of my life.
Mr. Hot Shot wasn’t content to give us a short thank you. He had to puff up his chest and go on about how we were the best crew he worked with in any of the schools. You could tell it was rehearsed and given at every school he worked at. When he finished he turned and left the building.
‘Goodbye, good riddance, and don’t let the door hit you in the ass when you leave,’ I shouted. ‘Ouch!’ Somebody pulled my ear…hard. I knew who that somebody was right away. Sister Kenneth.
I turned quickly and defended myself by saying, ‘That guy was a real jerk.’
‘Oh, I agree.’ she said. ‘He’s got a lot of growing up to do, especially if he wants to stay married to her. She seemed like a nice person…’
Married to her. Rita was his wife!
I was traumatized. My first big crushes. One was a nun. And one was a married woman. I briefly reconsidered entering the priesthood. I had lost all faith in finding a woman to marry when I grew up. And I also gave up any thoughts of working in show business’
But that was long ago. Long before I spent 45 years as a professional stagehand. And long before I found my wife of 60+ years.
Let the New Year ring in
with the promise of peace
As for me
I make my usual resolutions
Eat more pie
Maybe this year I can keep the first two longer than a couple weeks
I never have a problem keeping the last one
Fun story and love your resolutions, especially number 3. Happy New Year.
I figure I should have at least resolution I can keep.
No pie in the sky for you, pie in the mouth is more obtainable.
I agree, Pat. Kind of like a bird in the hand etc….
Bird pie? Deliberately being obtuse. 😉
Pie, …out of my hat. ❤️
And a Happy New Year to you and yours , GP
entertaining sharing of your experience as usual Don. Thanks for doing this.
And thanks for the comment, Hugh
Aw, Happy New Year Don! Eat pie, lifes too short!
It ranks high on my food preferences. Happy New Year to you Fraggle.
I love reading your stories. Good for you for trying to defend the downtrodden.
I am so glad you liked it, Lauren. May the New Year bring you ggood results.
Awww I was eating a piece of panettone while reading this story…and then I got to your resolutions. Uh-oh. Looks like I’ve been caught in the act.
That story really was a delightful peek into the young Don. I particularly liked the line, “or, we could just get back to work.” Yep, sometimes discretion is the better part of valour. But it does sound as if Rita was in a not nice situation. Let’s hope she found a way out.
Happy New Year to you and yours.
It was my first encounter with a horrible marriage. I grew up a llot in those few hours.
Wishing you and yours a Happy New Year, Gwen. Enjoy your summer and pie made with fresh fruit.
Ah, the pain of those crushes. At least I was spared a Nun. 🙂
Great story as always, my friend.
Best wishes, Pete.
And best wishes and better health for you, Pete.
The best takeaway from this post is–married 60+ years. I’m workin’ on it! Happy New Year, Don!
Fingers crossed you make it, Jacqui.
Happy New Year, Don. That is a great story! I wonder if Rita stayed married to the jerk. Oh, keep that third New Year’s resolution. 😀
Frankly as much as I believe preserving marriage, I wish she would have left that jerk as quick as possible.
PS: Those resolutions go back many years and my physic attests to the fact I have kept that third one. No more the lean mean paratrooper of my youth. Of course being married to a great cook doesn’t help my weight problem.
These are wonderful memories described with so much humour. Thanks for sharing them… and Happy New Year again ❣️
Interesting memories. By coincidence, I once played Bob Cratchit in a radio adaptation of Dickens’s Christmas Carol.
Thanks, Don, for another memory! Loved it. I hope you & Gina a Happy New Year!♥️
Glad you enjoyed it, Bonnie. And may you also have a Happy New Year
Certainly lots of fond memories on display here, and wonderfully told. Don, the best to you and yours for the New Year! Bruce (aka WOTC)
Beautiful memories, Don! First crush is difficult to forget. Two in a row is too much! Glad you found the pretty girl you were looking for all those years. Happy New Year!
Thank you, Shaiy and Happy New Year to you and your little one..
i think im too chicken to be an actor. tho, like many, i’ve often dreamed about being a Movie Star.
funny thing is, years ago i did an all day career assesment exam in at the Career Centre in Victoria BC to find out what i outta be. they finally fed all the info from the questionnaires into an computer and …. TA DA !! it said i was supposed to
be a Film/Movie Director !!!
i was stunned at this assessment. had never ever considered such a thing. how the heck do u become a Movie Director??
but … maybe it was right?
good stuff Don.
into the New Year.
All the Best to You and Yours.
I have a grandnephew, Wayne Dalglish, that right now is a stunt coordinator and second unit director for Marvel. He started out as a very young karate phenom, went to UCLA film school and into stunt work. In Wonder Woman, that isn’t Gal Gadot fighting, it’s Wayne. Word is he’s being groomed to direct major picture soon. So that’s one way to become a film director. You culd have been another Yakima Canute, JC.
Glad you liked the post. Happy New Year.
A sweet read, Don and your ear for dialogue is admirable. Beginnings can be rocky, can’t they? But it all worked out in the end. It would be interesting to hear more about that one-room schoolhouse someday. 🙂
And Happy New Year!!
Thank you, Miss Blue. Your comment means a lot t me.
As per your suggestion, Miss Blue, my Miss Fee reblog, is a glimpse of the one-room schoolhouse.
Reading this a little late, but a Happy New Year to you and your loved ones. What a lovely story…Poor Rita. But your heart was in the right place, as it always is! Heh. 🙂 Thank you for sharing this.
Happy to read you liked it, Lady. Happy New Year to you and yours. And may you stay en pointe as always.
Oh thank you for your lovely words 🙂 Take care ❤
These stories are fabulous Don. 60 years married wow.