John Boni's Open Salon Blog

"The Fantasticks" and Me

Fri, 15 May 2009 12:05:48 -0400

Just two weekends ago, on May 3, 2009, The Fantasticks held a 50th Anniversary Reunion for alumni and friends in New York and I was part of the celebration. This musical icon opened on May 3rd, 1960 at the 152 seat Sullivan Street Theater off-Broadway. It closed forty-two years later in January, 2002, after 17,231 consecutive performances, of which I played El Gallo approximately five hundred times in two six month stints in 1965 and 1967.

A revival is happily in place at the Jerry Orbach theater at 50th & Broadway, named for the equally iconic actor, singer, dancer and entertainer who was the original El Gallo.

Ramona Mallory

The current cast is superlative, each actor playing his part with the perfect blend of whimsy and reality that is the hallmark of the show. It is no slight to any cast member to single two actors out for special mention. Ramona Mallory, the Luisa, was luminescent in the role, a part written so observantly that it explores the countless emotional colors of youth. An ordinary actress does very well in this role; an exceptional actress like Ms. Mallory elevates it. She was alive every moment on stage and even when still, one could always see in her eyes the wheels of the character’s mind always turning, listening, thinking and reacting.

Carol and Me

The best actors do that, of course. They’re always present in the moment. Ms. Mallory takes her proud place among the Luisa’s I worked with, B.J. Ward, whose Luisa seemed more world savvy, Leta Anderson, more naive and, most notably, Carol Demas, who offered all those qualities and a vulnerability that matched her innate exuberance. Happily, Carol was there Sunday and Monday, as beautiful as ever.

Michael Nostrand

Michael Nostrand as The Indian was brilliant in a role that many actors have overplayed in their attempts to extract all of its available comedy. Nostrand seems a true clown and played every moment with surgical precision, effortlessly, instinctively and continuously funny. Not a false or forced comedy moment in sight.

The theater was the central meeting point for the two-day celebration, which was effectively organized by DSB Publicity with John Krug and John Capo graciously handling the details. Many of the alumni and friends were invited to the Sunday matinee before marching down to Duffy Square where we all gathered to sing the show’s legendary song Try To Remember. Other invitees saw the Sunday evening performance, after which all was in place for the party after the performance Monday night.

Alumni and Cast at Duffy Square. The top of my face in in the middle, second row.

It was a surprisingly emotional experience for me. I’m a nostalgic kind of guy and knew I’d feel a strong pull from those years spent doing the show at Sullivan Street, but I hadn’t expected the depth of feeling I experienced. Certainly much of it can be attributed to age — after all, it was for me close to forty-five years ago.

On reflection, I realized those feelings had much to do with the nature of the show, a simply rendered tale of love and youth and wisdom that runs so much deeper than its skin. It meant so many different things to many people, like all the different refractions of light a diamond gives off when you turn its many facets face the sun. It’s as if all our experiences and feelings were crystallized in this one show the way carbon atoms do when they form the diamond itself.

Author/lyricist Tom Jones & me

The story is simple. The parents of The Boy and The Girl pretend to feud, so that their children will rebel and fall in love. But they already passionately love one another. The trick now is to override the “feud,” which they do by hiring a professional bandit, El Gallo, to abduct the girl so the boy can ride to the rescue. He does and all are happily united. But in the cold light of day, the lovers and the formerly friendly parents find fault with one another. The parents’ feud becomes real and the boy leaves to discover the world. He returns beaten and disillusioned. El Gallo shows the world to the flighty girl and she is likewise disenchanted. The two reunite, knowledgeable and wiser, with the maturity needed to sustain a love over the years.

The story encapsulated science fiction writer Gregory Benford’s Law Of Controversy, which states that “Passion is inversely proportional to the amount of real information available.”

As I watched the show with new eyes, I realized that this was the process of my own life in all its aspects of work, love, family, friendship, all started with fiery bright bloom in the eye, then browned with experience but re-flowering in a less vibrant but deeper, longer lasting color.

Two El Gallos - then and now

I felt this most strongly while watching Bradley Dean, the actor who played a wonderful El Gallo. The single thought running through my mind was a sense of how differently I’d now play the role compared to how I played it originally, infusing it with the wisdom and intelligence and, yes, folly, I didn’t have forty years ago. I found myself aching for another shot at the part, fantasizing some kind of Faustian bargain for the opportunity to get on the stage and do the show again with what I know now. Where’s the devil when you need him?

Was this just me getting old and foolish about everything? I’ve seen productions of many shows I’ve been in and none of them evoked the wistfulness I felt watching The Fantasticks. It’s not me, it’s the power of the show itself, the essential truth of life at its core. It’s why during my stay in the show countless members of the audience returned and returned, each time bringing a loved one or friend to see what they saw, all having said, “there’s this show on Sullivan Street. You’ve got to see it.” The show still speaks to all of us.

Sadness marked the event because I learned there of the death of Keith Charles, the El Gallo I replaced. Early in our lives and careers Keith and I anonymously passed one another on the long sixth floor hallway of where we had apartments in a rent controlled, walk-up at 60th & Amsterdam. Our toilets were in the hall and our bathtubs were in our kitchens. He had the apartment at one end of the hall, I at the other, the toilets in the middle.

Now, the first order of business when one is cast in a show is to go watch it. I went that first night and saw my hall mate, Keith, as El Gallo. Both of us were surprised to see who and what we were. He had a long, successful career and will be missed. I’m glad I had a chance to see him over a year ago when I was writing a show in New York. RIP, Keith.

Tom Jones

The bittersweet truth of the coming and going of lives was beautifully summed up by Tom Jones, the show’s writer and lyricist, in his heartfelt toasts at the end of the Monday night party. He first toasted the indefatigable original producer of the show, Lore Noto, who, after mixed reviews, kept it open over the summer of 1960 with his last bit of savings.

But it was Tom’s second toast that brought the lump to my throat. He told of how he played the role of The Old Actor at the beginning of the show’s legendary run and referred to his exit line, “There’s not much left of the old company anymore.” Tom gave us his line reading in those early performances — a solid, interpretive delivery. He then demonstrated how he read that line some fifty years later when he played the part in this current revival. Thinking of all the alumni who weren’t with us, Jerry, Keith and so many others, he delivered the line again, this time a different interpretation, one that carried the weight of a life lived.

That was the kind of experience it was. Happily bittersweet, with a little prayer of thanks to Lady Luck that I was part of that wonderful show. It was just a job at the time. Now, it’s a treasured memory.

The final word must go to the enormously talented artist and musician, Harvey Schmidt, Tom’s partner, who wrote the music for The Fantasticks. Every song is a gem, tuneful, memorable and perfect, like the show and like Harvey himself. A sweet, good, gentle man. Harvey couldn’t make it from his home in Houston, but his magical presence was felt each time we heard the beautiful melody of Try To Remember.

The Bethesda Incident

Sun, 10 May 2009 11:05:47 -0400

The story, being referred to as “The Bethesda Incident,” is just now emerging, several weeks after the fact. It is a chilling reminder of the high stakes bullshit game that is global warming, where ideologues rule.

The facts are these. Anticipating President Obama’s intention to go green as part of his plan to destroy the economy, sixteen SUV’s saw the handwriting on the wall and celebrated Earth day by committing suicide in Bethesda, Maryland yesterday.

SUV Suicide Leader

It is said that they were overcome with guilt because their gas mileage was over the recommended levels needed to save the planet. But some facts are emerging that this may not be the case.

Among the gas guzzling behemoths that plunged to their tragic deaths over Waland’s Cliff was an Audi Q7, a Cadillac Escalade, two Toyota 4Runners, a Land Rover, a Hummer, Ford Explorer and a Mercedes GL-class. The remaining brand names are being withheld pending notification of their owners.

“They just had enough,” sighed Bill Mendez, owner of the rogue Wrangler that organized and led the other SUV’s to their deaths. “They felt the resentment and hate directed towards them by the smug, dutiful high mileage cars. I was afraid to leave my vehicle alone in parking lots for fear of bullying from the ethanolists and hybrids. The vehicles on bio-fuel were the worst. And the irony is, I think it supported Kyoto.”

Grieving SUV owner

Harry Wolfson, who owned a Chevvy Tahoe that was one of the sixteen, was in despair that he couldn’t spot the classic telltale signs –- hesitant starts, grinding pops and a recalcitrant alignment. “It was sluggish for months,” he said of his late vehicle with the chrome-appearance package and leather wrapped steering wheel. “I was so selfishly caught up in unimportant things like my job, four kids, wife and house repairs that I didn’t notice how unhappy it was. Now I wish I had paid more attention to it, maybe washed it more.”

“This is often the case,” said SUVologist, Dr. Helen Zimmer, who specializes in treating depressed SUV’s. “They seem so rugged and full of life, but they’re still machines who’re very good at hiding their feelings and eventually they snap. Sometimes their On-Star systems send out an SOS, a cry for help, but these early warnings go unnoticed. Sometimes, all it needs is a tune-up or a higher grade of fuel to bring its mileage under control.”

Distraught Cardozo

“I’m shocked,” said a weeping Maria Cardozo, a Washington lobbyist, who’s now been forced to use the DC transit system for the first time and doesn’t know where to get off. “We gave our Audi Q7 a wonderful garage. It was neat, clean, no oil spots on the floor. Sure, she was pre-owned, but we treated her as if it were ours. Who knew it was concerned about global warming?” Mrs. Cardozo held up a shopping bag. “We just bought her a new carpet set. Now she’ll never see it,” Cardozo sobbed, overcome with grief.

SUV observers and friends were also very upset at the loss of their road buddies and gathered at the suicide site to leave items in their memory: Car jacks, fragrance sticks, glove compartment detria, bobbleheads, nerf dice and unapplied bumperstickers were but a few of the remembrances left at the scene. A passing Prius was heard to say, “Yeah, I hated their guts for polluting the atmosphere, but I didn’t want them to die. No rational high-mileage vehicle wants that. But some zealot cars out there are revving with joy. ”

“I blame Al Gore,” said Major Harley Venable, owner of the Lincoln Navigator that was part of the pact. “All that hounding, all that bullshit about CO2’s took its toll. And now Obama joins in the hunt. No wonder I had to take it to the shop six times in the year I owned it.” Others disagreed, blaming George Bush and Iraq. An SUV hybrid friendly with one of the dead Toyota 4Runners confirmed that the Toyota was despondent over the emissions the war was causing the planet.

Deceased BMW in happier times

A spokesperson for the Infinity QX56 that also took the plunge discounted all environmental causes for his vehicle’s death. “It was unhappy from the beginning because it had a funny name, QX56, and not something glitzy like Escalade or Land Rover. All this gas guzzling theorizing is just bullshit.”

Early investigative reports indicate otherwise, however. According to lead investigator, Sheriff Armand Copeland, the gas tanks of all sixteen vehicles contained Koolaid, leading him to think that these SUVs were part of a suicide cult. “This could be a vehicular Jonestown,” he said. Other evidence also points to a cult culture – all the vehicles were in first gear, a gear that uses the most gas. “This was a statement,” added the Sheriff, “no question about it.”

Others felt that the intended statement was a protest against the madness that is man-made global warming, perhaps the true reason the story has been suppressed until now. As evidence, some point to the suspicious suicide oil slick that was found in the garage of Mr. Mendez’ Wrangler, which willed its Bose Sound System to a gas guzzling 1978 Mustang that lived next door, saying, "Stay the course."

“Is this the final act of a guilt ridden, environmental activist or a pissed off realist? I don’t know anymore,” he sobbed. “I just don’t know.”

Funeral services for the vehicles will be held at Carlucci’s Junk Yard Emporium. Only cars that get less than eighteen miles per gallon will be admitted.

It Made My Day

Mon, 30 Mar 2009 00:03:03 -0400

Taking a moment off from political and cultural observations to recount an incident today at Costco.

There's a deliciously ironic symmetry to it, or maybe, conversely, a straight-up asymmetry. I'll let readers judge for themselves.

Arriving in the Costco lot, my wife and I were waiting for a car to pull out of a spot, which was adjacent to one of the chained off spots used for the return of shopping carts after unloading purchases.

As I was pulling in, I saw that one of the carts was sticking past the loose guard chain into my spot on the driver side. Not deep enough for me to have to stop and move it, but seriously enough into the space that I had to be cautious pulling in.

In the spot directly opposite me, a woman and her twelve or thirteen year old son were unloading their purchases into their van. We were car nose to car nose. The young boy saw me entering my spot, noticed the intrusive cart, held up his hand as if to say, "I'll take care of it," and he did.

He ran to the cart and pulled it back into the cart space. I thanked him. He waved and then returned to continue helping his mother.

I don't know that I can describe the wonderful feeling I got from that boy's gesture. There is something glorious and optimistic about a youngster, anyone for that matter, but especially a youngster, who instinctively helps a stranger like that. With no prodding, no urging, just his own sense of doing something right.

It all happened so fast that my wife missed it. She was reaching down to get her purse, in anticipation of our getting out of the car.

I locked up and walked to the back of the boy's van and said to his mother, "You son just did for me a very thoughtful and helpful thing. You should be very proud of him."

She smiled a smile that wasn't a surprise, but one of reaffirmation of her son's character. The smile seemed to say that she knew this was who her son was. The boy's eyes lit up as I told his mother what I thought about what he did. He deserved every bit of praise and approval for his actions.

In fact, I write this to celebrate the boy.

Mom nodded her thank you and I gave the boy a thumbs up and walked into the store with a bounce in my bootie, explaining to my wife what had happened.

Here's where the ironic symmetry, or basic asymmetry comes in. We later returned to our car and loaded our stuff in the trunk. As I went to unlock the car door, I felt something hit my leg.

It was a cart. It had just been shoved into the cart space by an adult shopper so carelessly that it rolled into the chain and into me. I turned, and reflexively called out, "Hey!" The adult, a male, turned, took stock of what he had done and continued on to his car without a word.

So there it was. All in the same spot. A tale of two people, a boy who behaved like a man and a man who behaved like a boy.

The boy still made my day.

A Taste Of Tyranny -- Put It On My Tab

Fri, 27 Mar 2009 12:03:37 -0400

I was on the road filming a trailer yesterday and one of my fellow actors had a copy of The Washington Post. A story there caught my eye.

It seems that the California Air Resources Board wants to legislate against black cars starting in 2012 because it requires so much energy to cool them.

For the link-challenged, this is the Post story. There are others.

Greenies call it saving the planet. I call it government interference of my rights, an interference I categorize under the rubric of tyranny.

Will this regulation succeed? The mind-numbingly devotion to the truth of man-made global warming being even more intense than Obamadolatry, I think it has an outside chance, as insane as the proposal is.

That possibility aside for the moment, I'm inclined to ask, 'Who comes up with this s**t? in the first place? Certainly not conservatives.

But that aside, let's say it passes! No more new black cars after 2012. What then is one to do with all the black cars already on the road, black being the second or third most popular car color of all?

Presumably they'll be allowed to continue polluting our highways, but probably with a higher cap and trade tax than the cars of less offensive color, another tyrannical possibility not beyond the long arms of liberal lawmaking.

Given cap and trade, the selling of carbon footprints, etc., I can see one helpful concession for black cars on the road and it brings to mind the old joke about the golf foursome of a priest, a minister, an imam and a rabbi.

They finish the third hole and find themselves waiting several hours to get on the fourth. They complain. What is holding up the foursome ahead of them?

"Oh," says the course manager. "They're all blind. We allow them to play as a courtesy. You can play through, i f you want."

Our diverse clergy is mortified by their uncharitable selfishness complaining about being unable to complete their recreation when the foursome is suffering from their terrible handicaps. The priest begs god for forgiveness, the minister offers a prayer for the disabled everywhere, the imam praises the will of Allah and his glory and then all then look to the rabbi, who shrugs and says, 'Why can't they play at night?"

So, to save the planet, and save them some money, owners of black cars will be allowed to drive their menacing vehicles only at night. Black, indeed, will no longer be beautiful in the sun.

Of course, as happened in the Soviet Union and other socialist states, leaders, celebrities and the well connected will probably be exempt and allowed to drive their black limos and town cars anytime they want.

Leftist, totalitarian tyranny is happening everywhere, especially in the land of John Locke. The original Locke, not the one on Lost.

The UK Daily Mail had a story about thermal imaging cameras being used to create color-coded maps to enable council officers to identify homes that they feel are wasting too much energy. Here's one of several links, for the link-needy.

No mention of the carbon emissions made by the do-gooding plane. Ah, the head-up-the-ass insanity of the left.

Can this kind of tyranical monitoring be far behind here? In Obamasiah's press conference yesterday he praised the so-called smart meter, a thermostat, really, which is a device installed in one's house to determine the proper temperature necessary to save the planet.

From the Prompter-In-Chief:

We could set up systems so that everybody in each house have their own smart meters that, uhh, will tell you when to turn off the lights, when the peak hours are, can help you sell back energy, uh, that you've generated in your home through a solar panel or through, uh, eh, other mechanisms. All this can be done, but it also creates jobs right now.

It might go ding-ding-ding if you overuse your air conditioning or heating or electric lights, the way a car dings when you don't put on your seat belt. But given the penchant for greenies and lefties to control our lives, I can easily see where the state will control your usage by automatically governing the meters they've installed. If you want your house temp at 72, but the State deems the proper temperature to be 67, that's as high as it'll go.

Tyranny on the menu. Just put it on our tab.

On the Evil Of the Left

Wed, 25 Mar 2009 12:03:27 -0400

A story out of Indiana speaks of the UAW's attempt to organize a union for a company of fifty employees, who live in a small town, and who all were basically friendly with one another.

The organizing attempt was through Card Check, a labor bill that is being pushed by the Senate. Card Check means that if you want a union, you sign a card, if you don't, you don't sign.

The evil here is that everyone knows how you voted. The potential for disrupted relationships and broken friendships is patently obvious. Think of how friends are often divided after the divorce of a couple they know.

This is the unintended consequence of liberal zealots, progressive fundamentalists who pursue their Marxist ideology in the name of supporting the ordinary Jane and Joe. So what if we drive wedges into the daily lives of people we want to help. The union is more important.

As Lenin said, "if you want to make an omelet, you have to be willing to break eggs."

Some workers in Indiana were threatened, others were followed to their homes by union officials and pressured to sign the cards. Many, realizing how precarious their identities were in this small community, simply gave in and signed.

Though the Card Check tally formed a union, some workers nevertheless went to the NLRB and demanded their right, their right to a secret ballot to determine unionization. A right to a secret ballot that Card Check will eliminate.

Ths legal option was granted. After the vote, which was close, the union lost. As were friendships and relationships of the people living there, presumably in happy peace. The eggs of lives were broken.

These labor tactics are despicable and typically totalitarian, hallmarks of the evil, fundamentalist, bullying left.

Fifty workers!

Attacking these very small, often defenseless pockets of workers is reminiscent of the tactics that other totalitarian, progressive organization, the ACLU, used when they descended upon small towns and localities to terrorize them with lawsuits for practices they claimed violated the separation of church and state.

Strapped for money to defend themselves, many of these towns and churches simply caved and the ACLU marched away triumphant, these mighty legal armies having proudly pummelled their puny targets like a tank destroying a defenseless shack in its way.

And now Card Check activists are following the same tactic.

Republicans are mean? Pricks? Give me a break.

These people are vicious and evil. And it's typical of the side who says they're on the side of the angels.